During breakfast, we were discussing whether we could get through the
snow to Mont St. Bernard. Some thought we could, and some thought not.
So it goes here: we are gasping and sweltering one hour, and plunging
through snow banks the next.
After breakfast, we entered the _char-à-banc_, a crab-like,
sideway carriage, and were soon on our way. Our path was cut from the
breast of the mountain, in a stifling gorge, where walls of rock on
both sides served as double reflectors to concentrate the heat of the
sun on our hapless heads. To be sure, there was a fine foaming stream
at the bottom of the pass, and ever so much fine scenery, if we could
have seen it; but our chars opened but one way, and that against the
perpendicular rock, close enough, almost, to blister our faces; and
the sun beat in so on our backs that we were obliged to have the
curtain down. Thus we were as uncognizant of the scenery we passed
through as if we had been nailed up in a box. Nothing but the
consideration that we were travelling for pleasure could for a moment
have reconciled us to such inconveniences. As it was, I occasionally
called out to C., in the back carriage, to be sure and take good care
of the fur coat; which always brought shouts of laughter from the
whole party. The idea of a fur coat seemed so supremely ridiculous to
us, there was no making us believe we ever should or could want it.
That was the most unpleasant day's ride I had in the Alps. We stopped
to take dinner in the little wretched village of Liddes. You have no
idea what a disagreeable, unsavory concern one of these villages is.
Houses, none of which look much better than the log barns in our
Western States, set close together on either side of a street paved
with round stones; coarse, sunburnt women, with their necks enlarged
by the goitre; and dirty children, with tangled hair, and the same
disgusting disease,--these were the principal features of the scene.
This goitre prevails so extensively in this region, that you seldom
see a person with the neck in a healthy condition. The worst of the
matter is, that in many cases of children it induces idiocy. Cases of
this kind were so frequent, that, after a while, whenever I met a
child, I began to search in its face for indications of the approach
of this disease.
They are called _cretins_. In many cases the whole head appears
swelled and deformed. As usual, every one you look at puts out the
hand to beg. The tavern where we stopped to dine seemed more like a
great barn, or cavern, than any thing else. We go groping along
perfectly dark stone passages, stumbling up a stone staircase, and
gaining light only when the door of a kind of reception room opens
upon us--a long, rough-looking room, without any carpet, furnished
with a table, and some chairs, and a rude sofa. We were shown to a bed
room, carpetless, but tolerably clean, with a very high feather bed in
each corner, under a canopy of white curtains.
After dinner we went on towards St. Pierre, a miserable hamlet, where
the mules were taken out of the chars, and we prepared to mount them.
It was between three and four o'clock. Our path lay up a desolate
mountain gorge. After we had ascended some way the cold became
intense. The mountain torrent, by the side of which we went up, leaped
and tumbled under ribs of ice, and through banks of snow.
I noticed on either side of the defile that there were high posts put
up on the rocks, and a cord stretched from one to the other. The
object of these, my guide told me, was to show the path, when this
whole ravine is filled up with deep snow.
I could not help thinking how horrible it must be to go up here in the
winter.
Our path sometimes came so near to the torrent as to suggest
uncomfortable ideas.
In one place it swept round the point of a rock which projected into
the foaming flood, so that it was completely under water. I stopped a
little before I came to this, and told the guide I wanted to get down.
He was all accommodation, and lifted me from my saddle, and then stood
to see what I would do next. When I made him understand that I meant
to walk round the point, he very earnestly insisted that I should get
back to the saddle again, and was so positive that I had only to obey.
It was well I did so, for the mule went round safely enough, and could
afford to go up to his ankles in water better than I could.
As we neared the _hospice_ I began to feel the effects of the
rarefied air very sensibly. It made me dizzy and sick, bringing on a
most acute headache--a sharp, knife-like pain. S. was still more
affected.
I was glad enough when the old building came in view, though the road
lay up an ascent of snow almost perpendicular.
At the foot of this ascent we paused. Our guides, who looked a little
puzzled, held a few moments' conversation, in which the word
"_fonce_" was particularly prominent, a word which I took to be
equivalent to our English "_slump;_" and indeed the place was
suggestive of the idea. The snow had so far melted and softened under
the influence of the July sun, that something of this kind, in going
up the ascent, seemed exceedingly probable. The man stood leaning on
his alpenstock, looking at the thing to be demonstrated. There were
two paths, both equally steep and snowy. At last he gathered up the
bridle, and started up the most direct way. The mule did not like it
at all, evidently, and expressed his disgust by occasionally stopping
short and snuffing, meaning probably to intimate that he considered
the whole thing a humbug, and that in his opinion we should all slump
through together, and go to--nobody knows where. At last, when we were
almost up the ascent, he did slump, and went up to his breast in the
snow; whereat the guide pulled me out of the saddle with one hand, and
pulled him out of the hole with the other. In a minute he had me into
the saddle again, and after a few moments more we were up the ascent
and drawing near the _hospice_--a great, square, strong, stone
building, standing alone among rocks and snowbanks.
As we drove up nearer I saw the little porch in front of it crowded
with gentlemen smoking cigars, and gazing on our approach just as any
set of loafers do from the porch of a fashionable hotel. This was
quite a new idea of the matter to me. We had been flattering ourselves
on performing an incredible adventure; and lo, and behold, all the
world were there waiting for us.
[Illustration: _of a large multi-story hospice and other buildings in a
remote-looking mountain valley. A river flows in the foreground._]
We came up to the steps, and I was so crippled with fatigue and so
dizzy and sick with the thin air, that I hardly knew what I was doing.
We entered a low-browed, dark, arched, stone passage, smelling
dismally of antiquity and dogs, when a brisk voice accosted me in the
very choicest of French, and in terms of welcome as gay and courtly as
if we were entering a _salon_.
Keys clashed, and we went up stone staircases, our entertainer talking
volubly all the way. As for me, all the French I ever knew was buried
under an avalanche. C. had to make answer for me, that madame was very
unwell, which brought forth another stream of condolence as we came
into a supper room, lighted by a wood fire at one end. The long table
was stretched out, on which they were placing supper. Here I had light
enough to perceive that our entertainer was a young man of a lively,
intelligent countenance, in the Augustine monks' dress, viz., a long,
black camlet frock, with a kind of white band over it, which looks
much like a pair of suspenders worn on the outside. He spoke French
very purely, and had all that warm cordiality and graceful vivacity of
manner which seems to be peculiar to the French. He appeared to pity
us very much, and was full of offers of assistance; and when he heard
that I had a bad headache, insisted on having some tea made for me,
the only drink on the table being wine The supper consisted of
codfish, stewed apples, bread, filberts, and raisins. Immediately
after we were shown up stone staircases, and along stone passages, to
our rooms, of which the most inviting feature was two high, single
beds covered with white spreads. The windows of the rooms were so
narrow as to seem only like loopholes. There was a looking glass,
table, chair, and some glazed prints.
A good old woman came to see if we wanted any thing. I thought, as I
stretched myself in the bed, with feathers under me and feathers over
me, what a heaven of rest this place must have seemed to poor
travellers benighted and perishing in the snow. In the morning I
looked out of my loophole on the tall, grim rocks, and a small lake
frozen and covered with snow. "Is this lake always frozen?" said I to
the old serving woman who had come to bring us hot water for washing.
"Sometimes," says she, "about the latter part of August, it is
thawed."
I suppose it thaws the last of August, and freezes the first of
September.
After dressing ourselves we crept down stairs in hopes of finding the
fire which we left the night before in the sitting room. No such
thing. The sun was shining, and it was what was called a warm day,
that is to say, a day when a little thaw trickles down the south side
of snow banks; so the fire was out, and the windows up, and our gay
Augustine friend, coming in, congratulated us on our charming day.
The fireplace was piled up with wood and kindlings ready to be lighted
in the evening; but being made to understand that it was a very sultry
day, we could not, of course, suggest such an extravagance as igniting
the tempting pile--an extravagance, because every stick of wood has to
be brought on the backs of mules from the valleys below, at a very
great expense of time and money.
The same is true of provisions of all sorts, and fodder for cattle.
Well, after breakfast I went to the front porch to view the prospect.
And what did I see there? Banks of dirty, half-melted snow, bones, and
scraps of offal, patches of bare earth, for a small space, say about
fifty feet round, and then the whole region shut in by barren,
inaccessible rocks, which cut off all view in every direction.
Along by the frozen lake there is a kind of causeway path made for a
promenade, where one might walk to observe the beauties of the season,
and our cheery entertainer offered to show it to us; so we walked out
with him. Under the rocks in one place he showed us a little plat,
about as large as a closet door, which, he said, laughing, was their
garden.
I asked him if any thing ever really grew there. He shrugged his
shoulders, and said, "Sometimes."
We pursued this walk till we came to the end of the lake, and there he
showed me a stone pillar.
"There," said he, "beyond that pillar is Italy."
"Well," said I, "I believe I shall take a trip into Italy." So, as he
turned back to go to the house, W. and I continued on. We went some
way into Italy, down the ravine, and I can assure you I was not
particularly struck with the country.
I observed no indications of that superiority in the fine arts, or of
that genial climate and soil, of which I had heard so much. W. and I
agreed to give ourselves airs on this subject whenever the matter of
Italy was introduced, and to declare that we had been there, and had
seen none of the things of which people write in books.
"What a perfectly dismal, comfortless place!" said I; but climbing up
the rocks to rest me in a sunny place, I discovered that they were all
enamelled with the most brilliant flowers.
[Illustration: _of a cluster of small five-petaled flowers with blunt
tips growing very close to the ground._]
In particular I remarked beds of velvet moss, which bore a pink
blossom, in form somewhat like this. Then there was a kind of low,
starry gentian, of a bright metallic blue; I tried to paint it
afterwards, but neither ultramarine nor any color I could find would
represent its brilliancy; it was a kind of living brightness. I
examined the petals to see how this effect was produced, and it seemed
to be by a kind of prismatic arrangement of the small round particles
of which they were composed. The shape of the flower was somewhat like
this.
[Illustration: _of a cluster of small five petaled flowers with sharp
points growing on short stalks near the ground._]
I spread down my pocket handkerchief, and proceeded to see how many
varieties I could gather, and in a very small circle W. and I
collected eighteen. Could I have thought, when I looked from my window
over this bleak region, that any thing so perfectly lovely as this
little purple witch, for example, was to be found there? It was quite
a significant fact. There is no condition of life, probably, so dreary
that a lowly and patient seeker cannot find its flowers.
[Illustration: _of a clump of a small flowering plant attached to what
appears to be its rhizome._]
I began to think that I might be contented even there. But while I was
looking I was so sickened by headache, and disagreeable feelings
arising from the air, that I often had to lie down on the sunny side
of the bank. W., I found, was similarly troubled; he said he really
thought in the morning he was going to have a fever. We went back to
the house. There were services in the chapel; I could hear the organ
pealing, and the singers responding.
Seven great dogs were sunning themselves on the porch, and as I knew
it was a subject particularly interesting to you, I made minute
inquiries respecting them. Like many other things, they have been much
overstated, I think, by travellers. They are of a tawny-yellow color,
short haired, broad chested, and strong limbed. As to size, I have
seen much larger Newfoundland dogs in Boston. I made one of them open
his mouth, and can assure you it was black as night; a fact which
would seem to imply Newfoundland blood. In fact the breed originally
from Spain is supposed to be a cross between the Pyrenean and the
Newfoundland. The biggest of them was called Pluto. Here is his
likeness, which W. sketched.
[Illustration: _of a large, light-colored dog with medium-short fur at
rest and wearing a broad patterned collar._]
For my part, I was a little uneasy among them, as they went walloping
and frisking around me, flouncing and rolling over each other on the
stone floor, and making, every now and then, the most hideous noises
that it ever came into a dog's head to conceive.
As I saw them biting each other in their clumsy frolics, I began to be
afraid lest they should take it into their heads to treat me like one
of the family, and so stood ready to run.
The man who showed them wished to know if I should like to see some
puppies; to which, in the ardor of natural history, I assented: so he
opened the door of a little stone closet, and sure enough there lay
madam in state, with four little blind, snubbed-nosed pledges. As the
man picked up one of these, and held it up before me in all the
helplessness of infancy, looking for all the world like a roly-poly
pudding with a short tail to it, I could not help querying in my mind,
are you going to be a St. Bernard dog?
One of the large dogs, seeing the door open, thought now was a good
time to examine the premises, and so walked briskly into the kennel,
but was received by the amiable mother with such a sniff of the nose
as sent him howling back into the passage, apparently a much wiser and
better dog than he had been before. Their principal use is to find
paths in the deep snow when the fathers go out to look for travellers,
as they always do in stormy weather. They are not longlived; neither
man nor animal can stand the severe temperature and the thin air for a
long time. Many of the dogs die from diseases of the lungs and
rheumatism, besides those killed by accidents, such as the falling of
avalanches, &c. A little while ago so many died that they were fearful
of losing the breed altogether, and were obliged to recruit by sending
down into the valleys for some they had given away. One of the monks
told us that, when they went out after the dogs in the winter storms,
all they could see of them was their tails moving along through the
snow. The monks themselves can stand the climate but a short time, and
then they are obliged to go down and live in the valleys below, while
others take their places.
They told us that there were over a hundred people in the
_hospice_ when we were there. They were mostly poor peasants and
some beggars. One poor man came up to me, and uncovered his neck,
which was a most disgusting sight, swollen with goitre. I shut my
eyes, and turned another way, like a bad Christian, while our
Augustine friend walked up to him, spoke in a soothing tone, and
called him "my son." He seemed very loving and gentle to all the poor,
dirty people by whom we were surrounded.
I went into the chapel to look at the pictures. There was St. Bernard
standing in the midst of a desolate, snowy waste, with a little child
on one arm and a great dog beside him.
This St. Bernard, it seems, was a man of noble family, who lived nine
hundred and sixty-two years after Christ. Almost up to that time a
temple to Jupiter continued standing on this spot. It is said that the
founding of this institution finally rooted out the idolatrous
worship.
On Monday we returned to Martigny, and obtained a _voiture_ for
Villeneuve. Drove through the beautiful Rhone valley, past the
celebrated fall of the Pissevache, and about five o'clock reached the
Hotel Byron, on the shore of the lake.