A few other ladies are in morning dress, with shawls or handkerchiefs thrown gracefully over their heads, and nothing peculiar or different in their costume from what we are accustomed to see at home.
Mr. Haycock had received a letter of introduction to Mr. Simson, and I had one to Mr. Sievertsen; the latter is a retired merchant, and the former carries on a large business of a very miscellaneous kind—such being the character of all the stores or factories here. As the houses of these gentlemen both lay in the same direction, we set out together in order to obtain advice as to what was to be seen in Reykjavik and its neighbourhood. In passing along the front street, the stores—mostly belonging to Danish merchants—presented quite a bustling business aspect; while the dwelling houses, with lattice windows, white curtains and flower-pots of blooming roses and geraniums, exhibited an air of cleanliness, comfort and refinement. From the absence of roads, carts are useless; one wheel barrow which we saw, belonging to an enterprising storekeeper, we were told, was the only wheeled vehicle in the island.
Mr. Sigurdur Sievertsen received us most cordially. This intelligent old gentleman conducted Sir George Mackenzie, who was his father’s guest, to the Geysers; and he is alluded to by Sir George, in his travels, as “young Mr. Sievertsen.” Time works changes! or, as Archbishop Whately would more accurately put it, changes are wrought, not by, but “in time.” However, Mr. Sievertsen is hale and hearty, and many summers may he yet see! On the wall we saw the portrait of his gifted and much lamented son, who several years ago died in Paris. He had been taken there by Louis Philip to receive a free education, as a graceful acknowledgment to the Icelanders for kindness shewn to the crew of a French vessel wrecked on their coast.
L Men’s shoes. G Girls’ shoes. S Snuffbox made of walrus tusk. H Female-head-dress with flowing silk tassel (see p. [49]). D Distaff. M Two-thumbed mits.]
Our host has visited Britain, and both speaks and writes English fluently. Neither he nor his amiable wife spared any pains in trying to be of service to us. They gave us all manner of information, and kindly assisted us in procuring specimens of native manufacture, such as—silver trinkets of beautiful workmanship; fine knitted gloves soft as Angola wool; fishermen’s mits with no divisions for the fingers but each made with two thumbs, so that when the fishing line wears through one side the other can be turned; caps; men and women’s shoes; quaint snuff boxes made of walrus tusk, or horn; and sundry other souvenirs which we wished to take south with us.
In Mr. Simson’s store we saw everything from a needle to an anchor; from the coarsest packsheet to French ribbons. At Mr. Smith’s, whose son had come north with us on his way from Copenhagen, we invested in seal-skins and eider-down—the latter for pillows and coverlets. This down, the eider-duck plucks from its breast to line its nest; it and the eggs are taken away. Again the nest is lined, and again robbed. The third time, the drake repairs it, supplying the down; and if this be also taken away the nest is altogether deserted by the ill-used pair. One nest yields about two and a half ounces of the finest clean down, or about half a pound in all if removed three times. What is plucked from the dead bird, it is said, possesses none of that wonderful elasticity which constitutes the value of the other. We should think, however, that this would depend on the state of the plumage at the time. Many thousand pounds weight of it are annually exported for quilts, pillows, cushions, &c. It sells in Iceland at from 10/6 to 17/6 per ℔. From three to four ℔s. are sufficient for a coverlet, which, to be enjoyed in perfection, ought to be used unquilted and loose like a feather bed. Quilting is only useful where a small quantity of down is required to go a long way; but, with three or four pounds at command, there is no comparison in point of comfort between loose and quilted—we have tried both. The eider coverlet combines lightness and warmth in a degree which cannot be otherwise obtained. With a single sheet and blanket, it is sufficient for the coldest wintry night. Its elasticity is proverbial; hence the Icelandic conundrum we had propounded to us by our good friend Mr. Jacobson, “What is it that is higher when the head is taken off it?” Answer—“An eider-down pillow!”
In walking along we saw some young ladies, in elegant Parisian costume, out sunning themselves like butterflies. The thermometer stood at 72°, so, light coloured fancy parasols were in requisition and enjoyed no sinecure to-day, even in Iceland. Single days here are sometimes very bright and warm, though rarely without showers; for the weather is very changeable, and summer short at best. Less rain falls in the northern part of the island than in the southern; because the mountains in the south first catch and empty the rain clouds floating from the south-west over the course of the gulf-stream. For this reason there is more sunshine in the north, crops too are heavier and earlier; for, notwithstanding the 3° higher latitude, the summer temperature is nearly the same as that of the south. In winter, however, it is colder, from the presence of Spitzbergen icebergs and Greenland ice-floes stranded on the shore, while the sea to the north and east is filled with them. Last winter was very severe: the south and west were also filled. My friend Dr. Mackinlay has treated this subject—the climate of Iceland—so admirably, that I cannot refrain from quoting his MS. notes:
“The number and size of the rivers” says he, “cannot fail to strike the attention of every visitor who sees much of the country especially along the coasts. The main cause of this is, of course, the abundant rain-fall which is out of all proportion to the latitude of Iceland.
“This excess is owing to two causes—The mountainous nature of the country; and its geographical position. Iceland lies in the direct course of one of the branches of the gulf-stream. No land intervenes between it and the Bermudas. The rain-charged clouds from the south-west are therefore ready to part with their moisture as soon as they touch the shores of Iceland. As they move northwards, to the back-bone of the island, their temperature diminishes so rapidly that the whole of their moisture becomes precipitated. Winds from the S.W., S., and S.E., drench the southern part of the Island, but bring fair weather to the north.