CHAPTER XVI.

UNTERSEEN-INTERLACHEN-ADVENTURE ON THE HARDERBERG-DR. GUGGENBUHL, AND HIS INSTITUTION AT ABENDBERG.

INTERLACHEN! We cannot say with Longfellow that "the evening sun was setting when we first beheld thee," but we can say with him "that the sun of life will set ere we forget thee!" There may be grander and more impressive scenes; there may be more peaceful and secluded spots, more luxuriant fields, more romantic villages, and more stalwart peasants; but there can be few, if any, valleys more enchanting, or, perhaps, distant views more glorious, or more richly wooded hill-sides, or kinder or nobler people than those which may here be discovered. This valley is the fairyland of Switzerland; and every true lover of nature will delight to hold converse with the genii loci-the spirits of the stream, and the lake, of the field and the mountain, of the ruined castle, and the shady grove. Such a scene will excite in his mind a thousand sportive fancies, and fill his soul with rapturous delight.

It was a hot and dusty day when we first entered the valley. Having made a bargain at Neuhaus with a Swiss, who spoke English, to carry our knapsacks, we determined to make our entrance on foot. It is true there were plenty of vehicles of all kinds to be had, and the road was pretty straight and level, and very dusty; yet the distance was not very great, and the scenery is extremely beautiful; and by sauntering gently along, and halting every now and then, we were enabled thoroughly to appreciate the evershifting views. In the distance, far behind us, at the other end of the lake of Thun, we could discern the dark form of the Niesen; on our left were steep declivities, clothed with the richest foliage, and the Aar swiftly rolling at their feet; on the right were bare and rugged mountains, now advancing, now retreating, and then opening, and enabling us to catch a glimpse of the snowy-capped heads of the Oberland giants. Alongside the road were fruit-trees of varied kinds, laden with fast-ripening fruits, fields of corn were waving in the gentle breeze, and here and there the inhabitants were busy gathering in their flax. Our guide, with his homespun cloth, short coat tails, and bright buttons, was a man full of information respecting the country, and able to express himself in very tolerable English. tolerable English. Of course, he had his little memorandum book, containing recommendations from travellers of various nations, to whom he had served as guide in their excursions in this part of Switzerland, and he was very anxious to impress upon us the necessity of having guidance and help in mountain

excursions.

At length we were fairly in the valley of Interlachen, and soon came to the village of Unterseen, only separated from the village of Interlachen by the river Aar. The two villages are remarkable for their cleanliness, and their appearance of neatness and order. In the former there is a considerable number of small hotels and pensions, or boardinghouses, where the charges are very low, but which are chiefly resorted to by the poorer

class of travellers, and generally the Germans and Swiss. The houses are thoroughly Swiss in appearance; the women, though not remarkable for their beauty, yet strike one by the neatness and cleanliness of the costume, the principal features of which are the white stiffened sleeves, separate from the dress, and the silver ornaments with which their shoulder-straps are ornamented.

The Aar is crossed by a bridge close to the spot where, having spread itself out to a considerable width, it forms a small waterfall. In the spring of last year, the river rose considerably above its usual height, causing considerable damage to the village, and sweeping away the unfortunate landlord of the Hotel de la Jungfrau. Just across the bridge in the village of Interlachen is the post-office, the constant resort of travellers, inasmuch as this is almost always a halting-place. The chief beauty of the village is said to live here. To an Englishman, however, accustomed to the bright eyes and blooming cheeks of the fair damsels of his native land, there is nothing very peculiarly attractive in the pale faces and somewhat languid expression of the Swiss belles; unless, indeed, their scarcity confers a charm. It is somewhat amusing to look into the shops in such a village as this, and examine the rude, though useful, manufactures. Of course, among the principal objects exposed for sale will be accoutrements for mountain excursions, including shoes, knapsacks, hats, and batons. Another considerable branch of trade is that of the confectioners, who supply the hotels with the various biscuits and cakes, for which tables d'hôte are famous in that country.

The general appearance of the houses in Interlachen is the same as in Unterseen, but just at the end of the village a long and straight road stretches away in the direction of the Lake of Brienz, forming a complete grove of walnut-trees. On either side of it is a number of hotels and pensions, large white buildings, with green jalouses attached to the windows, as is common in all large houses on the continent, and each is surrounded by a beautiful garden. We followed our guides' recommendation, and took up our quarters at the Hotel de la Jungfrau, appropriately named, inasmuch as it is exactly opposite the entrance to the valley of Lauterbrunnen, at the end of which is seen the great chain of the Bernese Oberland:

"Resplendent and impenetrable stream,

On which the maiden queen majestic sits
Serene. A diamond circlet crowns her brow,
And her white bosom glitters in the beams
Cast by the ardent sun, in fiery gaze,

On the fair breast they deck, but cannot melt."

Such is the Jungfrau; the goddess of mountain mythology, and the queen of the Bernese Alps. Its peak is 13,718 feet above the level of the sea, but it looks much higher than it is, from the comparative flatness of its top, and the immensity of its

mass.

It was named the virgin mountain, from the pure and unsullied whiteness of the snow on its summit, and from its never having been trodden.

"As Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains in all Switzerland," says Cheever, "so the Jungfrau is the maiden queen, with her dazzling coronet of sky-piercing crystal crags for ever dropping from their setting, and her icy sceptre, and her robe of glaciers, with its fathomless fringe of snow. She too is Earth's rosy Star,' so beautiful, so glorious, that to have seen her light, if a man had leisure, would be worth a pilgrimage round the world. To have heard her voice, deep thunder without cloud, breaking the eternal stillness in the clear serene of heaven, and to have beheld her, shaking from her brow its restless battlements of avalanches, were an event in one's life, from which to calculate the longitudes of years."

The First Destiny in Manfred, standing on the summit of the Jungfrau, exclaims:

"The moon is rising broad, and round, and bright;

And here on snows where never human foot

Of common mortal trod, we nightly tread,
And leave no traces; o'er the savage sea,

The glassy ocean of the mountain ice,

We skim its rugged breakers, which put on

The aspect of a tumbling tempest's foam,

Frozen in a moment-a dead whirlpool's image:

And this most steep fantastic pinnacle,

The fretwork of some earthquake-where the clouds
Pause to repose themselves in passing by-

Is sacred to our revels, or our vigils.

The rose tints which summer's twilight leaves

Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow,

The blush of earth embracing with her beam."

The landlord of the hotel, in which we found a domicile, is the son of the one who was drowned; he showed himself extremely obliging and agreeable, and anxious to make every arrangement as comfortable as possible. The hotels were very full, chiefly, though, of French and Germans, the season for the English having scarcely arrived. Nothing can be more exciting than the scene presented here of a fine summer's evening. Situate, as Interlachen is, in the neighbourhood of the most delightful excursions in the whole of Switzerland, many of which may be accomplished in one day, there are parties of travellers constantly arriving, either on foot, or horseback, or in carriages, from the Staubbach, from Grindelwald, from the Giessbach, and from other places. Some come directly from more distant spots, but all have their tales of adventure to communicate, and their arrangements to make for the morrow. Then there are the more fashionable travellers, who select this charming spot as their lounging-place for a month or two. For the amusement of these, balls are sometimes got up; at other times of an evening they may be seen sitting in the tasteful gardens, the gentlemen smoking their cigars, the ladies plying their crotchet-needles. One evening, during our stay, a number of men walked in procession along the road in front of the hotels, singing a number of their favourite national airs, so remarkable for their sweetness and vivacity, and as wild and free as the hills amid which they arise. But there was one sight which far eclipsed all the others; it was the Jungfrau, superbly tinted by the departing orb of day. The poet says:t

"The last high upwards slant of sun on the trees,
Like a dead soldier's sword upon his pall,
Seems to console earth for the glory gone.
Oh! I could weep to see the day die thus:
The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!
Linger, ye clouds, one moment longer there:
Fan it to slumber with your golden wings!
Like pious prayers ye seem to soothe its end."

Who that has watched a sunset but does not sympathise with these touching words? Still, however beautiful, and however expressive, they do not convey an idea of the gorgeous sublimity of such scenes, in lands where there are "snow-capped domes and skypointing peaks." Nor do we think that it is within the power of man fully to depict them. We have already referred to one or two such sights with which we were favoured, as we travelled through this land of wonders, and now at Interlachen, we were permitted to

behold another. The day had been almost cloudless, a few mists had occasionally skirted the sides of the Virgin Queen, but as evening drew on they were dissipated. We were sitting in the garden of our hotel, before us lay the fields of fast-ripening corn, intersected here and there with roads, lined with walnut and cherry-trees; and in the distance, at the foot of the mountains, were two or three villages with their rustic churches and spires; behind them opened the secluded valley of Lauterbrunnen, at the end of which, as we have before said, appeared the object of our chief regard. As the sun approached the horizon, the fields, and trees, and wooded mountain-sides appeared richly tinted with yellow rays, the valley of Lauterbrunnen began to look dark and gloomy, while the Jungfrau at the end glowed like a burnished pyramid of gold. Gradually the trees and fields lost their brilliant colours, twilight drew on a-pace, but the mountain grew more and more beautiful, the golden hues melted into deep roseate tints, and these became deeper and deeper, till they were almost purple. At length they passed away. All was now getting dark and chilly, the stars peeped forth, and soon were twinkling round the summit, just before so richly glowing, but now cold and death-like. Truly, if ever scenes of nature are calculated to draw forth feelings of wonder, adoration, and love to the Father of all good, it is such as these!

The valley of Interlachen is some five or six miles in length, and about three or four in breadth. On the north it is shut in by the mountain range called the Harder, the slopes of which are steep and well-wooded, and repay a climb from the fine view. they afford of the valley, of the swiftly-rolling Aar immediately at their foot, and of the lakes of Thun and Brienz. On the south side are what may perhaps be termed the outworks of the great chain of the Bernese Alps. Near their base are two or three small hills or mounds, on the summit of one of which is the ruined castle of Unspunnen, the reputed residence of Byron's hero, Manfred. On the west, by which we entered, is the lake of Thun. On the east the mountains approach closer to one another, and leave just space enough for the lake of Brienz.

"The action of this very extraordinary poem," says Professor Wilson, referring to "Manfred," "is laid among the mountains of the Alps, the characters are all more or less formed and swayed by the magnificent scenery around them, and every page of the poem teems with imagery and passion, though, at the same time, the mind of the poet is often overborne, as it were, by the strength and novelty of its own conceptions."

"As to the germs of it," Lord Byron says, "they may be found in the journal which I sent to Mrs. Leigh, shortly before I left Switzerland. I have the whole scene of 'Manfred' before me, as if it was but yesterday, and could point it out, spot by spot, torrent and all."

The Voice of the Second Spirit has supplied language which has become “familiar in our mouths as household words:"

"Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;

They crowned him long ago

On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,

With a diadem of snow.

Around his waist are forests braced,

The avalanche in his hand;

But ere it fall, that thundering ball
Must pause for my command.
The glacier's cold and restless mass
Moves onward day by day;
But I am he who bids it pass,
Or makes its ice delay.

I am the spirit of the place,

Could make the mountain bow
And quiver to his caverned base-

And what with me wouldst Thou?"