Tuesday, October 31st 1854 ~ Martigny

Hotel de la Tour ~ We breakfasted at Chamonix this morning still with the Polish party and bid them goodbye at nine leaving them on their way to the Fligire, a mountain from which perhaps the best view of Mt. Blanc is to be had, while we started for this place over the “Tite-noire” and the “Val Orsini” on horses each having a guide to lead him. It was a clear bright day and all nature looked fresh and beautiful. Mt. Blanc from the village of Chamonix is in plain sight but looks lower than many of the other mountains because it is somewhat farther removed than they and it is only when the traveler reaches pretty high ground that the Monarch unveils his majesty and rises supreme, a great dom of snow. Our path conducted first through the Val d’Orsini, a narrow valley bounded on either side by sloping rocks, forming high shelving walls and looking like one of the sterile vales of the Arabian nights entertainments. All around us were great masses of jagged stone broken off and thrown here by the winters avalanches, many of them containing twenty and many sixty cubic feet. Between these, the mules picked their way, until the path began to ascend one of the hillsides; as it rose giving us views of the Alpine chain presided over by Mt. Blanc, unapproachable and vast, who here assumed his true rank. The road rising still, soon brought us to the “Tete Noire” which is the summit of the mountain, along whose side we had been creeping – rushing brooks from time to time appear forming beautiful cascades which are lost to view in the dark glens about us, or leaping down the precipice at our feet their voice is hushed in their distant landing. Looking down, the Swiss houses in the vale are reduced to the size of toy buildings in shop windows. Green meadows, little men and miniature cattle, sparkling brooks whose voices are lost in the distance. Now passing through a rock tunnel’d to receive the path we reached a little hotel closed to travelers for the season, but where we obtained some bread and wine and a pleasant parlor to rest in. Walking on, and leaving the mules and guides to follow, we wind through the woods on the top of the mountain picking wild flowers and obtaining beautiful views of nigh looking hillsides clothed in Autumnal verdure. A little further on the road descends and then ascends again and we recoup the frontier of Switzerland. Lizzie’s mule is the quickest walker so that she is in Switzerland while I remain’d in Savoy. A good natured gendarme came out and examined our passport and admired his own signature which allowed us to proceed.

From this point the guide pointed out the Silber-horn. The Jung Frau and before us the great valley of the Rhone almost as far as Brigue two days journey by diligence. The valley is bounded on either side by high hills between which the Rhone looks like a silver thread with the great road by its side running in a straight line through the green meadows. On the other side of the Rhone, rising above all lesser mountains, are the snowcapt mountains of the Bernese chain (which here we bid farewell to) and rich foliage of lesser mountains, makes a scene never to be forgotten. We walked a good part of the way down feeling badly at having bid farewell to our friends the Silber horn and Jung Frow, so beautiful in their majesty. We made friends with some peasants taking their flocks to Matigny which lies on the Rhone just at our feet in plain sight. Had quite a conversation with a peasant woman on her prospects. Lizzie’s guide gave her a history of his life, telling her he was still unmarried because his father wanted him to marry a rich girl that he did not like etc., etc. We found the girls already arrived when we reached the hotel in Matigny and a nice fire in rooms prepared for us. Our hostess’ first words to us were “il y a deux dames ici monsieur gui vous attend” {“there are two ladies waiting for you here, sir”} We were right glad to meet them safe and well.

Friday, October 20th 1854 ~ Grindelwald

The Wetterhorn in Grindelwald, Switzerland.

Hotel de l’Aigle ~ We engaged horses, one for each of the ladies with two men as guides, and a man to carry the baggage and with them left Meyringen this morning over the great Scheidek Pass at half past nine. Meyringen is beautifully situated between mountains that literally shut it in on every side but one, and from that the high road conducts to Breintz. All these mountains were covered with snow at about halfway up, presenting a strange contrast with the deep green of the valley. And from the summit of one of them descends the glacier of “Rosenlaui”, a brook of ice glittering in the sunlight. Our host and hostess came out to bid us goodbye and wish us a bon voyage, and we were en route up the mountain in single file, the girls ahead on their led horses and I bringing up the rear with a Swiss mountain pole with a pike on the end. And never was such a staff more needed than during the seven hours of incessant walking, or rather climbing that ensued. The path for the greater part was so steep that it would have been a relief could it have been converted into a regular flight of steps. After reaching Rosenlaui it became a little less steep. There we rested and took a little lunch almost at the foot of the glacier, and then in half an hour pushed on in our winding way. The path is open so that it gives at every step fine views of the vale and neighboring mountain. The distance is about 20 miles and the highest elevation of the path above the sea 6000 feet. From Rosenlaui it conducted us almost immediately from verdure trees and flowers into snow, gradually increasing in depth until we stood on the summit of the Scheidek, standing in snow of more than a foot deep and having left all trees and verdure far behind. I shall never forget the view. It was snowing hard where we stood but the sun shone brightly in the green valleys on either side below. Before us lay the Wengern Alp and the great Eiger apparently close to us. The Eiger is 12220 feet higher than the sea. Immediately above us rose, like a wall of rock, snow and ice, the highest peak of the Wetterhorn (11450 feet) crowned by a great glacier which curled over its summit and crept down its sides. While we were looking up, an avalanche of snow came tumbling down from rock to rock until it rested within a gun shot of where we stood in a cloud of spray broken by the rock and air. On the other side of us rose the great domes of the Fanl-horn, the Schwerz-horn and the lesser mountains without number. We took a lunch, on the summit, of bread, meat, and wine in a little log hut uninhabited except by the “cramping wind,” or rather the guides and myself did, for the ladies lunched on horseback outside. We had brought up the provisions from Meryringen. The rarefied air of the mountain gave an additional effect to the wine in raising our spirits and Alice found the scenery far more magnificent than usual for the ensuing hour. At least she seemed to enjoy it more than before. After our halt of fifteen minutes, two hours of descent brought us to the glacier called the Ober where we dismounted (all but Alice, who was thrown off by a misstep) and leaving our horses passed into one of the transparent caves of the glacier. The green walls above and around us recalled the fabled abodes of the mermaids in old Ocean’s dominions. It descends a gorge in the mountains, looking not unlike a foaming cataract, each great frozen wave seems struggling with its fellow which first shall reach the plain, and here they are alike transfixed in Winter’s cold and in Summer’s heat. Another half hour brought us to Grindelwald and to a comfortable hotel. We ordered fire in our rooms. The girls are on the floor, before theirs at full length, much fatigued. I feel tired, not very much so, but shall not try such a walk again.

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.

Tuesday, October 17th 1854 ~ Lucerne

View from Mt. Rigi (Photo: P.R. Lloyd)

Hotel du Cygne ~ I awoke at four o’clock this morning and sprang out of bed with delight at the sight of the moonbeams on the floor; the stars were out and not a cloud in the sky. I could not get asleep again and at five the porter knocked at my door and announced the hour, with the cheering words “il fait bien tempis monsieur.” [“it’s about time sir.”] To us who had waited so long for this sound, that we might see one of the finest views of Switzerland, it was welcome indeed. At six o’clock, we were on our way to “Weggis”, in the little “beautean a vapiur,” from thence to ascend the Rigi. The morning was charming; the tops of the mountains were covered with freshly fallen snow, which was silvered by the rising beams of the sun. The mists of the Lake curled up from the water and hung in the fleecy clouds below the mountain summits, dyed by the sun in rainbow hues. The lake is very narrow and makes very picturesque windings between its high and verdant banks. I shall never forget this scene, the rainbow mist, the shadows of the clouds on lake and mountain, the verdure below and the snow above! One hours steaming brought us to Weggis, where we breakfasted and took horses for the ascent of the mountain. Each horse accompanied by a man to lead him. The path up was conducted along the side of the mountain and gave splendid views of the lake and adjoining mountains at every step. The soil was very fine and vegetation abounded, but as we advanced, it gradually became less fourishing until at the summit we rode through snow six inches deep. The Rigi is only 5600 feet high and therefore never takes snow in the summer. Still the change of temperature is very marked between it and the valley. Below we had summer weather (too warm for overcoats), above they were greatly needed. The view from the Rigi-kulen was magnificent beyond description. Looking Southward a mass of snow covered peaks met our gaze, rising into the air like waves of some polar sea charmed by the cold while in full careen. Among them our guides pointed out the Jung Frau, the Silberhorn, the Bright-horn, the Monk etc., some of the highest mountains in Europe. Looking north a great extent of level country is visible extending as far as the Lake of Zurich, whose waters we saw a shining surface set in green. There is a good hotel on the top of the Rigi, when we took a lunch of petit pains and butter with hot milk punch, a beverage our landlord had never heard of before. We rested there an hour, had a polka in the drawing room and then took up our winding way downwards. We often see clouds below us. The lake of Zug lies on the opposite side of the Rigi from Lake Lucerne, and from the summit both are distinctly seen [louing?] either base. There are half a dozen smaller lakes quite near and within sight. From here a steamer is scarcely seen on Lake Lucerne just at our feet. It is but a mooring spot on the waters and looks like a duck on a mill pond. The ascent of the Rigi requires about two hours and the decent about the same time. We got back to Weggis at four o’clock and there took a row boat back to Lucerne propelled by two strong men. We past in skirting the shore several small islands on one of which was a little chapel dedicated to the patron saint of row boats. A man has been perfectly haunting us this afternoon to allow him to travel with us as a servant and will not take no for an answer, but we do not want him. One great nuisance in traveling on the Continent is to have to wade the importunities of guides, servants, couriers etc. that one does not want…and such importunities!

Thursday, October 12th 1854 ~ Kreutzstrasse, Switzerland

Hotel du Lion d’Or ~ The morning opened with fog rain and mud, but as we had arranged with a “witurier” to carry us on to Lucerne we started from Basle this morning at nine o’clock. Our carriage is very comfortable and roomy one, and our driver a person who speaks French seems quite honest and obliging. We have of course the entire carriage to ourselves. It rained pretty steadily all the morning and the country under those auspices did not seem particularly interesting. At half past two o’clock we dined at Buklen and at three were again “en route.” From there our drive was delightful; the clouds broke away just enough to enable us to see something of the road, but still resting on the tops of the highest hills, and occasionally forming rainbows of all colors. Just before reaching Olten the road conducts over a chain of hills, from which in fine weather a good view is obtained of the Alps, and then crosses the Aar at Aarburg. We are now à moitié chemin [halfway] to Lucerne. Our driver owns his carriage and horse, and seems to be a person quite well off. We should not forget that we are now again on republican soil, where every man is equal.

Wednesday, October 4th 1854 ~ Koblenz, Germany

Drachenfels Castle as it looked in the 21st and 17th centuries (photo: S. Mense, engraving: M. Merian).

Hotel Du Géant ~ Last evening at six o’clock we left Cologne for Bonn by rail and past the night there. It is only one hours ride. Bonn is a lovely place, just upon the river, where it begins to be picturesque and commands a fine view of the seven hills, with the Drachenfells castle in the distance. We saw the river by moonlight last evening. Bonn is a fine looking city, looking somewhat like an American watering place, handsome houses, unpaved streets, large trees on either side etc. It contains a celebrated university in which Prince Albert was educated. The house is still shown there in which Bethoven was born. At ten o’clock we took an open carriage provided by our hotel and left Bonn en route up the river. The drive is delightful to Godesberg, a hill overlooking the river, crowned by a ruined castle built by one of the Archbishops of Cologne in the 13th century, on the site of a Roman fort. We made the ascent on Donkeys in about 15 minutes. Our donkeys were each led by little boys. The view from the top is magnificent, finer much than that from the Drachenfells. It is a hard scrambling ride but the view repays the trouble. Our little guides, when we arrived at the top, picked little bouquets for us, in hopes to increase their “drink geld.” The little asses seemed quite disproportionate to the load they bear. My feet almost touched the ground, on either side, when seated on one of them. They walk with great elasticity and force but do not like to trot. They seem to posses more sagacity than a horse and make a loud crying when displeased, which is very painful to unaccustomed ears. Continuing our drive up the river, we found we were traversing a road founded by Marcus Aurelius of Lucius Verus, 160 years after Christ. A few miles brought us to the foot of the Drachenfells, which we ascended on mules. The hill is very steep indeed and the road winds up through vineyards almost all the way. The ruined towers at the top and the view is not as fine as in many other places on the Rhine. Still it is beautiful. We took out Childe Harold and read the passages relating to this part of the river. At half past one we took a steamer and were soon sailing rapidly up the river, between very high and irregular banks. Just above Konigswinter on the opposite side rises a steep hill on which is the ruin of the castle of Rolandseck. The nephew of Charlemagne (Roland) built it to command a view of the convent where his betrothed had taken the veil. From a point a short distance above this the prospect is charming. One may see the ruins of the Drachenfells, Rolandseck Castle, on their separate heights and the convent below, besides several less important castellated summits. Farther up the river are the ruins of Hammerstein Castle, on a high rock just over the water. It was built in the 10th century and was besieged by the Swedes in the 30 years war. Still farther up we passed the white tower which marks the spot where Caesar crossed the Rhine when leading an army against the Sicambri and also where General Hoche crossed in 1797 in spite of the opposition of the Austrians. All these Rhemish hillsides are covered with grape vines which grow on terraces and which seem to be inaccessible to mortal foot. Many of these terraces are cut out of the solid rock and the soil has been carried up to them in baskits, on the heads of the peasants. The vines did not seem to us to add to the landscape as they are trained on straight poles only about four or five feet high, which appear merely like scrub bushes from the river below. We have been perfectly enchanted with our days voyaging. The Rhine is beautiful beyond description, more beautiful by far than the Hudson (setting aside the ruins) although there are some small portions of the Hudson that more than equal it in natural beauty. This part of the Rhine is narrower than the Hudson and the banks are far more precipitous, rocky, and the general scenery wilder. The white and red wines are very agreeable to one who is a little used to them. They are entirely without adulteration and admixture of alcohol here, that these wines always have in America and possess a purer taste. Lizzie and the girls do not like them because they are not accustomed to any acid wine. The price on board the Rhine boats is one franc to one and a half per bottle (20 to 30 cts). Last evening at Bonn we all went to a concert because Alice said she “wanted to hear some German music in a German land.” But the concert turned out to be only a four Tyrolian songs given by three or four natives in costume. It would have been decidedly common in America. The audience looked just as any well dressed one would in America. Thus far life seems much the same all over. At the hotels they always give us here a square pillow (about two feet square) stuffed with down as an extra covering. It is a very peculiar arrangement because it only covers half the body, and that only for half the night, for at the first turn it rolls off. We have not seen a double bed for a long while. We arrived this evening at Coblentz. Our rooms look out upon the river.