Thursday, October 19th 1854 ~ Meiringen

Postcard of Meiringen, Switzerland, ca. 1900.

Hotel du Sauvage ~ We breakfasted as usual this morning on mutton chops, cream, honey, bread, butter, etc. It was rainy but the clouds were broken and at all heights, as that we could sometimes see the tops of the hills which surrounded the little vale, in which the cottages of Lungern are scattered. Mountain rills come tumbling down the hillsides with a rushing sound. It partially cleared off at noon and we started then for Meyringen over the Brunig pass. The ladies each had a horse and a man to lead him while I brought up the train on foot. Our baggage was carried over the mountain with us on the shoulders of a fine looking Swiss. It weighed seventy pounds! Our party looked picturesque enough winding up the narrow path, in single file (large trees on either side) accompanied by their guides carrying long staves. At short intervals the men sang Tyrolean songs, which the echo returned seven fold. The view from the highest point of the pass must be very pretty but as we saw it (in the rain) it was not remarkably so. We arrived at Meyringen at four o’clock, and found a marriage feast in progress at the hotel. We were the only travelers in the house and were invited to join in the festivities. The young couple had been married at two o’clock and even now dancing with their guests, one hundred and fifty or two hundred in number, to the music of an orchestra of five pieces. The dresses were very peculiar; the man wearing very short tailed frock coats and the women in short skirts, velvet vests, without sleeves, displaying a long shirt sleeve (white). We found that they were the sons and daughters of Swiss farmers living in the neighborhood. They were having a real merry time; we joined the company and after a few moments I asked mine host to introduce me to one of the fair dames and was soon engaged in the mazes of the polka and schottische with a native of the land in which they originated. I was unable to say a word to my partner for she could speak no French, and I could speak no German. At eight o’clock dinner was served; the company were seated around three long tables. At the head of the middle one the bride and groom were placed under a canopy made of green leaves. He was a fine looking fellow speaking French, German and English. The bride fine looking but not pretty. Seats were allotted us at their left hands. Near them were the respective families and the Lutheran clergyman who tied the knot. He was a jolly looking German with a cigar in his mouth. The dinner was a very good but a plain one consisting of soup, several courses of meats, dessert and wine of the country. After it had been discussed the clergy man made a congratulatory address, ending with the song (joined in by all) “Sie Leben Hoch.” This was followed by some toasts and then young men went out of the room and returned with little presents (mostly articles of dress) which they presented to their respective favorites of the other sex. They were given with many jokes, holdings of mock auctions over them etc. After this everyone made some present to the bride or groom in the same gay style. Generally articles of household use, and in several instances money. One of these was an apple with gold pieces stuck in it. There were several baskets of chinaware etc. etc. It was a scene of great festivity without ceremony or restraint and we enjoyed it vastly. After dinner the company assembled again in the ball room where they danced until two in the morning. Very beautiful chessmen of carved wood are made here, but there are so many custom houses still before us that I do not dare to purchase.

Sunday, October 15th 1854, Lucerne, Switzerland

Lake Lucerne from Mt. Rigi (photo: J. Selby, cc).

Hotel du Cygne ~ Last evening Lizzie and myself took a row boat and made a little excursion on the Lake, I rowing, but the boat was heavy and the clouds too low to enable us to see anything of the mountains. Coming back we met a party of washerwomen, rowing themselves and their linen [Lumenards] and singing so merrily that it was quite delightful. A little steamer that makes the trip over the Lake and back lies just under our windows. The day has been cloudy and rainy part of the time. We however got a little sight of the top of the Rigi for the first time. There is no English chapel here, or rather none open at present, so after watching the peasants pass the hotel on their way to church, we followed them there (the cathedral is quite near us). The dress of the female peasants was a striped skirt reaching a little below the knee, a short white apron, basque looking like a boys jacket open in front, disclosing what old fashioned people call a stomacher of black velvet and tinsel, worn with a white under handkerchief pleated. The hair generally long, braided, and hanging down the back with ribbons on the ends. We had in the cathedral some quite fine orchestral music, or rather fine music with orchestral accompaniment. European cathedrals are never provided with fixed seats, but each person, on entering, calls for a chair which is provided upon the payment of a small fee. They are used more for kneeling on than for sitting, the back of the chair being as arranged as to make a very good desk or shelf for a prayer book. All these peasants looked very picturesquely kneeling with their faces to the Alter. After church we took a walk into the country choosing a road, running along the border of the Lake, but on the hill side. We walked several miles enjoying the beautiful scenery. On the road we past an old watch tower in ruins, and were drown by a sudden shower under the forties of a large and very dirty cottage. We could not persuade ourselves to enter its hallowed precincts, and after a time were forced to walk home with umbrellas up. Ours is not the first house and we regret having come to it. It is comfortable but small, has no table d’hote, so that we are obliged to dine in private. Today we had nothing but chicken and for dessert ‘compot’ of peaches. This afternoon read the church service at home. The Switzerhof is the name of the best house; this is the first class of course but not as good.

Friday, October 13th 1854 ~ Lucerne, Switzerland

"The Lake of Lucerne: Mont Pilatus in the Distance" (1857) by J. Inchbold.

The morning was chilly, cold, and disagreeable, but promised to be more pleasant than yesterday. The sun peeped out at intervals and seemed to be making efforts to redeem the character of a Swiss autumn. We left Kreutzstrasse at half past eight this morning and arrived at Lucerne at four o’clock this afternoon. The country is generally level and does not possess much that would be interesting to old European travelers, but we were delighted with the picturesque dresses of the peasantry, the brown cows, eight harnessed to a plow. The peculiar houses, generally of wood, pretty at a distance but dirty and uncomfortable when closely inspected. The occasional ruins of castles each on its high rock, the pleasant manners of the peasants, who all touched their hats to us as we passed etc. Our road lay through Sursee and along the borders of the pretty little Lake Sempach. When our witurier stopt to find his horses at noon Lizzie and myself walked on, leavin the carriage to come up in an hours time. During our walk we met an old priest, drest in the rusty brown cloth frock of a monk, with a rope girdle. Around him were grouped a dozen children with whom he was talking. We joined him and in conversation he informed us that he no longer exercised the holy office. The reason why was apparent from the state of his breath. He was without a hat and had a rosary hung from his rope belt. On this road I first saw an English walnut tree. We stopt and partook of its fruit which some little boys were shaking down. One seems to see infinitely more of the country when walking and of the people. Indeed I think it is the only way to become well acquainted and enjoy a European country. If I could I should much prefer traversing Switzerland on foot. The peasants of the Northern and Eastern cantons speak bad German. In the neighborhood of Geneva the language is French, but not Parisian French. Our breakfasts since we have been in Switzerland have been peculiar. We have always honey, good butter, rich cream, French rolls or “petit pains” as they are called here. These “petit pains” are only found in the hotels, the Swiss bread tastes like our home made except that it is always a little acid and darker in color. Fresh eggs are plenty. Mutton chops are very nice here. As we approached Lucerne the country became more hilly as if to give us a foretaste of the glories to be revealed.