_Sketches of Switzerland. By an American. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea and
Blanchard._
These very interesting sketches are merely selections from a work of
much larger extent, originally intended for publication, but which, as
a whole, is, for private reasons, suppressed. There is consequently on
this account, and on some others, several _vacuums_ in the narrative.
Mr. Cooper commenced the year 1828 in Paris, whence, after a short
stay, he paid a visit to England. In June he returned to France by the
way of Holland and Belgium. The narrative embraced in vol. i commences
at Paris after his return from England, and terminates at Milan. The
remainder of the year 1828, and the years 1829, 1830, and 1831, with
part of 1832, were passed between Italy, Germany, France and Belgium.
Volume ii recommences at Paris, and a great portion of it is occupied
with matters relating to other countries than that which gives a title
to the book.
We either see, or fancy we see, in these volumes, and more
particularly in the Preface affixed to them, a degree of splenetic ill
humor with both himself and his countrymen, quite different from the
usual manner of the novelist, and evincing something akin to
resentment for real or imaginary ill usage. He frankly tells us among
other things, that had the whole of his intended publication seen the
light, it is probable their writer would not have escaped some
imputations on his patriotism--for in making the comparisons that
naturally arose from his subject, he has spoken in favor of American
principles much oftener than in favor of American things. He then
proceeds with a sneer at a "numerous class of native critics," and
expresses a hope that he may be permitted at least to assert, that "a
mountain fifteen thousand feet high is more lofty than one of fifteen
hundred, and that Mont Blanc is a more sublime object than Butter
Hill." We quote a specimen of the general tone of this Preface.
The writer does not expect much favor for the political opinions that
occasionally appear in these letters. He has the misfortune to belong
to neither of the two great parties that divide the country, and
which, though so bitterly hostile and distrustful of each other, will
admit of no neutrality. It is a menacing symptom that there is a
disposition to seek for a base motive, whenever a citizen may not
choose to plunge into the extremes that characterize the movements of
political factions. This besetting vice is accompanied by another
feeling, that is so singularly opposed to that which every body is
ready to affirm is the governing principle of the institutions, that
it may do no harm slightly to advert to it. Any one who may choose to
set up a semi-official organ of public opinion, called a newspaper,
however illiterate, base, flagrantly corrupt, and absolutely destitute
of the confidence and respect of every man in the community, may daily
pour out upon the public his falsehoods, his contradictions, his
ignorance, and his corruption, treating the national interests as
familiarly as "household terms," and all because he is acting in an
admitted vocation; the public servant, commissioned to execute the
public will, may even turn upon his masters, and tell them not only in
what light they are to view him and his conduct, but in what light
they are also to view the conduct of his associates in trust; in
short, tell them how to make up their judgments on himself and others;
and all because he is a public servant, and the public is his master:
but the private citizen, who merely forms a part of that public, is
denounced for his presumption, should he dare to speak of matters of
general concernment, except under such high sanction, or as the organ
of party.
It may be well to say at once, that this peculiar feeling has not been
permitted to influence the tone of these letters, which have been
written, in all respects, as if the republic did not contain one of
those privileged persons, honored as "patriots" and "godlikes," but as
if both classes were as actually unknown to the country as they are
certainly unknown to the spirit and letter of its institutions.
The spirit of these observations seems to be carried out (we cannot
say with what degree of justice,) in many other portions of the book.
On page 71, vol. i, we observe what follows.
Among other books, I have laid my hands, by accident, on the work of a
recent French traveller in the United States. We read little other
than English books at home, and are much given to declaiming against
English travellers for their unfairness; but, judging from this
specimen of Gallic opinion, our ancient allies rate us quite as low as
our quondam fellow subjects. A perusal of the work in question has led
me to inquire further into the matter, and I am now studying one or
two German writers on the same interesting subject. I must say that
thus far, I find little to feed national vanity, and I begin to fear
(what I have suspected ever since the first six months in Europe) that
we are under an awkward delusion respecting the manner in which the
rest of Christendom regards that civilization touching which we are so
sensitive. It is some time since I have made the discovery, that 'the
name of an American is not a passport all over Europe,' but on the
other hand, that where it conveys any very distinct notions at all, it
usually conveys such as are any thing but flattering or agreeable....
I shall pursue the _trail_ on which I have fallen, and you will
probably hear more of this, before these letters are brought to a
close.
{402} At page 113 of the same volume we have something of the same
nature, and which we confess astonished us in no little degree.
We have just had a visit from two old acquaintances--Manhattanese.
They tell me a good many of our people are wandering among the
mountains, though they are the first we have seen. There is a list of
arrivals published daily in Berne; and in one of them I found the name
of Captain C----, of the Navy; and that of Mr. O., an old and intimate
friend, whom it was vexatious to miss in a strange land. Mr. and Mrs.
G----, of New York, are also somewhere in the cantons. Our numbers
increase, and with them our abuse; for it is not an uncommon thing to
see, written in English in the travellers' books kept by law at all
the inns, pasquinades on America, opposite the American names. What a
state of feeling it betrays, when a traveller cannot write his name,
in compliance with a law of the country in which he happens to be,
without calling down upon himself anathemas of this kind! I have a
register of twenty-three of these gratuitous injuries. What renders
them less excusable, is the fact, that they who are guilty of the
impropriety would probably think twice before they performed the act
in the presence of the party wronged. These intended insults are,
consequently, so many registers of their own meanness. Let the truth
be said; I have never seen one, unless in the case of an American, or
one that was not written in English! Straws show which way the wind
blows. This disposition, in our kinsmen, to deride and abuse America,
is observed and freely commented on by the people of the continent,
who are far from holding us themselves in the highest respect.
And again, on page 327, vol. ii.
I have made this comparison as the last means I know of to arouse you
from your American complacency on the subject of the adjectives
_grand_, _majestic_, _elegant_ and _splendid_, in connection with our
architecture. The latter word, in particular, is coming to be used
like a household term; while there is not, probably, a single work of
art, from Georgia to Maine, to which it can with propriety be applied.
I do not know a single edifice in the Union that can be considered
more than third rate by its size and ornaments, nor more than one or
two that ought to be ranked even so high. When it comes to capitals,
and the use of the adjectives I have just quoted, it may be well to
remember, that there is no city in the Republic that has not decidedly
the air and the habits of a provincial town, and this too, usually
without possessing the works of art that are quite commonly found in
this hemisphere, even in places of that rank, or a single public
building to which the term _magnificent_ can with any fitness be
adjudged.
We can only say, that if the suppressed portions of Mr. Cooper's
intended publication embraced any thing more likely than these
assertions and opinions to prove unacceptable to American readers at
large, it is perhaps better, both for his own reputation, and for the
interest of his publishers, that he finally decided upon the
suppression. Yet Mr. Cooper may be right, and not having the fear of
punishment sufficiently before our eyes, we, for ourselves, frankly
confess that we believe him to be right. The passages which remain of
a similar nature to those we have quoted, will only serve we hope, to
give additional piquancy to these admirable Sketches. As a work
affording extensive and valuable information on the subject of
Switzerland, we have seen nothing in any shape, at all equal to the
volumes before us.
The extract we now subjoin, will prove beyond doubt, that the fine
descriptive powers of the author of the Prairie, are in as full vigor
as ever.
It is at all times a very difficult thing to convey vivid and, at the
same time, accurate impressions of grand scenery by the use of words.
When the person to whom the communication is made has seen objects
that have a general similarity to those described, the task certainly
becomes less difficult, for he who speaks or writes may illustrate his
meaning by familiar comparisons; but who in America, that has never
left America, can have a just idea of the scenery of this region? A
Swiss would readily comprehend a description of vast masses of granite
capped with eternal snow, for such objects are constantly before his
eyes; but to those who have never looked upon such a magnificent
spectacle, written accounts, when they come near their climax, fall as
much short of the intention, as words are less substantial than
things. With a full consciousness of this deficiency in my craft, I
shall attempt to give you some notion of the two grandest aspects that
the Alps, when seen from this place, assume; for it seems a species of
poetical treason to write of Switzerland and be silent on what are
certainly two of its most decided sublimities.
One of these appearances is often alluded to, but I do not remember to
have ever heard the other mentioned. The first is produced by the
setting sun, whose rays of a cloudless evening, are the parents of
hues and changes of a singularly lovely character. For many minutes
the lustre of the glacier slowly retires, and is gradually succeeded
by a tint of rose color, which, falling on so luminous a body,
produces a sort of "roseate light;" the whole of the vast range
becoming mellowed and subdued to indescribable softness. This
appearance gradually increases in intensity, varying on different
evenings, however, according to the state of the atmosphere. At the
very moment, perhaps, when the eye is resting most eagerly on this
extraordinary view, the light vanishes. No scenic change is more
sudden than that which follows. All the forms remain unaltered, but so
varied in hue, as to look like the ghosts of mountains. You see the
same vast range of eternal snow, but you see it ghastly and spectral.
You fancy that the spirits of the Alps are ranging themselves before
you. Watching the peaks for a few minutes longer, the light slowly
departs. The spectres, like the magnified images of the
phantasmagoria, grow more and more faint, less and less material,
until swallowed in the firmament. What renders all this more
thrillingly exquisite is, the circumstance that these changes do not
occur until after evening has fallen on the lower world, giving to the
whole the air of nature sporting in the upper regions, with some of
her spare and detached materials.
This sight is far from uncommon. It is seen during the summer, at
least, in greater or less perfection, as often as twice or thrice a
week. The other is much less frequent; for, though a constant
spectator when the atmosphere was favorable, it was never my fortune
to witness it but twice; and even on these occasions, only one of them
is entitled to come within the description I am about to attempt.
It is necessary to tell you that the Aar flows toward Berne in a
north-west direction, through a valley of some width, and several
leagues in length. To this fact the Bernese are indebted for their
view of the Oberland Alps, which stretch themselves exactly across the
mouth of the gorge, at the distance of forty miles in an air line.
These giants are supported by a row of outposts, any one of which, of
itself, would be a spectacle in another country. One in particular, is
distinguished by its form, which is that of a cone. It is nearly in a
line with the Jung Frau,[4] the virgin queen of the Oberland. This
mountain is called the Niesen. It stands some eight or ten miles in
advance of the mighty range, though to the eye, at Berne, all these
accessories appear to be tumbled without order at the very feet of
their principals. The height of the Niesen is given by Ebel at 5584
French, or nearly 6000 English feet, above the {403} lake of Thun, on
whose margin it stands; and at 7340 French, or nearly 8000 English
feet above the sea. In short, it is rather higher than the highest
peak of our own White Mountains. The Jung Frau rises directly behind
this mass, rather more than a mile nearer to heaven.
[Footnote 4: Jung Frau, or the virgin; (pronounced Yoong Frow.) The
mountain is thus called, because it has never been scaled.]
The day, on the occasion to which I allude, was clouded, and as a
great deal of mist was clinging to all the smaller mountains, the
lower atmosphere was much charged with vapor. The cap of the Niesen
was quite hid, and a wide streak of watery clouds lay along the whole
of the summits of the nearer range, leaving, however, their brown
sides misty but visible. In short the Niesen and its immediate
neighbors looked like any other range of noble mountains, whose heads
were hid in the clouds. I think the vapor must have caused a good deal
of refraction, for above these clouds rose the whole of the Oberland
Alps to an altitude which certainly seemed even greater than usual.
Every peak and all the majestic formation was perfectly visible,
though the whole range appeared to be severed from the earth, and to
float in air. The line of communication was veiled, and while all
below was watery, or enfeebled by mist, the glaciers threw back the
fierce light of the sun with powerful splendor. The separation from
the lower world was made the more complete, from the contrast between
the sombre hues beneath and the calm but bright magnificence above.
One had some difficulty in imagining that the two could be parts of
the same orb. The effect of the whole was to create a picture of which
I can give no other idea, than by saying it resembled a glimpse,
through the windows of heaven, at such a gorgeous but chastened
grandeur, as the imagination might conceive to suit the place. There
were moments when the spectral aspect just mentioned, dimmed the
lustre of the snows, without injuring their forms, and no language can
do justice to the sublimity of the effect. It was impossible to look
at them without religious awe; and, irreverent though it may seem, I
could hardly persuade myself I was not gazing at some of the sublime
mysteries that lie beyond the grave.
A fortnight passed in contemplating such spectacles at the distance of
sixteen leagues, has increased the desire to penetrate nearer to the
wonders; and it has been determined that as many of our party who are
of an age to enjoy the excursion, shall quit this place in a day or
two for the Oberland.