It is not improbable that some of those who read this book, may feel
a wish to know in what manner I became possessed of the manuscript.
Such a desire is too just and natural to be thwarted, and the tale
shall be told as briefly as possible.
During the summer of 1828, while travelling among those valleys of
Switzerland which lie between the two great ranges of the Alps, and
in which both the Rhone and the Rhine take their rise, I had passed
from the sources of the latter to those of the former river, and had
reached that basin in the mountains that is so celebrated for
containing the glacier of the Rhone, when chance gave me one of
those rare moments of sublimity and solitude, which are the more
precious in the other hemisphere from their infrequency. On every
side the view was bounded by high and ragged mountains, their peaks
glittering near the sun, while directly before me, and on a level
with the eye, lay that miraculous frozen sea, out of whose drippings
the Rhone starts a foaming river, to glance away to the distant
Mediterranean. For the first time, during a pilgrimage of years, I
felt alone with nature in Europe. Alas! the enjoyment, as all such
enjoyments necessarily are amid the throngs of the old world, was
short and treacherous. A party came round the angle of a rock, along
the narrow bridle-path, in single file; two ladies on horseback,
followed by as many gentlemen on foot, and preceded by the usual
guide. It was but small courtesy to rise and salute the dove-like
eyes and blooming cheeks of the former, as they passed. They were
English, and the gentlemen appeared to recognize me as a countryman.
One of the latter stopped, and politely inquired if the passage of
the Furca was obstructed by snow. He was told not, and in return for
the information said that I would find the Grimsel a little
ticklish; "but," he added, smiling, "the ladies succeeded in
crossing, and you will scarcely hesitate." I thought I might get
over a difficulty that his fair companions had conquered. He then
told me Sir Herbert Taylor was made adjutant-general, and wished me
good morning.
I sat reflecting on the character, hopes, pursuits, and interests of
man, for an hour, concluding that the stranger was a soldier, who
let some of the ordinary workings of his thoughts overflow in this
brief and casual interview. To resume my solitary journey, cross the
Rhone, and toil my way up the rugged side of the Grimsel, consumed
two more hours, and glad was I to come in view of the little chill-
looking sheet of water on its summit, which is called the Lake of
the Dead. The path was filled with snow, at a most critical point,
where, indeed, a misplaced footstep might betray the incautious to
their destruction. A large party on the other side appeared fully
aware of the difficulty, for it had halted, and was in earnest
discussion with the guide, touching the practicability of passing.
It was decided to attempt the enterprise. First came a female of one
of the sweetest, serenest countenances I had ever seen. She, too,
was English; and though she trembled, and blushed, and laughed at
herself, she came on with spirit, and would have reached my side in
safety, had not an unlucky stone turned beneath a foot that was much
too pretty for those wild hills. I sprang forward, and was so happy
as to save her from destruction. She felt the extent of the
obligation, and expressed her thanks modestly but with fervor. In a
minute we were joined by her husband, who grasped my hand with warm
feeling, or rather with the emotion one ought to feel who had
witnessed the risk he had just run of losing an angel. The lady
seemed satisfied at leaving us together.
"You are an Englishman?" said the stranger.
"An American."
"An American! This is singular--will you pardon a question?--You
have more than saved my life--you have probably saved my reason--
will you pardon a question?--Can money serve you?"
I smiled, and told him, odd as it might appear to him, that though
an American, I was a gentleman. He appeared embarrassed, and his
fine face worked, until I began to pity him, for it was evident he
wished to show me in some way, how much he felt he was my debtor,
and yet he did not know exactly what to propose.
"We may meet again," I said, squeezing his hand.
"Will you receive my card?"
"Most willingly."
He put "Viscount Householder" into my hand, and in return I gave him
my own humble appellation.
He looked from the card to me, and from me to the card, and some
agreeable idea appeared to flash upon his mind.
"Shall you visit Geneva this summer?" he asked, earnestly.
"Within a month."
"Your address--"
"Hotel de l'Ecu."
"You shall hear from me. Adieu."
We parted, he, his lovely wife, and his guides descending to the
Rhone, while I pursued my way to the Hospice of the Grimsel. Within
the month I received a large packet at l'Ecu. It contained a
valuable diamond ring, with a request that I would wear it, as a
memorial of Lady Householder, and a fairly written manuscript. The
following short note explained the wishes of the writer:
"Providence brought us together for more purposes than were at first
apparent. I have long hesitated about publishing the accompanying
narrative, for in England there is a disposition to cavil at
extraordinary facts, but the distance of America from my place of
residence will completely save me from ridicule. The world must have
the truth, and I see no better means than by resorting to your
agency. All I ask is, that you will have the book fairly printed,
and that you will send one copy to my address, Householder Hall,
Dorsetshire, Eng., and another to Captain Noah Poke, Stonington,
Conn., in your own country. My Anna prays for you, and is ever your
friend. Do not forget us.
"Yours, most faithfully,"
"HOUSEHOLDER."
I have rigidly complied with this request, and having sent the two
copies according to direction, the rest of the edition is at the
disposal of any one who may feel an inclination to pay for it. In
return for the copy sent to Stonington, I received the following
letter:
"ON BOARD THE DERBY AND DOLLY,
"STONNIN'TUN, April 1st, 1835.
"AUTHOR OF THE SPY, ESQUIRE:
"Dear Sir:--Your favor is come to hand, and found me in good health,
as I hope these few lines will have the same advantage with you. I
have read the book, and must say there is some truth in it, which, I
suppose, is as much as befalls any book, the Bible, the Almanac, and
the State Laws excepted. I remember Sir John well, and shall gainsay
nothing he testifies to, for the reason that friends should not
contradict each other. I was also acquainted with the four Monikins
he speaks of, though I knew them by different names. Miss Poke says
she wonders if it's all true, which I wunt tell her, seeing that a
little unsartainty makes a woman rational. As to my navigating
without geometry, thats a matter that wasn't worth booking, for it's
no curiosity in these parts, bating a look at the compass once or
twice a day, and so I take my leave of you, with offers to do any
commission for you among the Sealing Islands, for which I sail to-
morrow, wind and weather permitting.
"Yours to sarve, NOAH POKE."
"To the Author of THE SPY, Esquire,
---town,------county, York state.
"P. S.--I always told Sir John to steer clear of too much
journalizing, but he did nothing but write, night and day, for a
week; and as you brew, so you must bake. The wind has chopped, and
we shall take our anchor this tide; so no more at present.
"N. B.--Sir John is a little out about my eating the monkey, which I
did, four years before I fell in with him, down on the Spanish Main.
It was not bad food to the taste, but was wonderful narvous to the
eye. I r'ally thought I had got hold of Miss Poke's youngest born."