IV.
_SWITZERLAND._
'My children, listen to the words of wisdom ere it is too late,' beganLavinia, as the three sat about in dressing-gowns after a busy day inGeneva.
'We listen, go on, Granny,' replied the irreverent girls.
'If we stay here a week longer, we are ruined. Firstly, this Metropoleis an expensive hotel; also noisy and full of fashionable people, whom Ihate. Secondly, the allurements of the jewellers' shops are too much forus, and we had better flee before we spend all our money. Thirdly, ifwar does break out along the Rhine, as rumour now predicts, Geneva willbe crammed with people whose plans, like ours, are upset; therefore wehad better skip across the lake, and secure a comfortable place forourselves at Vevey or Montreaux, for we shall probably have to winterthere.'
'Hear, hear! we will do it, and if Italy doesn't get over her revolutionin time for us to go to Rome, we must content ourselves with some nookin this refuge for all wanderers on the face of the continent,' saidAmanda.
'But I like Geneva so much. It's such fun to watch the splendid waitersfile in at dinner, looking like young gentlemen ready for a ball; thehouse is so gay, and the shops!--never did I dream of such richnessbefore. Do stay another week and buy a few more things,' prayed Matilda,who spent most of her time gloating over the jewelry, and tempting hersister to buy all manner of useless gauds.
'No: we will go to-morrow. I know of several good _pensions_ at Vevey,so we are sure of getting in somewhere. Pack at once, and let us flee,'returned Lavinia, who, having bought a watch, a ring, and a locket, feltthat it was time to go.
And go they did, settling for a month at Bex, a little town up thevalley of the Rhone, remarkable for its heat, its dirt, its lovelyscenery, and the remarkable perfection to which its inhabitants hadbrought the _goitre_, nearly every one being blessed with an unsightlybunch upon the neck, which they decorated with ribbons and proudlydisplayed to the disgusted traveller.
Here in the rambling old Hotel des Bains, with its balconies, gardens,and little rooms, the wanderers reposed for a time. A Polish countess,with her lover, daughter, and governess, conferred distinction upon thehouse. An old Hungarian count, who laboured under the delusion that hedescended in a direct line from Zenobia, also adorned the scene. Anartist with two pretty boys, named Alfred Constable Landseer Reynoldsand Allston West Cuyp Vandyke, afforded Matilda much satisfaction.
English mammas with prim daughters of thirty or so still tied to theirapron-strings were to be found, of course, for they are everywhere; alsowandering French folk raving about the war one minute and tearing theirhair over bad coffee the next.
Amanda read newspapers and talked politics with the old count; whileLavinia, with a paper bag of apricots under one arm and a volume ofDisraeli's novels under the other, spent her shining hours wanderingfrom balcony to garden, enjoying the heat, which gave her a shortrespite from her woes.
While here Matilda, in company with a kindred soul, made the ascent ofMount St. Bernard with the pleasing accompaniments of wind, rain,thunder, and lightning. But the irrepressible Americans went on in spiteof warnings from more prudent travellers who stopped half-way. With onemule and a guide for escort, the two enthusiasts waded swollen streamswith ice-cold water up to their knees, climbed slippery roads, facedwhat seemed a whirlwind at that height, and, undaunted by the uproar ofthe elements, pressed on to the Hospice, to the great admiration ofMoritz, the guide, who told them he had seldom taken men up in such astorm, never ladies.
At the Hospice the dripping lasses found a hospitable welcome from thehandsome monk who does the honours there. Being provided with drygarments, and having much fun over the tall Matilda draped in skirts ofmany colours in the attempt to get any long enough, they were fed andwarmed by the engaging monk, who entertained them as they sat about aroaring fire while the storm raged without, with thrilling tales of thetravellers they had saved, the wild adventures they had known in thedreadful winter time, and the gifts bestowed upon them by gratefultravellers or generous guests.
The Prince of Wales had sent them a piano, and many fine picturesornamented the walls from famous persons. An old English lady who spendsher summers up there seemed much amused at the prank of the girls, andevidently wondered what their guardians were about.
A merry and memorable evening; and when, on going to their cells, theyfound the beds nicely warmed, Matilda exclaimed,--
'This is the most delightful of the romantic and the comfortable I eversaw. Alps and warming-pans taken "jintly" are delicious!'
At five next morning they were wakened by the chanting of the invisiblebrotherhood, and went down to the chapel for mass. On going out for aclamber on the rocks, seven or eight great dogs came baying and leapingabout them, licking their hands and smelling their garments to see ifthey were hurt. Looking into their bright, benevolent eyes, one couldwell believe the wonderful tales told of their courage and sagacity.Though so powerful and large they were gentle as kittens, and thedog-loving girls were proud to receive and return the caresses of thesefour-footed heroes.
Leaving a grateful _souvenir_ in the box intended to receive whateverguests choose to leave, the girls descended in the morning sunshine,finding it a very different experience from the ascent. All was clearand calm now,--beautiful and grand; and only pausing at M. to send backa fine engraving to the comely priest, who had made a deep impression ontheir romantic hearts, the _enfants_ returned to their anxious friends,mildewed, rumpled, and weary, but full of enthusiastic delight overtheir successful ascent of St. Bernard.
War broke out, and Alexandre, the all-accomplished head-waiter, droppedhis napkin, shouldered his gun, and marched away, leaving the Hotel desBains desolate. Being pretty thoroughly baked, and very weary of thelittle town, our trio departed to Vevey, and settled down in the best_pension_ that ever received the weary traveller.
Standing in its own pretty grounds, and looking out upon the lake,Pension Paradis deserves its name. Clean and cosy within, a good table,a kindly hostess, and the jolliest old host ever seen! what more couldthe human heart desire?
Vevey was swarming with refugees. Don Carlos, or the Duke de Madrid, ashe was called, was there with his Duchess and court, plotting heavenknows what up at his villa, with the grave, shabby men who haunted thetown.
Queen Isabella reigned at one hotel, and Spanish grandees pervaded theplace. There were several at Pension Paradis, and no one guessed whatgreat creatures they were till a _fete_ day arrived, and the grim, graymen blossomed out into counts, marquises, and generals covered withorders, stars, and crosses splendid to behold.
One particularly silent, shabby little man with a shaven head and fineblack eyes, who was never seen to smile, became an object of interest onthat occasion by appearing in a gorgeous uniform with a great giltgrasshopper hanging down his back from a broad green ribbon. Who was he?What did the grasshopper mean? Where did he go to in a fine carriage,and what was he plotting with the other Carlists, who dodged in and outof his room at all hours?
No one ever knew, and all the artful questions put to the youngSpaniard, who played croquet with the girls, were unavailing. Nothingwas discovered, except that little Mirandola had a title, and might besent back to Spain any day to lose his life or liberty in some rashplot, which circumstance made the black-eyed boy doubly interesting tothe free-born Americans. Lavinia bewailed his hard lot, Amanda taughthim whist and told his fortune, and Matilda put him in her sketch-bookdone in the blackest India-ink. It is also to be recorded that thedoomed little Don was never seen to laugh but once, and that was whenthe girls taught him the classical game of Muggins. The name struck him;he went about saying it to himself, and on the first occasion of hisbeing 'mugginsed,' he was so tickled that he indulged in a hearty boy'slaugh; but immediately recovered himself, and never smiled again, as ifin penance for so forgetting his dignity.
A bashful Russian, who wore remarkably fine broadcloth and had perfectmanners, was likewise received into the good graces of the ladies, whotaught him English,
called him 'the Baron' in private, and covered himwith confusion in public by making him talk at table.
But the most amusing of all the family was Madame A., a handsome widowfrom Lyons, with two ugly children and a stout old mamma, who woreorange stockings and a curious edifice of black lace encircled withlarge purple asters. The widow had married an Italian artist, who wasmortally jealous of his wife, whose blonde beauty attracted muchattention at Rome. In some quarrel with a model the husband was stabbed,and the handsome widow left in peace.
A tall, fair lady, with a profile like Marie Antoinette; she dressed inwhite with violet ribbons, and wore much ancient jewelry. A loud-voiced,energetic woman, who bewailed the sack of her house at Lyons, scoldedher children, and cursed the Germans with equal volubility and spirit.When silent she was the picture of a patrician beauty; but, alas! hervoice destroyed the charm, and her manners--great heavens, what thingsthat woman did! Picking her pearly teeth with a hair-pin, and knockingher darlings into their chairs with one sweep of her elbow when theyannoyed her at table, were the least of the horrors she perpetrated.
But she talked well, devoted herself to her family, and took misfortunebravely; so much may be pardoned her.
Her infants were only remarkable for their ugliness and curiouscostumes. The little girl usually wore soiled silk gowns, and had herhair tied up with bits of twine. The boy appeared in a suit of yellowcalico spotted with black, looking very much like a canary bird who hadfallen into an inkstand. On festival occasions he wore white clothraiment, with red ribbons stuck here and there, and high red boots.
But, on the whole, the old mamma was the queerest of the set; for shespent most of her time lumbering up and down stairs, which amusementkept the orange hose constantly before the public. When not disportingherself in this way, she dozed in the _salon_, or consumed much food attable with a devotion that caused her to suck her fingers, on every oneof which shone an antique ring of price. Her head-gear was a perpetualpuzzle to the observing Lavinia, who could never discover whether it wasa cap, a bonnet, or a natural production, for it was never off. Madamewalked out in it, wore it all day, and very likely slept in it. At leastLavinia firmly believed so, and often beguiled the watches of the night,imagining the old soul placidly slumbering with the perennial astersencircling her aged brow like a halo.
One other party there was who much amused the rest of the household. AnAmerican lady with a sickly daughter, who would have been pretty but forher affectation and sentimentality. The girl was engaged to a fierce,dissipated little Russian, who presented her with a big bouquet everymorning, followed her about all day like a dog, and glared wrathfully atany man who cast an eye upon the languishing damsel in white muslin andflowing curls 'bedropt with pearls,' as a romantic lady expressed it.
It was evident that the Russian without any vowels in his name was goingto marry Mademoiselle for her money, and the weak Mamma was full ofsatisfaction at the prospect. To others it seemed a doubtful bargain,and much pity was felt for the feeble girl doomed to go to Russia with ahusband who had 'tyrant' written in every line of his bad, _blase_little face and figure. French polish could not hide the brute, nor anyquantity of flowers conceal the chain by which he was leading his newserf away to bondage in St. Petersburg.
Into the midst of this select society came a countryman of ourthree,--a jocund youth fresh from Algiers, with relics, adventures, andtales that utterly eclipsed the 'Arabian Nights.' Festive timesfollowed, for the 'Peri' (the pet name of aforesaid youth) gave them thefruits of his long wanderings, sung whole operas heard in Paris, dancedballets seen in Berlin, recounted perils among the Moors, served upgossip from the four corners of the globe, and conversed with eachmember of the household in his or her own language.
A cheerful comrade was the 'Peri,' and a great addition to the party,who now spent most of their time sitting about the town, eating grapes,and listening to the pranks of this sprightly M.D., who seemed to bestudying his profession by wandering over Europe with a guitar _a latroubadour_.
Sounding the lungs of a veiled princess in Morocco was the least of hisadventures, and the treasures he had collected supplied Lavinia withmaterials for unlimited romances: cuff-buttons made from bits of marblepicked up among the ruins of Carthage; diamond crescents and ear-ringsbought in Toledo, so antique and splendid that relic-loving Amanda ravedabout them; photographs of the _belles_ of Constantinople, Moorish coinsand pipes, bits of curious Indian embroidery; and, best of all, thepower of telling how each thing was found in so graphic a manner thatEastern bazaars, ruins, and palaces seemed to rise before the listenersas in the time of the magic story-tellers. But all too soon he packedhis knapsack, and promising to bring each of his friends the nose or earof one of the shattered saints from the great cathedral at Strasbourg,the 'Peri' vanished from Paradis, and left them all lamenting.
The little flurry in Italy ending peacefully, our travellers after muchdiscussion resolved to cross the Alps and spend the winter in Rome, ifpossible. So with tragic farewells from those they left behind them,who, hoping to keep them longer, predicted all manner of misfortunes,the three strong-minded ladies rumbled away in the _coupe_ of adiligence to Brieg.
A lovely day's journey up the valley of the Rhone, and a short night'srest in the queer little town at the foot of the mountains.
Before light the next morning they were called, and, after a hurriedbreakfast in a stony hall, went shivering out into the darkness, and,stumbling through the narrow street, came to the starting-point.Lanterns were dancing about the square, two great diligences loomed upbefore them, horses were tramping, men shouting, and eager travellersscrambling for places. In the dimly lighted office, people wereclamouring for tickets, scolding at the delay, or grimly biding theirtime in corners, with one eye asleep, and the other sharply watching theconductor.
'Isn't it romantic?' cried Matilda, wide awake, and in a twitter ofexcitement.
'It is frightfully cold; and I don't see how we are going, for boththose caravans are brimful,' croaked Lavinia, chafing her purple nose,and wishing it had occurred to her to buy a muff before going to sunnyItaly.
'I have got through tickets, and some one is bound to see us over thesesnow-banks, so "trust in Providence and the other man," and we shallcome out right, I assure you,' replied the energetic Amanda, who hadconferred with a spectral being in the darkness, and blindly put herfaith in him.
Away lumbered one diligence after the other, the first drawn by sevenhorses, the second by five, while the carrier's little cart with onebrought up the rear. But still three muffled ladies sat upon a coolstone in the dark square, waiting for the spectre to keep his promise.
He did like a man; for suddenly the doors of an old stable flew open,and out rattled a comfortable carriage with a pair of stout littlehorses jingling their bells, and a brisk driver, whose voice waspleasant, as he touched his hat and invited the ladies to enter,assuring them that they would soon overtake and pass the heavydiligences before them.
'Never again will I doubt you, my Amanda,' cried the Raven, packingherself into the dowager's corner with a grateful heart.
'I hope the top of this carriage opens, for I _must_ see _everything_,'cried Matilda, prancing about on the front seat in a chaos of wraps,books, bottles, and lunch-baskets.
'Of course it does, and when there is anything to see we will see it. Itis dark and cold now, so we'd better all go to sleep again.'
With which sage remark, Amanda burrowed into her cloaks and slumbered.But not the other two. Matilda stuck her head out of one window,uttering little cries of wonder and delight at all she saw; while Livywatched the solemn stars pale one by one as the sky brightened, and feltas if she were climbing up, out of a dark valley of weariness and pain,into a new world full of grand repose.
Slowly winding higher and higher through the damp pine forest, softlystirring in the morning wind, they saw the sky warm from its cold grayto a rosy glow, making ready for the sun to rise as they never saw itrise before.
'Full
many a glorious morning have I seen, Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,'
but never more wonderfully than on that day. Long after the distantpeaks flamed in the ruddy light, they rode in shadow; but turningsuddenly round a corner, the sun came dazzling through a great gorge,startling them with the splendour it brought.
Down went the carriage-top, and standing bolt upright, three pairs ofeager eyes drank in the grandeur and the beauty that makes the crossingof the Simplon an experience to live for ever in the memory. Peak afterpeak of the Bernese Oberland rose behind them, silver white against awonderful blue sky. Before them Monte Rosa, touched with the morningred, and all around great glaciers glittering in the sunshine, awfulgorges with torrents thundering from the heights above, relics ofland-slides and avalanches still visible in uprooted trees, boulderstumbled here and there, and ruins of shepherds' huts in solitary nookswhere sheep now feed.
The road crept in and out, over frail bridges, spanning chasms that madeone dizzy to look into, through tunnels of solid rock, or galleries withwindows over which poured waterfalls from the treacherous glaciersabove. This road is a miracle in itself, for all nature seems to protestagainst it, and the elements never tire of trying to destroy it. Only aNapoleon would have had the audacity to dream of such a path, and it istruly a royal road into a lovely land.
Passing the diligences the little carriage went rapidly on, and soonthe three were almost alone. Out leaped Lavinia and Matilda, and walkedalong the level way that curved round a great gorge.
'Go on and let me be. It is all so magnificent it almost takes my breathaway. I must just sit a minute, like a passive bucket, and let it pourinto me,' said Lavinia, in a solemn tone.
Mat understood; for her own heart and soul were full, and with a silentkiss of sympathy, walked on, leaving her sister to enjoy that early massin a grander cathedral than any built with hands.
In spite of the sunshine it was very cold, and when the three met againtheir noses looked like the eldest Miss Pecksniff's, 'as if Aurora hadnipped and tweaked it with her rosy fingers.' Subsiding into theirplaces with pale, excited faces, they went silently on for a long time,with no sound but the chime of the bells on the horses who were coveredwith a light hoar-frost. Wrapped up to their eyes, like Egyptian women,sat Livy and Amanda; while Matilda, having tried to sketch Monte Rosa,and given it up, made a capital caricature of them as they ate coldchicken, and drank wine, in a primitive manner, out of the bottle.
It was a sudden descent from the sublime to the ridiculous; but thefeeble human mind cannot bear too much glory at once, and is saved bythe claims of the prosaic body, that will get tired and hungry even atopof the everlasting hills. So the enthusiasts picked their chicken bones,sipped their wine, and felt less exhausted and hysterical. A good laughover the carrier's little boy, who sniffed the banquet afar off, andcame running to offer a handful of pale Alpine flowers, with wistfulglances at the lunch, did them more good still: for the little chapcaught and bolted the morsels they gave him with such dexterousrapidity, it was as good as juggling.
Refuges and the Hospice came in sight one after the other, and whilewaiting to change horses one had time to wonder how the people livingthere managed to be such a stolid, dirty, thriftless-looking set.Mountaineers should be intelligent, active, and hardy; but these menwere a most ungainly crew, and Lavinia's theories got a sad blow.
A bad dinner at Simplon would have been an affliction at any other time;but with the Valley of Gondo for dessert, no one cared for other food.Following the wild stream that had worn its way between the immensecliffs, they drove rapidly down towards Italy, feeling that this was afit gateway to the promised land.
At Iselle, on the frontier, they enacted a little farce for the benefitof the custom-house officers. Lavinia and Amanda had old passports, andhad been told they would be needed. Mat had none, so she was ordered totry the _role_ of maid. Before they arrived, she took out her ear-rings,tied up her curls under a dingy veil, put on a waterproof, and tried toassume the demure air of an Abigail.
When they alighted, she was left to guard the wraps in the carriagewhile the others went with the luggage, expecting to have much trouble;for all manner of hindrances had been predicted owing to the unsettledstate of the country. Nothing could be simpler, however; no passportswere demanded, a very careless search of luggage, and it was all over.So Matilda threw off her disguise, and ascended the diligence in herown character, for here, alas! they left the cozy little carriage withthe affable driver and the jingling bells.
Only two places could be found in the crowded diligences, and great wasthe fuss till Amanda was invited up aloft by a friendly gentleman whohad a perch behind, large enough for two. There they discussed theologyand politics to their hearts' content, and at parting the worthy man cuthis book in two, and gave Amanda half that she might refresh herselfwith a portion of some delightfully dry work on Druidical Remains,Protoplasm, or the state of the church before the flood.
The force of contrast makes the charm of this entry into Italy; for,after the grandeur of the Alps and the gloomy wildness of Gondo, thesmiling scene is doubly lovely as one drives down to Domo d'Ossola.Weariness, hunger, and sleep were quite forgotten; and when ourtravellers came to Lago Maggiore, glimmering in the moonlight, theycould only sigh for happiness, and look and look and look.
'Victory has perched upon our banners so far, I am sure, for never was atrip more delightful. It is not every stranger who is fortunate enoughto see sunrise, noonday, sunset, and moonlight in crossing the Alps,'said Matilda, as she fell into her bed quite exhausted by the excitementof the day.
'I feel a richer, better woman for it, and don't believe I shall eversee anything more satisfactory if I stay in Italy ten years,' respondedLavinia, wrapping the red army-blanket
'Like a martial cloak around her.'
'Wait till the spell of Rome is upon you, and then see what you willfeel, my Granny' predicted Amanda, who _had_ felt the spell, and had notyet escaped from it.
'Don't believe it will suit me half so well,' persisted Livy, who wouldprefer nature to art, much to Amanda's disgust.
'We shall see,' observed Amanda, with the exasperating mildness ofsuperior knowledge.
'We shall!' and Livy tied her cap in a hard knot as if to settle thematter.
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