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ACCOUNT

OF A

PEDESTRIAN EXCURSION FROM GENEVA TO THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNIX,

AND OF

A VISIT TO THE HIGHER REGIONS OF THE
MER DE GLACE.

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I LEFT Geneva at six in the morning of Thursday, on my way to the celebrated Valley of Chamounix, in company with some old friends whom I had accidentally encountered a few evenings before. The day was dark and cloudy, a thin watery mist hung upon the hills, and the face of nature upon the whole seemed rather unpropitious. The weather, however, in all mountainous countries, being so changeable, we did not despair of better times towards the afternoon, and were not disappointed. We proceeded about a mile to Nangy, where we breakfasted, and then advanced to Bonneville, a town of respectable size. Its natural station is beautiful, being close upon the banks of the Arve, which are finely varied by woodland and pasture ground. There are some high and finely wooded hills in the immediate neighbourhood, and in deep crevices among the pines, at no great height, even at this season, there were patches of snow; here we cross

ed the river, and walked along its right bank. Every step we advanced, the scenery increased in grandeur, and the hills in height. Snowy mountains lay directly before us, and the road winded along the base of a richly wooded hill, which shewed the hand of autumn in every imaginable tint. The dark and unvaried pines occupied only the rocky summits; the sides were ornamented with the oak, the birch, and the mountain ash, and here and there a bright and fiery branch of the wild cherry-tree. Fortunately, too, at this time, the mists were dispelled, the clouds ascended from the vallies, and formed fine wreaths on the mountain-tops, and the sun broke forth to complete the glory of the scene,

Scattering the clouds with a resistles smile."

Before reaching Bonneville, we passed close by the smooth green hill called Môle, which forms so promi

nent a feature in the view from Geneva and the country around it. It appears from that quarter to be situated in the centre of the valley leading towards Chamounix, and from the extreme purity of the atmosphere, on a clear day, one would suppose it to be within an hour's walk of the town, but from the time we took to approach its base, it cannot be less distant than twelve or fourteen miles from Geneva. Proceeding leisurely along this delightful region, we arrived towards the afternoon at Cluse, a small town of Savoy, distant about eight leagues from the last mentioned city. After crossing the Pont de l'Arve in the immediate neighbourhood, we entered a pass or narrow valley through which the river flows. This, I really think, is one of the finest things I have seen in Switzerland. Glencoe must hide its diminished head. On either side the rocks rise to a prodigious height,-perhaps to 1500 or 2000 feet, and between these there is room solely for the river and the road along its banks. In some places they appear almost to overhang the stream, and present a most threatening aspect, while here and there, among projecting scars, some fine old pine-trees are seen spreading their branches, and casting their long dark shadows across the lurid cliffs. Several of these majestic precipices are perforated by dismal looking caves, which at first sight have almost the appearance of the work of human hands, but where they are, no human foot was ever placed.

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The best time and station, in my opinion, for perceiving the perfect sublimity of this glorious valley, is a little before sun-set, and from the road a short time after passing the bridge at Cluse. A person who has not seen it under these circumstances, has not, properly speaking, seen it at all. From that point of view, all the overhanging mountains seem to mingle with each other, and still to preserve distinctly their own majestic forms; and when the sun is conceived sinking from the heavens, and painting their high summits with ten thousand glorious hues, there is something in the whole scene inexpressibly beautiful, wild, and sublime. I think it is observed by Gilpin, that towards evening the very shape of mountains is altered to the eye. This is a fine remark. The shades of twilight, and the purple of a setting sun, soften whatever is harsh in a prospect, hide all disagreeable irregularities, and may without affectation of the cant of taste, be said to harmonise the whole. According as light or shade falls upon an object, its general situation, size, and distance, seem to vary,-and since at evening light and shade undergo a greater variety than during the day, so must the face of nature at that season. So many circumstances has Providence contrived to make this earth a pleasant dwelling! As the clouds in an evening sky are never two nights exactly similar, the appearance of no scene in nature can ever be two nights exactly the same; and were the mind as accustomed to reflect and to contemplate, as immediately to perceive and enjoy the lovely varieties thus afforded, what a source of happiness would it possess! In the course of a store-house of most fairy images, few years, the memory would be a which the fancy might endlessly com

bine, and the heart silently and unseen enjoy. From Cluse to St Martin our walk was quite magnificent, and far transcends all human praise. We reached the latter village about eight at night.

During this day's walk, N. who upon the whole shews more pluck than most of his countrymen, suffered much from fatigue and tender feet. For some time we had scarcely advanced more than a couple of miles per hour. About sunset, a fair Savoyard, d'un certain âge, passed by on horseback, after the manner usual in Switzerland. After much argument, we induced N. to request a seat behind this lady; so having hailed her, we descanted at some length on the disabled state of the unfortunate foreigner, and finally persuaded her to take him with her as far as St Martin. She owned the soft impeachment, and he being accordingly mounted, "with difficulty and labour hard," the two departed on their way rejoicing. We had not proceeded far, however, after the accomplishment of this humane, though arduous duty, when our eyes were attracted by an unusual spectacle. Either the saddle-girths had given way, or N. with his cherry-stick had tickled the fancy of the Alpine courser, be that as it may, "the twain" were lying in the dust in a most deplorable condition, the "unoffending creature" peacefully grazing by the road-side, while the fair Savoyard was leaning over the exhausted Columbian, exclaiming with clasped hands, and tearful eyes," O, pauvre Anglois! O, pauvre enfant !" Neither of them could give a very intelligible account of the manner in which the accident had taken place, and fortunately neither of them was a bit the worse of it. After a little supplementary exertion on our part, they were both rehoisted upon the

unconscious beast, and reached their destination in safety, as happy as "before the fall."

I look upon it as the duty of every tourist to give unto Cæsar what is Cæsar's;" in other words, to record faithfully, not only what may have been his own impressions of admiration and of joy, as derived from beautiful or magnificent features in the external aspect of nature, but also to relate, for the benefit of his successors in fatigue and hunger, a little concerning the interior economy of each of the public-houses in which he may have rested from his labours. Be it known then, that the auberge at St Martin (there is only one) is, though unassuming, in every respect excellent, the food of good quality, and prettily cooked, the wines well flavoured, and-she is certainly the prettiest I have seen in Switzerland.—

V.S. The preceding information is the more necessary in the present instance, because the merits of this excellent establishment not being so generally known as those of Hofwyl, most travellers on their way to Chamounix, cross the Arve near this place, and leaving the main road for a short distance, take up their abode at Sallenche, where the accommodation cannot be better, with the inconvenience of retracing their steps to the high way in the morning. I was very happy at St Martin.

We renewed our journey to Chamounix about eight in the morning, N. being mounted on a mule, with an intelligent Savoyard as a conductor; his name is Jean Riand. The valley of the Arve continued during our whole route as fine as ever. After passing St Martin, it opens considerably, so as to leave room for several pretty cottages and some pasture land between the river and the mountains. Though equally beautiful and majes

tic, yet from this circumstance it is less singularly striking and sublime, than the entrance of the valley at Cluse, where it is so very narrow. I certainly think the scene from the latter village onwards, one of the finest I have ever beheld in any country. Near the village of Chede we left the main road, "if main it may be called, which main is not," and ascended by the side of a small mountain stream, to have a view of a fine cascade which it forms at the head of the little valley by which it descends to join the Arve. This fall is great in height, though the quantity of water is small. It flows from the Lake of Chede, and descends through a dark cleft in the rocks, which at top are well wooded. After a descent of forty or fifty feet, it is divided by a jutting precipice, which is not only perpendicular, but hangs over several degrees; the fall is then uninterrupted till it reaches a stone basin of great depth, but the height is such, that the water descends almost in the form of vapour, and the two streams appear to be, except under the precipice which divides them, again united into one. One of the most striking features of the scenery in this neighbourhood, is the magnificently castellated rock called the Auguille de Varens, which raises its craggy points considerably beyond the height of 7000 feet. Near its base, a large tract of broken ground reminds one of the fall of the Montagne d'Anterne, which gave way in the month of July 1751. Such unfortunate catastrophes are surely not unusual in Switzerland, as I have within these last few weeks had several instances pointed out to me of a similar occurrence. The "desolation and the dreariness" were not nearly so striking among the ruins of this mountain, as in the bouleversemens of the Rossberg, in the valley of Goldau near Schwytz. This latter

place presents a most singular appearance, consisting now of nothing but an enormous inclined mass of debris, that is, huge stones, rocks, and ravines, heaped up and mingled together in a most wild and disorderly manner. It is indeed a desolate place, and nearly destitute of wood, though once bearing on its shoulders many a goodly pine. Some few of these have now extricated themselves, and are contriving to grow with some effect exactly at right angles to their former inclination. This awful dilapidation took place with a most fatal rapidity, every thing being overturned, buried, and destroyed, in the short space of five minutes. "Ceux qui voulent prendre connaissance des resultats terrible de la dernière chute de Montagne, dans la vallée de Goldau, ne sauraient être plus avantageusement placés pour cela qu'à Art, qui n'est qu'à 20 minutes de la limite occidentale de ces bouleversemens. Mais la dernière et la plus terrible de toutes ces catastrophes, c'est celle qui eut lieu en 1806, le 2 Septembre, à 5 h. du soir. Il était tombé pendant l'hiver une énorme quantité de néige, et les mois de juillet et d'août avaient été extraordinairement pluvieux; le I et le 2 de Septembre, il avait plusans interruption, et en abondance. Déjà dans la matinée les personnes qui demeuraient dans le voisinage du Gnyhenspitz entendirent du bruit et un eraquement dans la montagne; on aperçut aussi ailleurs en divers endroits d'autres phénomènes singulieres. Enfin à 5 h. du soir les couches de brèche qui s'étendaient entre le Spitzbrzel et la Steinbergerfloue se détachèrent de la montagne et se precipitèrent avec le fracas du tonnerre dans la vallée de Goldau et de Bousinghen, d'ou leurs debris remontèrent le long de la base du Righi. La largeur de ces couches était de 1000 p., leur hauteur de 100 p., et leur lon

geur de près d'une lieue. En 5 minutes ces contrées si charmantes et si fertiles furent changées en un desert affreux, les deux vallons converts sur un espace d'une lieue en carre d'un chaos de collines de 100 à 200 p. de hauteur les villages de Goldau, de Bousinghen, d'Ober-Roethen, d'Un

ter-Roethen et de Lowertz ensevelis sous les décombres, la partie occidentale du lac comblée, et les habitans de ces vallées si interessans par la beauté de leur taille, leur énergée, leur activité et leur frugalité, écrasés sous les ruines de la montagne, on plonge dans la plus affreuse misère. Ces derniers sont ou nombre de 530. Il perit 433 individus, tous habitans de la vallée, independamment de 16 personnes de diverses autres contrées du pays de Schwytz, et de 8 voyageurs du canton de Berne et d'Argovie."Ebel. For many days it was a distracting sight. Several of those whose lives had been saved as if by a miracle, or who had been absent in some neighbouring valley, afterwards died among the ruins; and many who had witnessed the dreadful convulsion, were fear-stricken for life. Such a one I met by the Lake of Lowertz. I asked him some ordinary question which he did not seem to comprehend; he then pointed to the hill, and uttered an idiot laugh,-but in that laugh, "there was a voice that sounded like the sea." The ground itself has at present scarcely any verdure upon it, and I could have fancied it from the opposite hill to be a place where some terrible and malignant meteor had fallen from heaven and exploded upon the earth.

The lordly mountain of its pride
Is stripped; the ravage hath spread wide
Through park and field, a perishing
That mocks the gladness of the spring!
And with this silent gloom agreeing
There is a joyless human being,

Of aspect such as if the waste
Were under her dominion placed :
of quietness, she sits alone;
Upon a primrose bank, her throne
There seated may this maid be seen,
Among the ruins of a wood,
Ere while a covert bright and green,
And where full many a brave tree stood,
With the sweet bird's carolling.
That used to spread its boughs, and ring

But let us proceed to Chamounix. We breakfasted at Servoz, a delightful little village, and crossing the bridge Pélissier, from which there is a fine view of the ruins of St Michael's castle, built upon a rock, we gained the entrance of the famous valley about mid-day. A little before this the river forms an angle, after which its banks become so confined, that the road winds along the side of the hill, leaving the water rushing through the perpendicular rocks below. The entrance to the valley is nearly at right angles with the valley itself. The mountains now descend from either side precipitously almost to the banks of the river; the road is cut through rocks, and seems with some difficulty to maintain its existence as such, from the number of crags and ruddy scars and shooting pines which border it on all sides, and almost overwhelm it. Immediately in front is the mighty Mont Blanc, every visible portion being covered with the purest snow. Extensive tracts of ancient pine-trees are seen skirting the icy regions, and occasionally stretching to some distance beyond the line of snow. The mountains, which form the left boundary of the river, are beautifully, though irregularly wooded, and to a great height, and at their summits there runs along an extensive range of castellated rocks, which are quite perpendicular, without a vestige of vegetation, or even a spot of snow. In the distance, the vast crags called the Needles of Chamounix shew

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