Part 14 (1/2)
The little painted crucifixes by the wayside indeed afflict one by their impotence and insignificance. Not thus shall Christ be recognized in these days. In some places their frequency reminded me of the recurrence of the pattern on a calico or a wall paper. Yet, as a whole, one feels that Switzerland is a Protestant power.
For specials, I must have recourse to the insufficient pages of the diary, which give the following:--
August 13. Museum at Zurich. Lacustrine remains, in stone, flint, and bronze; fragments of the old piles, cut with stone knives. Hand-mill for corn, consisting of a hollow stone and a round one, concave and convex.
Toilet ornaments, in bone and bronze; a few in gold.--The Library. Lady Jane Grey's letters, three in number; Zwingle's Greek Bible.--The Armory. Zwingle's helmet and battle-axe; three suits of female armor; curious s.h.i.+elds, cannon, pikes, and every variety of personal defence.
August 14. Left Zurich at half past six A. M. for Lucerne, reaching the latter place at half past eight. Visited Thorwaldsen's lion, whose majestic presence I had not forgotten in twenty-three years. Yet the Swiss hireling under foreign pay is a mischievous inst.i.tution. At two P.
M. took the boat for Hergeswyl, intending to ascend from that point the Mount Pilatus. At half past three began this ascension. The road is very fine, and my leader was excellent; yet I had some uncomfortable moments in the latter part of the ascent, which was in zigzag, and very steep.
Each horse cost ten francs, and each leader was to have a _trink-geld_ besides. We stopped very gladly at the earliest reached of the two hotels which render habitable the heights of the mountain. We learned too late that it would have been better to proceed at once to that which stands nearly on the summit. We should thus have gained time for the great spectacle of the sunrise on the following morning. Our view of the sunset, too, would have been more extended. Yet we were well content with it. Near the hotel was a very small Catholic chapel, through whose painted windows we tried to peep. A herd of goats feeding near by made music with their tinkling bells. Swiss sounds are as individual as Swiss sights. Voices, horns, bells, all have their peculiar ring in these high atmospheres.
We lay down at night with the intention of rising at a quarter of four next morning, in order to witness the sunrise from the highest point of the mountain. Mistaking some sounds which disturbed my slumbers for the guide's summons, I sprang out of bed, and having no match, made a hasty toilet in the dark, and then ran to arouse my companions. One of these, fortunately, was able to strike a light and look at his watch. It was just twelve, and my zeal and energy had been misdirected. When I again awoke, it was at four A. M., already rather late for our purpose. We dressed hastily, and vehemently started on the upward zigzag. As the guide had not yet appeared, I carried our night bundle, but for which I should have kept the lead of the party. Small as was its weight, I felt it sensibly in this painful ascent, and was thankful to relinquish it when the tardy guide came up with us. In spite of his aid, I was much distressed for breath, and suffered from a thirst surpa.s.sing that of fever. My ears also ached exceedingly in consequence of the rarefaction of the atmosphere. The last effort of the ascent was made upon a ladder pitched at such an angle that one could climb it only on hands and knees. We reached the last peak a little late for the sunrise, but enjoyed a near and magnificent view of the snow Alps. The diary contains no description of this prospect. I can only remember that its coloring and extent were wonderful. But a day of fatigue was still before us.
Breakfasting at six o'clock, we soon commenced the painful downward journey. No ”_facilis descensus_” was this, but a climbing down which lasted three full hours. We had kept but one horse for this part of our journey, but this was such an uncertain and stumbling beast that we gladly surrendered him to our chief, who, in spite of this a.s.sistance, was found more than once lying on a log, a.s.suring us that his end was at hand. We had little breath to spare for his consolation, but gave him a silent and aching sympathy. A pleasant party of English girls left the hotel when we did, one on horseback and three on foot. The hards.h.i.+ps of the way brought us together. I can still recall the ring of their voices, and the freshness and sparkle of their faces, which really encouraged my efforts. The pleasures of this descent were as intense as its pains. The brilliant gra.s.s was enamelled with wild flowers, exquisite in color and fragrance. The mountain air was bracing and delightful, the details of tree and stream most picturesque. For some reason, which I now forget, we stopped but little to take rest. At a small chalet half way down, we enjoyed a gla.s.s of beer, and were waited upon by a maiden in white sleeves and black bodice, her fair hair being braided with a strip of white linen, and secured in its place by a large pin with an ornamented head. We reached Alpenach in a state of body and of wardrobe scarcely describable. But our minds at least were at ease.
We had done something to make a note of. We had been to the top of Mons Pilatus.
Of Interlaken the diary preserves nothing worth transcribing. The great beauty of the scenery made us reluctant to leave it after a few hours of enjoyment. The appalling fas.h.i.+onable and watering-place aspect of the streets and hotels, on the other hand, rendered it uncongenial to quiet travellers, whose strength did not lie in the _clothes_ line. Our brief stay showed us the greatest mixture and variety of people; the hotels were splendid with showy costumes, the shops tempting with onyx, amethyst, and crystal ornaments. We saw here also a great display of carvings in wood. The unpaved streets were gay with equipages and donkey parties. A sousing rain soon made confusion among them, and reconciled us to a speedy departure.
Of Berne and Fribourg I will chronicle only the organ concerts, given to exhibit the resources of two famous instruments. At both places we found the organ very fine, and the musical performance very trashy. No real organ music was given on either occasion, the _piece de resistance_ being an imitation of a thunderstorm. Both instruments seemed to me to surpa.s.s our own great organ in beauty and variety of tone. The larger proportions of the buildings in which they are heard may contribute to this result. Both of these are cathedrals, with fine vaulted roofs and long aisles, very different from the essentially civic character of the music hall, whose compact squareness cannot deal with the immense volume of sound thrown upon its hands by the present overgrown inc.u.m--bent.
THE GREAT EXPOSITION.
It would be unfair to American journalism not to suppose that all possible information concerning the Great Exposition has already been given to the great republic. There have doubtless been quires upon quires of brilliant writing devoted to that absorbing theme. Columns from the most authentic sources have been commanded and paid for.
American writing is rich in epithets, and we may suppose that all the adjective splendors have been put in requisition to aid imagination to take the place of sight. Yet, as the diversities of landscape painting show the different views which may be taken of one nature, even so the view taken by my sober instrument may possibly show something that has escaped another.
I here refer to the pages of my oft-quoted diary. But alas! the wretch deserts me in the hour of my greatest need. I find a record of my first visit only, and that couched in one prosaic phrase as follows: Exposition--valet, six francs.
Now, I am not a Cuvier, to reconstruct a whole animal from a single fossil bone; nor am I a German historian, to present the picture of a period by inventing the opposite of its records. Yet what I can report of this great feature of the summer must take as its starting-point this phrase: Exposition--valet, six francs.
This extravagant attendance was secured by us on the occasion of our first visit, when, pa.s.sing inside the narrow turnstile, with ready change and eager mind, we encountered the great reality we had to deal with, and felt, to our dismay, that spirit would help us little, and that flesh and blood, eyes and muscles, must do their utmost, and begin by acknowledging a defeat. Looking on the diverse paths, and flags and buildings, we sought an Ariadne, and found at least a guide whom Bacchus might console. Escorted by him, we entered the first great hall, with ma.s.sive machines partially displayed on one side. A _coup d'oeil_ was what we sought on this occasion, and our movements were rapid. The Sevre porcelains, the magnificent French and English gla.s.ses, the weighty majolicas, the Gobelin tapestries, and the galleries of paintings, chiefly consumed our six francs, which represented some three hours.
Magnificent services of plate, some in silver, and some in imitation of silver, were shown to us. In another place the close cl.u.s.tering of men and women around certain gla.s.s cases made us suspect the attraction of jewelry, which may be called the sugar-plummery of aesthetics.
Insinuating ourselves among the human bees, we, too, fed our eyes on these sweets. Diadems, necklaces, earrings, sufficient, in the hands of a skilful Satan, to accomplish the d.a.m.nation of the whole female s.e.x, were here displayed. I was glad to see these dangerous implements of temptation restrained within cases of solid gla.s.s. I myself would fain have written upon them, ”Deadly poison.” There are enough, however, to preach, and I practised by running off from these disputed neighborhoods, and pa.s.sing to the contemplation of treasures which to see is to have.
Among the Gobelins I was amazed to see a fine presentation of t.i.tian's Sacred and Profane Love, a picture of universal reputation. The difficulty of copying so old and so perfect a work in tapestry made this success a very remarkable one. Very beautiful, too, was their copy of Guido's Aurora, and yet less difficult than the other, the coloring being at once less subtile and more brilliant.
I remember a gigantic pyramid of gla.s.s, which arose, like a frost-stricken fountain, in the middle of the English china and gla.s.s department. I remember huge vases, cups as thin as egg-sh.e.l.l, pellucid crystals in all shapes, a glory of hard materials and tender colors. And I remember a department of raw material, fibres, minerals, germs, and grains, and a department of Eastern confectionery, and one of Algerine small work, to wit, jewelry and embroidery. An American soda fountain caused us to tingle with renewed a.s.sociations. And we hear, with shamefaced satisfaction, that American drinks have proved a feature in this great phenomenon. Machines have, of course, been creditable to us.
Chickering and Steinway have carried off prizes in a piano-forte tilt, each grudging the other his share of the common victory. And our veteran's maps for the blind have received a silver medal. Tiffany, the New York jeweller, presents a good silver miniature of Crawford's beautiful America. And with these successes our patriotism must now be content. We are not ahead of all creation, so far as the Exposition is concerned, and the things that do us most credit must be seen and studied in our midst.
Our longest lingerings in the halls of the Exposition were among the galleries of art. Among these the French pictures were preeminent in interest. The group of Jerome's paintings were the most striking of their kind, uniting finish with intensity, and both with ease. In his choice of subjects, Jerome is not a Puritan. The much admired Almee is a picture of low scope, excusable only as an historic representation. The judgment of Phryne will not commend itself more to maids and matrons who love their limits. Both pictures, however, are powerfully conceived and colored. The ”Ave Cesar” of the _morituri_ before Vitellius is better inspired, if less well executed, and holds the mirror close in the cruel face of absolute power.
Study of the Italian masters was clearly visible in many of the best works of the French gallery. I recall a fine triptych representing the story of the prodigal son in which the chief picture spoke plainly of Paul Veronese, and his Venetian life and coloring. In this picture the prodigal appeared as the lavish entertainer of gay company. A banquet, shared by joyous _hetairae_, occupied the canvas. A slender compartment on the right showed the second act of the drama--hunger, swine-feeding, and repentance. A similar one on the left gave the pleasanter _denouement_--the return, the welcome, the feast of forgiveness. Both of the latter subjects were treated in _chiaro-scuro_, a manner that heightened the contrast between the flush of pleasure and the pallor of its consequences. Rosa Bonheur's part in the Exposition was scarcely equal to her reputation. One charming picture of a boat-load of sheep crossing a Highland loch still dwells in my memory like a limpid sapphire, so lovely was the color of the water. The Russian, Swedish, and Danish pictures surprised me by their good points. If we may judge of Russian art by these specimens, it is not behind the European standard of attainment. Of the Bavarian gallery, rich in works of interest, I can here mention but two. The first must be a very large and magnificent cartoon by Kaulbach, representing a fancied a.s.semblage of ill.u.s.trious personages at the period of the Reformation. Luther, Erasmus, and Melanchthon were prominent among these, the whole belonging to a large style of historical composition.
The second was already familiar to us through a photograph seen and admired in Munich. It is called Ste. Julie, and represents a young Christian martyr, dead upon the cross, at whose foot a young man is depositing an offering of flowers. The pale beauty and repose of the figure, the ma.s.sive hair and lovely head, the modesty of att.i.tude and attire, are very striking. The sky is subdued, clear, and gray, the black hair standing out powerfully against it. The whole palette seems to have been set with pure and pearly tints. One thinks the brushes that painted this fair dove could never paint a courtesan. A single star, the first of evening, breaks the continuity of the twilight sky. This picture seemed as if it should make those who look at it thenceforward more tender, and more devout. Among the English pictures, the Enemy sowing Tares, by Millais, was particularly original--a malignant sky, full of blight and destruction, and a malignant wretch, smiling at mischief, and scowling at good,--a powerful figure, mighty and mean.