char to interlaken—walk over the wengern alp to grindelwald
i love not man the less, but nature more
from these our interviews.—byron.
september 12.—this morning we went by char from meiringen to interlaken, along the northern side of the lake of brienz. again, if we had had time, it would have been better to have walked along the southern side, putting up for the night at giesbach. while stopping at the town of brienz to bait the horse, we visited some of the wood-carving shops, in one of which we found a school for indoctrinating children in the mysteries, not of the three r’s, but of this trade, which is the great industry of the place: everybody here being engaged in it. the three main staples of southern switzerland are this wood-carving, cheese-making, and hotel-keeping. with the latter we must connect the dependent employments of the guides and porters, and of those who let out horses and carriages. i know not how much of the cheese 156is sent out of the country in exchange for foreign commodities, but pretty nearly the whole of the carved wood, and of the hotel accommodation, is exchanged for foreign cash.
this morning i witnessed the following scene. a practical man—i took him for one, who had struck oil—was leaving the hotel. a porter, assuming an expectant air, takes up a position at the door of the hotel. the practical man addresses him in a firm tone, ‘now, sir, tell me everything, you have done for me beyond your duty to the hotel.’ a look of blankness comes over the porter’s face, and he steps aside. the practical man, with the look of one who has discharged a lofty duty, steps into his carriage. i do not record this for imitation.
interlaken, which we reached early in the day, is a town of hotels and pensions. we were at the jungfrau, which commands an excellent view of the famous mountain from which it takes its name. the view from this point is much improved by its comprising two intermediate distances in two ranges of hills, which do not at all interfere with the dominant object, but rather set off to advantage its snowy summits and flanks. the jungfraublick, a large new hotel, on a spur of the nearest hill, is better situated, for it is out of the town; and, being elevated above the lakes, commands several good views. the majority of the visitors at our hotel were germans: 157quiet, earnest, and methodical, they appeared to be regarding travelling, sight-seeing, and life itself, scientifically.
interlaken, being situated on low ground, between two high ranges of mountains, at no great distance from each other, is, on a quiet sunny day, a very oven for heat. it has, however, in its main street some very umbrageous lofty walnut-trees. they are the survivors of what was once, and not many years ago, a grand unbroken avenue.
september 13.—started early in a carriage for lauterbrunnen, where we left it, with orders that it should be taken round to grindelwald, there to be ready for us the next morning. at lauterbrunnen we put the blue boy on horseback, and began the ascent of the wengern alp. people go up this mountain for the purpose of getting the most accessible, nearest, and best view of the jungfrau, mönch, and eiger. as you turn to the left to ascend the mountain, you regret that you are not going up the valley, which you see would lead you up among glaciers and snowy peaks; or that you are not taking the path to the right, which you see would carry you over, and above the staubbach, and you know would give you grand views of the snow-world. the path you are taking you take in faith, for it does not, from what is in sight, give any indications of what is in store for you; before, however, the day is done, you will have 158reason enough for being satisfied with the choice you had made; or which, perhaps, had been made for you.
at first the ascent is very stiff, and a good test of lungs and legs. this lasts for about an hour. then comes a reach of easy work among upland meadows and forest. the work, however, again stiffens; but one is cheered by the nearness of the jungfrau, and, occasionally, by the thunder of an avalanche, falling from its sides. you are now above the forest, and on the coarse sedgy turf; and, if you please, you may sit down, and light your cigar, giving as your reason, that you wish to contemplate the view, and listen to the avalanches. it would, however, be better to go on at once to the hotel, which is not far off. this was what we were virtuous enough to do. the ascent occupied a little under four hours. we had luncheon at the hotel. it is on the edge of the ravine, on the opposite side of which rises, almost perpendicularly, the mighty jungfrau. though it must be two miles off, it seems so near that you fancy you might almost touch it with your hand. the dark, slate-coloured rock, and the snow, are in excellent contrast. the vast chasm below you, and the cold, hard, silent cliffs before you, the silence frequently broken on bright, warm days—and the day we were there was as bright and warm as could be—by the reverberation of the falling avalanches—there are no small, or insignificant objects in sight to mar the effect—are the elements of 159an alpine scene you are glad to think you will carry away impressed on your memory. you are now content that the path on the right, up to mürren, has been left for another day. as you watch the avalanches gliding down the ravines, and shot over the precipices, in streams of white dust, for the first fall or two shiver them into minute fragments, you are puzzled to know what it is that makes the thunder—what the noise is all about, the process being so smooth and regular.
we allowed ourselves an hour and a half for mental photography and for luncheon—mine was a basin of rice-water, for i had not yet recovered from the hôtel du glacier du rhône. we then again took up our staves, and set our faces towards grindelwald. in half an hour from our inn, we came to a second, on the summit of the col. the descent immediately commences. this is not nearly so steep as the ascent we had just accomplished. it requires three hours. the path passes through the forest of death-struck pines byron mentions in his journal. not many remain. of these some are quite, some are almost dead. it was composed of the pinus cembra. the malady which is destroying it may perhaps have been engendered by a local change of climate; or some other circumstance may have prevented the young plants from establishing themselves; as, for instance, want of shelter, from too much of the forest having been cut at the same time. i mention this because i 160observed in exposed situations in the rocky mountains—it was so above nevada city, on the road to georgetown—wherever the forest had been entirely cleared away, the young pines came up in myriads, but all died off, either withered by the droughts of summer, or by the bleak winds of winter: of course neither of these causes could have afflicted the tender nurselings, had the old forest been standing.
the descent, like that to virgil’s avernus, is easy, but, unlike that into the vale of years, has a charming prospect; for the valley of grindelwald, with its meadows, corn-fields, and châlets, is all spread out before you, like a map. it is a sight which awakens thought and touches the heart. you see that a good breadth of land has been reclaimed, where nature was so hard and adverse. how much labour has been expended in burying the stones, and bringing the soil to the surface, and in irrigating those many, now bright, smooth meadows! how much thought and care is, day by day, bestowed on every little plot of that corn and garden ground, in the hope of getting a sufficiency of the many things that will be needed in the long winter! how much talk is there, every evening, in every household, about the way in which things are going on, and about what has to be done! a shoulder-basket must now be made for little victor, and little tasks must be found for him, proportioned to his little strength, that he may, betimes, learn to labour; and something must 161be found, too, for the old grandame to do, that she may not come to feel that she is only burdensome. some garden or dairy product, a little better than common, they may have in their humble stores, must be reserved for the fête, now not far off. wilhelm, who many a mother in the valley wishes may be her son-in-law, and who of late has been more thoughtful than was his wont, hearing the fête mentioned, is reminded of the edelweiss he had gone in search of, and found on the eiger, that he may have its tell-tale flower, on that day when all hearts will be glad and open, to offer to adeline. i suppose the fat vale of aylesbury, where purple and fine linen are not wanting, and there is sumptuous fare every day, has its poetry; but so, also, has the hard-won valley of grindelwald, where home-spun is not unknown, and every man eats the bread of carefulness.
we put up at the aigle, a new hotel, with three or four dépendances, at the further end of the village. grindelwald is not of the compact order of swiss villages; indeed, it is almost a town; at all events, it is lighted with gas. it straggles along the main road for about three quarters of a mile; to those coming from lauterbrunnen all uphill. it abounds in hotels. after a hard day—not the wengern alp, but the hôtel du glacier du rhône, had made it hard—it appeared a gratuitous, almost a cruel, infliction to have to pass so many doors that stood open invitingly, 162with more than usual persuasiveness, and to trudge on, and up, in the hope of reaching the end of the place, which, under the circumstances, seemed like the irishman’s bit of string, which had had its end cut off. but to those who will persevere, even the street of grindelwald will be found to have an end; and one, too, that is worth finding, for it brings you to a pleasantly situated, and well-kept inn, where you can get a chicken that has not been detained in the bath an unconscionable time. what has been disagreeable in travelling we soon forget, but my recollections of the aigle of grindelwald remain.
there are, as i just said, many hotels in the place; but as there are also six thousand cows in the valley, not travellers, but cheese must be its main reliance. it has another industry in ice, which is cut in blocks out of the glacier, and sent as far even as paris. the price returned for this is one of the rills of the stream of wealth, which railways are pouring into switzerland, or enabling it to collect for the outside world. two great glaciers come down into the village from the two sides of the mettenberg, which here has the eiger on its right, and the wetterhorn on its left.
we had been on the tramp to-day, excluding the halt for luncheon, eight hours. with the exception of not more than five minutes on the little man’s horse, my wife did the whole of it on foot, stepping out briskly even to the long-sought end of grindelwald.
