Various - The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 403, December 5, 1829

In the poet and the philosopher, the lover of the sublime, and the student of the beautiful in art—the contemplation of such a scene as this must awaken ecstatic feelings of admiration and awe. Its effect upon the mere man of the world, whose mind is clogged up with common-places of life, must be overwhelming as the torrent itself; perchance he soon recovers from the impression; but the lover of Nature, in her wonders, reads lessons of infinite wisdom, combined with all that is most fascinating to the mind of inquiring man. In the school of her philosophy, mountains, rivers, and falls not only astonish and delight him in their vast outlines and surfaces, but in their exhaustless varieties and transformations, he enjoys old and new worlds of knowledge, apart from the proud histories of man, and the comparative insignificance of all that he has laboured to produce on the face of the globe.

Few have witnessed the Staubbach , or similar wonders without acknowledging the force of their impressions. This Fall is in the valley of Lauterbrun, the most picturesque district of Switzerland. Simond, 1 1 Switzerland; or a Journal of a Tour and Residence in that country, in 1817, 1818, and 1819. By L. Simond, 2 vols. 8 vo. Second Edit. 1823 Murray. in describing its beauties, says, "we began to ascend the valley of Lauterbrun, by the side of its torrent (the Lutschine) among fragments of rocks, torn from the heights on both sides, and beautiful trees, shooting up with great luxuriance and in infinite variety; smooth pastures of the richest verdure, carpeted over every interval of plain ground; and the harmony of the sonorous cow-bell of the Alps, heard among the precipices above our heads and below us, told us we were not in a desart." "The ruins of the mineral world, apparently so durable, and yet in a state of incessant decomposition, form a striking contrast with the perennial youth of the vegetable world; each individual plant, so frail and perishable, while the species is eternal in the existing economy of nature. Imperceptible forests of timber scarcely tinge their inert masses of gneiss and granite, into which they anchor their roots; grappling with substances which, when struck with steel, tear up the tempered grain, and dash out the spark." This may be an enthusiastic, but is doubtless the faithful, impression of our tourist; and in descriptions of sublime nature, we should

Each valley has its appropriate stream, proportioned to its length, and the number of lateral valleys opening into it. The boisterous Lutschine is the stream of Lauterbrun, and it carries to the Lake of Brientz scarcely less water than the Aar itself. About half way between Interlaken and Lauterbrun, is the junction of the two Lutschines, the black and the white, from the different substances with which they have been in contact.

Simond says, "after passing several falls of water, each of which we mistook for the Staubbach, we came at last to the house where we were to sleep. It had taken us three hours to come thus far; in twenty minutes more we reached the heap of rubbish accumulated by degrees at the foot of the Staubbach; its waters descending from the height of the Pletschberg, form in their course several mighty cataracts, and the last but one is said to be the finest; but is not readily accessible, nor seen at all from the valley. The fall of the Staubbach, about eight hundred feet in height , wholly detached from the rock, is reduced into vapour long before it reaches the ground; the water and the vapour undulating through the air with more grace and elegance than sublimity. While amusing ourselves with watching the singular appearance of rockets of water shooting down into the dense cloud of vapour below, we were joined by some country girls, who gave us a concert of three voices, pitched excessively high, and more like the vibrations of metal or glass than the human voice, but in perfect harmony, and although painful in some degree, yet very fine. In winter an immense accumulation of ice takes place at the foot of the Fall, sometimes as much as three hundred feet broad, with two enormous icy stalactites hanging down over it. When heat returns, the falling waters hollow out cavernous channels through the mass, the effect of which is said to be very fine; this, no doubt, is the proper season to see the Staubbach to most advantage." Six or eight miles further, the valley ends in glaciers scarcely practicable for chamois hunters. About forty years since some miners who belonged to the Valais, and were at work at Lauterbrun, undertook to cross over to their own country, simply to hear mass on a Sunday. They traversed the level top of the glacier in three hours; then descended, amidst the greatest dangers, its broken slope into the Valais, and returned the day after by the same way; but no one else has since ventured on the dangerous enterprise.

Apart from the romantic attraction of the Fall, the broad-eaved chalet and its accessaries form a truly interesting picture of village simplicity and repose. Here you are deemed rich with a capital of three hundred pounds. All that is not made in the country, or of its growth, is deemed luxury: a silver chain here as at Berne, is transmitted from mother to daughter. Dwellings and barns covered with tiles, and windows with large panes of glass, give to the owner a reputation of wealth; and if the outside walls are adorned with paintings, and passages of Scripture are inscribed on the front of the house, the owner ranks at once among the aristocracy of the country. What an association of primitive happiness do these humble attributes and characteristics of Swiss scenery convey to the unambitious mind. Think of this, ye who regard palaces as symbols of true enjoyment! and ye who imprison yourselves in overgrown cities, and wear the silken fetters of wealth and pride!—an aristocrat of Lauterbrun eclipses all your splendour, and a poor Swiss cottager in his humble chalet, is richer than the wealthiest of you—for he is content .

In my paper of the 22nd of August, on this subject, I promised to resume it on my next coming to London, which has been retarded by several causes.

In visiting the Churches of All Souls, and Trinity, the psalmody is by no means to be praised. It is chiefly by the charity children, the singing (or rather noise) is in their usual way, and which will go on to the end of time, unless by the permission of the clergy, some intelligent instructors are allowed to lead as in the Chapel of St. James, near Mornington Place, in the Hampstead Road. The author of the paper on Music, in your publication of the 6th of September, very fairly puts the question, "Why are not the English a musical people?" and he shows many of the interrupting causes. It may happen, however, that by cultivating psalmody in our churches and chapels, considerable progress may be made. The young will be instructed, and the more advanced will attend , and we know the power of attention (the only quality in which Sir Isaac Newton could be persuaded to believe he had any one advantage in intellect over his fellow men.)

It is much to be regretted that the poetry in which our Episcopal Psalms and Hymns are sung, is confined to the versions of Sternhold and Hopkins, and of Tate and Brady. The poetry of Sternhold and Hopkins is in general uncouth with some few exceptions. Tate and Brady have made their versification somewhat more congenial with the modern improvements of our language; but each confines himself to the very literal language of the Old Testament; Sternhold and Hopkins in this respect have the advantage of their successors, Tate and Brady; for the translations of Sternhold and Hopkins are nearer to the original Hebrew.