The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Tramp Abroad, by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: A Tramp Abroad Part 5 Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) Release Date: June 2004 [EBook #5786] Posting Date: June 2, 2009 Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TRAMP ABROAD *** Produced by Anonymous Volunteers, John Greenman and David Widger A TRAMP ABROAD, Part 5 Previous Part Next Part cover.jpg (229K) Portrait.jpg (45K) Moses.jpg (86K) Titlepage.jpg (41K) p016 (82K) A TRAMP ABROAD, Part 5. By Mark Twain (Samuel L. Clemens) First published in 1880 Illustrations taken from an 1880 First Edition * * * * * * ILLUSTRATIONS: 1. PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR 2. TITIAN'S MOSES 3. THE AUTHOR'S MEMORIES 178. EXCEEDINGLY COMFORTABLE 179. THE SUNRISE 180. THE RIGI-KULM 181. AN OPTICAL ILLUSION 182. TAIL PIECE 183. RAILWAY DOWN THE MOUNTAIN 184. SOURCE OF THE RHONE 185. A GLACIER TABLE 186. GLACIER OF GRINDELWALD 187. DAWN ON THE MOUNTAINS 188. TAIL PIECE 189. NEW AND OLD STYLE 190. ST NICHOLAS, AS A HERMIT 191. A LANDSLIDE 192. GOLDAU VALLEY BEFORE AND AFTER THE LANDSLIDE 193. THE WAY THEY DO IT 194. OUR GALLANT DRIVER 195. A MOUNTAIN PASS 196. "I'M OFUL DRY" 197. IT'S THE FASHION 198. WHAT WE EXPECTED 199. WE MISSED THE SCENERY 200. THE TOURISTS 201. THE YOUNG BRIDE 202. "IT WAS A FAMOUS VICTORY 203. PROMENADE IN INTERLAKEN 204. THE JUNGFRAU BY M.T. 205. STREET IN INTERLAKEN 206. WITHOUT A COURIER 207. TRAVELING WITH A COURIER 208. TAIL PIECE 209. GRAPE AND WHEY PATIENTS 210. SOCIABLE DRIVERS 211. A MOUNTAIN CASCADE 212. THE GASTERNTHAL 213. EXHILARATING SPORT 214. FALLS 215. WHAT MIGHT BE 216. AN ALPINE BOUQUET 217. THE END OF THE WORLD 218. THE FORGET-ME-NOT 219. A NEEDLE OF ICE 220. CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN 221. SNOW CREVASSES 222. CUTTING STEPS 223. THE GUIDE 224. VIEW FROM THE CLIFF 225. GEMMI PASS AND LAKE DAUBENSEE 226. ALMOST A TRAGEDY 227. THE ALPINE LITTER 228. SOCIAL BATHERS 229. DEATH OF COUNTESS HERLINCOURT 230. THEY'VE GOT IT ALL 231. MODEL FOR AN EMPRESS 232. BATH HOUSES AT LEUKE 233. THE BATHERS AT LEUKE 234. RATTIER MIXED UP 235. TAIL PIECE CONTENTS: CHAPTER XXIX Everything Convenient—Looking for a Western Sunrise—Mutual Recrimination—View from the Summit—Down the Mountain— Railroading—Confidence Wanted and Acquired CHAPTER XXX A Trip by Proxy—A Visit to the Furka Regions—Deadman's Lake— Source of the Rhone—Glacier Tables—Storm in the Mountains—At Grindelwald—Dawn on the Mountains—An Explanation Required— Dead Language—Criticism of Harris's Report CHAPTER XXXI Preparations for a Tramp—From Lucerne to Interlaken—The Brunig Pass—Modern and Ancient Chalets—Death of Pontius Pilate—Hermit Home of St Nicholas—Landslides—Children Selling Refreshments— How they Harness a Horse—A Great Man—Honors to a Hero—A Thirsty Bride—For Better or Worse—German Fashions— Anticipations—Solid Comfort—An Unsatisfactory \ Awakening— What we had Lost—Our Surroundings CHAPTER XXXII The Jungfrau Hotel—A Whiskered Waitress—An Arkansas Bride— Perfection in Discord—A Famous Victory—A Look from a Window —About the Jungfrau CHAPTER XXXIII The Giesbach Falls—The Spirit of the Alps—Why People Visit Them —Whey and Grapes as Medicines—The Kursaal—A Formidable Undertaking—From Interlaken to Zermatt on Foot—We Concluded to take a Buggy—A Pair of Jolly Drivers—We meet with Companions— A Cheerful Ride—Kandersteg Valley—An Alpine Parlor—Exercise and Amusement—A Race with a Log CHAPTER XXXIV An Old Guide—Possible Accidents—Dangerous Habitation— Mountain Flowers—Embryo Lions—Mountain Pigs—The End of The World—Ghastly Desolation—Proposed Adventure—Reading-up Adventures—Ascent of Monte Rosa—Precipices and Crevasses— Among the Snows—Exciting Experiences—lee Ridges—The Summit —Adventures Postponed CHAPTER XXXV A New Interest—Magnificent Views—A Mule's Prefereoces— Turning Mountain Corners—Terror of a Horse—Lady Tourists— Death of a young Countess—A Search for a Hat—What We Did Find —Harris's Opinion of Chamois—A Disappointed Man—A Giantess— Model for an Empress—Baths at Leuk—Sport in the Water—The Gemmi Precipices—A Palace for an Emperor—The Famous Ladders —Considerably Mixed Up—Sad Plight of a Minister CHAPTER XXIX [Looking West for Sunrise] He kept his word. We heard his horn and instantly got up. It was dark and cold and wretched. As I fumbled around for the matches, knocking things down with my quaking hands, I wished the sun would rise in the middle of the day, when it was warm and bright and cheerful, and one wasn't sleepy. We proceeded to dress by the gloom of a couple sickly candles, but we could hardly button anything, our hands shook so. I thought of how many happy people there were in Europe, Asia, and America, and everywhere, who were sleeping peacefully in their beds, and did not have to get up and see the Rigi sunrise—people who did not appreciate their advantage, as like as not, but would get up in the morning wanting more boons of Providence. While thinking these thoughts I yawned, in a rather ample way, and my upper teeth got hitched on a nail over the door, and while I was mounting a chair to free myself, Harris drew the window-curtain, and said: "Oh, this is luck! We shan't have to go out at all—yonder are the mountains, in full view." p302.jpg (43K) That was glad news, indeed. It made us cheerful right away. One could see the grand Alpine masses dimly outlined against the black firmament, and one or two faint stars blinking through rifts in the night. Fully clothed, and wrapped in blankets, and huddled ourselves up, by the window, with lighted pipes, and fell into chat, while we waited in exceeding comfort to see how an Alpine sunrise was going to look by candlelight. By and by a delicate, spiritual sort of effulgence spread itself by imperceptible degrees over the loftiest altitudes of the snowy wastes—but there the effort seemed to stop. I said, presently: "There is a hitch about this sunrise somewhere. It doesn't seem to go. What do you reckon is the matter with it?" "I don't know. It appears to hang fire somewhere. I never saw a sunrise act like that before. Can it be that the hotel is playing anything on us?" "Of course not. The hotel merely has a property interest in the sun, it has nothing to do with the management of it. It is a precarious kind of property, too; a succession of total eclipses would probably ruin this tavern. Now what can be the matter with this sunrise?" Harris jumped up and said: "I've got it! I know what's the matter with it! We've been looking at the place where the sun SET last night!" "It is perfectly true! Why couldn't you have thought of that sooner? Now we've lost another one! And all through your blundering. It was exactly like you to light a pipe and sit down to wait for the sun to rise in the west." "It was exactly like me to find out the mistake, too. You never would have found it out. I find out all the mistakes." "You make them all, too, else your most valuable faculty would be wasted on you. But don't stop to quarrel, now— maybe we are not too late yet." But we were. The sun was well up when we got to the exhibition-ground. p303.jpg (57K) On our way up we met the crowd returning—men and women dressed in all sorts of queer costumes, and exhibiting all degrees of cold and wretchedness in their gaits and countenances. A dozen still remained on the ground when we reached there, huddled together about the scaffold with their backs to the bitter wind. They had their red guide-books open at the diagram of the view, and were painfully picking out the several mountains and trying to impress their names and positions on their memories. It was one of the saddest sights I ever saw. Two sides of this place were guarded by railings, to keep people from being blown over the precipices. The view, looking sheer down into the broad valley, eastward, from this great elevation—almost a perpendicular mile—was very quaint and curious. Counties, towns, hilly ribs and ridges, wide stretches of green meadow, great forest tracts, winding streams, a dozen blue lakes, a block of busy steamboats—we saw all this little world in unique circumstantiality of detail —saw it just as the birds see it—and all reduced to the smallest of scales and as sharply worked out and finished as a steel engraving. The numerous toy villages, with tiny spires projecting out of them, were just as the children might have left them when done with play the day before; the forest tracts were diminished to cushions of moss; one or two big lakes were dwarfed to ponds, the smaller ones to puddles—though they did not look like puddles, but like blue teardrops which had fallen and lodged in slight depressions, conformable to their shapes, among the moss-beds and the smooth levels of dainty green farm-land; the microscopic steamboats glided along, as in a city reservoir, taking a mighty time to cover the distance between ports which seemed only a yard apart; and the isthmus which separated two lakes looked as if one might stretch out on it and lie with both elbows in the water, yet we knew invisible wagons were toiling across it and finding the distance a tedious one. This beautiful miniature world had exactly the appearance of those "relief maps" which reproduce nature precisely, with the heights and depressions and other details graduated to a reduced scale, and with the rocks, trees, lakes, etc., colored after nature. p305.jpg (62K) I believed we could walk down to Waeggis or Vitznau in a day, but I knew we could go down by rail in about an hour, so I chose the latter method. I wanted to see what it was like, anyway. The train came along about the middle of the afternoon, and an odd thing it was. The locomotive-boiler stood on end, and it and the whole locomotive were tilted sharply backward. There were two passenger-cars, roofed, but wide open all around. These cars were not tilted back, but the seats were; this enables the passenger to sit level while going down a steep incline. There are three railway-tracks; the central one is cogged; the "lantern wheel" of the engine grips its way along these cogs, and pulls the train up the hill or retards its motion on the down trip. About the same speed—three miles an hour— is maintained both ways. Whether going up or down, the locomotive is always at the lower end of the train. It pushes in the one case, braces back in the other. The passenger rides backward going up, and faces forward going down. We got front seats, and while the train moved along about fifty yards on level ground, I was not the least frightened; but now it started abruptly downstairs, and I caught my breath. And I, like my neighbors, unconsciously held back all I could, and threw my weight to the rear, but, of course, that did no particular good. I had slidden down the balusters when I was a boy, and thought nothing of it, but to slide down the balusters in a railway-train is a thing to make one's flesh creep. Sometimes we had as much as ten yards of almost level ground, and this gave us a few full breaths in comfort; but straightway we would turn a corner and see a long steep line of rails stretching down below us, and the comfort was at an end. One expected to see the locomotive pause, or slack up a little, and approach this plunge cautiously, but it did nothing of the kind; it went calmly on, and went it reached the jumping-off place it made a sudden bow, and went gliding smoothly downstairs, untroubled by the circumstances. It was wildly exhilarating to slide along the edge of the precipices, after this grisly fashion, and look straight down upon that far-off valley which I was describing a while ago. There was no level ground at the Kaltbad station; the railbed was as steep as a roof; I was curious to see how the stop was going to be managed. But it was very simple; the train came sliding down, and when it reached the right spot it just stopped—that was all there was "to it"—stopped on the steep incline, and when the exchange of passengers and baggage had been made, it moved off and went sliding down again. The train can be stopped anywhere, at a moment's notice. There was one curious effect, which I need not take the trouble to describe—because I can scissor a description of it out of the railway company's advertising pamphlet, and save my ink: p307.jpg (37K) "On the whole tour, particularly at the Descent, we undergo an optical illusion which often seems to be incredible. All the shrubs, fir trees, stables, houses, etc., seem to be bent in a slanting direction, as by an immense pressure of air. They are all standing awry, so much awry that the chalets and cottages of the peasants seem to be tumbling down. It is the consequence of the steep inclination of the line. Those who are seated in the carriage do not observe that they are going down a declivity of twenty to twenty-five degrees (their seats being adapted to this course of proceeding and being bent down at their backs). They mistake their carriage and its horizontal lines for a proper measure of the normal plain, and therefore all the objects outside which really are in a horizontal position must show a disproportion of twenty to twenty- five degrees declivity, in regard to the mountain." By the time one reaches Kaltbad, he has acquired confidence in the railway, and he now ceases to try to ease the locomotive by holding back. Thenceforth he smokes his pipe in serenity, and gazes out upon the magnificent picture below and about him with unfettered enjoyment. There is nothing to interrupt the view or the breeze; it is like inspecting the world on the wing. However—to be exact—there is one place where the serenity lapses for a while; this is while one is crossing the Schnurrtobel Bridge, a frail structure which swings its gossamer frame down through the dizzy air, over a gorge, like a vagrant spider-strand. One has no difficulty in remembering his sins while the train is creeping down this bridge; and he repents of them, too; though he sees, when he gets to Vitznau, that he need not have done it, the bridge was perfectly safe. So ends the eventual trip which we made to the Rigi-Kulm to see an Alpine sunrise. p308.jpg (21K) p309.jpg (78K) CHAPTER XXX [Harris Climbs Mountains for Me] An hour's sail brought us to Lucerne again. I judged it best to go to bed and rest several days, for I knew that the man who undertakes to make the tour of Europe on foot must take care of himself. Thinking over my plans, as mapped out, I perceived that they did not take in the Furka Pass, the Rhone Glacier, the Finsteraarhorn, the Wetterhorn, etc. I immediately examined the guide-book to see if these were important, and found they were; in fact, a pedestrian tour of Europe could not be complete without them. Of course that decided me at once to see them, for I never allow myself to do things by halves, or in a slurring, slipshod way. I called in my agent and instructed him to go without delay and make a careful examination of these noted places, on foot, and bring me back a written report of the result, for insertion in my book. I instructed him to go to Hospenthal as quickly as possible, and make his grand start from there; to extend his foot expedition as far as the Giesbach fall, and return to me from thence by diligence or mule. I told him to take the courier with him. He objected to the courier, and with some show of reason, since he was about to venture upon new and untried ground; but I thought he might as well learn how to take care of the courier now as later, therefore I enforced my point. I said that the trouble, delay, and inconvenience of traveling with a courier were balanced by the deep respect which a courier's presence commands, and I must insist that as much style be thrown into my journeys as possible. So the two assumed complete mountaineering costumes and departed. A week later they returned, pretty well used up, and my agent handed me the following: Official Report OF A VISIT TO THE FURKA REGION. BY H. HARRIS, AGENT About seven o'clock in the morning, with perfectly fine weather, we started from Hospenthal, and arrived at the MAISON on the Furka in a little under QUATRE hours. The want of variety in the scenery from Hospenthal made the KAHKAHPONEEKA wearisome; but let none be discouraged; no one can fail to be completely R'ECOMPENS'EE for his fatigue, when he sees, for the first time, the monarch of the Oberland, the tremendous Finsteraarhorn. A moment before all was dullness, but a PAS further has placed us on the summit of the Furka; and exactly in front of us, at a HOPOW of only fifteen miles, this magnificent mountain lifts its snow-wreathed precipices into the deep blue sky. The inferior mountains on each side of the pass form a sort of frame for the picture of their dread lord, and close in the view so completely that no other prominent feature in the Oberland is visible from this BONG-A-BONG; nothing withdraws the attention from the solitary grandeur of the Finsteraarhorn and the dependent spurs which form the abutments of the central peak. p313.jpg (51K) With the addition of some others, who were also bound for the Grimsel, we formed a large XHVLOJ as we descended the STEG which winds round the shoulder of a mountain toward the Rhone Glacier. We soon left the path and took to the ice; and after wandering amongst the crevices UN PEU, to admire the wonders of these deep blue caverns, and hear the rushing of waters through their subglacial channels, we struck out a course toward L'AUTRE CÔTE and crossed the glacier successfully, a little above the cave from which the infant Rhone takes its first bound from under the grand precipice of ice. Half a mile below this we began to climb the flowery side of the Meienwand. One of our party started before the rest, but the HITZE was so great, that we found IHM quite exhausted, and lying at full length in the shade of a large GESTEIN. We sat down with him for a time, for all felt the heat exceedingly in the climb up this very steep BOLWOGGOLY, and then we set out again together, and arrived at last near the Dead Man's Lake, at the foot of the Sidelhorn. This lonely spot, once used for an extempore burying-place, after a sanguinary BATTUE between the French and Austrians, is the perfection of desolation; there is nothing in sight to mark the hand of man, except the line of weather-beaten whitened posts, set up to indicate the direction of the pass in the OWDAWAKK of winter. Near this point the footpath joins the wider track, which connects the Grimsel with the head of the Rhone SCHNAWP; this has been carefully constructed, and leads with a tortuous course among and over LES PIERRES, down to the bank of the gloomy little SWOSH-SWOSH, which almost washes against the walls of the Grimsel Hospice. We arrived a little before four o'clock at the end of our day's journey, hot enough to justify the step, taking by most of the PARTIE, of plunging into the crystal water of the snow-fed lake.