AMONG THE ALPS. "Thron'd in his palace of cerulean ice, SWITZERLAND has its Alps, and so has Scotland; and both countries have, time out of mind, enjoyed celebrity for the inhospitable scenes they present of desolate grandeur and sublimity. It is to the former, however, that the tourist must turn if he desire to be in the midst of snow and ice in the middle of summer, and if he wish to behold some of the most impressive features of nature under her most appalling aspects. It is there that he sees the beautiful and the sublime commingling with each other-there that he sees the scathed pine, the field of snow, and the crag of ice, the "Avalanches, whom a breath draws down In mountainous o'erwhelming!" There that he feels his brain grow dizzy by gazing down dark and terrible precipices-that he sees mountains falling, and— "Leaving a gap in the clouds, and with the shock All this he sees and feels "for the small charge of" encountering a good deal of danger, a large amount of fatigue, and a pretty considerable quantity of discomfort. He will also have to pay with coin for the feasting of his eyes; but this is nothing if he has plenty of it, and no other way of getting so agreeably rid of it. All that we have read about the earlier and even the later inhabitants of Switzerland has impressed us with the idea that they are a brave and a simple people; loving their mountains with the enthusiasm of poetry, and defending them from the foot of aggression with the courage of patriotism. They have also, from time immemorial, been a pastoral people, giving up the most of their existence to the rearing and the management of flocks, rather than to the pursuits of agriculture. When, however, this was more particularly the case, their country was covered with extensive forests which the ferce of nature mostly kept to themselves, but which the wants of civilised man have gradually appropriated. But although that all-devouring animal has taken the forests, he has, as yet, not been able to take the mountains. As objects of curiosity he has explored many of them; and some of them have sometimes changed hands, on account of redistributions of territory, rising out of the political differences of nations: but the mountains are still there; and as they do not run through existence so fast as our railway locomotives, they are likely, whatever some may think to the contrary, not only to last out the operations of steam and tunnelling, but, for ages yet to come, to look down upon man's uncertain steps to advancement, and his certain ones to decay. The occu In many of the smaller cantons and valleys of the Alps the inhabitants of former times passed their lives in a state of patriarchal enjoyment; and if they were acquainted with some of "the ills which flesh is heir to," they probably had not a great many of its cares. pations in which they were mostly engaged were not such as stimulated ambition, or created wants which could not be readily supplied; they might, therefore, be considered to have lived in a comparatively contented and happy state, until plenty excited a desire for such pleasures as could not be gratified by an occupation so dull and monotonous as the mere tending of flocks. At this happy period, which would seem to have been the golden age of the inhabitants of Switzerland, we are told that crime was hardly known; that the magistrates were never called to leave the plough to govern the state; and that the general contempt which a misdemeanour brought upon the individual committing it, was a punishment in itself sufficiently great to prevent its repetition in himself, or its occurrence in others. The battle of Morgarten, at which the Swiss achieved so much glory, was won by fifty men, who, on account of their debts and some trivial offences, were refused admittance to the regular ranks; but, rising superior to the condition to which their passions had brought them, they formed an ambuscade, succeeded in throwing the into disorder, and thereby winning the battle. But even now, enemy this year of grace, the valleys of the Swiss Alps know little of crime. At the time of which we have first spoken, and long after it, flocks and herds yielded by far the largest portion of the subsistence of the people: but in these they had all that they wanted; and when men have all that they want, they cannot be richer. Besides their physical requirements, they were, perhaps, mostly possessed of all that Manfred sees in the Chamois Ꭰ in Hunter. "What is it thou seest or think thou look'st upon?" asks the peasant; and the metaphysical magician of the Alps replies "Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, And spirit patient, pious, proud, and free; By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes Of cheerful old age, and a quiet grave, With cross and garland over its green turf, And thy grandchildren's love, for epitaph : This picture, flattering as it is, we hope is not without living representations of its reality, notwithstanding the proverbial corruption which follows the heels of prosperity and wealth. Before Alpine tourists, however, had thought of immortalising their names by the climbing of cliffs of ice, the inhabitants made bread only once a year, and this, with the flesh of divers animals, was served apparently only on days of festivity. On the occasion of a wedding, what seems to us an extraordinary species of bride's cake was prepared. It made its appearance in the form of a cheese made in common, and on which the names of the parties about to be united in matrimonial bonds were engraved. This cheese was, no doubt, of large dimensions; but the greatest wonder connected with it was its extraordinary tenacity of existence, or endurance of life, so to speak; for after being served at the marriage of the parents, it reappeared at the weddings of their children, and was often eaten when upwards of fifty years old. Yet, besides rats and mice, there are more wild animals in Switzerland than there are in Great Britain. We are told that at both births and deaths the same sort of celebration occurred, and that the custom is—or was, some years back-still in existence in all the mountainous parts of the canton of Bern. Generally speaking, however, it is not to study the habits and customs of her people that the modern tourist pays a visit to Switzerland, but rather to gaze upon the wonderful heights, depths, and lengths of her mountains, precipices, and valleys. But it is impossible not to remark, that some of the more striking customs of their forefathers yet linger in their silent and sequestered hills and valleys. Thus they still continue to drive their flocks to the Alps in summer; and to flit or remove them from one locality to another, as the herbage becomes exhausted. The extensive pastures with which the Alps are clothed, doubtless was the primary inducement to this wandering mode of life; but as these are placed in an atmosphere too inclement and cold to be habitable through out the year, they could only be visited at certain seasons, when the severity of the climate relaxed, and became more like that which usually prevails in the valleys. As it was, so is it now. Many of the Alpine peasantry live in a state of comparative isolation, the care of their flocks constituting their principal employment, and the making of cheese their chief domestic industry. But, as we have said, it is not to study these that the spirit of the modern tourist generally prompts him to leave his native home, for weeks or months, to wander among clouds and cataracts, mountains and valleys, rocks and rain, and snow and ice: it is to see what no other European land, to the same extent, can show him, and, if possible, to receive impressions with which no other can inspire him. Switzerland being the most elevated country in Europe, it is the one in which the largest continental rivers take their rise. Within its circumscribed limits, it comprises the soil and the productions of both the north and the south. "There, within the space of seven or eight hours," the Swiss Guide tells us, "you run over the different climates, prevailing, in other parts, between 80 and 40 degrees of latitude. During one single day's excursion, the traveller experiences the frozen atmosphere of the Spitzberg, and feels the scorching heat of Senegal. He gathers, on one spot, the lichen of Iceland, and, on another, the opuntia of the West Indies. His ears are assailed by the roaring of the Lavanges, so destructive in the midst of the awful silence of nature; and presently he pauses to listen to the chirping of the Sicilian grasshoppers.". These are wonders sufficient, in themselves, to induce any lover of the extraordinary in nature, with the means, to pay a visit to Switzerland; but when we are further informed that "it unites the vigour and ruggedness of the giant with the smiling simplicity of the babe," it is difficult to restrain curiosity in its eagerness to witness the phenomena of such a country. Accordingly, an inspired traveller of our acquaintance put his Guide-we mean his printed one-in his pocket, and was, in a very short time, in Martigny, thirty miles from the Great St. Bernard. What of that? The distance was not great in the eyes of a young enthusiast who had gone over a quarter of the world, on foot, in search of the sublime and beautiful in nature; who had confronted danger in several forms; and who, with a stout heart and strong limbs, did not see much to fear among the mountains and valleys of Switzerland. He feels, however, that there is another sort of "Guide" required, besides the one in his pocket. Accordingly, he seeks and finds one who realises, as nearly as possible, the following general description of this sort of human commodity :"The society of these simple mountaineers is frequently very pleasing and instructive. Many of them speak more than one language, and possess a fund of information and amusement. Interesting descriptions of their romantic country, warlike tales of their own adventures in foreign lands, and numerous anecdotes of the celebrated persons whom they have accompanied in mountain excursions, by turns, beguile the traveller of his weariness." One of these intelligent companions he looked for, and was fortunate enough to find. Before setting out, he made himself well up, however, in his pocket Guide, in order that he might be tolerably acquainted with the precise nature of the country in which he was, when at Martigny; for his visit was not sufficiently long, and the weather was too hot, for him to make such extensive explorations as would enable him to do it justice. Accordingly, he knew that the "Valais," at the southwest of which Martigny stands, is the longest and most considerable of all the valleys in Switzerland. Both inhabited and uninhabited valleys run from it laterally; and its highest part is at the foot of Mount Furca. Here the Rhone has its source, at an elevation of 4,626 feet above the level of the lake of Geneva; and here, on all sides, he was encompassed with mountains. But this Guide must now assist him, whilst it informs the reader. "St. Maurice," says this authority, "is the only place from which it may be entered on level ground; and that entrance is so contracted, that the Rhone has scarcely sufficient space to find a passage between the shaggy sides of the Dent de Morcles and the Dent de Midi; and the gate of St. Maurice serves, every evening, to shut up the entrance of the Valais. The two chains of mountains which encompass the valley are the highest of the Alps. Their numberless peaks rise from 8,000 to 14,580 feet above the sea. The lowest parts of these mountains, known by the name of Cols (ridges), are from 6,000 to 10,284 feet high. It is on those two chains which bound the valley, both on the north and south, that rest the most enormous glaciers and most extensive fields of ice throughout Switzerland." Besides the sublime features of which the Pocket Guide has just informed us, our traveller discovers that, in some parts of the Valais, the corn is not cut till October, whilst, in others, it is cut in May. In some places fruit never ripens; and, at no great distance, the pomegranate and the fig attain to the highest state of perfection. The vine is widely cultivated; and, among wild beasts, the chamois, the lynx, and the wolf roam, at will, over mountain and valley. But our traveller, with his two Guides (the one in his pocket, and the other by his side), has left Martigny, and has already penetrated far into the deep ravine, where rocks above rocks tower on each side, like so many terraces of Babel aspiring to the sky. |