You
will
rejoice
to
hear
that
no
disaster
has accompanied
the
commencement
of
an
enterprise
which
you
have
regarded
with
such
evil
forebodings. I
arrived
here
yesterday,
and
my
first
task
is
to
assure
my
dear
sister
of
my
welfare
and
increasing
confidence
in
the
success
of
my undertaking. I
am
already
far
north
of
London,
and
as
I walk
in
the
streets
of
Petersburgh, I feel a cold
northern
breeze
play
upon
my cheeks,
which
braces
my nerves
and
fills
me
with
delight.
Do
you
understand
this
feeling?
This
breeze,
which
has travelled
from
the
regions
towards
which
I
am
advancing,
gives
me
a foretaste
of
those
icy
climes. Inspirited
by
this
wind
of
promise, my daydreams
become
more
fervent
and
vivid. I
try
in
vain
to
be
persuaded
that
the
pole
is
the
seat
of
frost
and
desolation;
it
ever
presents
itself
to
my
imagination
as
the
region
of
beauty
and
delight. There, Margaret,
the
sun
is
forever visible,
its
broad
disk
just
skirting
the
horizon
and
diffusing
a
perpetual
splendour. There—for
with
your
leave, my sister, I
will
put
some
trust
in
preceding
navigators—there
snow
and
frost
are
banished; and,
sailing
over
a
calm
sea,
we
may
be
wafted
to
a
land
surpassing
in
wonders
and
in
beauty
every
region
hitherto
discovered
on
the
habitable
globe.
Its
productions
and
features
may
be
without
example,
as
the
phenomena
of
the
heavenly
bodies
undoubtedly
are
in
those
undiscovered solitudes.
What
may
not
be
expected
in
a
country
of
eternal
light? I
may
there
discover
the
wondrous
power
which
attracts
the
needle
and
may
regulate
a
thousand
celestial
observations
that
require
only
this
voyage
to
render
their
seeming
eccentricities
consistent
forever. I
shall
satiate
my
ardent
curiosity
with
the
sight
of
a
part
of
the
world
never
before
visited,
and
may
tread a
land
never
before
imprinted
by
the
foot
of
man.
These
are
my enticements,
and
they
are
sufficient
to
conquer
all
fear
of
danger
or
death
and
to
induce
me
to
commence
this
laborious
voyage
with
the
joy
a
child
feels
when
he
embarks
in
a
little
boat,
with
his
holiday
mates,
on
an
expedition
of
discovery
up
his
native
river.
But
supposing
all
these
conjectures
to
be
false,
you
cannot contest
the
inestimable
benefit
which
I
shall
confer
on
all
mankind,
to
the
last
generation,
by
discovering
a
passage
near
the
pole
to
those
countries,
to
reach
which
at
present
so
many
months
are
requisite;
or
by
ascertaining
the
secret
of
the
magnet, which,
if
at
all
possible,
can
only
be
effected
by
an
undertaking
such
as
mine.
These
reflections
have
dispelled
the
agitation
with
which
I began my letter,
and
I feel my
heart
glow
with
an
enthusiasm
which
elevates
me
to
heaven,
for
nothing
contributes
so
much
to
tranquillize
the
mind
as
a steady purpose—a
point
on
which
the
soul
may
fix
its
intellectual eye.
This
expedition
has been
the
favourite
dream
of
my
early
years. I
have
read
with
ardour
the
accounts
of
the
various
voyages
which
have
been
made
in
the
prospect
of
arriving
at
the
North
Pacific
Ocean
through
the
seas
which
surround
the
pole.
You
may
remember
that
a
history
of
all
the
voyages
made
for
purposes
of
discovery composed
the
whole
of
our
good
Uncle
Thomas' library. My
education
was
neglected,
yet
I
was
passionately
fond
of
reading.
These
volumes
were
my
study
day
and
night,
and
my
familiarity
with
them
increased
that
regret
which
I had felt,
as
a child,
on
learning
that
my father's dying
injunction
had forbidden my
uncle
to
allow
me
to
embark
in
a seafaring life.
These
visions
faded
when
I perused,
for
the
first
time,
those
poets
whose
effusions
entranced
my soul
and
lifted
it
to
heaven. I
also
became a
poet
and
for
one
year
lived
in
a
paradise
of
my
own
creation; I
imagined
that
I
also
might
obtain
a
niche
in
the
temple
where
the
names
of
Homer
and
Shakespeare
are
consecrated.
You
are
well
acquainted
with
my
failure
and
how
heavily
I bore
the
disappointment.
But
just
at
that
time I
inherited
the
fortune
of
my cousin,
and
my
thoughts
were
turned
into
the
channel
of
their
earlier bent.
Six
years
have
passed
since
I resolved
on
my
present
undertaking. I can,
even
now,
remember
the
hour
from
which
I
dedicated
myself
to
this
great
enterprise. I
commenced
by
inuring
my
body
to
hardship. I accompanied
the
whale-fishers
on
several
expeditions
to
the
North
Sea; I voluntarily
endured
cold, famine, thirst,
and
want
of
sleep; I
often
worked
harder
than
the
common
sailors
during
the
day
and
devoted my
nights
to
the
study
of
mathematics,
the
theory
of
medicine,
and
those
branches
of
physical
science
from
which
a
naval
adventurer
might
derive
the
greatest
practical
advantage.
Twice
I actually
hired
myself
as
an
under-mate
in
a
Greenland
whaler,
and
acquitted
myself
to
admiration. I
must
own
I felt a
little
proud
when
my captain
offered
me
the
second
dignity
in
the
vessel
and
entreated
me
to
remain
with
the
greatest earnestness,
so
valuable
did
he
consider
my services.
And
now,
dear
Margaret,
do
I
not
deserve
to
accomplish
some
great
purpose? My
life
might
have
been
passed
in
ease
and
luxury,
but
I
preferred
glory
to
every
enticement
that
wealth
placed
in
my path. Oh,
that
some
encouraging
voice
would
answer
in
the
affirmative! My
courage
and
my
resolution
is
firm;
but
my
hopes
fluctuate,
and
my spirits
are
often
depressed. I
am
about
to
proceed
on
a
long
and
difficult
voyage,
the
emergencies
of
which
will
demand
all
my fortitude: I
am
required
not
only
to
raise
the
spirits
of
others,
but
sometimes
to
sustain
my own,
when
theirs
are
failing.
This
is
the
most
favourable
period
for
travelling
in
Russia.
They
fly
quickly
over
the
snow
in
their
sledges;
the
motion
is
pleasant, and,
in
my opinion,
far
more
agreeable
than
that
of
an
English
stagecoach.
The
cold
is
not
excessive,
if
you
are
wrapped
in
furs—a dress
which
I
have
already
adopted,
for
there
is
a
great
difference
between
walking
the
deck
and
remaining
seated
motionless
for
hours,
when
no
exercise
prevents
the
blood
from
actually freezing
in
your
veins. I
have
no
ambition
to
lose
my
life
on
the
post-road
between
St. Petersburgh
and
Archangel. I
shall
depart
for
the
latter
town
in
a
fortnight
or
three
weeks;
and
my
intention
is
to
hire
a
ship
there,
which
can
easily
be
done
by
paying
the
insurance
for
the
owner,
and
to
engage
as
many
sailors
as
I
think
necessary
among
those
who
are
accustomed
to
the
whale-fishing. I
do
not
intend
to
sail
until
the
month
of
June;
and
when
shall
I return? Ah,
dear
sister,
how
can
I
answer
this
question?
If
I succeed, many,
many
months,
perhaps
years,
will
pass
before
you
and
I
may
meet.
If
I fail,
you
will
see
me
again
soon,
or
never. Farewell, my dear,
excellent
Margaret.
Heaven
shower
down
blessings
on
you,
and
save me,
that
I
may
again
and
again
testify
my
gratitude
for
all
your
love
and
kindness.