CHAPTER IX
SWITZERLAND
THEY tell you over here that the Alps have the robust beauty of the Alleghanies combined with the scenic grandeur of the Rockies; but there is not the slightest duplicate of the Rocky Mountains that we discovered. Surely nothing could exceed in loveliness Lucerne. As we wound down the hillside near the foot of the lake, backed by precipitous mountains running away to where their peaks lift up their snows, we saw below us, and around a beautifully colored bay, Lucerne. It was showery, as it often is, the day we went to Lucerne, but we soon found that it only added to our excited expectation. We enter, among real hills and enormous tunnels, the longest I ever passed through, sweet little valleys; Swiss cottages nestle in the hillside, showing little else but the enormous roofs that come nearly to the ground, giving the cottages such a picturesque look; when suddenly, shining through showers, appeared the Alps, like molten silver in the early light, the clouds drifting over them, now hiding, now disclosing, the enchanting heights. Almost every tourist stops at Lucerne, as it possesses direct communication with all parts of Europe. Lying in the very heart of Switzerland, it enables travellers to get to all important spots with comparative ease. It is situated in a most picturesque spot, at the head of the lake of the four Cantons, which here pours out its clear crystal waters through the rushing Reuss. This river has such a current tumbling right through the main street that I experienced a great solicitude for the inhabitants, for fear it would get out of its banks into the buildings that line its very edge. I finally subsided, as no one else seemed anxious. The town itself is severed by the emerald waters of the bridge-spanned Reuss. We walked through and over several of them. The quaint old “Kapell Brücke,” roofed with wood and built across the river in a slanting line to avoid the great pressure of the waters, is interesting. It has curious old paintings on its arches throughout its length, and readable German script. The further end of the bridge opens on to “Schwanen Platz,” a fashionable promenade of the place, and it is loved for its shady avenues of chestnut trees and its splendid view of the lake and the Alps. As our stay was short, we took a cog-wheel to one of its mountain resorts, which opened to our view the many indescribable charms of Lucerne and its splendid lake of irregular form. This magnificent lake runs its gulfs up among the mountains, which are traversed by steamers. By sitting down at one of the many “Schöne Aussichts” we had a sweeping view of the city below and its beautiful environments. We could enjoy its architecture, which embraced pure Renaissance in its Rathhaus, its “Kirche” in simple Gothic, its Jesuit Church in baroque, its multitude of Swiss cottages; and, above all, an exceedingly fine view of the near ranges of the Alps. This embraced the crags of Pilatus and Rigikuln; beyond them were the immortal snows of the higher Alps.
We were told here to defer our shopping until we went to Zurich, but a short distance away, situated on a lake to which it has given its name. We found it to be a busy, industrial city of 160,000 inhabitants, where all merchandise could be had cheaper than in any city in Europe. It had a prosperous appearance throughout.
Consul Gifford, stationed at Basel, says that Switzerland’s trade figures are especially noteworthy. This diminutive republic, about half as large as the State of Maine, swallowed up in our big Texas, is commercially the most highly developed part of the world. These remarkable results, attained by a country without seaports, without coal or iron, in fact, without any considerable quantity of raw material for its manufactures, are truly wonderful.
CHAPTER X
PARIS
THE question most frequently asked upon one’s return from Continental Europe is, “Which city did you enjoy the more, Paris or London?” I could say which I enjoyed the more, but that would not be just to Paris; for, with the continued sight-seeing of months prior to our arrival at Paris, we, in a limited time, could not see Paris; then add to its innumerable charms and interests the Exposition of 1900, and it would be more honest to say what we did not see than to relate what we really saw; which, to tell the truth, was little, compared to its wealth of treasures and sights unseen. You are not there long until you realize that the cities disagree morally and physically. The disagreeable English Channel may cause the ill feeling between the two coasts. When we were taken for English people by the less observing public servants, we received scarcely civil attention; the contrast was quite marked when we were known as Americans, a fact apparently hard to disguise, it seems. The contrast between these two countries, lying so close together, could not be greater than between different continents, and the contrast between their capitals is even more decided. They cannot be called rivals, for each is so great in its own way. As we came into Paris from Lucerne it was early in the morning, before fashion’s hour. The country showed the highest state of cultivation; in fact, the whole of Europe appears as a beautifully kept park. We noticed attractive roads leading everywhere through France—magnificent distances, with artistically formed shade trees, as trim and clean as though they adorned a delightful park, when they are, to all appearances, mere public highways. The French foliage is thin and a little sparse, the grass light in color, their landscape resembling our own in spring tone; a striking contrast to the massive English trees, which have a look of solidity in substance and color; the grass thick and as green as emerald. Their vegetable wealth seems as if it were tropical in luxuriance, hardened and solidified by northern influences. We had been told we had made a mistake by seeing the Continent first and England later, but I don’t agree, and felt again we could congratulate ourselves, as we did, in seeing the Rhenish provinces before the Swiss Alps. A striking contrast in the habits of the people is shown in their eating and drinking. Paris is brilliant with cafés, and the whole world seems to be out in one grand dress parade, sipping wine, coffee, and, very often, absinthe. They have what is known as the “absinthe hour,” when almost everyone you meet seems to be under its influence or some other.
Every American on his maiden trip to Europe turns his mind in friendly delight and expectation to Paris with almost childlike confidence. “See Paris and die,” causes many Americans to approach it with no lukewarm feeling. If you do not rave over it, something is the matter with you, not Paris; but with us it was, as in exaggerated expectations, more in the anticipation.
My chief regret being no time to realize my fondest hopes, as I must confess, my expectations were more joyous and confiding concerning Paris than any other spot. The rush of the Exposition caused the first disappointment, all hotel rates far in advance. It was in our everlasting search for an abiding-place that we discovered the size of Paris and its smells, where garlic fought for supremacy over other less desirable odors, resembling very closely the odors of the far East Side of New York. Then add to this the terrors of their language. We had stumbled through Germany with our German with American accent, but were sadly “up against it” here. Laboring under these disadvantages we could save neither time, money, nor energy; for the most of the last-named article was exhausted in our effort to make them understand where we wanted to go, and how.