Letters of Felix Mendelssohn

Lindau, September 5th.

Opposite me lies Switzerland, with her dark blue mountains, pedestrian journeys, storms, and glorious heights and valleys. Here ends the greatest part of my journey, and my journal also.

At noon to-day, I crossed the wild grey Rhine in a ferry-boat, above Rheineck, and now here I am, already in Bavaria. I have of course entirely given up my projected excursion on foot, through the Bavarian mountains; for it would be folly to attempt anything of the kind this year. For the last four days it has rained more or less with incessant vehemence; it seemed as if Providence were wroth. I passed to-day through extensive orchards, which were not under water, but fairly submerged by mud and clay; everything looks deplorable and depressing; you must therefore forgive the doleful style of this last sheet. I never in any landscape saw a more dreary sight than the sward of the green hills, covered with deep snow; while below, the fruit-trees, with their ripe fruit, were standing reflected in the water. The scanty covering of muddy snow, which lay on the fir-woods and meadows, looked the personification of all that was dismal. A Sargans burgher told me that in 1811 this little town had been entirely burnt down, and recently with difficulty rebuilt; that they depend chiefly on the produce of their vineyards, which have been this year destroyed by hail-storms, and the Alps also were now no longer available; this gives rise to serious reflections, and to anxious thoughts with regard to this year.

It is singular enough that if I am obliged to go on foot in such weather, and fairly exposed to it, I am not in the least annoyed; on the contrary, I rather rejoice in setting it at defiance. When I arrived by the diligence yesterday at Altstetten, in freezing cold, like a day in December, I found that there was no carriage road to Tourgen, to which place I had unluckily sent on my cloak and knapsack on the last fine day. I was obliged to have them the same evening, for the cold was intense, so I did not hesitate long, but set off once more for the last time to cross the mountains, and arrived in the Canton of Appenzell.

The state of the woods, and hills, and meadows, and little bridges, baffles all description; being Sunday, and divine service going on, I failed in procuring a guide; not a living soul met me the whole way, for all the people had crept into their houses, so I toiled on quite alone towards Tourgen. To pass through a wood in such weather, and along such paths, inspires a wonderful sense of independence. Moreover I am now quite perfect in the Swiss jodeln and crowing, so I shouted lustily, and jodelled several airs at the pitch of my voice, and arrived in Tourgen in capital spirits. The people in the inn there were rude and saucy, so I politely said, "You be hanged! I shall go on;" and taking out my map, I found that St. Gall was the nearest convenient place, and in fact the only practicable route. I could not succeed in persuading any one to go with me in such horrible weather, so I resolved to carry my own things, abusing all Swiss cordiality.

Shortly afterwards, however, came the reverse of the medal, which not unfrequently occurs. I went to the peasant who had brought my luggage here, and found him in his pretty newly-built wooden house, and I had thus an opportunity of seeing a veritable and genuine Swiss interior, just as we imagine it to be. He and his whole family were sitting round a table, the house clean and warm, and the stove burning. The old man rose and gave me his hand, and insisted on my taking a seat; he then sent through the whole place to try to get me a carriage, or a man to carry my things, but as no one would either drive or walk, he at last sent his own son with me. He only asked two Batzen for carrying my knapsack for two hours. A very pretty fair daughter was sitting at the table sewing, the mother reading a thick book, and the old man himself studying the newspapers; it was a charming picture.

When at last I set off, the weather seemed to say, "If you defy me I can defy you also," for the storm broke loose with redoubled violence, and an invisible hand appeared to seize my umbrella at intervals, shaking it and crumpling it together, and my fingers were so benumbed that I could scarcely hold it fast; the paths were so desperately slippery that my guide fell sprawling full length before me in the mud; but what cared we? We jodelled and reviled the weather to our hearts' content, and at last we passed the Nunnery, which we greeted by a serenade, and soon after reached St. Gall.

Our journey was happily over, and yesterday I drove here, and at night met with a wonderful organ, on which I could play "Schmücke dich, O liebe Seele!" to my heart's content.

To-day I proceed to Memmingen, to-morrow to Augsburg; the day after, God willing, to Munich; and thus, I may now say, I have been in Switzerland. Perhaps I have rather bored you by all the trivial occurrences I have detailed. These are gloomy times, but we need not be so; and when I sent you my journal, it was chiefly to show you that I thought of you whenever I was pleased and happy, and was with you in spirit. The shabby, dripping pedestrian bids you farewell, and a town gentleman, with visiting-cards, fine linen, and a black coat, will write to you next time. Farewell.

Felix.