Читать книгу The last travels of Ida Pfeiffer - Ida Pfeiffer - Страница 4

Table of Contents

Several biographies of Ida Pfeiffer are already scattered through various encyclopædias and periodicals. These are based partly on oral communications made by the deceased lady, partly on particulars collected from her friends. No authentic sketch of her life has, however, yet been published, though many whose sympathy has accompanied the dauntless voyager on her dangerous way will doubtless be glad to hear something of the earlier life of Ida Pfeiffer. In remarkable people, the germs of extraordinary faculties are generally recognizable in early youth; and those readers who have followed the course of a remarkable life from its meridian to its close will doubtless be gratified by the opportunity of casting a glance backward to its early years, when the seeds of future distinction were sown.

This consideration will probably be thought a sufficient justification for publishing the following pages; the more so as the facts given in this biographical sketch rest exclusively on the authority of the heroine herself. Madame Ida Pfeiffer left behind her a short outline of her life written by her own hand, and her family very courteously permitted this manuscript to be used. It is to be followed by a summary of her travels, and by her diary in Madagascar, to which her son, Mr. Oscar Pfeiffer, has added the narrative of her sufferings and death. Thus the whole career of the late adventurous pilgrim, with particular reference to the latest circumstances of her checkered life, namely, her interesting and eventful voyage to Madagascar, will be placed before the reader.

Our traveler was born in Vienna on the 14th of October, 1797. She was the third child of the wealthy merchant Reyer, and at her baptism received the name Ida Laura. Till she was nine years old, all the family in her parents’ house, except herself, were boys, so that she was the only girl among a party of six children. Through continual intercourse with her brothers, a great predilection for the games and pursuits of boys was developed in her. “I was not shy,” she says of herself, “but wild as a boy, and bolder and more forward than my elder brothers;” and she adds that it was her greatest pleasure to romp with the boys, to dress in their clothes, and to take part in all their mad pranks. The parents not only abstained from putting any check on this tendency, but even allowed the girl to wear boy’s clothes, so that little Ida looked with sovereign contempt upon dolls and toy saucepans, and would only play with drums, swords, guns, and similar playthings. Her father seems to have looked with complacency upon this anomaly in her character. He jestingly promised the girl that he would have her educated for an officer in a military school, thus indirectly encouraging the child to a display of courage, resolution, and contempt of danger. Ida did not fail to cultivate these qualities, and her most ardent wish was to carve her own way through the world, sword in hand. Even in her early childhood she gave many proofs of fearlessness and self-command.

Mr. Reyer had peculiar ideas on the subject of education, and carried out these notions strictly in his family circle. He was a very honest, and, moreover, strict man, holding the opinion that youth should be carefully guarded against excess, and taught to moderate its desires and wishes; consequently, his children were fed on simple, almost a parsimonious diet, and were taught to sit quietly at table, and see their elders enjoy the various dishes that were served up, without receiving a share of those dainties. The little people were, moreover, forbidden to express their wish for any much-coveted plaything by repeated requests. The father’s strictness of discipline went so far as to induce him to refuse many of the children’s reasonable requests, in order, as he said, to accustom them to disappointments. Opposition of any kind he would never allow, and even remonstrances against a discipline that bordered on harshness were always unavailing.

There is no doubt that the old gentleman carried his system to excess, but it is equally certain that, but for this Spartan education, little Ida would never have ripened into the fearless traveler, able to bear the heaviest fatigue for months together, living meanwhile on the most miserable food. The chief characteristics of Ida Pfeiffer’s courage, endurance, and indifference to pain and hardship became developed by an eccentric course of education, which would hardly find a defender at a time like the present, when every thing peculiar is hastily condemned. The unusual, with its sharp outlines and deep shadows, disappears more and more in the light of common-sense mediocrity, and the characteristic heads that we remember in our youth gradually disappear, and are succeeded by very rational, but somewhat tedious and commonplace figures.

Ida’s father died in the year 1806, leaving a widow and seven children. The boys were in an educational institution, and the mother undertook the education of the girl, who was now nearly nine years old. Though the father had appeared formidable to the children by his strictness, his rule appeared to the girl far preferable to the melancholy régime of her mother, who watched the child’s every movement with suspicion and alarm, and caused her daughter to spend many a bitter hour, merely from an exaggerated notion of duty.

A few months after her father’s death the first attempt was made to deprive the girl of the attire she had hitherto worn, and substituted petticoats for their masculine equivalents. Little Ida, then ten years old, was so indignant at this measure that she absolutely fell ill from grief and indignation. By the doctor’s advice her former costume was restored to her, and it was resolved that the girl’s obstinacy must gradually be subdued by remonstrance.

The boy’s garments were received by Ida with a burst of enthusiasm, her health returned, and she behaved more like a boy than ever. She learned every thing that she thought a boy should know with industry and zeal, and, on the other hand, looked with the greatest contempt on every female occupation. Piano-forte playing, for instance, she despised as a feminine accomplishment, and would actually cut her fingers, or burn them with sealing-wax, to escape the hated task of practicing. For playing the violin, on the contrary, she showed a great predilection. But her mother would not allow her to have her way in this matter, and the piano-forte was formally subsidized and maintained at its post by maternal authority.

When the year 1809 came, a most eventful period for Austria, Ida was twelve years old. From what has been said of her ideas and inclinations, it will readily be believed that she took great interest in the fortunes of the war. She read the newspaper eagerly, and often traced out on the map the relative positions of the two armies. She danced and shouted with glee, like a good patriot, when the Austrians conquered, and wept bitter tears when the fortune of war brought victory to the enemy’s standard. Her mother’s house was situated in one of the busiest streets of the capital; and the frequent marching past of troops caused many interruptions to study, and gave many opportunities for the expression of ardent wishes that the Austrian banners might triumph. When Ida, looking from the window, saw her fellow-countrymen march past to battle, she would vehemently deplore her youth that prevented her from taking part in the impending struggle. She considered her youth the only obstacle that prevented her from going to war.

Unhappily, the French were victorious; the enemy entered the capital, and the affairs of Austria were in a very bad way. The little patriot had the mortification of seeing a number of the hated conquerors quartered in her mother’s house, and evidently considering themselves masters of the situation—dining at the table with the family, and expecting to be treated with the most anxious civility. The members of the household generally thought it best to keep up an appearance of friendship toward the conquerors, but nothing could induce the girl to look at the Frenchmen with favor; on the contrary, she showed her feelings by obstinacy and silence; and when requested by the Frenchmen to express her sentiments, she broke out in words of passionate anger and dislike. She herself has said on this subject, “My hatred to Napoleon was so great, that I looked upon the attempt of the notorious Staps to assassinate him at Schönbrunn as a highly meritorious action, and considered the perpetrator, who was tried by a court-martial and shot, in the light of a martyr. I thought if I myself could murder Napoleon, I should not hesitate one instant to do so.”

It is related that Ida was compelled to be present at a review of his troops held by Napoleon in Schönbrunn. When the hated emperor rode past, the girl turned her back, and received a box on the ear for her demonstrativeness from her mother, who then held her by the shoulders lest she should repeat the trick. But nothing was gained by this manœuvre, for when the emperor came riding back with his glittering staff of marshals around him, Miss Ida resolutely closed her eyes.

At the age of thirteen she again dressed in female attire, and this time the change was persevered in. She had indeed become sensible enough to acknowledge the necessity of the measure, but still it cost her many tears, and made her very unhappy. With the garb of her sex, she was also obliged to adopt different manners and occupations, and a new system of life. “How awkward and clumsy I was at first!” she exclaims, in her diary; “how ridiculous I must have looked in my long skirts, jumping and racing about, and behaving generally like a wild, restless boy!”

“Fortunately, a young man came to us at that time as tutor, who took particular pains with me. I afterward heard that my mother had given him secret directions to treat me with especial indulgence, as a child whose earliest impulses had received a wrong bias. He certainly behaved to me with great kindness and delicacy, and showed great patience and perseverance in combating my overstrained and misdirected notions. As I had learned rather to fear my parents than to love them, and he was, so to speak, the first human being who had displayed affection and sympathy toward me, I clung to him, in return, with enthusiastic attachment, seeking to fulfill his every wish, and never so happy as when he appeared satisfied with my endeavors. He conducted my entire education; and though it cost me some tears to give up my youthful visions, and busy myself with pursuits I had looked upon with contempt, I did it out of affection for him. I even learned many female occupations, such as sewing, knitting, and cookery. I owe to him the insight I received in three or four years into the duties of my sex; and he it was who changed me from a wild hoydenish creature into a modest girl.”

At the period when Ida was compelled to give up her boyish character, there arose in her the first wish to see the world. She turned her thoughts from war and soldiering to fix them upon travel; descriptions of voyages excited her warmest interest, and literature of this kind occupied in her mind the place that, in the majority of young girls’ heads, is filled with thoughts of dress, balls, theatres, and amusements generally. When she heard of any one who had attained celebrity by travel, she would grieve to think that she was debarred by her sex from the happiness of ever crossing the sea and exploring strange lands. Often she felt an inclination to occupy herself with scientific studies; but she always suppressed it, seeming to recognize therein a relapse into the “extravagant ideas” of earlier days. It must be remembered that at the beginning of the present century the daughters of middle-class families did not enjoy the education they receive now.

An important passage in the life of Ida Pfeiffer shall be related in her own words. She tells us:

“In my seventeenth year a wealthy Greek proposed for my hand. My mother declined to entertain his offer because he was not a Catholic, and she thought me too young for such a step. According to her ideas, it was indecorous for a girl under twenty years of age to marry.

“A great change now took place in my character. I had hitherto had no idea of the powerful passion which makes mortals the happiest or the most miserable of beings. When my mother told me of the proposal made to her, feelings of which till then I had been unconscious became clearly defined within me, and I felt that I could love no one but T——, the guide of my youth.

“I was not aware that T—— was attached to me with his whole soul. I scarcely knew my own feelings, and far less was I capable of guessing those of another person. When, however, T—— heard of the proposal that had been made for me, and when the possibility of losing me arose before him, he confessed his love to me, and determined to urge his suit to my mother.

“T—— had devoted himself to the Civil Service, and had for some years occupied a post, with a salary on which he could live very well. He had long given up the profession of a tutor, though he continued to visit our house as frequently as ever, passing all his leisure hours with us, as if he belonged to the family. My five brothers were his friends, and my mother was so fond of him that she often called him ‘her dear sixth son.’ He was at every party in our house, and went with us wherever we accepted an invitation; always accompanying us to theatres, in our walks, and so on. What was more natural than that we should both persuade ourselves that my mother had intended us for each other, and would perhaps only stipulate for our waiting till I had attained my twentieth year, and T—— had a better appointment?

“Accordingly he proposed for my hand.

“But who can paint our grievous surprise when my mother not only entirely refused her consent, but from this moment detested T—— just as much as she had before liked him. There could be no other objection to T—— except that I could look forward to having a tolerable fortune, while T—— had at present nothing but his modest salary. If my mother could have imagined what was one day to become of my fortune, how very different my fate would be from what she had sketched out for me in her mind, what deep sorrow and endless grief might she not have spared me!

“After T——’s proposal, my mother wished to get me married as quickly as possible. I declared resolutely that I would become T——’s wife, or remain unmarried. T—— was, of course, forbidden to come to our house, and as my mother knew how obstinately I adhered to my resolutions when I was in earnest about a matter, she took me to a priest, who was enjoined to explain to me the duty of children toward their parents, and particularly the obedience the latter are authorized to exact. They wanted to bind me by a solemn oath, sworn on the crucifix, that I would not see T—— secretly, nor correspond with him. I refused to take the oath, but gave the required promise, stipulating, however, that I should be allowed to inform T—— of every thing. My mother at last made this concession, and I wrote a long letter to T——, acquainting him with every thing, and begging him not to believe any thing he heard concerning me from other people. I added that it was out of my power either to see him or to write to him again, but that if another suitor presented himself and was accepted by my mother, I would at once inform T—— of the circumstance.

“T——’s reply was short, and full of bitter sorrow. He seemed to understand that, under the circumstances, there was no hope for us, and that nothing remained but to obey my mother’s commands. He declared positively, however, that he would never marry.

“And thus our correspondence closed. Three long, sorrowful years passed away without my seeing him, and without any change in my feelings or position.

“Walking one day with a friend of my mother’s, I met T—— by chance. We both stopped involuntarily, but for a long time neither he nor I could utter a word. At last he conquered his emotion, and asked after my health. I was too deeply moved to be able to reply. My knees trembled, and I felt ready to sink into the earth. I seized my companion by the arm and drew her away with me, and rushed home, scarcely conscious of what I was doing. Two days afterward I was stretched on my couch in a burning fever.

“The physician who was called in seemed to have a suspicion of the cause of my illness, and declared to my mother, as I afterward heard, that the source of evil was mental, not bodily; that medicines would be of little avail in my case, and that every effort must be directed.... But my mother persisted in following her own course, and told the physician she could not alter any thing about me.”

The patient’s life hung for a long time in the balance, and in her fevered state of mind she wished ardently for death. When by chance she heard from an indiscreetly-communicative nurse that her dissolution was daily expected, this intelligence produced such a quieting effect that she sank into a deep slumber, and the crisis of her disease was happily passed.

Ida’s father had left a considerable fortune, and there was no lack of suitors for her hand. She refused every offer, however, and thereby increased the discomfort of her position at home, for her mother insisted more and more strongly upon Ida’s making her choice. These domestic broils at length broke the girl’s spirit, and any fate seemed to her preferable to the continuance of such a state of things. She accordingly declared herself ready to accept the next proposal that should be made, provided the suitor was of advanced age. She wished to convince T—— that moral coercion, and not her own inclination, had impelled her to take this course.

In the year 1819, when Ida was twenty-two years old, Doctor Pfeiffer, one of the most distinguished advocates in Lemberg, and a widower, moreover, with a grown-up son, was introduced to the Reyers. He staid in Vienna a few days for professional purposes, and at his departure recommended his son, who was studying law at the University of Vienna, to the notice of the family.

About four weeks afterward came a letter from Dr. Pfeiffer, containing a formal proposal for Ida’s hand. As he had only exchanged a few words with her on totally unimportant subjects, she had not the least anticipation of an offer in that direction; but her mother did not fail to remind her of the promise she had made to accept the next suitor who came forward.

“I promised to consider the matter,” she says in her diary. “Dr. Pfeiffer seemed to me a very intelligent, well-educated man; but a circumstance that told far more in his favor in my estimation was that he lived a hundred miles from Vienna, and was twenty-four years older than I.”

A week afterward she consented to the marriage on the condition that she should be allowed to acquaint Dr. Pfeiffer with the real state of her affections. This she did in a long letter, in which she concealed nothing from her suitor, evidently indulging the hope that he would abandon his pursuit of her; but Dr. Pfeiffer at once replied, expressing himself not in the least surprised to hear that a maiden of twenty-two years had already loved. The honest, candid avowal of this passage in her life made Ida appear in his eyes all the more worthy of respect; and he avowed his intention of persisting in his suit, feeling assured that he should never have cause to regret it.

The difficult duty of acquainting T—— with this change in her destiny now devolved upon Ida. This duty she fulfilled by means of a few lines, and it will readily be imagined that they were painful ones. The answer was conceived in the manliest spirit, full of self-abnegation and nobility of mind. T—— repeatedly declared that he would never forget her, and would never marry. He kept his word.

The marriage with Dr. Pfeiffer was celebrated on the 1st of May, 1820, and a week afterward the newly-wedded couple departed for Lemberg. The journey brought relief by reviving in the young wife the old predilection for traveling, and allowing the pair an opportunity of becoming better acquainted. Ida found that her husband possessed high principle, candor, and intelligence; and if it was beyond her power to love him, she could not withhold from him respect and hearty appreciation, especially as he showed as much affection as delicacy in his conduct toward her. She was resolved to fulfill her duties honorably, and looked forward with a certain amount of tranquillity to the future.

Dr. Pfeiffer was one of those straightforward, independent-spirited men who attack and expose wrong wherever they find it, and make no secret of their sentiments.

In the official routine in Galicia in those days there were many weak points, and the number of dishonest and venal employés was not small. In an important lawsuit which he brought to a triumphant conclusion, Dr. Pfeiffer discovered peculation of the gravest kind. This he fearlessly and unflinchingly denounced to the highest authorities in Vienna. An investigation was ordered; Dr. Pfeiffer’s accusations were found to be well-grounded, and several officials were dismissed, and others moved.

Very disagreeable results, however, accrued to Dr. Pfeiffer himself. By his report of these delinquencies he had drawn down upon himself the enmity of the majority of official personages; and this enmity was so frequently and so openly manifested, that Dr. Pfeiffer found himself compelled to resign his appointment as councilor, for he found that his advocacy, so far from benefiting his clients, became absolutely prejudicial to their interests.

“My husband,” writes Ida Pfeiffer, “had foreseen all this; but it went against his nature to shut his eyes to flagrant injustice. In the same year he resigned his office, and, after he had arranged his private affairs, we removed, in 1821, to Vienna, where, trusting to his skill and knowledge, he hoped to have no difficulty in obtaining employment. But his reputation had preceded him: his sentiments and his mode of action were as well known in Vienna as at Lemberg, and he was looked upon with suspicion as a restless character and an enemy of existing institutions. All his applications for employment in agencies, etc., were consequently unavailing. Posts which he had solicited in vain were continually given away to the most insignificant and least talented of the profession.”

All this had naturally a very disastrous effect on Pfeiffer’s mind. He saw himself every where crossed and hampered in his work and in his efforts; and labors which he had formerly performed with zeal and pleasure now fretted and annoyed him. At length he lost a portion of his energy, and what he did brought him little or no advantage.

Thus the social position of the Pfeiffers became more and more critical from day to day. As a skillful lawyer, Dr. Pfeiffer had earned a considerable income at Lemberg; but he had liked to live in good style, kept carriages and horses, and a good table, and had not thought of providing for the future. Many people who knew his generosity made use of him, and borrowed his money. Thus Ida’s paternal inheritance vanished also, being lent to a friend of Pfeiffer’s, whom it was to help out of his embarrassments. The man failed in spite of the loan, and thus the whole fortune was lost.

After vainly seeking employment in Vienna, Dr. Pfeiffer returned, with his wife, to Lemberg, but afterward came back again to Vienna, and at length even tried his fortune in Switzerland, his native country, where he had, however, only passed the earliest years of his life. But fortune would nowhere smile upon him, and bitter poverty knocked at the door of the family.

“Heaven only knows what I suffered during eighteen years of my married life!” exclaims Ida Pfeiffer; “not, indeed, from any ill treatment on my husband’s part, but from poverty and want. I came of a wealthy family, and had been accustomed from my earliest youth to order and comfort; and now I frequently knew not where I should lay my head, or find a little money to buy the commonest necessaries. I performed household drudgery, and bore cold and hunger; I worked secretly for money, and gave lessons in drawing and music; and yet, in spite of all my exertions, there were many days when I could hardly put any thing but dry bread before my poor children for their dinner.

“I might certainly have applied to my mother or my brothers for relief, but my pride revolted against such a course. For years I fought with poverty and concealed my real position, often brought so near to despair that the thought of my children alone prevented me from giving way. At last the urgency of my necessities broke my spirit, and several times I had recourse to my brothers for assistance.”

Ida Pfeiffer had two sons. A daughter was born to her, but only lived a few days. The education of the children devolved entirely upon the mother; and as the younger showed a great appreciation for music, she took great pains to cultivate his talents.

In the year 1831 old Madame Reyer died. During the long illness which preceded her death she was tended by her daughter with the most affectionate care. After her mother’s death Ida betook herself again to Lemberg, from whence Dr. Pfeiffer had again written, announcing that he had a sure prospect of employment. He was now sixty years old, and lived in a state of constant illusion; a mere promise was sufficient to inspire him with the greatest confidence in the future. After experiencing a series of hopes and disappointments during a period of two years, she returned to Vienna, where she could at least obtain for her sons a better education.

At her mother’s death she had not, indeed, come into a great property, but she inherited enough to keep her in a respectable style, and to provide good teachers for her children. In 1835 she settled definitely in Vienna. Dr. Pfeiffer remained in Lemberg, where he was kept by force of habit, and by his affection for his son by his first marriage. From time to time, however, he visited Vienna to see his wife and children.

During a journey to Trieste which Ida Pfeiffer undertook with her youngest son, in order that he might have sea-baths, she enjoyed her first sight of the ocean. The impression made upon her by the sea was overpowering. The dreams of her youth came back, with visions of distant unexplored climes, teeming with strange, luxuriant vegetation; an almost irresistible impulse for travel arose in her, and she would gladly have embarked in the first ship to sail away into the great, mysterious, boundless ocean. Her duty toward her children alone restrained her; and she felt happy when she had quitted Trieste, and miles of mountain and plain intervened between the sea and herself, for the longing to see the world had weighed like a mountain on her spirit in the maritime city.

Returning to the routine of every-day life in Vienna, she still secretly nourished the wish that her health and strength might be spared until her sons should have been established in life, and she should be enabled to go out into the world depending on her own resources alone. This wish of hers was to be fulfilled. Her sons grew and throve, and became prosperous, successful men in their profession.

The completion of their education and the establishment of each in his vocation gave Ida Pfeiffer leisure to mature her plans of travel. The old project of seeing the world arose anew, and now no obstacle existed in the calls of duty and common sense. She began to mature a plan for a long journey, to be undertaken alone; for she must journey by herself, as her husband’s advanced age prevented him from participating in the toil and fatigue of such an undertaking, and her sons could not be spared from their professional duties. The financial aspect of the question required much consideration. In the countries she wished to visit railways and hotels were unknown institutions, and travelers in those regions would be necessarily subjected to the expense of carrying with them all they required during the journey; and after she had devoted part of her maternal inheritance to the education of her sons, the funds at Ida Pfeiffer’s disposal were limited indeed.

“But I soon settled these weighty points to my satisfaction,” she writes in her diary. “Respecting the first, namely, the design that I, a woman, should venture into the world alone, I trusted to my years (I was already forty-five), to my courage, and to the habit of self-reliance I had acquired in the hard school of life, during the time when I was obliged to provide, not only for my children, but sometimes for my husband also. As regarded money, I was determined to practice the most rigid economy. Privation and discomfort had no terrors for me. I had endured them long enough by compulsion, and considered that they would be much easier to bear if I encountered them voluntarily with a fixed object in view.”

Another question, namely, whither she should bend her steps, was quickly answered. Two projects had occupied her mind for many years—a voyage to the North, and a journey to the Holy Land. When, however, she imparted to her friends her intention of visiting Jerusalem, she was looked upon simply as a crazy, enthusiastic person, and nobody thought her in earnest in the matter.

Nevertheless, she kept to her resolution, but concealed the real goal of her journey, declaring that her intention was to visit a friend at Constantinople, with whom she had for a long time kept up an active correspondence. She kept her passport concealed, and no one of those from whom she parted had any idea of her destination. Very painful was the parting from her sons, to whom she was tenderly attached; but she fought bravely against her softer emotions, consoled her friends with the prospect of soon meeting them again, and on the 22d of March, 1842, embarked on the steamer that was to convey her down the Danube to the Black Sea and the City of the Crescent. She visited Brussa, Beyrout, Jaffa, Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, Nazareth, Damascus, Baalbek, the Lebanon, Alexandria, and Cairo, and traveled across the Desert to the Isthmus of Suez and the Red Sea. From Egypt she returned by way of Sicily and the whole of Italy to her home, arriving in Vienna in December, 1842.

As she had carefully kept a diary of her journey, from which she frequently read extracts to friends and acquaintances, she was often requested to print her experiences. The thought of becoming an authoress was repugnant to her modesty, and it was only when a publisher made her a direct offer that she consented to trust her first book to the press. It bore the title, “Journey of a Viennese Lady to the Holy Land.” The first edition appeared in two volumes in 1843, the fourth in 1856; and though the authoress neither had much that was new to tell, nor rode her Pegasus in the approved style of the traveled ladies of the period, her little book was still successful, as the four editions sufficiently prove. The very simplicity of the narration, and its appearance of unvarnished truth, at once gained numerous readers for the book.

The good result of this first journey, which gave the pilgrim fresh funds in the form of copyright money, awakened within her fresh plans; and this time she felt impelled toward the far north, where she expected to see majestic sights, and to behold nature exhibited in new and startling forms.

After various preparations, among which may be mentioned the study of the English and Danish languages, and of the art of taking Daguerreotypes, and after obtaining accurate information concerning the countries she purposed visiting, she began her journey to the north on the 10th of April, 1845. On the 16th of May she landed on the coast of Iceland, and proceeded to traverse that interesting island in every direction, visiting the Geysers and other hot springs, and ascending Hecla, which shortly after her departure began to vomit flame, after remaining for seventy years in a quiescent state. At the end of June she sailed back to Copenhagen, and from thence journeyed to Christiania, Thelemark, across the Swedish lakes to Stockholm, and over Upsala to the iron mines of Danemora. She returned to her native city by way of Travemûnde, Hamburg, and Berlin, arriving in Vienna on the 4th of October, 1845, after an absence of six months.

The journal of this second voyage appeared under the title, “Voyage to the Scandinavian North and the Island of Iceland,” in two volumes, at Pesth, and was much read. The money realized by a sale of the geological and botanical specimens collected during this tour, together with the sum paid for the copyright of her book, were put aside by Ida Pfeiffer as the nucleus of a fund for a new undertaking, and one of a more ambitious character. A voyage round the world now occupied the thoughts of this brave woman; and when once she had conceived the idea, she could not rest until it was put in execution.

“Greater privations and fatigue than I had endured in Syria and Iceland,” she writes, “I could scarcely have to encounter. The expense did not frighten me, for I knew by experience how little is required if the traveler will but practice the strictest economy, and be content to forego all comforts and superfluities. My savings accumulated to a sum barely sufficient perhaps to serve such travelers as Prince Pückler-Muskau, Chateaubriand, or Lamartine for a fortnight’s excursion, but which seemed enough for me during a journey of two or three years, and the event proved that I had calculated rightly.”

Again concealing the whole extent of her undertaking from her relations, and especially from her sons, and naming Brazil as her destination, our traveler bade adieu to Vienna on the 1st of May, 1846, and betook herself to Hamburg, where she was compelled to wait till the 28th of June before a suitable opportunity for proceeding to the Brazils offered itself in the shape of a little Danish brig.

Retarded by contrary winds and calms, the ship was a full month in making its way from Hamburg through the English Channel—as long a time as it required to get from thence to the equator. On the 16th of September the harbor of Rio Janeiro was reached. From that port Ida Pfeiffer made several excursions into the interior of the country. On one of these expeditions she was attacked by a runaway negro slave, whose purpose appeared to be robbery and murder. The miscreant was armed with a knife; she received more than one wound, and only owed her life to casual help which arrived at the critical moment.

At the beginning of December she left Rio Janeiro, sailed round Cape Horn on the 3d of February, 1847, and landed at Valparaiso on the 2d of March. The aspect of tropical scenery, particularly in Brazil, made a vivid impression upon her; but she was greatly disgusted at the state of things in what had been Spanish America. Quickly re-embarking, she traversed the Pacific Ocean, and landed at the island of Otaheite at the end of April. She was presented to Queen Pomare, of whose court she afterward published a sufficiently spirited account, which was read with much interest. The state of Europe at that period was one of such tranquillity that, for mere want of matter, the papers were often full of Queen Pomare for weeks together. Her Otaheitan majesty has now gone considerably out of fashion, inasmuch as Europe has enough to do with its own concerns, and has neither time nor inclination to patronize happy islands in the far Pacific.

From Otaheite the enterprising voyager proceeded to China, arriving at Macao in the beginning of July. She afterward visited Hong Kong and the city of Canton, in which she would gladly have spent more time, had not the appearance of a European woman been too much for the weak nerves of the natives of the Celestial Empire. The visitor found herself in danger of being insulted by the mob, and accordingly turned her back on the fortunate country, paid a short visit to Singapore, and proceeded to Ceylon, landing there in the middle of October. She traversed this beautiful island in various directions, and saw Colombo, Candy, and the famous temple of Dagona. At the end of October she landed on the continent of India, at Madras, remained for some time at Calcutta, proceeded up the Ganges to Benares, admired the ruins of Saranath, and visited Cawnpoor, Delhi, Indore, and Bombay. She also had an opportunity of seeing the celebrated rock temples of Adjunta and Ellora, and the islands of Elephanta and Salsette. The houses of many Indians of rank were thrown open to her, and she showed herself every where a close observer of foreign manners, customs, and peculiarities. At more than one tiger-hunt she was also present, and at a suttee. The position and proceedings of the English missionaries also excited her especial attention.

At the end of April, 1848, we find Ida Pfeiffer again at sea, bearing her pilgrim’s staff toward Persia. From Bushire she intended to proceed to Shiraz, Ispahan, and Teheran, but was deterred from this project by disturbances in the interior of the country, and turned her footsteps toward Mesopotamia. Through the bay Shat-el-Arab she betook herself to Bassora, and afterward to Bagdad. After an excursion to the ruins of Ctesiphon and Babylon, she traveled with a caravan through the Desert to Mosul and the neighboring ruins of Nineveh, and afterward to Urumia and Tebris. This expedition through Mesopotamia and Persia may be reckoned among the most daring exploits of this courageous woman. A large amount of mental energy, as well as of physical stamina, was required, to enable her to endure without fainting the many hardships of the undertaking—the burning heat by day, discomfort of every kind at night, miserable fare, an unclean couch, and constant apprehension of attack by robber bands. When she introduced herself at Tebris to the English consul, he would not believe that a woman could have achieved such a feat.

At Tebris our traveler was introduced to the vice-king Vali-Ahd, and received permission to visit his harem. On the 11th of August, 1848, she resumed her journey through Armenia, Georgia, Mingrelia, by Eriwan, Tiflis, and Kutais to Redutkale; she touched at Anapa, Kertch, and Sebastopol, landed at Odessa, and returned home by Constantinople, Greece, the Ionian Islands, and Trieste to Vienna, where she arrived on the 4th of November, 1848, just after the taking of the city by the troops of Prince Windischgrätz. It seemed that even in her fatherland, distracted as it was by faction, she was to find no rest.

Ida Pfeiffer’s fame spread more and more after this journey round the world; for a woman who, trusting to herself alone for protection, could travel 2800 miles by land and 35,000 by sea, was looked upon, not unnaturally, as a remarkable character. Her third work, which appeared in Vienna in 1850, under the title “A Woman’s Journey round the World,” was well received. It was translated twice into English, and afterward appeared in a French garb.

It was now for some time Ida Pfeiffer’s purpose to consider her traveling days as over, and to settle down in repose. But this resigned frame of mind did not last long. When, after selling her collections, and preparing and publishing her journal, she found herself in the enjoyment of undiminished health and strength, she gradually began to entertain the idea of a second voyage round the world. Her slender traveling fund was this time increased by a grant of 1500 florins from the Austrian government; and on the 18th of March, 1851, she left Vienna, betaking herself first to London, as she had no fixed goal in view, and intended to wait till an occasion offered for traveling farther. Even when she had left London, and arrived in Cape Town on the 11th of August, she had come to no definite determination. For a long time her mind wavered between the intention of visiting the interior of Africa and that of proceeding to Australia, till at last she sailed to Singapore, and decided to visit the Sunda Islands. Landing on the west coast of Borneo, at Sarawak, she received a hospitable welcome and energetic assistance from Sir James Brooke, who has established an independent principality in these regions. During an excursion she made among the savage, independent Dyaks, she was not only spared by the “head hunters,” but was even received with great cordiality. Proceeding to Sinting, she continued her journey westward to Pontianak and the diamond mines of Landak. Every where the Dutch officials, civil and military, offered her the readiest assistance, without which she would have found it impossible to extend her travels so far as she did in the Indian Archipelago. Ida Pfeiffer’s design was to push on from Pontianak directly through the interior of the island, a region never yet traversed by Europeans; but she could endure no one to be her guide or companion on so dangerous an expedition. She therefore cast her eyes on Java, and landed at Batavia at the end of May, 1852. Here, likewise, she received every assistance and support from the Dutch authorities, and, in consequence of their example, from the native grandees also. This she often afterward publicly acknowledged, with the warmest thanks.

On the 8th of July, 1852, her journey to Sumatra began; and this she has declared to be the most interesting of all her undertakings. From Padang she proceeded to trust herself among the Battas, who are cannibals, and have never suffered any European to come among them. Though the savages opposed her farther advance, she passed forward through the primeval forest, among a population of man-eaters, almost as far as the Lake Eier-Tau. But here she was compelled by threatening spears to retreat, after having been repeatedly assured that she should be killed and eaten. On the 7th of October she got back to Padang. In Sumatra she was twice attacked by the malignant intermittent fever of the country.

Returning to Java, she made excursions to the principalities of Djokdjokarta and Surakarta, to the temple Boro Budoo, and to Surabaga. From thence she sailed to several of the smaller Sunda Islands, and to the Moluccas, Banda, Amboyna, Saparna, Ceram, and Ternate; remained for a few months among the wild Alfores, and closed her rambles among the Sunda Islands by a visit to Celebes.

Again she traversed the Pacific to a distance of 10,150 miles to visit California. For two months she saw nothing but sea and sky. On the 27th of September, 1853, she landed at San Francisco, visited the gold-washing districts on the Sacramento and the Yuba, and slept in the wigwams of the red-skins of Rogue River.

At the end of 1853 Ida Pfeiffer sailed to Panama, and from thence to the Peruvian coast. From Callao she betook herself to Lima, with the intention of crossing the Cordilleras, and proceeding to Loretto, on the Amazon, and thus gaining the eastern coast of South America. The revolution, however, which had just broken out in Peru, made the land unsafe, and compelled our traveler to try and cross the Cordilleras at another point. She returned, accordingly, to Ecuador, and in March, 1854, began her toilsome passage across the mountains. She crossed the chain in the immediate neighborhood of Chimborazo, came to the elevated plateau of Ambato and Tacunga, and witnessed the rare spectacle of an eruption of the volcano Cotopaxi—a sight for which she was afterward envied by Alexander von Humboldt. On reaching Quito on the 4th of April, she did not, unfortunately, find the assistance she had expected in the shape of several trustworthy guides to the Amazon. She therefore gave up her plan of embarking on that river, and had to repeat her wearisome march across the Cordilleras. In the neighborhood of Guayaquil she twice stood in imminent danger of being killed—first by a fall from her mule, and then from an immersion in the River Guaya, which abounds in caymans. Her companions wished her to perish, and did not render the slightest assistance. Deeply disgusted at their inhumanity, she turned her back upon Spanish South America, betook herself by sea to Panama, and at the end of May crossed the Isthmus.

From Aspinwall she sailed to New Orleans, remaining there till the 30th of June; then she ascended the Mississippi to Napoleon, and the Arkansas as far as Fort Smith. Her projected visit to the Cherokee Indians had to be abandoned, on account of a renewed and violent attack of the Sumatra fever. Returning to the Mississippi, she reached St. Louis on the 14th of July, and paid a visit to the Baden democrat Hecker, who had established himself in the neighborhood of Lebanon. Then she turned northward toward St. Paul and the Falls of St. Anthony, proceeded to Chicago, and thus came to the great lakes and to the Falls of Niagara. After an excursion into Canada, she staid for some time in New York, Boston, and other cities, then went on board a steamer, and, after a passage of ten days, landed in England, at Liverpool, on the 21st of November, 1854.

To this great voyage round the world she added a little supplement, by paying a visit to her son, who was residing at San Miguel, in the Azores. It was not until May, 1855, that she returned to Vienna, by way of Lisbon, Southampton, and London.

The specimens and the ethnographical objects collected by Ida Pfeiffer were for the most part deposited in the British Museum and in the Imperial Cabinets in Vienna. Alexander von Humboldt and Carl Ritter, in Berlin, took great interest in the efforts of Ida Pfeiffer, and Humboldt especially rewarded her with the warmest praise for her energy and perseverance. At the request of these two eminent men, the Geographical Society of Berlin elected Ida Pfeiffer an honorary member, and the King of Prussia awarded her the gold medal for arts and sciences. In Vienna the expressions of approval were much more sparing, probably according to the old rule that no prophet is regarded in his own country.

The brave traveler’s journal again appeared in Vienna in 1856, under the title, “My Second Journey round the World.”

After each of her former voyages, Ida Pfeiffer had for a time cherished the idea of retiring from future enterprises, and living in the memory of the past. But after the second journey round the world, which resulted entirely to her satisfaction, no such ideas seem to have troubled her. Before she had even finished arranging her cabinet of specimens and superintending the publication of her book, she already conceived the plan of exploring Madagascar, and was not to be dissuaded from her purpose even by the representations of Alexander von Humboldt, who proposed various other plans for her consideration.

The farther fortunes of Ida Pfeiffer will be found chronicled in the accompanying journal of her voyage to Madagascar, and, with the communication of her son, Mr. Oscar Pfeiffer, tell the story of her sufferings and death. But, before we enter upon the last act of her toilsome and instructive career, it will be well to say a few words concerning the character of our traveler.

Ida Pfeiffer did not give those who saw her the impression of an emancipated, strong-minded, or masculine woman. On the contrary, she was so simple and downright in word and thought, that those who did not know her had some difficulty in getting at the depth of her knowledge and experience. In her whole appearance and manners there was a quiet staidness that seemed to indicate a practical housewife, with no enthusiastic thought beyond her domestic concerns. Many people were accordingly premature in their judgment concerning Ida Pfeiffer, and felt inclined to ascribe her passion for traveling to mere inquisitive restlessness. This supposition was, however, completely negatived by a leading trait in Ida Pfeiffer’s character, namely, a total absence of any thing like prying curiosity. In proportion as her whole existence had been troubled, was her appearance quiet and sedate.

The sharpest observer would fail to detect in her any tendency to push herself forward, or to interfere in matters not within her sphere. Serious, silent, and reserved, she presented few of the agreeable features of her mind to people with whom she was imperfectly acquainted.

But those who succeeded in gaining her intimacy could not fail to recognize under this unpretending exterior the qualities which make a remarkable woman. Strength of purpose, firmness of character, sometimes amounting almost to obstinacy, were quickly discernible in certain favorite expressions of hers. If we add to these gifts an amount of personal courage rarely found in a woman, indifference to physical pain and to the ordinary conveniences of life, and, moreover, the never-ceasing desire to add something to the stock of human knowledge, it will be allowed that she possessed the qualities with which success is achieved in the world. The value of these gifts was heightened in Ida Pfeiffer by a strict regard for truth and strong sense of conscientious responsibility, and a love of right and justice. She never told any thing that had not happened exactly as she chronicled it, and never made a promise which she did not keep. She had what, in common life, we emphatically term character.

That her communications derive an additional value from her well-known truthfulness is self-evident; and as she was free from sectarian and other prejudices, her judgments were always based upon a solid foundation. Had she in her youthful days employed herself more than she did in scientific study, and gained positive knowledge in that direction, her travels would doubtless have been more useful; but at the commencement of our century even men were seldom found who would employ themselves in scientific pursuits that had no immediate bearing upon their professions, and learned women were rarer still. Ida Pfeiffer was conscious of this defect in her education, and in her mature years often thought of remedying it, but she lacked both the necessary time and patience.

To divest her efforts of all scientific value would, however, be unjust, for the most competent men have given a different verdict. She pressed forward into many regions never before trodden by European foot; and the very fact of her being a woman was her protection in her most dangerous undertakings. She was allowed to pursue her journey where a man would assuredly not have been suffered to advance. Her communications, consequently, have often the merit of containing entirely new facts in geography and ethnology, or of correcting the exaggerations and errors of previous accounts. Science was likewise benefited by the valuable collections she made of plants, animals, and minerals. Frequently she did not herself know the value of what she had brought together; but, nevertheless, she brought many important specimens; and the sciences of conchology and entomology are indebted to her for the discovery of several new genera.

If we compare the results of Ida Pfeiffer’s undertakings with the limited means at her disposal for carrying out her plans, her achievements become marvelous. She traversed nearly 150,000 miles of sea and 20,000 miles of land; and the funds for these travels were gained entirely by wise economy, and by the energy with which she kept the goal continually before her eyes. If her passion for traveling was great, her talents as a traveler were far greater. Without sacrificing her dignity or becoming importunate, she had the art of first arousing and then benefiting by the interest and sympathy of people in all parts of the world. At last she became quite accustomed to see her plan furthered in every possible way, and though she never failed to express her thanks, she seemed at last to receive the good offices of foreigners in all quarters of the globe as almost a matter of course. She even had to fight against little outbursts of wrath when she missed the sympathy for her efforts and herself to which she had become so accustomed. In later years especially, she was fully conscious of her own value, and showed it when people attempted to behave in a condescending or patronizing way to her. Persons of higher rank than herself were obliged to be very careful in their intercourse with her; but with plain, unpretending people she never uttered a word that could hurt or offend. Hating all pretension, and all boastful self-assertion, she showed herself obstinate and self-willed wherever she met with such qualities. Antipathy or sympathy were quickly evoked in her, and it was not easy to make her swerve from an opinion she had once formed. Even when she appeared to give way, it generally happened that she returned by some circuitous route or other to her old starting-point.

For every kind of knowledge she showed the most profound respect, but particularly for the acquirements of people who had distinguished themselves in the domain of science. For Alexander von Humboldt her admiration amounted to perfect enthusiasm, and she never mentioned the great philosopher’s name without testifying the respect she felt toward him. Nothing, perhaps, gave her so much pleasure in her later years as the appreciation for, and sympathy with her efforts manifested by Humboldt.

Ida Pfeiffer was of short stature, thin, and slightly bent. Her movements were deliberate and measured, but she could walk at a very quick pace for her years. When she returned from one of her journeys, her complexion used to give strong evidence of the power of the tropical sun. Beyond this there was nothing in her features to tell of her remarkable trials and adventures; a quieter countenance could not readily be found. But when she became animated in conversation, and spoke of things which strongly awakened her interest, her whole face lighted up, and its expression became exceedingly engaging.

In all that related to the toilet, a matter of importance to most women, Ida Pfeiffer confined her wants within the smallest limits. She was never seen to wear trinkets or jewels; and none of the lady readers who honor these pages with their perusal can show more simplicity in the adornment of her beauty, or greater indifference to the requirements of custom, than were displayed by this voyager round the world.

Straightforward, of high principle, with a promptitude and wisdom in action rarely equaled among her sex, Ida Pfeiffer may justly be classed among those women who richly compensate for the absence of outward charms by the remarkable energy and rare qualities of their minds.