The pilgrim in the shadow of the Jungfrau Alp.

Front matter

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WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM

Preface

I A Preface is a thing of inconsistencies. Though it comes first in the Book, it is last in the Author's thoughts ; the first thing with the reader, it is the last with the writer and the printer. Though it is the shortest part of the Book, it is by far the most difficult. And though it is no part of the Book, It is sometimes the only part read, and the longest remembered.

It is always demanded by custom, though oftentimes wholly unnecessary. It is like a visit of ceremony, with half an excuse for not calling sooner, and half an apology for calling at all. It is like the title Esq., which is no part of any man's name, and yet every man writes it on a letter to his neighbor. It is like notes at the bottom of the page which, if they contain anything important, had better be put in the body of the work. Finally, it is like standing at the door in a rain-storm, and sending in the servant to announce your name.

A Preface in the present case might have been spared, masmuch as there is an introductory chapter. But perhaps it may be set down as one of those graces in book-life, like the touch of your hat to a friend across the street, which softens the manners, and does not permit men to be brutes. This doubtless is the philosophy of it, though the etymology

Vi PREFACE.

intimates that it is simply the art of putting the best face foremost.

It may be questioned whether it were not better not to have published at all ; but this should have been thought of before. When I first wrote, I was thinking of dear friends, just as in collecting my Alpine Flowers, and of the pleasure I would give them, if ever permitted to show them my mountain treasures. To write merely for the public, \s but poor business ; it makes a sort of commercial traveller out of a man, who goes about like an Argus, seeing with a hundred eyes, not one of which is his own ; seeing everything for the public, nothing for himself ; a kind of commission agent to trade with nature, and drive the best speculations.

" These Tourists, heaven preserve us, needs must lead A profitable life !"

They climb the crags, and beat about the bushes, for mare's nests, that they may show and sell the eggs.- What can they see of Nature's own, of Nature's hidden treasures, which come to view all spontaneously, just as the graceful attitudes of children are seen only when you are not watching for them, and before they have been taught to dance.

On the other hand, to write for dear friends, and then publish, if need be, as an after thought, is not so bad. Nor need the Author tell his reasons for so doing. If the public are pleased, that is reason enough ; if not, they care nothing at all about it. For his own gratification and benefit, it is better for the traveller in so glorious a region as that of the Alps, always to write, whether he publishes or not ; and then, the copying and filling up of his journal is as pleasing as the revisiting of a beautiful gallery of paintings. If he could

PREFACE.

make the description as interesting to his reader, as the visit was to himself, he would never need an apology for a Book. I do quite despair of this, and yet I have attempted my Pilgrim Story.

In speaking of the shadow of Mont Blanc, and of Day and Night, of Morn and Eve, of Sun and Moon and Stars upon the Mountain, I could adopt what Dante says of the light of Paradise, except that my dream of glory is better remembered ; and this shall be my Preface.

*' As one who from a Dream awakened, straight. All he hath seen forgets ; yet still retains Impression of the feeling in his Dream ; E'en such am I : for all the vision dies. As 't were, away ; and yet the sense of sweet. That sprang from it, still trickles in my heart. Thus in the sun thaw is the snow unsealed ; Thus in the winds on flitting leaves was lost The Sybil's sentence. eternal beam !

Whose height what reach of mortal thought may soar ? Yield me again some little particle Of what thou then appearedst ; give my tongue Power, but to leave one sparkle of thy glory. Unto the race to come, that shall not lose Thy triumph wholly, if thou waken aught Of memory in me, and endure to hear The record sound of this unequal strain."

Cabet's Dante, Paradise, Canto xxxiii

Contents

CBAFTBR PAOa

I. Introdxtctiom'. — Interpretation of Nature ......... 1

II Mont Blanc from Geneva and its Outskirts 6

Chapter I

Introduction. Interpretation of Nature.

The Fasciculus of leaves from the journal of a summer's trave here presented to the I'eader, is more like a familiar letter than a book ; it was written, at first, for the perusal of a few friends, and it makes no pretensions to depth or greatness, but is a quiet expression of thoughts and feelings, which any man may experience amidst the wonders of Alpine scenery. There is neither political economy, nor geology, nor botany, nor musical, nor theatrical, nor statistical information much attempted in it. And yet it is possible to find in such a journal a book which may beguile and benefit both the traveller among the Alps, and the Pilgrim at home ; a book, " which meets us like a pleasant thought, when such are wanted." Mere descriptions, be the scenery ever so grand, are cloying and tiresome, and soon become tame. It is like living upon pound-cake and cream, or rather upon whip-syllabub. But if, while the eye is pleased the heart may be active, and the mind awakened in*.o deep thought, if the thought be such as befits the immortal tenant oi a world so beautiful, then will the mind and heart be at harmony with nature, and the language, which the very frame of the world speaks, will be understood, and the spirit which pervades such a world will imbue the being as a calm and gentle element.

Nothing is more desirable than for a traveller so to converse with nature, as well as with mankind. We do not con men's 2

S WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM. [chap I.

features alone, when we meet them ; we do not report their eyebrows, meir noses, their lips, the color of their eyes, and think we have done with them ; we learn their habits, thoughts, feelings; we speak to their souls. And Nature hath a soul as well as features. But a man's own soul must be awakened within him, and not his pleasure-loving faculties and propensities merely, if he would enter into communion with the soul that is in nature. Otherwise, it is as with a vacant stare that he sees mountains, forests, bright skies and sounding cataracts pass before him ; otherwise, it is like a sleep-walker, that he himself wanders among them. What is not in himself he finds not in nature, and as all study is but a discipline to call forth our immortal faculties, no good will it do the man to range through nature as a study, if his inward being be asleep, if hii •nind be world-rusted and insensible.

" It were a vain endeavor,

Though I should gaze for ever.

On that green light that lingers in the west ; I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within."

And hence the extrem.e and melancholy beauty of that passage in John Foster's writings, where he speaks of the power of external nature as an agent in our education, and laments the inward deiiciency in many minds, v/hich prevents our " foster-mother " from being able to instil into them her sweetest, most exquisite tones and lessons. " It might be supposed," he says, " that the scenes of nature, an amazing assemblage of phenomena, if their effect were not lost through familiarity, would have a powerful influence on all opening minds, and transfer into the internal economy of ideas and sentiment something of a character and a color correspondent to the beauty, vicissitude and grandeur, which continually press on the senses. On minds of genius they often have this effect ; and Beattie's Minstrel may be as just as it is a fascinating description of the feelings of such a mind. But on the greatest number this influence operates feebly ; you will not see the process in children, nor the result in mat; .re persons. The charms of nature are

Chap. I.] Interpretation Of Nature

'7^ objects only of sight and hearing, not of sensibility and imagination. And even the sight and hearing do not receive impressions sufficiently distinct and forcible for clear recollection ; it is not therefore strange that these impressions seldom go so much deeper than the senses, as to awaken pensiveness or enthusiasm, and fill the mind with an interior permanent scenery of beautiful images at its own command. This defect of fancy and sensibility is unfortunate amidst a creation infinitely rich with grand and beautiful objects, which, imparting something more than images to a mind adapted and habituated to converse with nature, inspire an exquisite sentiment, that seems like the emanation of a spirit residing in them. It is unfortunate, I have thought within these few minutes, while looking out on one of the most enchanting nights of the most interesting season of the year, and hearing the voices of a company of persons, to whom I can perceive that this soft and solemn shade over the earth, the calm sky, the beautiful stripes of cloud, the stars and the waning moon just risen, are all blank and indifferent."

Unfortunate, indeed ; for did not God design that the walls of our external abode should be, as it were, at least as the scaffolding wherewith to help build up the inward temple of the mind, and that the silent imagery upon the one should be reflected in the thoughtful treasures and instructive galleries of the other ? Nature is as a book of hieroglyphics, which the individual mind must interpret.

What can be more desirable than an interior permanent scenery of beautiful images, so formed ? Much depends upon a man's inward spiritual state, which, even by itself, when its pulse beats in unison with Flis Spirit who rules universal nature, may supply what might have seemed an original defect of taste and sensibility. So the great metaphysician of New England, -who never suspected himself, nor was suspected by others, of being a Poet, and whose character might have been deemed defective in its imaginative parts, was drawn, by his deep and intense communion with God and the love of his attributes, into such communion with external nature, and such sensitive experience of her loveliness, so simple and yet almost ecstatic, as Cowper himself might ha 'e envied. So certain it is that by the culti-

4 WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM. [chap. i.

vation of our spiritual being we discipline in the best manner our intellectual being ; we come into a power of appreciating and enjoying the banquet, which God hath placed before all men, but from which so many do voluntarily exclude themselves. So it is, that one traveller meets angels at every step of the way, and to him it seems as a walk in Paradise ; while another meets but the outward form of things. One traveller throws a shroud over nature, another a wedding-garment ; one clothes her with the carking anxieties of his own mind, another sees no beauty in her.

" A primrose by the river's brim.

Or at the cottage door, A yellow primrose is to him.

And it is nothing more."

Not so does a mind read nature, or listen to her teachings, whose inward sight has been purified and illumined from above. " God's excellency," says Jonathan Edwards, describing the exercises of his mind after his conversion, " God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in everything ; in the sun, moon, and stars, in the clouds and blue sky ; in the grass, flowers, and trees ; in the water and all nature, which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for a long time, and in the day spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things ; in the meantime singing forth, with a low voice, my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer."

Sweet, indeed, was this frame of mind ; delightful would it ever be, so to wander over God's bright world, interpreting nature by ourselves, and singing, with a low sweet voice, our praises of the Creator. Then only do we feel the beauty and the glory that is around us, when there is a mind at peace within us. Coleridge's words are as true as they are beautiful.

" Lady ! we receive but what we give.

And in our life alone does nature live ; Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud ! And would we aught behold of higher worth.

CHVP.i.] INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 5

Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd.

Ah ! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud

Enveloping the Earth ; — And from the soul itself there must be sent

A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth. Of all sweet sounds the life and element !"

You, then, kind reader, are my companion by the way, so long as you please to join me in these pages, and I shall talk with you quietly and frankly in my pilgrimage ; supposing you to be a friend. If you could answer me, you might suggest a thousand thoughts, fancies, feelings, more beautiful than those I utter to you ; I might find that you have a far deeper sympathy with nature than I have, and a heart singing God's praises more constantly. If, therefore, you discover any vein of thought in the conversation (which in this case I have all to myself) that pleases you, I shall be glad ; if anything that does you good, I shall be more glad ', if you find anything that displeases you, I can only say, it would be somewhat wonderful if you did not ; but it is not certain, because it displeases you, that therefore it is wrong. We are going through a glorious region ; I have only to wish that I could fill my journal with thoughts as grand as the mountains, and as sweet as the wild flowers. We begin with Geneva, and some of the pleasant excursions amidst the scenery around that city. Then we will visit the Vale of Chamouny, and from that spot make the tour of Mont Blanc, through the lovely Val d'Aoste in Italy. After this, we have before us the magnificent Oberland Alps, and the wonderful pass of the Splugen.

WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM.

[chap. II

CHAPTER II. Mont Blanc from Geneva and its outskirts

Geneva is a spot where one may study the beauty of nature in all its changes and varieties, and where that beauty passes also into sublimity, in the mighty Jura range of mountains, and in the magnificent view of the flashing snowy Alps, with Mont Blanc towering in the centre. There are many delightful excursions within the compass of a few hours, or a day going and returning. There is the Lake, so grand and beautiful at its other extremity, around Vevay — there is the arrowy Rhone, so blue and rapid, and its junction with the Arve, combining so many points of interest and beauty, from the heights that overlook the rivers. There are the various commanding views of Mont Blanc, especially at sunset, with the changing hues from the dazzling white to the deep rich crimson, from the crimson to the cold grey, from the grey to the pink, till the color is lost in the dimness of evening. Theft there are the golden hues of twilight shadowed in the lake, and the light veil of mist drawing across the foliage of the valley as the evening shuts in upon it. Then you continue your walk in the soft light of the moon and stars, in which the vast shadows and dark rising masses of the mountains appear so solemn, almost like spiritual existences slowly breathing into your heart a sense of eternity. How these forms of nature brood upon the soul ! The powerful impression which they produce, so deep, so solemn, like great types of realities in the eternal world, is sometimes quite inexplicable. It is like the awe described in Job as falling upon the soul in the presence of an invisible Spirit. The heart trembleth, and is moved out of his place. God thundereth marvellously with his voice. He casteth the garment of his clouds around the mountains ; then the bright light is gone ; then the wind passeth and cleanseth them.

Chap. Ii.] Mont Blanc From Geneva. 7

Fair weather cometh out of the north : with God is terrible majesty.

Mont Blanc is clearly visible from Geneva perhaps once in the week, or about sixty times in the year. When he is visible, a walk to the junction of the Arve and the Rhone either by the way of the plains on the Genevan side, or by way of the heights on the side towards the south of France, affords a wonderful combination of sublimity and beauty on the earth and in the heavens. Those snowy mountain ranges, so white, so pure, so dazzling in the clear azure depths, do really look as if they belonged to another world — as if, like the faces of supernatural intelligences, they were looking sadly and steadfastly on our world, to speak to us of theirs. Some of these mountain peaks of snow you can see only through the perspective of other mountains, nearer to you, and covered with verdure, which makes the snowy pyramids appear so distant, so sharply defined, so high up, so glorious ; it is indeed like the voice of great truths stirring the soul. As your eye follows the range, they lie in such glittering masses against the horizon — in such grand repose — they shoot into the sky in bright weather in such infinite clearness, so pure, so flashing, that they seem never to lose the charm of a sudden and startling revelation to the mind. Are they not sublime images of the great truths of God's own word, that sometimes indeed are veiled with clouds, but in fair weather do carry us, as in a chariot of fire and with horses of fire, into eternity, into the presence of God ? The atmosphere of our hearts is so misty and stormy, that we do not see them more than sixty times a year, in their glory : if every Sabbathday we get a view of them without clouds, we do well ; but when we see them as they are, then we feel their power, then we are rapt by them from earth, away, away, away, into the depths of heaven !

In some circumstances, when we are climbing the mountains, even the mists that hang around them do add to the glory of the view ; as in the rising sun, when they are so penetrated with brightness, that they softly rise over the crags as a robe of misty light, or seem like the motion of sweet nature breathing into the atmosphere from her morning altars the incense of praise. And

9 WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM. [chap, ii

in the setting sun how often do they hang around the precipices, glowing with the golden and crimson hues of the West, and preventing us from clearly defining the forms of the mountains, only to make them more lovely to our view. So it is sometimes with the very clouds around God's word, and the lights and shades upon it. There is an inscrutability of truth which sometimes increases its power, while we wait with solemn reverence for the hour when it shall be fully revealed to us ; and our faith, like the setting sun, may clothe celestial mysteries with a soft and rosy-colored light, which makes them more suitable to our present existence, than if we saw them in the clear and cloudless atmosphere of a spiritual noon.

You have a fine point for viewing Mont Blanc, without going out of the city, from the ramparts on the west side of Rousseau's Island. Here a brazen Indicator is erected, with the names of the different mountain summits and ridges, so that by taking sight across the index you can distinguish them at once. You will not mistake Mont Blanc, if you see him ; but until you get accustomed to the panorama, you may easily mistake one of his court for the King, when the Monarch himself is not visible.

A still better point of view you will have at Coppet, ascending towards the Jura. In proportion as you rise from the borders of the Lakp, every part of the landscape becomes more beautiful, though what you wish to gain is the most commanding view of the mountains, every other object being secondary. la a bright day, nothing can be more clearly and distinctly defined than Mont Blanc, with his attendant mighty ranges, cut in dazzling snowy brightness against the clear blue sky. The sight of those glorious glittering fields and mountains of ice and snow produces immediately a longing to be there among them. They make an impression upon the soul, of something supernatural, almost divine. Although the whole scene lying before you is so beautiful (the lake, the verdant banks, the trees, and the lower ranges of verdure-covered mountains, constituting in themselves alone one of the loveliest pictures in the world), yet the snowy ranges of Mont Blanc are the grand feature. Those glittering distant peaks are the only thing in the scene that takes a powerful hold upon the soul ; but they do quite

CHAP, n.] MONT BLANC FROM GENEVA. 9

possess it, and tyrannize over it, with an ecstatic thraldom. One is never wearied with gazing and wondering at the glory. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help!

Another admirable point, much farther from the lake and the city than the preceding, and at a greater elevation, is what is called the promenade of the point Sacconex. A fine engraving of this view is printed on letter paper for correspondence ; but there is not sufficient distinctness given to the outlines of Mont Blanc and the other summits of the glittering snowy range, that seems to float in the heavens like the far-off alabaster walls of Paradise. No language, nor any engraving, can convey the ravishing magnificence and splendor, the exciting sublimity and beauty of the scene. But there are days in which the air around the mountains seems itself of such a hazy whiteness, that the snow melts into the atmosphere as it were, and dies away in the heavens like the indistinct outline of a bright but partially remembered dream. There are other days in which the fleecy clouds, like veils of light over the faces of angels, do so rest upon and mingle with the snowy summits, that you can hardly tell where one begins and the other ends. Sometimes you look upon the clouds thinking they are mountains, and then again Mont Blanc himself will be revealed in such far-off, unmoving, glittering grandeur, in such wonderful distinctness, that there is no mistaking the changeful imitations of his glory for the reality. Sometimes the clouds and the mountains together are mingled in such a multitudinous and interminable array of radiances, that it seems like the white-robed armies of heaven with their floating banners, marching and countermarching in front of the domes and jewelled battlements of the Celestial City. When the fog scenery, of which I shall give you a description, takes place upon the earth, and at the same time there are such revelations of the snowy summits in the heavens, and such goings on of glory among them, and you get upon the mountain to see them, it is impossible to describe the effect, as of a vast enchantment, upon the mind.

The view of Geneva, the Lake, and the Jura mountains from Coligny is much admired, and at sunset perhaps the world cannot offer a more lovely scene. It was here that Byron took up

10 WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM. [chap, ii

his abode, a choice which I have wondered at, for you cannot see Mont Blanc from this point, and therefore the situation is inferior to many others. Ascending the hill farther to the East, when you come to Col. Tronchin's beautiful residence, you have perhaps the finest of all the views of Mont Blanc in or around Geneva. Go upon the top of Col. Tronchin's Tower about half an hour before sunset, and the scene is not unworthy of comparison even with the glory of the sunrise as witnessed from the summit of the Righi. It is surprising to see how long Mont Blanc retains the light of day, and how long the snow burns in the setting sun, after his orb has sunk from your own view entirely behind the green range of the Jura. Then after a succession of tints from the crimson to the cold grey, it being manifest that the sun has left the mountain to a companionship with the stars alone, you also are ready to depart, the glory of the scene being over, when suddenly and unaccountably the snowy summits redden again, as if the sun were returning upon them, the countenance of Mont Blanc is filled with rosy light, and the cold grey gives place for a few moments to a deep wai'm radiant pink (as if you saw a sudden smile playing over the features of a sleeping angel), which at length again dies in the twilight. This phenomenon is extremely beautiful, but I know not how to account for it ; nor was any one of our party wiser than I ; nevertheless, our Ignorance of causes need never diminish, but often increases the pleasure of beautiful sights.

Beneath the shadow of Mont Blanc there dwell side by side one of the truest forms of liberty, and one of the most thoroughgoing despotisms in the world, together with the brightest piety and the deepest superstition. A line divides these kingdoms. Beneath the shadow of Mont Blanc there have been transacted some of the most glorious and most humiliating scenes recorded in history. We are now on a spot consecrated to Freedom and Truth. We can take our Bibles to the top of this tower, and we might read from them and teach from them, unmolested, to as many thousands as could assemble within reach of our voices. But in the direction in which you are looking towards Mont Blanc, you see the smoke ascending from the cottages within the boundary line of the kingdom of Sardinia. Step across that line

CHAP. II.] MONT BLANC FROM GENEVA. 11

and enter those cottages, and your teachings with the Bible in your hand will carry you to prison. There is religious tyranny, here is religious liberty. The grass is as green there as it is here ; the air is as bright and sweet there as it is here ; you can see the kingly crown of Mont Blanc glittering there, as massive and silvery as it does here. The difference is not in external nature, but in the world of souls.

Looking from the tower, a little to the left, across the grove which surrounds it, you see a delightful work of the taste and piety of Colonel Tronchin, in a private hospital, erected and supported at his own expense, where a number of the poor and sick are taken care of with the utmost benevolence, without any distinction as to their religion, whether they be Protestants or Romanists. There is religious worship and instruction in the hospital, and sentences from the scriptures are engraven here and there upon the walls, as in some of the cottages of Switzerland ; and results both unexpected and delightful have been known to come from the perusal of these lessons. We attended the evening worship in this benevolent little retreat. Colonel Tronchin read the scriptures, with some familiar and deeply interesting remarks, and led his needy flock, gathered from the highways and hedges, in prayer. No visitor can come to this spot without blessing it, nor can any go, without feeling that its excellent proprietor has here put his money into a bank, where his Lord at his coming, " will receive his own with usury."

1^ WANDERINGS OF A PILGRIM. [chap. tu.

CHAPTER III. Cloud-land and mountain scenery from the Grand Saleve

I MUST not omit to carry you on one excursion from Geneva, which many travellers miss entirely, either because they are not in the region at the season in which it is to be enjoyed, or because they have not time and curiosity, a combination quite requisite for undertaking the expedition.

In the autumn, when the fogs prevail, it is often a thick drizzling mist in Geneva, and nothing visible, while on the mountain tops the air is pure, and the sun shining. On such a day as this, when the children of the mist tell you that on the mountains it is fair weather, you must start early for the range nearest Geneva, on the way to Chamouny, the range of the Grand Saleve, the base of which is about four miles distant, prepared to spend the day upon the mountains, and you will witness one of the most singular and beautiful scenes to be enjoyed in Switzerland.