STRUCTURE AND CHARACTERISTICS OF THE VAUDOIS VALLEYS.
Journey to "Valleys"--Dinner at Pignerolo--Grandeur of
Scenery--Associations--Bicherasio--Procession of
_Santissimo_--Connection betwixt the History and the Country of the
Vaudois--The Three Valleys of Martino, Angrona, and Lucerna--Their
Arrangement--Strength--Fertility--La Tour--The Castelluzzo--Scenery
of the Val Lucerna--The Manna of the Waldenses--Populousness of the
Valleys--Variety of Productions--The Roman Flood and the Vaudois
Ark.
The Valleys of the Vaudois lie about thirty miles to the south-west of
Turin. The road thither it is scarce possible to miss. Keeping the lofty
and pyramidal summit of Monte Viso in your eye, you go straight on, in a
line parallel with the Alps, along the valley of the Po, which is but a
prolongation of the great plain of Lombardy. On my way down to these
valleys, I observed on the roadside numerous little temples, which the
natives, in true Pagan fashion, had erected to their deities. The niches
of these temples were filled with Madonnas, crucifixes, and saints,
gaunt and grizzly, with unlighted candles stuck before them, or rude
paintings and tinsel baubles hung up as votive offerings. The
signboards--especially those of the wine venders--were exceedingly
religious. They displayed, for the most part, a bizarre painting of the
Virgin, and occasionally of the Pope; and not unfrequently underneath
these personages were a company of heretics, such as those I was going
to visit, sweltering in flames. Were a Protestant vintner to sell his
ale beneath a picture of Catholics burning in hell, I fear we should
never hear the last of it. But I must say, that these pictures seemed
the production of past times. They were one and all sorely faded, as if
their owners were beginning to be somewhat ashamed of them, or lacked
zeal to repair them. The _conducteur_ of the stage had an Italian
translation of Mr Gladstone's well-known pamphlet on Naples in his hand,
which then covered all the book-stalls in Turin, and was read by every
one. This led to a lively discussion on the subject of the Church,
between him and two fellow-travellers, to whom I had been introduced at
starting, as Waldenses. I observed that, although he appeared to come
off but second best in the controversy, he bore all with unruffled
humour, as if not unwilling to be beaten. At length, after a ride of
twenty miles over the plain, in which the husbandman, with plough as old
in its form as the Georgics, was turning up a soil rich, black, and
glossy as the raven's wing, we arrived at Pignerolo, a town on the
borders of the Vaudois land.
The two Vaudois and myself adjourned to the hotel to dine. Even in this
we had an instance of changed times. In this very town of Pignerolo a
law had been in existence, and was not long repealed, forbidding, under
severe penalties, any one to give meat or drink to a Vaudois. The
"Valleys" were only ten miles distant, and we agreed to walk thither on
foot. Indeed, all such spots must be so visited, if one would feel their
full influence. Leaving Pignerolo, the road began to draw into the bosom
of the mountains, and the scenery became grander at every step. On the
right rose the hills of the Vaudois, with knolls glittering with woods
and cottages scattered at their feet. On the left, long reaches of the
Po, meandering through pasturages and vineyards, gleamed out golden in
the western sun. The scenery reminded me much of the Highlands at
Comrie, only it was on a scale of richness and magnificence unknown to
Scotland.
After advancing a few miles, I chanced to turn and look back. The change
the mountains had undergone struck me much. A division of Alps, tall and
cloud-capped, appeared to have broken off from the main army, and to
have come marching into the plain; and while the mountains were closing
in upon us behind, they appeared to be falling back in front, and
arranging themselves into the segment of a vast circle. A magnificent
amphitheatre had risen noiselessly around us. On all sides save the
south, where a reach of the valley was still visible, the eye met only a
lofty wall of mountains, hung in a rich and gorgeous tapestry of bright
green pasturages and shady pine-forests, with the frequent sunlight
gleam of white chalets. The snows of their summits were veiled in masses
of cloud, which the southerly winds were bringing up upon them from the
Mediterranean. I seemed to have entered some stately temple,--a temple
not of mortal workmanship,--which needed no tall shaft, no groined roof,
no silver lamps, no chisel or pencil of artist to beautify it, and no
white-robed priest to make it holy. It had been built by Him whose power
laid the foundations of the earth, and hung the stars in heaven; and it
had been consecrated by sacrifices such as Rome's mitred priests never
offered in aisled cathedral. Nor had it been the scene only of lofty
endurance: it had been the scene also of sweet and holy joys. There the
Vaudois patriarchs, like Enoch, had "walked with God;" there they had
read his Word, and kept his Sabbaths. They had sung his praise by these
silvery brooks, and kneeled in prayer beneath these chestnut trees.
There, too, arose the shout of triumphant battle; and from those valleys
the Vaudois martyrs had gone up, higher than these white peaks, to take
their place in the white-robed and palm-bearing company. Can the spirit,
I asked myself, ever forget its earthly struggles, or the scene on which
they were endured? and may not the very same picture of beauty and
grandeur now before my eye be imprinted eternally on the memory of many
of the blessed in Heaven?
There was silence on plain and mountain,--a hush like that of a
sanctuary, reverent and deep, and broken only by the flow of the torrent
and the sound of voices among the vineyards. I could not fail to observe
that sounds here were more musical than on the plain. This is a
peculiarity belonging to mountainous regions; but I have nowhere seen it
so perceptible as here. Every accent had a fullness and melody of tone,
as if spoken in a whispering gallery. Right in the centre of the circle
formed by the mountains was the entrance of the Vaudois valleys. The
place was due north from where we now were, but we had to make a
considerable detour in order to reach it. A long low hill, rough with
boulders and feathery with woods, lay across the mouth of these valleys;
and we had to go round it on the west, and return along the fertile vale
which divides it from the high Alps, whose straths and gorges form the
dwellings of the Waldenses.
A dream it seemed to be, walking thus within the shadow of the Vaudois
hills. And then, too, what a strange chance was it which had thrown me
into the society of my two Waldensian fellow-travellers! They had met me
on the threshold of their country, as if sent to bid me welcome, and
conduct my steps into a land which the prayers and sufferings of their
forefathers had for ever hallowed. They could not speak a word of my
tongue; and to them my transalpine Italian was not more than
intelligible. Yet, such is the power of a common sympathy, the
conversation did not once flag all the way; and it had reference, of
course, to one subject. I told them that I was not unacquainted with
their glorious history;--that from a child I had known the noble deeds
of their fathers, who had received an equal place in my veneration with
the men of old, "who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought
righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouth of lions. And others
had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover, of bonds and
imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted,
were slain with the sword; they wandered about in sheepskins and
goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; of whom the world was
not worthy;"--and that, next to the hills of my own land, hallowed, too,
with martyr-blood, I loved the mountains within whose shadow my
wandering steps had now brought me. The eyes of my Vaudois friends
kindled; they were not unconscious, I could see, of their noble lineage;
and they were visibly touched by the circumstance that a stranger from a
distant land--drawn thither by sympathy with the great struggles of
their nation--should come to visit their mountains. Every object in any
way connected with their history, and especially with their
persecutions, was carefully pointed out to me. "There," said they, "is
our frontier church, the first of the Vaudois candles," pointing to a
white edifice that gleamed out upon us amid woods and rocks, on the
summit of a hill, soon after leaving Pignerolo. They mentioned, too,
with peculiar emphasis, the year of the last great massacre of their
brethren. The memory of that transaction, I feel assured, will perish
only with the Vaudois race. Nor can I forget the evident pride with
which, on nearing the valley of Lucerne, they pointed to the giant form
of their Castelluzzo, now looming through the shades of night, and told
me that in the caves of that mighty rock their fathers found shelter,
when the valley beneath was covered with armed men.
Nowhere had I seen more luxuriant vines. They were festooned, too, after
the manner of those I had seen among the Alps; but here the effect was
more beautiful. They were literally stretched out over entire fields in
an unbroken web of boughs. Clothed with luxuriant foliage, they looked
like another azure canopy extended over the soil. There was ample room
beneath for the ploughman and his bullocks. The golden beams, struggling
through the massy foliage, fell in a mellow and finely tinted shower on
the newly ploughed soil. Wheat is said to ripen better beneath the
vine-shade than in the open sun. The season of grapes was shortly past;
but here and there large clusters were still pendent on the bough.
Hitherto, although we had been skirting the Vaudois territory, we had
not set foot upon it. The line which separates it from the rest of
Piedmont touches the small town of Bicherasio, on the western flank of
the low hill I have mentioned; and the roofs of the little town were
already in sight. Passing, on the left, a white-walled mass-house on a
small height, with the priest looking at us from amid the autumn-tinted
vine leaves that shaded the wall, we entered the town of Bicherasio. The
first sight we saw was a procession advancing up the street at
double-quick time. I was at first sorely puzzled what to make of it.
There was an air of mingled fun and gravity on the faces of the crowd;
but the former so greatly predominated, that I took the affair for a
frolic of the youths of Bicherasio. First came a squad of dirty boys,
some of whom carried prayer-books: these were followed by some dozen or
so of young women in their working attire, ranged in line, and carrying
flambeaux. In the centre of the procession was a tall raw-boned priest,
of about twenty-five years of age, with a little box in his hand. His
head was bare, and he wore a long brown dress, bound with a cord round
his middle. A canopy of crimson cloth, sorely soiled and tarnished, was
borne over him by four of the taller lads. He had a flurried and wild
look, as if he had slept out in the woods all night, and had had time
only to shake himself, and put his fingers through his hair, before
being called on to run with his little box. The procession closed, as it
had opened, with a cloud of noisy and dirty urchins hanging on the rear
of the priest and his flambeaux-bearing company. The whole swept past us
at such a rapid pace, that I could only, by way of divining its object,
open large wondering eyes upon it, which the large-boned lad in the
brown cloak noticed, and repaid with a scowl, which broke no bones,
however. "He is carrying the _santissimo_," said my fellow-travellers,
when the procession had passed, "to a dying man." We passed the line,
and set foot on the Vaudois territory. Being now on privileged soil, and
safe from any ebullition which the scant reverence we had paid the
procession of the _santissimo_ might have drawn upon us, we entered a
small albergo, and partook together of a bottle of wine. Our long walk,
and the warmth of the evening, made the refreshment exceedingly
agreeable. By way of commending the qualities of their soil, my
companions remarked, that "this was the vine of the land." I felt
disposed to deal with it as David did with the water of the well of
Bethlehem, for here--
"The nurture of the peasant's vines
Hath been the martyr's blood!"
It was dark before I reached La Tour; but one of my
fellow-travellers--the other having left us at San Giovanni--accompanied
me every footstep of the way, having passed his own dwelling two full
miles, to do me this kindness.
I must remind the reader, that this is simply a look in upon the
Vaudois, on my way to Rome. I purpose here no description in full of the
territory of the Vaudois, or of the people of the Vaudois. Their hills
were shrouded in cloud and rain all the while I lived amongst them; and
although my intention was to visit on foot every inch of their country,
and more especially the scenes of their great struggles, I was
compelled, after waiting well nigh a week, to take my departure without
having accomplished this part of my object. Leaving, then, the seeing
and describing these famous valleys to some possibly future day, all I
shall attempt here is to convey some idea of the structural
arrangement--the osteology, if I may call it so--of the Waldensian
territory, and the general condition of the Waldensian people. First, of
their country.
A country and its people can never well be separated. The former, with
silent but ceaseless influence, moulds the genius and habits of the
latter, and determines the character of their history. It marks them out
as fated for slavery or freedom,--degradation or glory. The country of
the Vaudois is the material basis of their history; and the sublime
points of their scenery join in, as it were, with the sublime passages
of their nation. Without such a country, we cannot conceive how the
Vaudois could have escaped extermination. The fertility and grandeur of
their valleys were no chance gifts, but special endowments, having
reference to the mighty moral struggle of which they were the destined
theatre. It is this sentiment that forms the living spirit in the
beautiful lines of Mrs Hemans, entitled, "The Hymn of the Vaudois
Mountaineers:"--
For the strength of the hills we bless thee.
Our God, our fathers' God.
Thou hast made thy children mighty,
By the touch of the mountain sod.
Thou hast fixed our ark of refuge
Where the spoiler's foot ne'er trod;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers' God!
We are watchers of a beacon
Whose light must never die;
We are guardians of an altar
'Midst the silence of the sky.
The rocks yield founts of courage,
Struck forth as by thy rod;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers' God!
For the dark resounding caverns,
Where thy still small voice is heard;
For the strong pines of the forests
That by thy breath are stirred;
For the storms on whose free pinions
Thy spirit walks abroad;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers' God!
The banner of the chieftain
Far, far below us waves;
The war horse of the spearman
Cannot reach our lofty caves.
Thy dark clouds wrap the threshold
Of freedom's last abode;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers' God!
For the shadow of thy presence
Round our camp of rock outspread;
For the stern defiles of battle,
Bearing record of our dead;
For the snows and for the torrents,
For the free heart's burial sod;
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers' God!
We read in the Apocalypse, that "the woman fled into the wilderness,
where she had a place prepared of God, that they should feed her there a
thousand two hundred and threescore days." "A place prepared"
undoubtedly implies a special arrangement and a special adaptation, in
the future dwelling of the Church, to the mission to be assigned her.
The "wilderness" of the Apocalypse, we are inclined to think, is the
great chain of the Alps; and the "place prepared" in that wilderness, we
are also inclined to think, are the Cottian Alps, and more especially
those valleys in the Cottian Alps which the confessors, known as the
Vaudois, inhabited. Long after Rome had subjugated the plains, she
possessed scarce a foot-breadth among the mountains. These, throughout
well-nigh their entire extent, from where the Simplon road now cuts the
chain, to the sea, were peopled by the professors of the gospel. They
were a Goshen of light in the midst of an Egypt of darkness; and in
these peaceful and sublime solitudes holy men fed their flocks amid the
green pastures and beside the clear waters of evangelical truth. But
persecution came: it waxed hot; and every succeeding century beheld
these confessors fewer in number, and their territory more restricted.
At last all that remained to the Vaudois were only three valleys at the
foot of Monte Viso; and if we examine their structure, we will find them
arranged with special reference to the war the Church was here called to
wage.
The three valleys are the Val Martino, the Val Angrona, and the Val
Lucerna. Nothing could be simpler than their arrangement; at the same
time, nothing could be stronger. The three valleys spread out like a
fan,--radiating, as it were, from the same point, and stretching away in
a winding vista of vineyards, meadows, chestnut groves, dark gorges, and
foaming torrents, to the very summits and glaciers of the Alps. Nearly
at the point of junction of the Val Angrona and the Val Lucerna stands
La Tour, the capital of the valleys. It consists of a single street (for
the few off-shoots are not worth mentioning) of two-storey houses,
whitewashed, and topped with broad eves, which project till they leave
only a narrow strip of sky visible overhead. The town winds up the hill
for a quarter of a mile or so, under the shadow of the famous
Castelluzzo,--a stupendous mountain of rock, which shoots up, erect as a
column on its pedestal, to a height of many thousands of feet, and, in
other days, sheltered, as I have said, in its stony arms, the persecuted
children of the valleys, when the armies of France and Savoy gathered
round its base. How often I watched it, during my stay there, as its
mighty form now became lost, and now flashed forth from the mountain
mists! Over what sad scenes has that rock looked! It has seen the
peaceful La Tour a heap of smoking ruins, and the clear waters of the
Pelice, which meander at its feet, red with the blood of the children of
the valleys. It has heard the wrathful execrations of armed men
ascending where the prayers and praises of the Vaudois were wont to
come, borne on the evening breeze,--scenes unspeakably affecting, but
which, nevertheless, from the principle which they embodied, and the
Christian heroism which they evoked, add dignity to humanity itself.
When we would rebut those universal libels which infidels have written
upon our race, we point to the Vaudois. However corrupt whole nations
and continents may have been, that nature which could produce the
Vaudois must have originally possessed, and be still capable of having
imparted to it, God-like qualities.
The strength of the Vaudois position, as I take it, lies in this, that
the three valleys have their entrance within a comparatively narrow
space. The country of the Vaudois was, in fact, an immense citadel, with
its foundation on the rock, and its top above the clouds, and with but
one gate of entrance. That gate could be easily defended; nay, it _was_
defended. He who built this mighty fortress had thrown up a rampart
before its gate, as if with a special eye to the protection of its
inmates. The long hill of which I have already spoken, which rises to a
height of from four to five hundred feet, lies across the opening of
these valleys, at about a mile's breadth, and serves as a wall of
defence. But even granting that this entrance should be forced, as it
sometimes was, there were ample means within the mountains themselves,
which were but a congeries of fortresses, for prolonging the contest.
The valleys abound with gorges and narrow passages, where one man might
maintain the way against fifty. There were, too, escarpments of rock,
with galleries and caves known only to the Vaudois. Even the mists of
their hills befriended them; veiling them, on some memorable instances,
from the keen pursuit of their foes. Thus, every foot-breadth of their
territory was capable of being contested, and _was_ contested against
the flower of the French and Sardinian armies, led against them in
overwhelming numbers, with a courage which Rome never excelled, and a
patriotism which Greece never equalled.
I found, too, that it was "a good land" which the Lord their God had
given to the Vaudois,--"a land of brooks of water, of fountains and
depths that spring out of valleys and hills; a land of wheat, and
barley, and vines, and fig-trees, and pomegranates; a land of oil, olive
and honey." The same architect who built the fortress had provisioned
it, so to speak, and that in no stinted measure. He who placed
magazines of bread in the clouds, and rained it upon the Israelites
when they journeyed through the desert, had laid up store of corn, and
oil, and wine, in the soil of these valleys; so that the Vaudois, when
their enemies pressed them on the plain, and cut off their supplies from
without, might still enjoy within their own mountain rampart abundance
of all things.
On the first morning after my arrival, I walked out along the Val
Lucerna southward. Flowers and fruit in rich profusion covered every
spot of ground under the eye, from the banks of the stream to the skirts
of the mist that veiled the mountains. The fields, which were covered
with the various cultivation of wheat, maize, orchards, and vineyards,
were fenced with neatly dressed hedge-rows. The vine-stocks were
magnificently large, and their leaves had already acquired the fine
golden yellow which autumn imparts. At a little distance, on a low hill,
deeply embosomed in foliage, was the church of San Giovanni, looking as
brilliantly white as if it had been a piece of marble fresh from the
chisel. Hard by, peeping out amidst fruit-bearing trees, was the village
of Lucerna. On the right rose the mighty wall of the Alps; on the left
the valley opened out into the plain of the Po, bounded by a range of
blue-tinted hills, which stretched away to the south-west, mingling in
the distant horizon with the mightier masses of the Alps. The sun now
broke through the haze; and his rays, falling on the luxuriant beauty of
the valley, and on the more varied but not less rich covering of the
hill-side,--the pasturages, the winding belts of planting, the white
chalets,--lighted up a picture which a painter might have exhibited as a
relic of an unfallen world, or a reminiscence of that garden from which
transgression drove man forth.
After breakfast, I sallied out to explore the valley of Lucerne, at the
entrance of which is placed, as I have said, La Tour, the capital of the
Waldenses. My intention was to trace its windings all the way, past the
village and church of Bobbio, and up the mountains, till it loses itself
amid the snows of their summits,--an expedition which was brought to an
abrupt termination by the black clouds which came rolling up the valley
at noon like the smoke of a furnace, followed by torrents of rain.
Threading my way through the narrow winding street of La Tour, and
skirting the base of the giant Castelluzzo, I emerged upon the open
valley. I was enchanted by its mingled loveliness and grandeur. Its
bottom, which might be from one to two miles in breadth, though looking
narrower, from the titanic character of its mountain-boundary, was, up
to a certain point, one continuous vineyard. The vine there attains a
noble stature, and stretches its arms from side to side of the valley in
rich and lovely festoons, veiling from the great heat of the sun the
golden grain which grows underneath. On either hand the mountains rise
to the sky, not bare and rocky, but glowing with the vine, or shady with
the chestnut, and pouring into the lap of the Vaudois, corn, and wine,
and fruit. Their sides were covered throughout with vineyards,
corn-fields, glades of green pasturages, clumps of forests and
fruit-trees, mansions and chalets, and silvery streamlets, which
meandered amid their terraces, or leaped in flashing light down the
mountain, to join the Pelice at its bottom. Not a foot-breadth was
barren. This teeming luxuriance attested at once the qualities of the
soil and sun, and the industry of the Vaudois.
As I proceeded up the Val Lucerna, the same scene of mingled richness
and magnificence continued. The golden vine still kept its place in the
bottom of the valley, and stretched out its arms in very wantonness, as
if the limits of the Val Lucerna were too small for its exuberant and
generous fruitfulness. The hills gained in height, without losing in
fertility and beauty. They offered to the eye the same picture of
vine-rows, pasturages, chestnut-groves, and chalets, from the torrent at
their bottom, up to the edge of the floating mist that covered their
tops. At times the sun would break in, and add to the variety of lights
which diversified the landscape. For already the hand of autumn had
scattered over the foliage her beautiful tints of all shades, from the
bright green of the pastures, down through the golden yellow of the
vine, to the deep crimson of those trees which are the first to fade.
A farther advance, and the aspect of the Val Lucerna changed slightly.
The vineyards ceased on the level grounds at the bottom of the valley,
and in their place came rich meadow lands, on which herds were grazing.
The hills on the left were still ribbed with the vine. On the right,
along which, at a high level on the hill-side, ran the road, the
chestnut groves became more frequent, and large boulders began
occasionally to be seen. It was here that the rolling mass of cloud, so
fearfully black, that it seemed of denser materials than vapour, which
had followed me up hill, overtook me, and by the deluge of rain which it
let fall, effectually forbade my farther progress.
The same shower which forbade my farther exploration of the Val Lucerna,
arresting me, with cruel interdict, as it seemed, on the very threshold
of a region teeming with grandeur, and encompassed with the halo of
imperishable deeds, threw me, by a sort of compensatory chance, upon the
discovery of another most interesting peculiarity of the Waldensian
territory. The heavy rain compelled me to seek shelter beneath the
boughs of a wide-spread chestnut-tree; and there, for the space of an
hour, I remained perfectly dry, though the big drops were falling all
around. Soon a continuous beating, as if of the fall of substances from
a considerable height on the ground, attracted my attention,--tap, tap,
tap. The sound told me that something was falling bigger and heavier
than the rain-drops; but the long grass prevented me at first seeing
what it was. A slight search, however, showed me that the tree beneath
which I stood was actually letting fall a shower of nuts. These nuts
were large and fully ripened. The breeze became slightly stronger, and
the fruit shower from the trees increased so much, that a soft muffled
sound rang through the whole wood. It was literally raining food. Some
millions of nuts must have fallen that day in the Val Lucerna. I saw the
young peasant girls coming from the chalets and farm-houses, to glean
beneath the boughs; and a short time sufficed to fill their sacks, and
send them back laden with the produce of the chestnut-tree. These nuts
are roasted and eaten as food; and very nutritious food they are. In all
the towns of northern Italy you see persons in the streets roasting them
in braziers over charcoal fires, and selling them to the people, to whom
they form no very inconsiderable part of their food. I have oftener than
once, on a long ride, breakfasted on them, with the help of a cluster of
grapes, or a few apples. This was the manna of the Waldenses. And how
often have the persecuted Vaudois, when driven from their homes, and
compelled to seek refuge in those high altitudes where the vine does not
grow, subsisted for days and weeks upon the produce of the
chestnut-tree! I could not but admire in this the wise arrangement of
Him who had prepared these valleys as the future abode of his Church.
Not only had He taught the earth to yield her corn, and the hills wine,
but even the skies bread. Bread was rained around their caves and
hiding-places, plenteous as the manna of old; and the Vaudois, like the
Israelites, had but to gather and eat.
I came also to the conclusion, that the land which the Lord had given to
the Waldenses was a "large" as well as a "good" land. It is only of late
that the Vaudois have been restricted to the three valleys I have named;
but even taking their country as at present defined, its superficial
area is by no means so inconsiderable as it is apt to be accounted by
one who hears of it as confined to but three valleys. Spread out these
valleys into level plains, and you find that they form a large country.
It is not only the broad bottom of the valley that is cultivated;--the
sides of the hills are clothed up to the very clouds with vineyards and
corn-lands, and are planted with all manner of trees, yielding fruit
after their kind. Where the husbandman is compelled to stop, nature
takes up the task of the cultivator; and then come the chestnut-groves,
with their loads of fruit, and the short sweet grass on which cattle
depasture in summer, and the wild flowers from which the bees elaborate
their honey. Overtopping all are the fields of snow, the great
reservoirs of the springs and rivers which fertilize the country. This
arrangement admitted, moreover, of far greater variety, both of climate
and of produce, than could possibly obtain on the plain. There is an
eternal winter at the summit of these mountains, and an almost perpetual
summer at their feet.
In accordance with this great productiveness, I found the hills of the
Vaudois exceedingly populous. They are alive with men, at least as
compared with the solitude which our Scottish Highlands present. I had
brought thither my notions of a valley taken from the narrow winding and
infertile straths of Scotland, capable of feeding only a few scores of
inhabitants. Here I found that a valley might be a country, and contain
almost a nation in its bosom.
But, not to dwell on other peculiarities, I would remark, that such a
dwelling as this--continually presenting the grandest objects--must have
exerted a marked influence upon the character of the inhabitants. It was
fitted to engender intrepidity of mind, a love of freedom, and an
elevation of thought. It has been remarked that the inhabitants of
mountainous regions are less prone than others to the worship of images.
On the plain all is monotony. Summer and winter, the same landmarks, the
same sky, the same sounds, surround the man. But around the dweller in
the mountains,--and especially such mountains as these,--all is variety
and grandeur. Now the Alps are seen with their sunlight summits and
their shadowless sides; anon they veil their mighty forms in clouds and
tempests. The living machinery of the mist, too, is continually varying
the landscape, now engulphing valleys, now blotting out crags and
mountain peaks, and suspending before the eye a cold and cheerless
curtain of vapour; anon the curtain rises, the mist rolls away, and
green valley and tall mountain flash back again upon you, thrilling and
delighting you anew. What variety and melody of sounds, too, exist among
the hills! The music of the streams, the voices of the peasants, the
herdsman's song, the lowing of the cattle, the hum of the villages. The
winds, with mighty organ-swell, now sweep through their mountain gorges;
and now the thunder utters his awful voice, making the Alps to tremble
and their pines to bow.
Such was the land of the Vaudois; the predestined abode of God's Church
during the long and gloomy period of Anti-christ's reign. It was the ark
in which the one elect family of Christendom was to be preserved during
the flood of error that was to come upon the earth. And I have been the
more minute in the description of its general structure and
arrangements, because all had reference to the high moral end it was
appointed to serve in the economy of Providence.
When of old a flood of waters was to be sent on the world, Noah was
commanded to build an ark of gopher wood for the saving of his house.
God gave him special instructions regarding its length, its breadth, its
height: he was told where to place its door and window, how to arrange
its storeys and rooms, and specially to gather "of all food that is
eaten," that it might be for food for him and those with him. When all
had been done according to the Divine instructions, God shut in Noah,
and the flood came.
So was it once more. A flood was to come upon the earth; but now God
himself prepared the ark in which the chosen family were to be saved. He
laid its foundations in the depths, and built up its wall of rock to the
sky. A door also made He for the ark, with lower, second, and third
storeys. It was beautiful as strong. Corn, wine, and oil were laid up in
store within it. All being ready, God said to his persecuted ones in the
early Church, "Come, thou and all thy house, into the ark." He gave them
the Bible to be a light to them during the darkness, and shut them in.
The flood came. Century after century the waters of Papal superstition
continued to prevail upon the earth. At length all the high hills that
were under the whole heaven were covered, and all flesh died, save the
little company in the Vaudois ark.