Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 3: With His Letters and JournalsMoore, Thomas
General
Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 3: With His Letters and Journals
Moore, Thomas
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron, 1788-1824; Poets, English -- 19th century -- Biography
"Off early. The valley of Simmenthal as before. Entrance to the plain of
Thoun very narrow; high rocks, wooded to the top; river; new mountains,
with fine glaciers. Lake of Thoun; extensive plain with a girdle of
Alps. Walked down to the Chateau de Schadau; view along the lake;
crossed the river in a boat rowed by women. Thoun a very pretty town.
The whole day's journey Alpine and proud.
"September 22.
"Left Thoun in a boat, which carried us the length of the lake in three
hours. The lake small; but the banks fine. Rocks down to the water's
edge. Landed at Newhause; passed Interlachen; entered upon a range of
scenes beyond all description or previous conception. Passed a rock;
inscription--two brothers--one murdered the other; just the place for
it. After a variety of windings came to an enormous rock. Arrived at the
foot of the mountain (the Jungfrau, that is, the Maiden); glaciers;
torrents; one of these torrents _nine hundred feet_ in height of visible
descent. Lodged at the curate's. Set out to see the valley; heard an
avalanche fall, like thunder; glaciers enormous; storm came on, thunder,
lightning, hail; all in perfection, and beautiful. I was on horseback;
guide wanted to carry my cane; I was going to give it him, when I
recollected that it was a sword-stick, and I thought the lightning might
be attracted towards him; kept it myself; a good deal encumbered with
it, as it was too heavy for a whip, and the horse was stupid, and stood
with every other peal. Got in, not very wet, the cloak being stanch.
Hobhouse wet through; Hobhouse took refuge in cottage; sent man,
umbrella, and cloak (from the curate's when I arrived) after him. Swiss
curate's house very good indeed--much better than most English
vicarages. It is immediately opposite the torrent I spoke of. The
torrent is in shape curving over the rock, like the _tail_ of a white
horse streaming in the wind, such as it might be conceived would be that
of the 'pale horse' on which Death is mounted in the Apocalypse.[112] It
is neither mist nor water, but a something between both; its immense
height (nine hundred feet) gives it a wave or curve, a spreading here or
condensation there, wonderful and indescribable. I think, upon the
whole, that this day has been better than any of this present excursion.
[Footnote 112: It is interesting to observe the use to which he
afterwards converted these hasty memorandums in his sublime drama of
Manfred.
"It is not noon--the sunbow's rays still arch
The torrent with the many hues of heaven,
And roll the sheeted silver's waving column
O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular,
And fling its lines of foaming light along,
_And to and fro, like the pale coursers tail,
The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death
As told in the Apocalypse._"
]
"September 23.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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