66 MELANCHOLY OF NORTHERN PEORLE.
vance in these abodes of cold illusions, of visions, brilliant, though with a silvered rather than a golden light, an indefinable kind of sadness takes possession of the heart; the failing imagination ceases to create, or its feeble conceptions resemble only the undefined forms of the wanly glittering clouds that meet the eye.
When the mind reverts from the scenery to itself, it is to partake of the hitherto incomprehensible melancholy of the people of the north, and to feel, as they feel, the fascination of their monotonous poetry. This initiation into the pleasures of sadness is painful while it is pleasing; you follow with slow steps the chariot of death, chaunting hymns of lamentation, yet of hope; your sorrowing soul lends itself to the illusions around, and sympathises with the objects that meet the sight: the air, the mist, the water, all produce a novel impression. There is, whether the impression be made through the organ of smell or of touch, something strange and unusual in the sensation : it announces to you that you are approaching the confines of the habitable world; the iey zone is before jou, and the polar air pierces even to the heart. This is not agreeable, but it is novel and very strange.
I cannot cease to regret having been detained so long this summer, on account of my health, at Paris and at Ems. Had I followed my first plan, I should now be in Lapland, on the borders of the White Sea, beyond Archangel; but it will be seen from the above, that I feel as though there, which is the same thing.
Descending from the elevation of my illusions, I
IRRESOLUTION INDUCED BY ILLNESS.67
find myself, not among the deserts of the earth, but travelling on the superb steam-boat Nicholas the First, and in the midst of as refined a society as I have met with for a long time.
He who could embody in the style of Boccaccio the conversations in which I have taken a very modest part during the last three days, might make a book as brilliant and amusing as the Decameron, and almost as profound as La Bruyère.
I had been long an invalid. At Travemunde I was so ill that, on the very day for sailing, I thought of renouncing the journey. My carriage had been placed on board, but I felt the cold fit of fever thrilling through my veins, and I feared to increase the sickness that already tormented me, by the sea-sickness that I knew I could not escape. What should I do at Petersburg, eight hundred leagues from home, were I to fall seriously ill. To embark with a fever on a long journey — is it not an act of insanity ? Such were my thoughts. But, then again, would it not seem yet more absurd to change my mind at the last moment, and have my carriage brought back on shore ? What would the people of Travemunde say ? How could my irresolution be explained to my friends at Paris?
I am not accustomed to be governed 'by reasonings of this character, but I was sick and reduced in strength : the shiverings also increased; an inexpressible languor, an utter distaste for food, and severe pains in the head and side, made me dread a passage of four days. I shall not survive it, said I to myself; yet to change a project is as difficult for invalids as for other men.
68DIALOGUE WITH MY SERVANT.
The waters of Ems have, in curing one disease, substituted another. To cure this second malady, rest is necessary. Is not this a reason for deferring a visit to Siberia? and yet I am going there.
Under the influence of these conflicting considerations, I was absolutely incapable of deciding how to act.
At length, determined to guide, as by the rules of a game of chance, the plans of a life which I no longer knew how to guide otherwise, I called my servant, resolved that he should decide the question. I asked his opinion.
" We must go on," he replied; " it is so near the time of starting."
" Why, you are generally afraid of the sea."
" I am afraid of it still; but were I in the place of my master, I would not change my mind after having sent my carriage on board."
" You seem more afraid of my changing my mind than of my becoming seriously ill."
No answer.
" Tell me, then, why you would go on ?"
" Because!!!"
" Very good ! we will proceed."
" But if you should become worse," resumed this worthy personage, who began to shrink from the responsibility that would attach to him, " I shall reproach myself with your imprudence."
" If I am ill, you will take charge of me."
" But that will not cure you."
" Never mind; we will go."
Thus moved by the eloquence of my servant, I proceeded on board, carrying with me a fever, low
PRINCE К
69
spirits, and inexpressible regret for the weakness I had exhibited. A thousand unpleasant presentiments connected with my journey assailed me, and, as they weighed anchor, I covered my eyes in a fit of stupid .despair. The instant the paddles began to turn, a revolution, as sudden and complete as it was inexplicable, took place in my frame: the pains and shivering disappeared, my mind resumed its usual powers, and I found myself suddenly in perfect health. This change appeared to me so singular, that I cannot resist recording it, though at the risk perhaps of not being believed.
Among the passengers on board the steamer I observed an elderly man, whose immensely swollen legs could hardly support his corpulent frame. His head, well set between his large shoulders, had a noble cast: it was a portrait of Louis XVI.
I soon learnt that he was the Russian Prince
К, a descendant of the conquering Varegues, and
therefore one of the most ancient of the Russian nobility.
As I observed him, supported by his secretary, and moving with difficulty towards a seat, I could not help saying to myself, here is a sorry travelling companion ; but on hearing his name, which I well knew by reputation, I reproached myself for this incorrigible mania of judging by appearances.
As soon as seated, the old gentleman, the expression of whose face was shrewd, although noble and sincere, addressed me by name.
Apostrophised tl·ms suddenly, I rose without replying. The prince continued in that truly aristo-
70DEFINITIONS OF NOBILITY.
cratic tone, the perfect simplicity of which excludes all idea of ceremony : —
" You, who have seen almost all Europe, will, I am sure, be of my opinion."
" On what subject, my prince?"
" On England. I was saying to Prince,
here," indicating with his finger, and without further presentation, the individual with whom he was talking, " that there is no noblesse anions the English. They have titles and offices; but the idea which we attach to a real order of nobility, distinguished by characteristics which can neither be purchased nor conferred, is unknown to them. A monarch may create a prince; education, circumstances, genius, virtue, may make a hero ; but none of these things are sufficient to constitute a nobleman."
" Prince," I replied, i( a noblesse, in that meaning of the word which was once understood in France, and in which you and I, I believe, understand it at present, has become a fiction, and was perhaps always one. Yon remind me of the observation of M. de Lauraguais, who said, on returning from an assembly of the marshals of France, ' we were twelve dukes and peers, but I was the only gentleman.' "
íf He said the truth," replied the prince. " On the Continent, the gentleman alone is considered as noble*, because in countries where nobility is still something-real, it is inherent in the blood, and not in fortune, favour, talent, or avocation ; it is the produce of history ; and, as in physics, the period for the formation of certain metals appears to have ceased, so in communities the period for the creation of noble families