I passed the bridge of Pelissier, where the ravine,
which the river forms, opened before me, and I began
to ascend the mountain that overhangs it. Soon
after, I entered the valley of Chamounix. This
valley is more wonderful and sublime, but not so beautiful
and picturesque as that of Servox, through which I
had just passed. The high and snowy mountains
were its immediate boundaries, but I saw no more ruined
castles and fertile fields. Immense glaciers
approached the road; I heard the rumbling thunder
of the falling avalanche and marked the smoke of its
passage. Mont Blanc, the supreme and magnificent
Mont Blanc, raised itself from the surrounding aiguilles,
and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley.
A tingling long-lost sense of pleasure often came
across me during this journey. Some turn in
the road, some new object suddenly perceived and recognized,
reminded me of days gone by, and were associated with
the lighthearted gaiety of boyhood. The very
winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal
Nature bade me weep no more. Then again the
kindly influence ceased to act—I found myself
fettered again to grief and indulging in all the misery
of reflection. Then I spurred on my animal,
striving so to forget the world, my fears, and more
than all, myself—or, in a more desperate
fashion, I alighted and threw myself on the grass,
weighed down by horror and despair.
At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix.
Exhaustion succeeded to the extreme fatigue both
of body and of mind which I had endured. For
a short space of time I remained at the window watching
the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc
and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued
its noisy way beneath. The same lulling sounds
acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when
I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over
me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of
oblivion.
Chapter 10
I spent the following day roaming through the valley.
I stood beside the sources of the Arveiron, which
take their rise in a glacier, that with slow pace
is advancing down from the summit of the hills to
barricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast
mountains were before me; the icy wall of the glacier
overhung me; a few shattered pines were scattered
around; and the solemn silence of this glorious presence-chamber
of imperial nature was broken only by the brawling
waves or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder
sound of the avalanche or the cracking, reverberated
along the mountains, of the accumulated ice, which,
through the silent working of immutable laws, was
ever and anon rent and torn, as if it had been but
a plaything in their hands. These sublime and
magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation
that I was capable of receiving. They elevated
me from all littleness of feeling, and although they
did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillized
