First Impressions on a Tour upon the Continent

The parish church of Trasqueras is an object of high astonishment; we passed it, not without adding our individual tribute of wonder. It is built upon the topmost verge of a barren mountain, at a frightful height. Apparently no human power could have conveyed thither the materials for its erection; we could only reconcile the existence of the fact, by supposing that there must have been a quarry upon the spot. The priest who does duty there, and the congregation whose zeal leads them to scale the dreadful precipice to attend public worship, are in some danger, I should think, of being canonized for martyrs! But to speak more seriously, there is something infinitely impressive in the idea of a little band of humble and obscure mortals thus meeting together to worship the Creator in such a spot of wild and solitary sublimity. These scenes most certainly tend to elevate the imagination, and to fill the heart, with strong feelings of devotional adoration and awful respect. It is not only "those who go down to the great waters," who see "the wonders of the Lord!" We remarked a cottage here, in the style of the most romantic hermitage, close to a raving flood, in the frightful strait of Yselle. The living rock formed its roof, and the sides were of flat uncemented stones; a rude door of pine wood shut in its inhabitants, for inhabited it certainly must have been, as a little pile of faggots for winter firing evidently evinced. Gold dust is sometimes found in the beds of the surrounding torrents. There is no end to the varieties of the Simplon: we sometimes crossed from one mountain to another; then dived into the dark entrails of the rocks; now wound along narrow valleys at their feet, and at last rose (by a gentle ascent) to the proud summit of the loftiest glaciers, far above the rolling clouds. In some places our eye rested with delight upon the rich green of the chestnut and beech, in others all vegetation seemed wholly to cease. The rhododendron (Note P.) flourishes here in perfection; it grows where few other shrubs or plants are able to exist, braves the severity of the keenest blasts of winter, and affords firing to those cottagers who cannot easily procure other wood. Its blossoms are of a lovely pink, and from this circumstance it is called the "rose of the Alps." These regions are subject to perpetual avalanches; the top of every stone post that marked the boundary of our road, at about three yards distance one from the other, was in many places knocked off, by the continual falling of masses from the rocks above, and now and then, the whole of the posts had given way, as well as large fir-trees, which commonly grow out of the shelving sides of the precipices. Just at the entrance of one of the grand galleries, we crossed over a stone bridge, hanging in mid air above a tremendous gulf; the river Doveria boiling far below, fed by a cataract from the heights, near the source of which we passed: so near, indeed, that its foaming spray seemed almost to dash against the glass of our carriage windows. Bonaparte had established here (as well as upon Mont Cenis), a sort of tavernettes, or houses of relief for wayworn or distressed travellers. A few military now occasionally inhabit them, and the appropriate word refuge is frequently inscribed over the doors. (Note Q.) A piece of writing paper inserted in the cleft of a stick, by the road-side, here attracted our attention. We examined it, and found written thereon, Viva Napoleone! Our postillions appeared delighted, and exclaimed in a half-checked voice, bravo, bravo! Candidly speaking, one must be indeed fastidious not to be forcibly struck with the various noble works of that wonderful man. At all events we could not be surprised at his still existing popularity in the north of Italy, a part of the world where he has really done great good, and far less harm than any where else; and in so short a space of time also – so young a man – from so obscure an origin! It will not do to indulge in reflections upon what might have been, or I could not refrain, I am afraid, from wishing that (for the sake of the arts and sciences) he had known how to set bounds to his ambition. This passage of the Simplon alone is sufficient to immortalize his name, and as long as the mountains themselves exist, so must the memory of Bonaparte. It is quite the eighth wonder of the world. If he is a fiend, he is not less than

"Arch-angel ruined!"

But I have done, lest those readers who have never crossed the Simplon, or gazed upon the other numerous monuments of his grand genius, should imagine that I am still (in the words of Pitt, as applied to Sheridan's speech upon Warren Hastings), "Under the influence of the wand of the Enchanter!"

Now I am on the subject of this stupendous passage of the Simplon, I am fortunate enough to present my readers with an engraving made by a friend, of a curious medal, struck in France, representing an immense colossal figure, which some modern Dinocrates had suggested to Bonaparte to have cut from the mountain of the Simplon, as a sort of Genius of the Alps. This was to have been of such enormous size, that all passengers should have passed between its legs and arms in zigzag directions: I do not know whether any attention was ever given to the proposal, but that the idea was not a new one, every schoolboy may learn, by looking into Lemprière's Dictionary, where he will find that a still more hyperbolical project was suggested to Alexander the Great, by one Dinocrates, an architect, who wished to cut Mount Athos into a gigantic figure of the monarch, that should hold a city in one hand, and a vast bason of water in the other. Alexander's reply was a fine piece of irony; "that he thought the idea magnificent, but he did not imagine the neighbouring country sufficiently fertile to feed the inhabitants of the said city."

We observed quantities of timber felled, and lying scattered about the dark forests; they consisted of a species of larch fir, I believe, straight, taper, and of a yellowish red.

At length we reached the village of the Simplon, where we dined and slept. It is only three or four and thirty miles from Domo d'Ossola, yet we were seven hours or more in accomplishing the distance, and had never stopped by the way for more than ten minutes. It was a continual ascent, but very gradual, and our inn here (l'Etoile) was four thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea. We found other travellers before us assembled in the only sitting-room. – Lord F – , his tutor, and another young gentleman: they appeared all to be sensible, well-bred people, and we rejoiced that accident had not thrown us among less agreeable companions. The next morning, we left our auberge, after breakfast, with which we thought it prudent to fortify ourselves, on account of the severity of the cold. All the rooms were obliged to be heated by stoves, as it was (to all outward appearance and feeling) the depth of winter, in its most rigid form; the day before, we had been almost fainting with heat in the valleys, yet when we rose this morning, the mountains around us were entirely covered with snow, which had fallen during the night, accompanied by a rushing blast of wind and a heavy rain. We were now truly in the "land of the mountain and the flood," in the regions of mist and storm. I shuddered at the sight, having been rendered miserable from want of sleep by the vermin, whose unremitting attacks completely broke my rest, and made me less able to encounter with proper fortitude the fatigues of our still arduous journey. I learned upon this tour to feel a great horror at the expression of soyez tranquille, which deceitful words were constantly used by every fille de chambre, when I inquired if there were any of these disagreeable inhabitants in the beds, and I remarked that the more vehemently this soyez tranquille was uttered, the more certain was I of being bit into a fever. We got into the carriage here in a gust of keen wind, so strong and impetuous that I could not stand without support. The women in these parts wear a black platter hat (sometimes ornamented with gold ribands), and the men a russet-brown suit of clothes with a scarlet waistcoat. A mixture of German and bad French is spoken amongst them. We passed by (during the continuation of our journey) the enormous glacier of – I know not exactly the proper name; but it sounded like Roschbahtn in the guttural pronunciation of the postillion. Higher up, there was a gallery cut through the masses of frozen snow, but it is only used as a foot-way for passengers during the winter. We shortly afterwards saw the Hospice of the Simplon, built in a comparatively sheltered spot; yet by its outward appearance (resembling a sordid gloomy prison), I should think nothing but the last necessity would induce travellers to seek for refreshment within its walls. Mass had been performed there that morning, and we met several peasants returning from it: all persons journeying this way are entertained here gratis, but those whose circumstances can afford it are expected to make some little present to the monks. We observed some dogs about the entrance, which we concluded were those kept for the purpose of finding benighted travellers. The colour of the rocks in those places which were not covered with snow was singular, being of a light aqua marine, occasioned by the lichens which grew upon them. Large eagles, formidable from their strength and boldness, are frequently seen amidst these dreary wastes. I was soon quite wearied by the bleak spectacle of such wide desolation, my eyes ached with the dazzling brightness of the snows, and I began sincerely to wish the passage over. The ascent and descent altogether is forty-two miles; coming down from a height of seven thousand feet, we could not see three yards before us, being completely enveloped in a thick dense fog. It seemed like plunging into a fearful gulf of vapours! Such a mist I never could have imagined.

The road now led us though tall forests of pine, darkly magnificent, which grew upon the shelving sides of the precipitous descent. Upon the jutting crags, we occasionally beheld the fearless goat, bounding about, enjoying the sense of liberty, and snuffing the keen air of his native mountains; a child or two, also, sometimes appeared in almost equally dangerous situations, at the door of a wooden hut, called a chalet, built of timber (of a reddish tint), and much in the form of an ark. A little thinly scattered underwood of birch, &c. with coltsfoot twining round the roots, now began to evince our approach to more hospitable regions, and the sensation of piercing cold in some measure abated. The sun made several felicitous attempts to struggle through the heavy and obscuring clouds; and a prospect (of which we caught a transient glimpse between two enormous rocks) seemed to open like an enchanted vision of ineffable brightness and beauty. During this interval of a moment, we beheld a narrow but fertile valley, a river, with hills of vivid green rising beyond, bounded in the distant horizon by mountains of glowing purple, and smiled upon by a summer sky of the clearest blue. Suddenly it was brilliantly illuminated by a partial gleam of sun, and thus discovered, (sparkling through a thin veil of still lingering mist) it seemed to break upon us like a lovely dream. I could have fancied it Voltaire's Eldorado, or the gay, unreal show of fairy land, seen by Thomas the Rhymer, in Scott's Minstrelsy of the Border. Indeed sober language has no words or terms to describe its singular effect. Apropos to sobriety of language: Although there is nothing so wearing as hyperbolical and exaggerated expressions, applied on common or insignificant occasions, and although I consider them in that case to be the resource of a weak capacity, which is incapable of judicious restraint and discrimination, it is equally insupportable to hear the real wonders and charms of nature or art spoken of with tame and tasteless apathy. Those persons who have soul enough to feel and appreciate them must either vent their just enthusiasm, in terms which to common minds sound romantic and poetical, or else resolve to be wholly silent. We reached the end of the Simplon, and changed our tired horses at Brieg. We were now in Switzerland.

Nothing can be more suddenly and accurately marked than the difference of feature, as well as costume, between the Italian and Swiss peasants, (I more particularly allude to the women), and it would be impossible for any person of the least observation to mistake one for the other. The latter are frequently hale, clean, and fresh-looking, with cheerful open countenances; but adieu to grace, to expression, to beauty! We left all these perfections on the other side of the Alps. The children, too, struck us (in general) as plain and uninteresting. We were not greatly impressed by the entrance to the Pays du Valais, having already passed through scenery of the same nature so much superior in Savoy and Italy; but it is certainly romantic and pretty in some parts. How naturally one falls into judging by comparison! Had it been possible to have immediately entered the Valais upon leaving the monotonous plains of France, we should have thought the former highly sublime and beautiful. The barberry and elder flourish here in every hedge; also great quantities of the wild clematis. The rocky banks are fringed with birch, hazle, heath, and juniper, and between them is the deep rolling turgid Rhone, skirted with tall reeds and willows.

The climate still continued to be chilly and disagreeable. Although it was only the 8th of September, the weather rather resembled that during the last days of November, or commencement of the next dreary month; and in the midst of this picturesque and romantic scenery, I found my imagination dwelling with great pertinacity and satisfaction upon the charms of a blazing fire and a comfortable inn. I did my utmost to shake off such vulgar and unsentimental ideas, but they would recur again and again.

We here passed a fall of the Rhone, but were rather disappointed in its force and magnitude. Our road lay through wild fir woods for a considerable length of way, the snowy tops of the glaciers peeping above them, forming quite a scene for the pencil of Salvator Rosa. We journeyed on, almost in total silence, the little bells at the horses' heads alone disturbing the breathless stillness of these solitary glades, emerging from which, we now crossed a bridge upon the Rhone, which here assumes a character of strength and grandeur, flowing with rapidity, and emulating in its width an arm of the sea.

Night and her shadows drew near, and we began to wish for the comforts of the friendly auberge; but, owing to continual delays of horses, postillions, &c., we did not reach the town of Sierre until eight o'clock, where we intended to have slept; but found upon our arrival that no beds were to be had, and the place itself wore so forlorn, dismal, and dirty an appearance, that we hardly regretted the circumstance, and submitted with a good grace to the inevitable necessity of pursuing our route even at that late hour. But ere this could be accomplished we were obliged to wait (in the carriage) till nine, for horses to carry us on; for there was at that time an immense run upon the road. In this melancholy interval our lamps were lit, and the moon arose; the latter (faintly glimmering amid dark rolling clouds) feebly illuminated a road which led us by the side of a terrible precipice, where part of the guardian wall was broken down. The pass was accounted perilous on that account; but there was no possible remedy. I had overheard my husband and Mr. W. talking of it at Sierre, and trying whether it was not practicable to avoid it by securing any sort of accommodation at the wretched auberge: this, however, being totally out of the question, they did not acquaint me with the terrors of the road by which we were in consequence obliged to pass ere we could attain shelter for the night at the next habitable place: I felt their kindness, and did not undeceive them as to my perfect information upon the subject until we had safely reached the end of our day's journey; but I was truly thankful and relieved when that happy goal appeared, in the shape of the town of Sion, capital of the Valais. Lord F. and party (having gone on first) had politely undertaken to order dinner for us at the Lion d'Or, and to that house we accordingly drove up, half dead with fatigue. Here another mortification awaited us; for so many English had previously arrived, and filled the rooms, beds, &c., that accommodation for us was impossible. We, therefore, went to an inferior inn (called Le Croix Blanc), where we knocked the people up, and in spite of their being forced from their beds to receive us, we found the utmost celerity, civility, and comfort in every respect. The beds were excellent (their linen furniture fresh washed, and looking inviting to enter), the floors (oh! prodigy of cleanliness) were neatly swept, and our refreshments cooked in a wonderfully short space of time, served with cheerful readiness, and in a clean manner.

The next morning we opened our eyes upon a beautifully picturesque landscape. A great delay, however, again took place with regard to horses, as an English family had arrived during the night, and taken away eight. They intended to have slept at Le Croix Blanc, as we had done, but were fastidiously disgusted by the look of the inn. Unhappy novices! they little knew what a paradise of comfort it afforded, when compared with those which they would afterwards necessarily encounter, and for the shelter of which they would soon learn to be thankful! The waiter here was remarkably attentive, and appeared a truly simple, good-tempered, artless creature. Mr. B. was so much satisfied with his behaviour, that he increased the usual fee; for which small gratuity the poor fellow thanked us again and again. We found our bills particularly reasonable, and the host a most amusing and obliging person: he was one of the richest bourgeois in Sion, and quite a character. We asked him, amongst other questions, "what was the chief manufacture of the place?" and he replied, with a ridiculous shrug of the shoulders, "Des Enfans." This man possessed a vigne upon the mountains, and brought us a present of a fine basket of grapes from thence, much lamenting that we would not remain with him another day, as "he would then have put his own particular horses into a little vehicle of the country, kept for his use and that of his family, and would have had the pleasure of driving us to see his vineyards, and also two hermitages, in the neighbourhood, which were very curious."

Mr. B. was taken extremely unwell this morning, and had a terrible attack of faint sickness, owing, as we then imagined, to having fasted so many hours the day before; but we soon found that it was, in fact, the beginning of a sort of ague and fever. (Note E.)

The country was lovely during our first two or three stages. We met the travelling equipage of a Russian princess (Potemkin), and her people stopped to inquire of ours about accommodations at Sion. Christian had the honour of a personal conference with her highness, who was extremely gracious and affable. Indeed this man never lost any opportunity of gossip, let it be with whom it might; and I believe he loved chattering on all occasions better than any thing in existence. He was an honest creature; but so idle, that he required constant looking after: we found him, however, so useful, particularly where the different patois is spoken, that we have safely recommended him to our friend, Lord G.

The roads in this part of Switzerland were most execrable, and I thought the carriage would have been overturned every moment: the postillions universally adopted a very disagreeable and awkward manner of driving their horses; not three abreast (which is safe and rational), but harnessing one before the other pair, with long reins, in the unicorn style; the same postillion thus acting the part of a coachman also: the old rope traces were perpetually breaking; and the fore horse scrambling all over the road, often running into a hedge to crop what best pleased his appetite, or to drink at a fountain by the wayside. The driver seemed to have very little command over his lawless motions, and altogether, I confess that I was by no means delighted with this mode of travelling, although no coward in general. However, I recollected that it was customary here, and soon was able to reason myself into not caring for what I had no possible means of altering or preventing: in this instance, happily emulating the example of the late venerable Mrs. H. who used to say, "that it was of little use to have powers of understanding, and the faculty of reason, if you could not avail yourself of them, when occasion required; and that by a long and resolute habit of self-control, it was undoubtedly possible to bring the feelings nearly as much under command as the limbs." I have frequently proved the truth of her remark.

At Riddez (a little village) we saw a christening procession pass by. The godfather (a young man) walked first, with a cockade of ribands, and a large bouquet of natural flowers in his hat, carrying the infant in his arms, covered with a long transparent mantle of coarse white lace. He was followed by the godmother, and the sage femme, neither of the parents being present. The manners of the inhabitants here were remarkably gentle; every peasant we met bowed, and often wished us the "good day" as we passed. Many horrible goîtres, however, and idiots are to be found among them. The villages and hamlets we had as yet seen were even frightful: there was no such thing as a pretty cottage; and the costumes of the people were gross and tasteless in the greatest degree.

Mr. B.'s illness increased to a height of aguish shudderings and total exhaustion, which prevented our attempting to proceed farther than Martigny, where we put up at an inn called Le Cigne, which, on its outside, was not of a much more promising appearance than the Hospice of the Simplon, which I formerly deprecated. However, we had learned by this time not to judge of an auberge from its exterior, and upon entering this, found shelter, comfort, civility, and wholesome plain food. We procured the only good strong-bodied Burgundy we had seen during the whole of our tour, which was particularly fortunate, as it acted as a great relief to our invalid. The hostess was the widow of the poor inn-keeper, who was carried away in the terrible and memorable flood of last June (mentioned with much affecting detail in the English newspapers), where a lake at nine leagues distance burst, and, flowing into the river Drance, the latter broke its usual boundaries, and destroyed more than half the village of Martigny, with many of the unfortunate inhabitants. Poor woman! she was in mourning, as well as her children, who waited upon us, two modest, simple, young creatures. I never saw any thing like their kind-hearted attention, in avoiding the least noise which might have been likely to disturb an invalid, while they were preparing things for dinner in the same room. Nothing could be imagined more desolate and wretched than the present appearance of Martigny; and, at the moment when the flood happened, the ruin was so instantaneous and complete as to resemble an earthquake. This house was ten feet deep in water. The host might have been saved: he had already avoided the first horrible rush; but venturing into danger once more, in the hope of saving his cattle, he was borne down by the impetuous torrent, and perished miserably! For a long time he was plainly discovered with his head far above the stream, yet unable to stem its resistless tide: his body was afterwards found, in an erect position, supported against a tree, not in the least mangled or disfigured. It was supposed his respiration had been stopped by the weight and force of the current, which could hardly be called water, so thickly was it mingled with mud. The cook (who happened to be in the wine-cellar) was saved by his perfect knowledge of swimming, and presence of mind. The flood completely filled the cellar, staircase, and hall, in a moment, and he paddled and swam up the steps of the former, till he reached the surface, and thus almost miraculously escaped.

The next day we quitted Martigny about nine o'clock, our spirits depressed by this wretched scene of desolation. The whole country appeared wildly melancholy, under the additional gloom of a very wet dark morning. The prieur of this village, who belonged also to some convent on Mont St. Bernard (Note F.) had written a petition for the relief of his poor parishioners, which was pasted up in the sitting-room of the inn we had occupied. We did not, of course, shut our hearts against the appeal, and carrying our little subscription to the house of the prieur, found it a most humble primitive dwelling: it was built upon a hill behind the church, and at the time of the flood had been a foot deep in water, notwithstanding its elevated situation. The old man described the horrors of the scene, and said he should never forget the moment when he first heard the mighty roar of the waters, louder than a mountain cataract. I am proud to add, that our dear countrymen have been almost the only travellers who have had the humanity to bestow a farthing upon the necessities of the surviving sufferers. I should be narrow-minded indeed not to regret the want of generous feeling which those of other nations have thus evinced, or to rejoice (as some people would, I fear, do) at the foil they have afforded to the merit of the English; but surely it is impossible, as a British subject, not to delight in this additional proof of the liberality and compassion of our compatriots!