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diff --git a/old/69990-0.txt b/old/69990-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 02632b5..0000000 --- a/old/69990-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7493 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of A month in Switzerland, by Foster -Barham Zincke - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: A month in Switzerland - -Author: Foster Barham Zincke - -Release Date: February 8, 2023 [eBook #69990] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Susan Skinner, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MONTH IN SWITZERLAND *** - - - - - A MONTH - - IN - - _SWITZERLAND_ - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - By the same Author, - - Demy 8vo. 14_s._ - - EGYPT OF THE PHARAOHS AND - OF THE KEDIVÉ. - - -------------- - - _SELECTION from NOTICES by the PRESS._ - - THE SPECTATOR. - -‘We have in this volume a thoughtful, almost exhaustive, treatment of a -subject too often handled by mere _dilettante_ writers, who dismiss as -unworthy of notice the problems with which they are unable to cope.... -We heartily commend Mr. Zincke’s delightful book as a fresh pleasure to -the thoughtful reader.’ - - THE LITERARY CHURCHMAN. - -‘A more independent and original volume of Egyptian travel than at this -time of day we should have thought possible. Mr. Zincke has a quickness -of eye, a vigour of judgment, and a raciness of style which place him -far above the ordinary run of travellers.... Readers will lose much if -they do not make some acquaintance with this truly remarkable volume.’ - - THE GUARDIAN. - -‘Each chapter takes some one topic, treats it in sharp piquant style, -and generally throws some new light upon it, or makes it reflect some -new light upon something else. If these bright and sparkling pages are -taken as containing suggestions to be worked out for oneself and -accepted or rejected in the light of more mature knowledge, they will be -found full of value.’ - - THE SATURDAY REVIEW. - -‘Mr. Zincke speaks like a man of rare powers of perception, with an -intense love of nature in her various moods, and an intellectual -sympathy broad and deep as the truth itself.’ - - THE WESTMINSTER REVIEW. - -‘A very pleasant and interesting book.... Mr. Zincke tells his readers -exactly such facts as they would wish to know. The style is -captivating.’ - - THE EXAMINER. - -‘A series of brilliant and suggestive essays.’ - - --------------------------------------------------------- - - SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15 Waterloo Place. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - A MONTH IN SWITZERLAND - - - - - BY - - F. BARHAM ZINCKE - - VICAR OF WHERSTEAD - - CHAPLAIN IN ORDINARY TO THE QUEEN - - - - - ────────── - Deo Opt. Max. - ────────── - - - - - LONDON - SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE - 1873 - - _All rights reserved_ - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PREFACE - - -THE LEGITIMATE USE of a Preface, like that of a Prologue, is merely to -give explanations that will be necessary, and to save from expectations -that would be delusive. I will, therefore, at once say to those who may -have read my ‘Egypt of the Pharaohs and of the Kedivé,’ that this little -book belongs to the same family. The cast of thought and the aims of the -two are kindred, and both endeavour to do their work by similar methods. -They are, alike, efforts to attain to a right reading, and a right -interpretation of nature, and of man. The differences between them are, -perhaps, such as must result from the differences in the matter itself -they had, respectively, to take account of. The field, in which the -younger sister here makes some studies, is small in extent; its physical -conditions, too, are those of our own part of the world, and its human -issues those of our own times. It ought, therefore, to be looked at from -very near points of view, and to be exhibited in pictures of much detail -and minuteness. The field, however, which the elder sister surveyed, was -wide in area, and rich with scenes of singularly varied character. Its -place, indeed, in the panorama of nature possesses an interest which is -exclusively its own; and its history includes a chapter in the -construction of thought and of society, of which—while again its own -with almost equal exclusiveness—the right appreciation is necessary for -the right understanding of some contemporary and subsequent chapters in -general history, and not least of the one that is at this day unfolding -itself, with ourselves for the actors, we being, also, at the same time, -the material dealt with, and fashioned. So it presented itself to my own -mind, and so I attempted to set it before the reader’s mind. - -To those, however, who are unacquainted with the book I have just -referred to in explanation of the character and aims of its successor, I -would describe the impulse under which both of them were written in the -familiar words, ‘My heart was hot within me; and, while I was thus -musing, the fire kindled, and at the last I spake with my tongue.’ I had -been much stirred by a month spent among the Swiss mountains, not only -by what might have been their effect upon me had I been alone, but also -by what I had seen of their effect upon others—to one of whom, a child -who was with me throughout the excursion (if mention of so small a -matter, as it may appear to some, can be allowed), a little space has -been given in the following pages; and this it was that first made me -wish to fix in words the scenes I had passed through, the impressions I -had received from them, and the thoughts that had grown out of them. But -how unlike was the landscape, and those who peopled it, to what had come -before the eye, and the mind’s eye, in Egypt! Instead of the long -life-giving river and the broad life-repelling desert, both so replete -with history, the import of which is not yet dead, as well as with -natural phenomena of an unwonted character to eyes familiarised with the -aspects of our little sea-girt sanctuary, as we fondly deem it, -Switzerland offered for contemplation, in the order of nature, the ice -and snow world of its cloud-piercing mountains; and, in the order of -what is of existing human concern, unflagging industry, patient -frugality, intelligently-adapted education, a natural form of -land-tenure, and popular government; and invited the spectator of its -scenery, as well as of the social and intellectual fermentation of -portions of its people, in strong contrast to the immobility of other -portions, to meditate on some of the new elements, which modern -knowledge, and modern conditions of society, may have contributed for -the enlargement and rectification of some of our religious ideas, -inclusive, and, perhaps, above all, of our idea of God; for these ideas -have at every epoch of man’s history been, more or less, modified by -contemporary knowledge, and the contemporary conditions of society. -These were the materials for thought Switzerland supplied. Upon all of -those, however, which belong to the order of human concern, Egypt, too, -in its sense and fashion, had had something to tell us. - - * * * * * - -As to the form and colouring of the work, I could have wished that there -had been, throughout, submitted to the reader’s attention nothing but -the scenes described, and the thoughts they gave rise to, without any -suggestion, had that been possible, of the writer’s personality. In a -work of this kind a vain wish: for in all books, those only excepted -that are simply scientific, and in the highest degree in those that deal -with matter, in which human interests preponderate, the personality of -the writer must be seen in everything he writes. All that he describes -is described as he saw and observed it. Others would have observed -things differently. So, too, with what he thought about them; it must be -different from what others would have thought. A book of this kind must, -therefore, be, to a great extent, a fragment of autobiography, in which, -for the time, the inner is seen in its immediate relation to the -external life of the author. It gives what he felt and thought; his -leanings, and likings, and wishes; his readings of the past and of the -present; and his mental moorings. This—and especially is it so on a -subject with which everyone is familiar, though it may be one that can -never be worn out—is all he properly has to say. And his having -something of this kind to say, is his only justification for saying -anything at all. The expectation, too, of finding that he has treated -matters a little in this way is, in no small degree, what induces people -to give a hearing to what he says. They take up his book just because -they have reason for supposing that he has regarded things from his own -point of view, and so seen them from a side, and in a light, and in -relations to connected subjects, somewhat different from those in which -other people, themselves included, may have seen them; and that he has, -therefore, taken into his considerations and estimates some particulars -they must have omitted in theirs. Whether his ideas are to the purpose, -whether they will hold water, whether they will work, the reader will -decide for himself. But in whatever way these questions may be answered, -one particular, at all events, is certain, a book of this kind must be -worthless, if it is not in some sort autobiographical; while, if it is, -it may, possibly, be worth looking over. On no occasion, therefore, have -I hesitated to set down just what I thought and felt, being quite sure -that this is what every reasonable reader wishes every writer to do. - - * * * * * - -One more preliminary note. I was accompanied by my wife and stepson, the -little boy just now mentioned, who was between nine and ten years of -age. Switzerland was not new ground to any one of the three. -Occasionally a carriage was used. When that was not done I always -walked. My wife was on foot for about half the distance travelled over. -The little boy, when a carriage was not used, almost always rode. I give -these particulars in order that any family party, that might be disposed -to extract from the following pages a route for a single excursion, -might understand what they could do, and in what time and way it could -be done. The August and September of the excursion were those of last -year, 1872. - - F. B. Z. - -WHERSTEAD VICARAGE: - - _January 16, 1873_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER I. - - PAGE - _To Zermatt_ 1 - - - CHAPTER II. - - _The Riffel—The Gorner 11 - Grat—Sunday—Zermatt—Schwartz - See—Mountaineering_ - - - CHAPTER III. - - _Walk back to St. 21 - Niklaus—Agriculture—Life—Religion in the - Valley_ - - - CHAPTER IV. - - I. _Peasant-proprietorship in the Valley_—II. 28 - _Landlordism_—III. _The Era of Capital_—IV. - _Obstructions to the free Interaction of - Capital and Land—Their Effects and probable - Removal_—V. _Co-operative Farming not a - Step forward_ - - - CHAPTER V. - - _Walk to Saas im Grund—Fee, and its 113 - Glacier—The Mattmark See_ - - - CHAPTER VI. - - _Walk over Monte Moro to Macugnaga, Ponte 122 - Grande, and Domo d’Ossola_ - - - CHAPTER VII. - - _Walk over the Simplon_ 131 - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - _Brieg—Upper Rhone Valley by_ Char _to the 140 - Rhone Glacier—Hôtel du Glacier du Rhône_ - - - CHAPTER IX. - - _Walk over the Grimsel, by the Aar Valley, 149 - Helle Platte, and the Falls of Handeck, to - Meiringen_ - - - CHAPTER X. - - Char _to Interlaken—Walk over the Wengern Alp 155 - to Grindelwald_ - - - CHAPTER XI. - - _Interlaken_—Char _up the Valley of the 163 - Kander—Walk over the Gemmi, sleeping at - Schwarenbach_ - - - CHAPTER XII. - - _Leukabad—Aigle_ 172 - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - _The Drama of the Mountains_ 184 - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - _On Swiss Hotels_ 194 - - - CHAPTER XV. - - _Berne—Swiss Fountains—Zurich—Museum of 205 - Relics from ancient Lake-villages—Baur_ en - ville—_Récolte des Voyageurs—C’est un - pauvre Pays_ - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - _A Remark on Swiss Education_ 218 - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - _Elsass—Lothringen—Metz—Gravelotte—Mother of 230 - the Curé of Ste. Marie aux Chênes—Waterloo_ - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - _How the Observation and Knowledge of Nature, 250 - and the Conditions of Society, affect - Religion and Theology—An instructive - Parallelism—Conclusion_ - - - _INDEX_ 265 - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - A MONTH IN SWITZERLAND - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - TO ZERMATT - - - What blessings Thy free bounty gives - Let me not cast away; - For God is paid when man receives: - T’ enjoy is to obey.—POPE. - -_August 26._—We left London at 8.45 P.M., and reached Paris the next -morning at 7 A.M. We found the Capua of the modern world looking much as -it used to look in the days that preceded the siege and the Commune. The -shops were decked, and the streets were peopled, much in the old style. -If, as we are told, frivolity, somewhat tinctured with, or, at all -events, tolerant of, vice, together with want of solidity and dignity of -character, are as conspicuous as of yore in the Parisian, we may reply -that if they were there before, they must be there still; for a people, -can no more change on a sudden the complexion of their thoughts and -feelings than they can the complexion of their faces. These matters are -in the grain, and are traditional and hereditary. The severity of -taxation France will have to submit to may, when it shall have made -itself felt, have some sobering effect, whereas the bribery and -corruption of the Imperial _régime_ only acted in the contrary -direction. But time is needed for enabling this to become a cause of -change; and much may arise, at any moment, in the volcanic soil of -France, to disturb its action. All that we can observe at present is, -that the people seem still quite unconscious of the causes of their -great catastrophe. Their talk, when it refers to late events, is of -treason and of revenge; as if they had been betrayed by anything but -their own ignorance, arrogance, and corruption; and as if revenge, to be -secured, had only to be desired. In such talk, if it indicates what is -really thought and felt, there is scant ground for hope. - -_August 27._—We left Paris this evening at eight o’clock, taking the -route of Dijon and Pontarlier. The sun was up when we reached -Switzerland at Verrieres. There was no gradation in the scenery: as soon -as we were on Swiss ground it became Swiss in character—mountainous and -rocky, with irrigated meadows of matchless green in the valley. We were -sure that the good people in the _châlets_ below could not be otherwise -than satisfied with the price they were getting for their cheese; for -its quantity, and perhaps quality, we were equally sure that the -greenness of their meadows was a sufficient guarantee. By the wayside we -saw women with baskets full of wormwood, for making absinthe which will -be drunk in Paris. - -We breakfasted at Lausanne, and dined and slept at Vevey. We had thus -got to Switzerland, practically, in no time at all, and without any -fatigue, for we had been on the way only at night, and both nights we -had managed to get sleep enough. - -We had come, as it were, on the magical bit of carpet of Eastern -imagination; which must have been meant for a foreshadowing of that -great magician, the locomotive, suggested by a yearning for the -annihilation of long journeys, without roads, and with no conveyance -better than a camel: though a friend of mine, whose fancy ranges freely -and widely through things in heaven above, and on earth below, tells me -he believes that that bit of carpet was a dim reminiscence of a very -advanced state of things in an old by-gone world, out of some fragments -of the wreck of which the existing order of things has slowly grown. - -My last hours in London had been spent in dining at the club, with a -friend, who is one of our greatest authorities on sanitary, educational, -and social questions; and our talk had been on such subjects. It is well -to pass as directly as possible, and without tarrying by the way, from -London and Paris, where man, his works, and interests are everything, to -Switzerland, where nature is so impressive. The completeness of the -contrast heightens the interest felt in each. - -Those who give themselves the trouble, and do you the honour, of looking -through what you have written, become, in some degree, entitled to know -all about the matter. They are in a sort partners in the concern. I will -therefore at once communicate to all the members of the firm that I did -not go on this little expedition because I felt any of that desire for -change by which, in these days, all the world appears to be driven in -Jehu-fashion. I have never felt any necessity for this modern nostrum. I -do not find that either body or mind wears out because I remain in one -place more than twelve months together. I am a great admirer of White of -Selborne; and I hope our present Lord Chancellor’s new title will lead -many people to ask what Selborne is famous for; which perhaps may be the -means of bringing more of us to become acquainted with a book which -gives so charming a picture of a most charming mind that it may be read -with most soothing delight a score of times in one’s life (one never -tires of a good picture); and which teaches for these days the very -useful lesson of how much there is to observe, and interest, and to -educate a mind, and to give employment to it, for a whole life, within -the boundaries of one’s own parish, provided only it be a rural one. - -It is true that I have been in every county of England, and in most -counties of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales; and some general acquaintance -with his own country—which is undoubtedly the most interesting country -in the world—ought to an Englishman, if only for the purpose of -subsequent comparison, to be the first acquisition of travel; and also -that I have made some long journeys beyond the four seas, having set -foot on each of the four continents; but I can hardly tell how on any -one occasion it happened that I went. It certainly never was from any -wish for change. It was only from taking things as they came. And so it -was with this little excursion. It was not in the least my idea, nor was -it at all of my planning. My wife wished to spend the winter in a more -genial climate than that of East Anglia; and it was thought desirable -that her little boy should go to a Swiss school, for, at all events, a -part of the year, until he should be old enough for an English public -school. And so, having been invited to go, I went. My part of the -business, with the single exception of a little episode we shall come to -in its place, was to be ready to start and to stop when required, and to -eat what was set before me; in short, to take the goods a present -providence purveyed. I recollect a weather-beaten blue-jacket once -telling me—on the roof of the York mail, so all that may be changed -now—that the charm of a sailor’s life was that he had only to do what he -was told, and nothing at all to think about. Of this perhaps obsolete -nautical kind of happiness, we housekeeping, business-bound landsmen -cannot have much; but a month of such travel comes very near it. And if -a man really does want change for the body, together with rest for the -mind, here he has them both in perfection. What a delightful oasis would -many find such a month in their ordinary lives of inadequately -discharged, and too inadequately appreciated, responsibility! This -little confidence will, perhaps, while we are starting, convey to the -reader a sense of the unreserved and friendly terms on which, I hope, we -shall travel together. I regret that, from the nature of the case, in -these confidences all the reciprocity must be on one side. - -_August 29._—Left Vevey by an early train for Sierre. The line passes by -Montreux, Villeneuve (where it leaves the eastern extremity of the lake -of Geneva), Aigle, Bex, St. Maurice, Martigny, and Sion. At Sierre we -took the diligence for Visp. This part of the valley of the Rhone is a -long delta, which in the lapse of ages has been formed by the _débris_ -brought down by the Rhone, and the lateral torrents from the mountains. -Much of it is swampy, and full of reeds. Some of this, one cannot but -suppose, might be made good serviceable land by cutting channels for the -water, and raising the surface of the land with the materials thus -gained. Indian corn grows here very luxuriantly. It is a large variety; -some of the stems had three cobs. This, the potatoes, and the tobacco—of -which, or, at all events, of the smoke of which, we saw much—in thought -connected the scene before us with the New World. - -Between Sierre and Visp there are a great many large mounds in the -valley. The side of these mounds which looks up the valley is always -rounded. The face which looks down the valley, is sometimes rocky and -precipitous. This difference must be the effect of former glacier -action, at a time when the whole valley, down to Geneva, was the bed of -a glacier, which planed off and rounded only that side of the mound -against which it moved and worked. Above Visp the land is very poor, -consisting chiefly of cretaceous detrital matter. This is covered with a -pine forest, a great part of which is composed of Scotch fir, the old -ones being frequently decorated with tufts of mistletoe. - -Geologists are now pretty well agreed that the lake of Geneva itself was -excavated by this old glacier. Its power, at all events, was adequate to -the task. It was 100 miles long, and near 4,000 feet in thickness at the -head of the lake, as can now be seen by the striated markings it left on -the overhanging mountains. It acted both as a rasp—its under side being -set with teeth, formed of the rocks it had picked up on its way, or -which had fallen into it through its crevasses; and also as a scoop, -pushing before it all that it could thrust out of its way. And what -could not such a tool rasp away and scoop out, at a point where its -rasping and scooping were brought into play, as it slid along, thicker -than Snowdon is high above the sea, and impelled by the pressure of the -100 miles of descending glacier behind, that then filled the whole broad -valley up to and beyond Oberwald? It was wasting away as it approached -the site of the modern city, where it must have quite come to an end; -for the lake here shoals to nothing; there could, therefore, have, then, -been no more rasping and scooping. At the head of the lake, where the -glacier-tool was tilted into the position for rasping and scooping -vigorously, the water, notwithstanding subsequent detrital depositions, -is 900 feet deep. - -At Visp my wife and the little boy got on horseback. Another horse was -engaged for the baggage. I proceeded on foot. Our destination was -Zermatt. We got underway at 2 P.M., and reached St. Niklaus at 5.45; -about twelve miles of easy walking. The situation of this place is good, -for the valley is here narrow, and the mountains, particularly on the -western side, rise abruptly. The inn also is good. I note this from a -sense of justice, deepened by a sense of gratitude; because here an -effort, rare in Swiss hotels, has been made to exclude stenches from the -house; the plan adopted being that of a kind of external Amy Robsart -gallery. From Visp to St. Niklaus the road is passable only for horses. - -_August 30._—My wife and the little boy took a _char_ for Zermatt, which -also carried the baggage. I was on foot. The distance is about fourteen -or fifteen miles, slightly up hill all the way. The road is good and -smooth. I must now begin to mention the conspicuous objects seen by the -way. At Randa, in the Bies Glacier, which is that of the Weisshorn, we -saw our first ice. This glacier descends so precipitously from the -mountains, on the right of the road, that you can hardly understand how -its enormous weight is supported. There are, however, on record some -instances of its having fallen; and it is also on record that on one of -these occasions the blast of wind caused by the fall of such a mass, was -so great as to launch the timbers of houses it overthrew to the distance -of a mile; but I would not back the truth of the record. - -After an early dinner at Zermatt, my wife and myself walked to the foot -of the Gorner Glacier, to see the exit from it of the Visp. It issues -from a most regularly arched aperture. This is the glacier that descends -from the northern and western sides of Monte Rosa, the sides of the -Breithorn, and one side of the mighty Matterhorn. - -We found the hotels at Zermatt overcrowded. This is a great rendezvous -for those who do peaks and passes. In the evening, particularly if it is -cold enough for a fire, the social cigar brings many of them together in -the smoking-room. Among these, at the time we were there, was the hero -of the season. He is a strong, wiry man, full of quiet determination. He -was then doing, so ran the talk of the hotel, a mountain a day, and each -in a shorter time than it had ever been done in before. To-morrow he is -to climb the Matterhorn in continuous ascent from this place, in which -fashion I understand no one has yet attempted it. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - THE RIFFEL—THE GORNER GRAT—SUNDAY—ZERMATT—SCHWARTZ SEE—MOUNTAINEERING - - - Not vainly did the early Persian make - His altar the high places, and the peak - Of earth-o’ergazing mountains; and thus take - A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek - The Spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak, - Uprear’d of human hands.—BYRON. - -_August 31._—After breakfast my wife and I walked up to the Riffel -Hotel. It is rather more than 3,000 feet above Zermatt. The little man -rode. We were two hours and a half in doing it. It would be a stiff bit -for beginners. The upper part of the forest, on the mountain-side, -consists of Pinus Cembra. This is far from being either a lofty or a -spreading tree. The lower branches extend but little beyond the upper -ones. There is a good deal of reddish-brown in the bark. In this -respect, as well as in the colour of its foliage, and in its form, it -contrasts well with the larch and the spruce, though of course not so -well with the Scotch fir. I heard that its timber is very lasting. The -views, from the forest, of the Gorner glacier, and, when you are beyond -the forest, of some of the neighbouring mountains, and of the valley of -Zermatt, are good. - -After luncheon at the Riffel Hotel, we walked to the summit of the -Gorner Grat. Here you have what is said to be the finest Alpine view in -Europe. You are standing on a central eminence of rock in, as far as you -can see, a surrounding world of ice and snow. On the left is the Cima di -Jazi, which you are told commands a good view into Italy. Just before -you, as you look across the glacier, which lies in a deep broad ravine -at your feet, rise the jagged summits of Monte Rosa with, at this -season, much of the black rock showing through their caps and robes of -snow. Next the Lyskamm, somewhat in the background; then Castor and -Pollux, immaculate snow without protruding rock; next the Breithorn, -then the naked gneiss of the Matterhorn, a prince among peaks, too -precipitous for snow to rest on in the late summer, looking like a -Titanic Lycian tomb, such as you may see in the plates of ‘Fellowes’s -Asia Minor,’ placed on the top of a Titanic rectangular shaft of rock, -five thousand feet high. Beyond, and completing the circle of the -panorama, come the Dent Blanche, the Gabelhorn, the Rothhorn, the -Weisshorn, over the valley of Zermatt, the Ober Rothhorn, and the -Allaleinhorn, which brings your eye round again to the Cima di Jazi. -What a scene! what grandeur for the eye! what forces and masses beneath -for the thought! Here is the complement to Johnson’s Charing Cross and -the East Anglican turnip-field. Both pleasant sights in their respective -classes, but not enough of all that this world has to show. - -The little boy in the morning, during our ascent of the Riffel, had not -been able, when he dismounted, to take a dozen steps without resting, as -it appeared both from having outgrown his strength, and from some -difficulty in breathing; but in the afternoon he skipped up to the top -of the Gorner Grat, an hour and a half, and ran down again, just as if -he had been bred on the mountains. It was difficult to keep him on the -path, and from the edges of the precipices. He was at the top some -minutes before any of us—we were a large party, for several parties had -drawn together in the ascent. I heard a lady exclaim, ‘There is the blue -boy again’ (that was the colour of his blouse). ‘He has beaten us all.’ -Never was there such a difference before between a morning and an -afternoon. - -As we descended the Gorner Grat a scud of snow passed by. The -antithesis, common in the mountains, of gloom to sunshine, and of cold -to warmth, was as complete as it was sudden. In a few minutes it was -bright and warm again. - -While we were at the hotel two American lads came up with their guides, -and, after a rest of ten minutes, started for some pass. They had -nothing on but coarse grey woollen pants, shirts of the same without -collars, and boots very heavily nailed, or rather spiked. They were not -more than seventeen years old, if so much. - -The Riffelberg abounds in beautiful flowers; Gentians, Sedums, and -Saxifrages reach almost to the top of the Gorner Grat. As might be -expected at such a height, none rise, at their best, more than an inch -or two above the ground. Gorgeous lilies and lovely roses would be as -much out of keeping, as impossible, here. Such objects belong to the -sensuous valley. - -_September 1._—There was a sharp frost this morning, but the sun was -bright and warm all day. So warm was it at ten o’clock, that people were -glad to sit about on the grass, some preferring the shade of the rocks. -It was Sunday, and I was requested to conduct divine service. The -reading saloon was prepared for the purpose. I shortened the service by -omitting the first lesson, the _Te Deum_, and the Litany. Before -commencing, I announced to the congregation that I should do this, -giving as my reason that the room did not belong exclusively to us, and -therefore that it was better to act upon our knowledge of this, than to -be reminded of it afterwards by those who had withdrawn that we might -hold our service. I had been called upon to conduct the service only a -few minutes before it commenced, and as I had no memoranda for sermons -with me, I took for my text the scene around us, and spoke of the -effects such scenes, and the contemplation of nature generally, appear -to have on men’s minds. The knowledge men now have of the solar system, -and of the sidereal universe, does not prevent the heavens from -discoursing to us as eloquently as they did to the Psalmist. -Intelligible law is grander and more satisfactory for thought to rest -upon than vague impressions of glorious power. So with the great and -deep sea also, now that we know something about the place it occupies in -the economy of this terrestrial system. It is the same with the -everlasting mountains, since we have come to know something about the -way in which they were formed and elevated, and how the valleys were cut -out. Man is the child of Nature, in whose bosom he is brought up. It is -true that there are some who cannot see that it is his duty and his -happiness to acquaint himself with nature; but no one who had made any -progress in the study of nature, ever thought lightly of what he had -attained to. And this is true of the knowledge, not only of the grander -objects of nature, such as the starry firmament and the great and deep -sea, but equally of the most inconspicuous, and, as they appear to our -senses, the most insignificant objects in nature. It is not more true of -the eternal mountains than of the particles of moss that hide themselves -in the crevices of the rock, or the lichen that stains its face, &c., -&c. - -In the afternoon we walked back to Zermatt. - -Though every effort was being made at Zermatt to prevent people from -going up to the Riffel without tickets assuring them of accommodation at -the Riffel Hotel, still, so many, in their impatience, set this -regulation at defiance, and went up on the chance that they would be -allowed six feet by three somewhere, that night after night, as we were -told, the authorities were obliged—perhaps it was a necessity which was -accepted not unwillingly—to convert the bureau, the _salle-à-manger_, -and the reading-room, into dormitories. At all events, we were turned -out of the reading-room before ten o’clock to make way for a pile of -mattresses we found at the door, ready to be substituted for the chairs -and tables we had been using. To be berthed in this way is far from -pleasant; but it is not worse than spending the night in the crowded -cabin of a small steamer, or in the hermetically-closed compartment of a -railway carriage, with five other promiscuous bodies. - -_September 2._—Started this morning for the Schwartz See and Hornli. We -were all mounted—it was the only time I was during the excursion. In -ascending the mountain, when we were above the pine-wood, and so in a -place where there was no protection, and where the zig-zags were short -and precipitous, both the hind legs of the little boy’s horse slipped -off the path. The animal was so old, and worn-out, and dead-beaten with -its daily drudgery, that it had appeared to us not to care, hardly to -know, whether it was dead or alive. But now it made an effort to recover -itself, with the power or disposition for making which we should not, -beforehand, have credited it. Perhaps the centre of gravity in the poor -brute was never actually outside the path. I was close behind, and saw -the slip and scramble. It was an affair of a few seconds, but it made -one feel badly for more minutes. - -At the Schwartz See, we sent the horses to the foot of the Zmutt -glacier, and began the ascent of the Hornli. In about a quarter of an -hour we made the discovery that the blue boy was not man enough for the -Hornli. I do not know, however, that we should have seen much more if we -had gone to the top. We were close to the mighty Matterhorn, of which -the Hornli is a buttress, and at our feet was the great Gorner glacier. -These were the two great objects, and neither of them would have been -seen so well had we been higher up. In returning we went by the way of -the Zmutt glacier, a wild scene of Alpine desolation. There is much -variety, and much that interests in this excursion; the cultivated -valley, the junction of the Findelen and the Zmutt with the Visp, the -wooded and then the naked mountain, the two great glaciers, the sedgy, -flowery turf above the wood, the little black tarn, the bare rock of the -Hornli, and, over all, the shaft of the Matterhorn. On the ridge above -the Schwartz See we found a handsome blue pansy. Somewhere else I saw a -yellow one of almost equal size. - -Our guide, Victor Furrer, speaks English well. He wished to come to -England for the seven winter months, thinking that he could take the -place of under-gardener or stableman in a gentleman’s house, or that of -porter in a London hotel. Swiss education disposes the people to look -for openings for advancing themselves in life beyond the narrow limits -of their own country, and qualifies them for entering them. - -The number of peak-climbers and pass-men assembled at Zermatt had -increased during our short absence. Among the latter was an Irish judge, -who did the St. Theodule. The law was in great force here, as was also -the Church. The gentleman who had attempted the Matterhorn on Saturday, -had been driven off by the weather. Though fine down here, it had been -windy, wet, and frosty up there; and to such a degree that the face of -this Alpine pier, for it is more of that than of a mountain, had become -glazed with a film of ice. To-day he again attempted it from this place; -and, the weather having been all that could be desired, he had gone, and -climbed, and conquered. He found the air so calm on the summit that he -had no occasion to protect the match with which he lighted his cigar; -and, if he had had a candle, he would have left it lighted for the -people at the Riffel to look at through their telescopes. - -Notwithstanding the argument which may be founded on the graves (one a -cenotaph) of the four Englishmen in the God’s acre of the Catholic -church of Zermatt, one cannot but sympathise with the triumph, and -applaud the pluck and endurance of our mountaineering countrymen. It -must be satisfactory, very satisfactory indeed, for a man to find that -he has such undeniable evidence that he is sound in wind and limb, and, -too, with a heart and head to match; and that he can go anywhere and do -anything, for which these by no means insignificant qualifications are -indispensable. Mountaineering, in its motives, to a great extent -resembles hunting, and, where there is a difference, the difference is, -I think, to its advantage. It is more varied, more continuously -exciting, more appreciated by those who do not participate in it, and, -which is a great point, more entirely personal, for your horse does not -share the credit with you. Shooting and fishing can bear no comparison -with it. The pluck, endurance, and manliness it requires are not needed -by them. It is also a great merit that it is within the reach of those -who have not been born to hunting, fishing, and shooting, and will never -have the means of paying for them. All these pursuits have each its own -literature; and, as the general public appears to take most interest in -that of the mountaineers, there is in this, as far as it goes, reason -for supposing that the pursuit itself is of all of them the most -rational and stirring. - -Alpinism is also a natural and healthy protest in some, whose minds and -bodies are young and vigorous, against the dull drawing-room routine of -modern luxury; and in others against the equally dull desk-drudgery of -semi-intellectual work, to which so many are tied down in this era of -great cities. It is for a time a thorough escape from it. It is the best -form of athleticism, which has its roots in the same causes; and it is, -besides, a great deal which athleticism is not. - -To a bystander there is something amusing in the quiet earnestness with -which a peak-climber discusses the possibilities of an ascent he is -contemplating. I was with two this afternoon who were about to attempt a -mountain by a side on which it had not yet been scaled. The difficulty -was what had hitherto been regarded as pretty much of a sheer precipice -of some hundreds of feet. One of the two, however, had examined it -carefully with his glass, and had come to think that there was roughness -enough on its face for their purpose. The guides who were present were -of the opposite opinion. That it had never been ascended on that side, -but might perhaps prove not unascendable, was the attraction. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - WALK BACK TO ST. NIKLAUS—AGRICULTURE—LIFE—RELIGION IN THE VALLEY - - - Whate’er men do, or wish, or fear; their griefs - Distractions, joys.—JUVENAL. - -_September 3._—Left Zermatt at 2 P.M. on foot. Walked briskly, but did -not get to St. Niklaus till near 6 o’clock. All the way down hill. In -coming up was only a quarter of an hour longer; this I can’t understand. -A very warm day. Those who went in chars, as did my wife and the blue -boy, appeared to suffer more from the heat than I did who was walking. - -In my four hours’ walk, having been so lately over the same ground, I -paid attention to the methods and results of cultivation, and -endeavoured to make out something of the life of the inhabitants of the -valley. As to the former, it appeared that all the cultivated land had -been reclaimed by a slow and laborious process. The original condition -of mountain valley land is to be more or less covered with rocks and -stones, with some soil beneath and between. Sometimes the whole surface -is completely covered with rocky _débris_, which has been brought down, -like avalanches, on the occurrence of unusually copious torrent floods, -which were, in fact, avalanches of water and of mountain shingle -commingled. The first step in the work of reclamation is to get rid of -the stones. This is either done by removing them to a distance, or -piling them up in heaps, or burying them on the spot. One of these -methods will be best in one place, and another in another. All the soil -that can be procured—sometimes there is enough of it on the surface, -sometimes it has to be mined for in a stratum beneath the upper stratum -of fragments of rock—is then levelled. Of this land, thus laboriously -made, all that can be irrigated by lateral canals brought from the Visp, -or diverted from the mountain torrents, is laid down to pasture. Canals -of this kind may often be seen some miles in length. These irrigated -pastures are always cut twice, or, where the land is deep and good, -three times a-year. The turf is not always composed mainly of different -kinds of grass. Sometimes it contains more dandelion than grass, a great -abundance of autumn crocus, of a kind of geranium with a purple flower -as large as a florin, and of other herbaceous plants. Where there is -much dandelion the hay, while making, has a sickly smell, but when fully -made its scent is generally good. The reclaimed land, which cannot be -irrigated, is used for rye, wheat, barley, and potatoes. A well-to-do -family has two or three patches, about a third of an acre each, of this -grain land. They will have also two or three cows. The mountain forest, -and the mountain pastures are held in common for the equal use and -benefit of all the inhabitants of the village. - -As to the people themselves, the most prominent facts are that they all -work hard, and that their hard work does not give them more than a bare -sufficiency for the most necessary wants. I suppose that nowhere else in -the civilised world is there so little buying and selling, and so little -interchange of commodities, as in a Swiss Alpine valley. The rule is for -every family to be self-contained, as far as this is possible, in all -things, and to produce for itself everything it can of what it will -require in the twelve months. Their cows supply them with milk and -cheese; the surplus of the latter being the medium through which they -procure from the outside world what they cannot produce for themselves: -but that does not come to much. It is interesting to see their sheaves -of corn stored away in the galleries beneath the projecting eaves of -their houses, and their haricots strung up in the sun to dry. This makes -you think how carefully these provisions will be used in the winter and -spring. And you see the flax and the hemp, of which they grow a great -deal, spread out on the grass, to prepare it for scutching; from which, -and from the wool of the small flocks of the neighbourhood, they make at -home much of the materials for their clothes. From their apples, of -which they grow great quantities, they make a kind of brandy. Their -lives are a never-failing discipline, notwithstanding the brandy, of -industry, patience, and forethought. In imagination you enter the -_châlet_, and sympathise with the cares, the troubles, the frugality, -the modest enjoyments of its inmates. The result of all does not go much -beyond daily bread. You hope that the harvest has been good, and that -the cows are doing well. The boys you have seen are sturdy little -fellows. You hope that the girls will not be goitred, and that the -sturdy little fellows will in time make them good husbands. They, you -are sure, will make industrious, frugal, uncomplaining wives. - -We heard at Zermatt, and our guide told us that what we had heard was -true, that the inhabitants of the valley pass some of their time in -winter in playing at cards; the stake they play for being each other’s -prayers. Those who lose are bound by the rules of the game to go to the -village church the following morning, and there pray for the souls of -those who win. The priest also is supposed to have an advantage in this -practice, as it gives him a larger congregation. - -Religion—the reader will decide for himself whether or no what has just -been mentioned promotes it—holds a large place in the life of these -Alpine valleys. The priest is the great man of the village, and has -great power. The influx of travellers has a tendency to lessen this -power, for it enriches innkeepers and guides, and so renders them -independent. Formerly the village church was the only conspicuous -building; the only one that rose above the low level of the _châlets_. -This symbolised the relation of its minister to the inhabitants of the -_châlets_. Now the church is dwarfed in comparison with the contiguous -hotel. Changes in the world outside have caused a new power to spring -up, and take its place in the scene. Be this, however, as it may, one -cannot but see that the services and _fêtes_ of the Church, supply the -hard monotonous lives of the people with some ideas and interest. Even -the authority the Church claims, while it has a tendency to overpower, -has also a tendency to stir their minds a little. The prominence of the -material fabric of the church in the village led me to reflect on what -would be the result in the minds of the people if it were otherwise. In -that case they would probably lose the idea of union with other times, -and with the great outside world, and the little elevation of thought -and feeling beyond the round of their low daily cares, which that idea -brings with it. The Church may to them be an intellectual tyranny, and -much that it teaches may be debasing and false, still it appears to have -some counterbalancing advantages. Our system may have more of truth and -of manliness, but it would, at present, be unintelligible to them, or if -intelligible, repulsive. Their system, however, is one which, under the -circumstances of the times, cannot last. It is even now on the road to -the limbo of things that have had their day. In Catholic countries, as -far as the educated classes and the inhabitants of all the large cities -are concerned, its power is gone, or still more than that, it is -actively disliked. This settles the question. The time will arrive when, -as knowledge and light spread, the village people will come round to the -way of thinking of the educated classes and of the inhabitants of the -cities. In this matter history is repeating itself. At its first -establishment Christianity spread from the cities to the pagans, that is -to the inhabitants of the villages. And so will it be again, at the -rehabilitation of religion in those countries that are now forsaking -Romanism. A revised and enlarged organisation of knowledge must be first -accepted by those who can think and judge. It is then passed on to those -who cannot. - -Such valleys as this of Zermatt have hitherto offered no opportunities -to any portion of their inhabitants to emerge from a low condition of -life. Little that could elevate or embellish life was within their -reach. The only property has been land, and that, from the working of -inevitable natural causes, has been divided into very small holdings. -This has kept every family poor. Railways, which connect them with the -world, the influx of travellers, in many places a better harvest than -that of their fields, the advance of the rest of the world around them, -and the capacity there is in their streams for moving machinery, may be -now opening new careers to many. It is unreasonable to regret the advent -of such a change, for it has more than a material side; it must bring -with it, morally and intellectually, a higher and richer life. It -implies expansion of mind, and moral growth—new fields of thought, and -of duty. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - -I. PEASANT-PROPRIETORSHIP IN THE VALLEY. II. LANDLORDISM. III. THE ERA - OF CAPITAL. IV. OBSTRUCTIONS TO THE FREE INTERACTION OF CAPITAL AND - LAND—THEIR EFFECTS, AND PROBABLE REMOVAL. V. CO-OPERATIVE FARMING - NOT A STEP FORWARDS - - - But what said Jaques? - Did he not moralise the spectacle?—SHAKESPEARE. - -This chapter is to be a disquisition, after the manner of the -philosophers, at all events, in its length, on peasant-proprietorship as -now existing in the valley of Zermatt, or rather of the Visp; and on -alternative systems. I do not invite anyone to read it, indeed, I at -once announce its contents and its length, for the very purpose of -inducing those who have no liking for disquisitions in general, or for -disquisitions on such subjects, to skip it, and to proceed to the next -chapter, where they will find the continuation of the narrative of our -little excursion. My primary object in writing it was to ascertain, -through the test of black and white, whether what I had been led to -think upon these matters possessed sufficient coherence. I now, with the -diffidence one must feel who ventures upon such ground, submit it to the -judgment of those who take some interest in questions of this kind. - -Bearing in mind that the subject is not a lively one, I will endeavour -so to put what I have to say as that not much effort may be required to -understand my meaning. From all effort, however, I cannot exempt the -reader of the chapter, should it find one; for he will have, as he goes -along, to determine for himself whether the facts alleged are the facts -of the case, whether any material ones have been overlooked, and whether -the inferences are drawn from the facts legitimately. He will not be in -a position to allow what is presented to him to pass unquestioned; for -he will be, himself, the counsel on the other side, as well as the jury. - - * * * * * - -I. The figures I am about to use do not pretend to accuracy, or even to -any close approximation to accuracy. Some figures, but what figures is -of no great consequence, are necessary for the form of the argument, and -for rendering it intelligible. If they possessed the most precise -accuracy that would not at all strengthen it. Those I employ, I retain -merely because they were the symbols with which, in my two walks through -the valley, I endeavoured to work out the inquiry. - -Suppose, then, that the valley of the Visp contains 4,000 acres of -irrigated meadow and of corn and garden ground; and that each family is -composed of husband and wife, and of not quite four children. The -average here in England is, I believe, four-and-a-half children to a -marriage. Marriages, probably, take place at a later period of life in -the valley than in this country, and, therefore, the average number of -children there will be smaller. Let, then, the grandfathers and -grandmothers who may be living, and the unmarried people there may be, -bring up the average of each family to six souls. - -We will now suppose that the husband will require a pound and a half of -bread a day, that will be about nine bushels of wheat a-year; and that -the wife and children will require each a pound a day; that will be -about thirty bushels more, or thirty-nine bushels in all. From what I -saw of the land in the valley I suppose that it will not produce more -than twenty-six bushels an acre. Whether its produce be wheat, or rye, -or barley, will make no difference to the argument. An acre and a half -will then be necessary for the amount of bread-stuff that will be -required for each family. - -A family, we will take a well-to-do one, will also require three cows. -Deducting the time the cows are on the common pasture on the mountains, -each cow will require, for the rest of the year, two tons of hay. That -may be the produce of one acre of their grassland, for some of it is cut -three times a-year, but most of it only twice, the second and third -crops being light. - -They will not want for their own consumption the whole of the produce of -the three cows. A surplus, however, of this produce is necessary, -because it is from that that they will have the means for purchasing the -shoes, the tools and implements, and whatever else they absolutely need, -but cannot produce themselves. The cows will then require three acres. - -But we will suppose that by the use of straw, and by other economies in -the keep of their cows, they manage to reduce the quantity of hay that -would otherwise be consumed. This will set free a little of their land -for flax, hemp, haricots, cabbages, potatoes, &c. The three last will go -some way towards lessening the quantity of bread-stuff they will -require. We may, therefore, set down the breadth of cultivated land -needed for the maintenance, according to their way of living, of our -family of six souls, at four acres. - -The 4,000 acres will thus maintain 1,000 families. This will give our -valley a population of 6,000 souls. - -Here, perhaps, the rigid economist would stop. It would be enough for -him to have ascertained the laws which regulate, under observed -circumstances, the production and the distribution of wealth. But as -neither the writer nor the readers of these pages are rigid economists, -we will, using these facts only as a starting point, proceed to ulterior -considerations. The question, indeed, which most interests us is not one -of pure economy, but one which, though dependent on economical -conditions, is in itself moral and intellectual; and, therefore, we go -on to ask what kind of life, what kind of men and women, does this state -of things produce? - -In such a population, the elements of life are so simple, so uniform, -and so much on the surface, that there will be no difficulty in getting -at the answers to our questions. There is not a single family that has -the leisure needed for mental cultivation, or for any approximation to -the embellishments of life. They each have just the amount of land which -will enable them, with incessant labour, and much care and forethought, -to keep themselves above absolute want. Subdivision might, possibly, in -some cases be carried a little further, but things would then only -become worse. Towards this there is always a tendency. But, for reasons -we shall come to presently, there is no tendency at all in the other -direction. Intellectual life, therefore, is impossible in the valley. -The conditions requisite for it are completely absent. - -With the moral life, however, it is very far from being so. Of moral -educators, one of the most efficient is the possession of property; the -kind of education it gives being, of course, dependent on the amount and -kind of property. For instance: the simplicity and gentility of a large -fortune in three per cent. consols educates its possessor. It does not -teach him forethought, industry, or self-denial. He may be improvident, -idle, self-indulgent, and still his means of living may not be thereby -diminished; nor will anything he can do improve them. Nor, furthermore, -will the management of his property bring him into such relations with -his fellow men, that, at every step and turn, he has to consider their -wants and rights, and to balance them against his own. Nor will anything -connected with his property teach him the instability of human affairs, -for his is just the only human possession that is exempt from all risks -and changes. Now the non-teaching of these moral qualities is an -education, the outcome of which is likely to be a refined selfishness. -An equal fortune derived from commerce, trade, or manufactures, teaches -other lessons, almost we may say lessons of the very opposite kind. He, -whose position depends on buying and selling, and producing, and on the -human agencies he must make use of, on new discoveries, and on a variety -of natural occurrences, will estimate life and his fellow men very -differently from his neighbour, who has nothing at all to do except -receiving, and spending his dividends. We are taking no account of -individual character, and of the thousand circumstances and accidents, -which may overrule, in any particular case, the natural teaching of -either of these two kinds of property: we are only speaking generally; -and are taking them as illustrations, with which we are all familiar, of -a character-forming power every kind of property possesses. - -Looking, then, at the property possessed by these Visp-side families in -the same way, we can readily understand the moral effect it will have -upon them. It will enforce what it teaches with irresistible power, -because it will be acting on every member of the community in precisely -the same way, throughout every day of the lives of all of them, -generation after generation. Such teaching there is no possibility of -withstanding. And what it teaches in this undeniable fashion,—undeniable -because the virtues taught are to them the very conditions of -existence,—are very far from being small moralities, for they are -industry, prudence, patience, frugality, honesty. - -Without industry their little plots of land could not support them; not -the industry of the Irishman, in the days before the potato-famine, who -set his potatoes in the spring, and took them up in the autumn, without -finding much to do for the rest of the year; but an industry which must -be exercised, sometimes under very adverse circumstances, throughout the -whole twelve months. Every square yard of every part of their land -represents so much hard labour, for nowhere has land been so hard to -win. This fact is always before their eyes, and is in itself always a -lesson to them. And this hard-won land, reminding them of the industry -of those who were before them, has still, always, to be protected -against the ravages of winter storms, and its irrigation kept in order. -And every hard-won square yard must be turned to the best account. And -all must labour in doing this. Their cows, too, require as much -attention as their families. For them they must toil unremittingly in -their short summer: they must follow them up into the mountains, and -they must collect and store up for them the provender they will need in -the long winter. And they must be industrious not only in the field, but -equally in the house. They cannot afford to buy, and, therefore, -everything, that can be, must be done, and made, at home. They cannot -allow any portion of their time, or any capacity their land has for -producing anything useful, to run to waste. There can be no fallows, of -any kind, here. - -With their long winters and scanty means, frugality, prudence, -forethought, are all as necessary as industry. These are the -indispensable conditions for eking out the consumption of the modest -store of necessaries their life-long industry provides. If they were as -wasteful, as careless, as improvident as our wages-supported poor, the -ibex and chamois might soon return to the valley. - -It is these necessity-imposed virtues which save the valley on the one -hand from depopulation, and on the other from becoming overpeopled. Our -labourers, and artisans, and operatives, who depend on wages, as soon as -they have got wages enough to support a wife, marry. The general, almost -the universal, rule with them is to marry young. The young men and -maidens on Visp-side, not being dependent on wages, but on having a -little bit of land, sufficient to support life, do not marry till they -have come into possession of this little bit of land. Early marriages, -therefore, are not the rule with them. The discipline of life, such as -it is in the valley, has taught them—and a very valuable lesson it is—to -bide their time. - -Another virtue, which comes naturally to them, is honesty. The honesty -of the valley appears to an Englishman unaccountable, Arcadian, -fabulous. The ripe apples and the ripe plums hang over the road without -a fence, for land is too precious for fences, and within reach of the -hand of the passer-by; but no hand is reached out to touch them. Why is -such forbearance unimaginable here? The reason is that, where only a few -possess, the many not having the instincts of property, come to regard -the property of the few as, to some extent, fair game for them. It is -their only chance—their only hunting-ground. This is a way in which, -without sanctioning a law which will act prejudicially to themselves, -they can secure their share of the plums and apples nature provides. -But, when all have property, each sees that the condition on which his -own plums and apples will be respected is that he should himself respect -the plums and apples of other people. This idea is at work in -everybody’s mind. The children take to the idea, and to the practice of -it, as naturally as they did to their mother’s milk. Honesty becomes an -element of the general morality. It is in the air, which all must -breathe. - -Here then is a picture that is most charming. How cruelly hard has -Nature been! Look at the cold, heartless mountains. Look upon their ice -and storm-engendering heights. See how the little valley below lies at -their mercy. Consider how, year by year, they fight against its being -extorted from their dominion. Yet the feeble community in the valley, by -their stout hearts and virtuous lives, continue to make it smile on the -frowning mountains. How pleasing to the eye and to the thought, is the -sight! And what enhances the charm it possesses is the sense of its -thorough naturalness. There is nothing artificial about it; and so there -is nothing that can to the people themselves suggest discontent. Their -condition, in every particular, is the direct result of the unobstructed -working of natural causes, such as they exist in man himself, and in -environing circumstances. Whatever may be its drawbacks, or -insufficiencies, they can in no way be traced to human legislation. How -unwilling are we to contrast with this charming scene—but this is just -what we have to do—the destitution, the squalor, and the vice, not of -our great cities only, but even of our Visp-sides. - -But, first, we will endeavour, by the light of the ideas we outside -people have on these subjects, to complete our estimate of the worth of -the state of things we are contemplating; of this oasis, the sight of -which is so refreshing to those whose lot it is to be familiar with, and -to dwell in, the hard wilderness of the world. - -Its virtues are, doubtless, very pleasing to contemplate; but they are -not of quite the highest order. The industry before us is very -honourable. The mind dwells on the sight of it with satisfaction. But, -as it only issues in the barest subsistence, the observation of this -somewhat clouds our satisfaction. There are, too, higher forms of -industry of which nothing can be known here—the industry of those who -live laborious days, and scorn delights, from the desire to improve -man’s estate, to extort the secrets of nature for his benefit, to clear -away obstacles which are hindering men from seeing the truth, to add to -the intellectual wealth of the race, to smoothe the path of virtue, and -make virtue itself appear more attractive. Such industry is more -honourable, and more blessed both to him who labours and to those who -participate in the fruits of his labour. And such prudence, frugality, -and forethought as are practised in the valley are very honourable, and -the mind dwells on the sight of them, too, with satisfaction. But he who -belongs to the outside world will here again be disposed to repeat the -observation just made. It is true that that man’s understanding and -heart must be out of harmony with the conditions of this life, and -therefore repulsive to us, who does not gather up the fragments that -nothing be lost, but when this is done only for self, and those who are -to us as ourselves, though so done unavoidably through the necessity of -the case, it is somewhat chilling and hardening. And it is not -satisfactory that so much thought and care should be expended only upon -the best use of the means of life—those means, too, being sadly -restricted; for a higher application of these virtues would be to the -best use of life itself. And so, again, with respect to their honesty. -This is a virtue that is as rare as honourable; and the mind dwells on -the sight of it with proportionate satisfaction. But its application to -plums and apples is only its beginning. It has far loftier and more -arduous, and more highly rewarded forms. It may be acted on under -difficulties, and applied to matters, not dreamt of in the valley. It -may rise into the form of social and political justice, in which form it -prompts a man to consider the rights of others, especially of the most -helpless and depressed, and even of the vicious, as well as his own; and -not to use his own advantages and power in such a way as to hurt or -hinder them: but, rather, to consider that it is due to their unhappy -circumstances and weakness, that he should so use his power, and good -fortune, as to contribute to the redress of the evils of their ill -fortune. - -Attractive, then, as is the contemplation of the moral life of the -inhabitants of the valley, it is not in every respect satisfactory. A -higher level may be attained. After all, it is the moral life rather of -an ant-hill, or of a bee-hive, than of this rich and complex world to -which we belong. And even if it were somewhat more elevated than it is, -still there would remain some who would be unable to accept it, as -worthy of being retained without prospect of change or improvement; and -their reason would be, that man does not live by, or for, morality only. -The worthy exercise of the intellectual powers is necessary for their -idea of the complete man; and here everything of this kind is found to -be sorely deficient. On the whole, then, in respect of each of the three -ingredients of human well-being, a thoroughly equipped life, -intellectual activity, and the highest form of virtue, we feel that -something better,—with respect, indeed, to the two first something very -much better,—is attainable, than what exists in the charming oasis -before us. - - * * * * * - -II. I now invite the reader to proceed with me to the consideration of -how different economical conditions, such as our experience enables us -to imagine, would modify the state of things we have been contemplating. -For instance, suppose Visp-side were in Scotland or England, then its -4,000 acres might, and it is not unlikely that they would, be only a -part of the estate of some great landlord. Let us endeavour to make out -the effects this would have on its inhabitants. - -The most obvious result would be that the population would be diminished -by more than a half. At present the produce of the valley, with no very -considerable deductions, is consumed in the valley. What is produced is -what is required for supplying its large population with the first wants -of life. But this will no longer be the case. The land will be let. We -will suppose that this change has been completely effected; and that its -irrigated meadows, with the contiguous little plots of corn-land, have -been formed into farms, and that all is now treated in the way those who -rent them find it pays best to manage them. We will suppose they have to -pay a rent of 30s. an acre. The rent of the valley will then be -6,000_l._ a-year. How will this sum be made up? Cheese, of course, will -be the main means. The young bullocks and the old cows will come next. -We will take little credit for corn or potatoes, because it is evident -that not nearly so much of them will be grown as was done under the old -system; for much of the mountain corn-land will not pay now for -cultivation with hired labour. - -The economist, pure and simple, may say that this is all right. The -course of events must be submitted to. Whatever they dictate is best; -and best as it is. Interference with natural laws is always bad. The -cheese and the cattle will sell for as much as they are worth. The -sovereigns they will fetch are worth as much as the produce. There will -be no diminution of wealth. But, however, it has to be proved that the -new system is unavoidable in the sense of being either a natural step in -the unobstructed course of human affairs, or, as some would tell us, the -natural consummation of their long course, now at last happily effected. -Perhaps it may be possible to show that there has been serious -interference with their natural evolution; so serious as greatly to -affect their character. And, if so, then the question of whether or no -there has been any loss of value does not arise, for the antecedent -question may render its discussion unnecessary. Be, however, these -matters as they may, they do not cover all the ground we are desirous of -investigating. We are thinking not of exchangeable wealth only, but also -of men and women; and they, perhaps, may be regarded as wealth in its -highest form; a kind of wealth, in which, if the men and women are not -corrupt or counterfeit, but good and true, all may to some extent -participate, and be the better for. - -Under the system we are now considering, it jars against a sense of -something or other in the minds of many, to see so much of the results -of the labour of the people of the valley passing away from them, never -to return in any form or degree. As far as they are concerned it is a -tribute they are paying to the man who owns the land of the valley. And -whether it be, year by year, paid to him, or whether all this cheese and -all these cattle be every year on a stated day collected and burnt at -the mouth of the valley; or the price, for which they may have been -sold, thrown into the mid-ocean, would make no difference to them. They -will get no advantage from it at all, for it is evident that a man who -has an income of at least 6,000_l._ a-year will never live in the Valley -of the Visp. He will, perhaps, have his mansion on the bank of the Lake -of Geneva; or perhaps at Paris: at all events, it will be somewhere at a -distance. The case of so many bales of calico being sent out of -Manchester, to all parts of the world, is not similar. They are sent out -for the very purpose of coming back again in the form of what will not -only support those who produce them, but will also, if trade be good, -increase the fund that supports the trade, that is to say, will increase -the number of those who in various ways are supported by the trade: -hence the growth of Manchester. Nor is it the same thing as so many -quarters of corn being sent from America to this country, for in that -case also the price of the corn returns to the hands of those who grew -it. Their corn-fields have produced for them, only in a roundabout -fashion, a golden harvest; and they have, themselves, the consumption of -this harvest, precisely in the same way as the now existing Visp-side -population have the direct consumption of the produce of their little -plots of land. Some, of course, of the price of the cheese and cattle -sent away will enable the farmers to live and to pay their labourers; -but none of the 6,000_l._ a-year will come back in any form. - -But the point now actually before us is the effect this change will -produce on the amount of population. In order that the land might be let -profitably, it was necessary to clear it of its old proprietors, for -they could pay no rent at all. Their little estates were barely -sufficient, with the most unremitting labour, and the most careful -frugality, to support life. The valley has now been formed into -cheese-farms; and we will suppose that for keeping up the irrigation, -cutting the grass, tending the cows in summer on the mountains, and -during the winter doing everything for them, and for cultivating -whatever amount of land is still cropped with corn and potatoes, five -men are wanted for a hundred acres. This will give for the 4,000 acres -200 men. Let each man, as before, represent a family of six souls. Here, -for the labourers and their families, will be a population of 1,200. We -will also suppose that, under the circumstances of the valley, the -average size of the farms is not more than fifty acres. This will give -eighty farmers. If their households average eight souls, we have 640 -more. These, and the labourers, will not, as was formerly done, under -the old order of things, by every family, produce themselves pretty -nearly all that is necessary for their households. It will not be so, -because the farmers, who must also attend to their farms, will require -many things that none required before; and because the labourers, having -to give all their time and strength for wages, will be obliged to buy -almost all that they will require. This will necessitate the -introduction into the valley of a considerable number of tradesmen. We -will suppose a hamlet every five miles, in which, besides farmers and -labourers, will reside eight tradesmen and petty shopkeepers. That is -five hamlets, and forty tradesmen and shopkeepers. These, with six to a -family, will add 240 to the population. These different contributories, -then, will raise the total to 2,080. As the distances will remain what -they were, and as there will be more stir and ambition among a -population of farmers and shopkeepers, than there was formerly among the -peasant proprietors, we will take the number of school-teachers as much -the same under either system. The reduction of the population to -one-third of its former amount will somewhat reduce the number of -priests; but as thought will now be more active, and, therefore, more -varied, this reduction will be counterbalanced by an increase in the -number of prophets. - -The next step in our inquiry is, how will this revolution affect the -character of the population of the valley? We have seen that under the -old system their whole character was the direct result of the fact that -everyone was either the actual, or the prospective, possessor of a small -plot of land, just enough to sustain the life of a family. That was the -root out of which their lives grew; and their industry, frugality, -forethought, patience, and honesty were the fruits such lives as theirs -produced. That root is now dead. The conditions of life are different; -and with different conditions have come corresponding differences of -character. For instance, we all know that those who labour primarily for -others, that others may make the profit that will accrue from their -labour, are not so industrious as those who labour entirely for -themselves. Nor will they have the same forethought, because their -dependence is on wages, and wages require no forethought. Formerly -forethought was a condition of existence. They are also now in a school -which is a bad one for frugality and patience, and which is very far -from being a good one for honesty. These, however, are still the main -constituents of morality, for in them there can be no change, because -morality is the regulative order of the family and of society: and now, -with respect to all of these points, among the mass of the population, -there is, necessarily a deterioration. Nor is petty trade, at least so -says the experience of mankind, favourable to morality. As to those who -hire the land, we will suppose that the more varied relations, than any -which existed under the old system, into which they have been brought -with their neighbours, and with the world outside the valley, have in -some cases had an elevating and improving effect. The moral influences, -however, of occupations of this kind are far from being universally -good, because those who live by the labour of others, will in many cases -be of opinion, that their own interests are antagonistic to the -interests of those they employ in such a sense, that it is to their -advantage to pay low wages, which means to lessen the comforts, and even -the supply of necessaries, to those by whose labour they live. This may -be an unavoidable incident of the relation in which the two stand -towards each other, but it is not conducive to the result we are now -wishing to find. - -The intellectual gains and losses are harder to estimate. As to the -labourers, one cannot believe that a body of men that has been lowered -morally has been raised intellectually. Among the tradesmen class -there will be some who will have more favourable opportunities for -rising into a higher intellectual life than any had among the old -peasant-proprietors. And among the small occupiers of land, for the -farms only average fifty acres, these chances will, perhaps, be still -greater. But all this will not come to much. The great question here -is about the one family, for whose benefit mainly, almost, indeed, -exclusively, the whole of the change has been brought about. This -family now stands for 4,000 of the old inhabitants of the valley. One -of the greatest of all possible revolutions has been carried out in -its favour, for it is a revolution that has swept away the greater -part of the population, and completely altered the material, moral, -and intellectual life of all that remained. We will, however, suppose -that they are everything that can be expected of a family so -favourably circumstanced. That their morality is pure and elevated. -That, intellectually, they are refined and cultivated. That they -promote art. That science is at times their debtor. That among its -members have been men who have advanced the thought of their day, and -have made additions to the common fund of intellectual wealth; and -others who have done their country good service in peace and in war. - -When I say that this family stands in the place of the 4,000 who have -disappeared from the valley, I limit the observation to the valley, for -I do not mean that the population of the world has been diminished to -that extent to make space for them, because the cheese and cattle sent -out of the valley for their 6,000_l._ a-year, will contribute to the -support elsewhere of a great many people who must work, and so live, in -order that they may be able to purchase them. - -But to return; those who were not satisfied with the original Arcadian -state of things, we may be sure will not be satisfied with that which we -are now imagining has taken its place. For nothing will satisfy them, if -there must be a change, except some such condition of things as will -work as favourably both for morality, and for intellect, as that did for -morality alone; and which will, at the same time, provide, generally, a -better supplied material life than that did. - -We have now endeavoured, first, to analyze the land-system of the -valley, such as it presents itself to the eye of a contemplative -pedestrian; and which may be regarded as the natural working out of -proprietorship in land, when it is the sole means of supporting life. We -then proceeded to compare with this a system we wot of, carried out to -its full-blown development. This second system is what people refer to -when they talk of English landlordism. These two forms, however, of the -distribution and tenure of land are very far from exhausting all that -have existed, and that do and that might exist. Distribution and tenure -are capable of assuming many other forms; and some of these must be -considered before we can hope to arrive at anything like a right and -serviceable understanding of the matter. - - * * * * * - -III. The distinguishing feature of the economical conditions of the -present day, and of other conditions as far as they depend on those that -are economical, is the existence of capital in the forms and proportions -it has now assumed. This has modified, and is modifying, the life of all -civilised communities. It is this that has built our great cities, that -is peopling the new world, that has liberated the serfs of the Russian -Empire. It leavens all we do, or say, or think. We are what we are, -because of it. The tenure and distribution of land, next to capital -itself, the most generally used and diffused of all property, originally -the only, and till recently the chief, property, cannot escape the -influence of this all-pervading and omnipotent agent of change, which -everywhere cuts a channel for itself, and finds the means for rising, -sooner or later, to its own level. In some places it has affected land -in a fashion more or less in accordance with its natural action; in -other places in a fashion which has resulted more or less from -artificial restrictions: but in some fashion or other it affects it -everywhere; as it does all man’s belongings, and the whole tenor and -complexion of human life. - -Land, then, was the sole primeval means of supporting life. Over large -areas of the earth’s surface it is so still. It was so in Homeric -Greece—at that time the most advanced part of Europe—though we can trace -in its then condition a certain indefinite nebulous capacity for the -development of capital, the higher means of supporting life; and which -capacity afterwards assumed its true form and action among the Ionians -and other Asiatic Greeks, but above all at Athens: which accounts for -the differences between it and Sparta: for it was the existence and -employment of capital which made it the nurse and the holy city of -intellect; while it was the contempt and the legislative suppression of -capital which kept the Lacedæmonians, except so far as they were -affected by the general influences of Greek thought, in the condition of -a clan of splendid savages. And what obtained all but absolutely in -Homeric Greece, obtained at that time, as far as we know, quite -absolutely over all the rest of Europe. In the early ages of Roman -history, Rome was a city of landowners; that is, of landowners living a -city life. To understand this fact is to understand its early, and much -of its subsequent history. It was so, also, with the neighbouring -cities, in the conquest and absorption of which the first centuries of -its historic existence were spent: they were cities of landowners. As we -walk about the streets of disinterred Pompeii, we see that in this -pleasure-city, even down to the late date of its catastrophe, it was -very much so, although the capital of the plundered world had, at that -time, for several generations, been flowing, through many channels, into -Italy. That specimen city, as we may call it, of imperial Italy, appears -to have been laid up in its envelope of ashes, preserved like an -anatomical preparation, for the very purpose of enabling us to -understand this luciferous fact. - -I need not go on tracing out the subsequent history of land and capital, -which would lead, again, to a comparison of the splendid savagery of -feudal landowners with the revival of culture in the capital-supported -trading communities of the Dark Ages; and their interaction upon each -other: but will pass at once to ourselves. It is very possible now, at -all events it is conceivable under the present state of things, that in -a large English city—it is more or less so with almost all our -cities—there may not be a single owner of agricultural land in its whole -population: for I now, as I do throughout this chapter, distinguish land -held for agricultural purposes from that which is held merely for -residential, or commercial purposes. Here, then, is a difference so -great that it takes much time and thought to comprehend its extent, its -completeness, and its consequences. It belongs to a totally different -stage of economical, and of social development; as complete as the -difference between a caterpillar and a butterfly. The solid strength, -the slow movements, the monotonous existence of the former represent the -era of land. The nimbleness (capital is of no country), the beauty, the -variety of life, but withal the want of solidity of the latter represent -the era of capital. It is the wise combination, and harmonious -interaction, of the two, which would, and which are destined to, cancel -the disadvantages, and secure the advantages of each. - -The revolution, that has been effected, is mighty and all-pervading. But -because it has not been carried out by invading hosts, ravaged -provinces, blazing cities, and bloody battle-fields, it is difficult to -bring home to the general understanding that there has been any -revolution at all. At its commencement it found those who owned the land -of the country, not merely the most powerful order in the state, but -quite supreme. It gradually introduced another order of men, those who -own capital; and has ended by making them at length the most powerful; -and so much so that now, whenever they choose to assert their power, -they are supreme. Of course there ought not to be any antagonism between -the two; but as there is unfortunately, and quite unnecessarily, an -artificially created antagonism, there must be collisions and conflicts; -in which, however, the supremacy must always eventually rest with the -strongest. - -The progress of this revolution ought to be seen a little in detail. Not -an acre can be added to the land of the country, but to the capital of -the country, already several times as much in value as the whole of the -land, and supporting a greater number of lives, there is added a sum of -two millions and a half of pounds sterling every Saturday night. We will -note a few of the steps in the growth of capital. The year 1550 is very -far from the date of the recognised appearance of capital in this -country: it was even observed that in the previous century there had -been an unexampled extension of commerce; but there are good reasons for -supposing that the whole of the accumulated capital of the country at -that time was less than one year’s purchase of the land. The land, at -all events, was worth a great many times as much as all the capital -amounted to. - -In 1690 the purchase of an estate, of the value of 100,000_l._, was the -wonder of the day. - -In the next fifty years bankers were the chief, or only, large -purchasers. - -In the following half-century the Indians came home, and were added to -the class. - -Then, in the last half of the last century, came the manufacturers. - -And now the most prominent capitalists, who become large purchasers of -land, are the coal-owners, and the owners of iron-works, who, however, -are accompanied by a cloud of contractors, engineers, merchants, -brewers, Stock Exchange speculators, Australians, and even tradesmen, -among whom bankers and manufacturers still hold their ground. Of course -all of these classes who might, do not, become purchasers of -agricultural estates; but those who do, show us in what direction we are -to look for the great money-lords of the day. And if they are so -many—there probably are at this time in Newcastle alone, in consequence, -just now, of the prosperity of the iron and coal trades, five and twenty -houses making, each, its 100,000_l._ a-year, how many must be the rank -and file of the army of capital. The ratio then of capital to land has -been completely inverted. At this moment there is disposable capital -enough in the country to buy, at its present enhanced price, all the -land of the country, three times over. And this stock of capital goes on -increasing at the rate of 150,000,000_l._ a-year. - -In the political order, we are indebted to capital for Sir Robert Peel -and Mr. Gladstone, and for their policy; and we may suppose that the -policy which capital may dictate will, henceforth, be the policy of -every Government that will administer the affairs of this country. The -land and the proletariat will never combine for the purpose of -attempting to make it otherwise: for it will never be their interest to -do so. Capital is both aristocratic and democratic in the best sense of -each of these words. It is the cement, and the mainspring of modern -societies, and, also, the ladder within them, without which there would -be no rising from low to high positions. - -And now let us go back to Visp-side, bearing in mind the ideas we have -been working out. We will, then, suppose that by trade, and commerce, -and manufactures, which are both the children and the parents of -capital, other means for supporting life have become abundant in the -valley. It is easy to make out what will be the effect of this on the -dimensions of the, at present, diminutive properties of its one thousand -families. Land will present itself to the minds of all as what it has -really become; that is to say, as only one means among many for the -support of life: the many others being the various forms in which -capital works. The present subdivision, therefore, of the land will no -longer be regarded as an obvious and undeniable necessity. It has, -indeed, become only a secondary, and inferior means for supporting life. -Those engaged in trade and commerce, it will be manifest, are many of -them living much better lives than the petty proprietors. The old ideas -and practices, then, with respect to land will melt away, and be utterly -dissolved. The necessity for maintaining them has ceased; and they will -cease to be maintained. - -At the same time those who have acquired capital by trade, and commerce, -and manufactures, will be desirous of investing some of it, perhaps a -surplus their business may not require, in land, which must always -continue to be the safest, and in some other respects the most desirable -form of property. And many of those who have come to wish to retire from -the labours and anxieties of business, will have the same desire. So, -too, will some who are disposed to prefer agriculture to other kinds of -industry; and who are, therefore, desirous of becoming possessed of -sufficient land for their purpose, that they may apply to it their -capital and intelligence, using it as the raw material of the -manufacture towards which they are most attracted. Some will merely want -a pleasant situation for a home for their families; some a little land -around such a home to give them a little pleasant occupation. There -will, we will suppose, be no artificial, as there are no natural, -obstacles to all of these people buying what they have the means for -buying, and the wish to buy; and using what they buy as they please. The -properties thus formed will, many of them, be large, in proportion to -the amount of surplus capital many will come to possess. But what will -be remarkable, in this respect, will be, while the number of landed -properties will be very considerable, the variety of their dimensions, -which will be proportionate to the endlessly varying means of the -multitudes, who in an era of capital will be desirous of investing in -land, and the variety of uses to which they will be put in accordance -with the varying wants and tastes of their owners. - -And in these properties, whether great, or small, there will be -incessantly at work two directly opposite tendencies. One in the -direction of enlargement by inheritance, by marriage, and by larger -increases of surplus capital, and of capital retiring from business. The -other in the direction of subdivision, through the necessities, or the -wishes, of their holders. These necessities may have arisen from the -vicissitudes of business, the occurrences of life, and the extravagances -and vices of their holders from time to time. Or the descendant of a -purchaser may wish to capitalise his land, and take the capital back to -business; or to place it in some investment more profitable than land. -But, at all events, there will be no escaping from the natural, -ever-felt, imperious obligation proprietors of land, like all other men, -will be under, of providing for their widows and children. This will -keep every estate in the condition of liability to subdivision; and -must, at intervals, subdivide it. All these may be regarded as natural -conditions. They are self-acting, and never-failing; and that they -should lead to their natural issue, that is to the subdivision of landed -estates, is in accordance with good instincts, in no way demoralising, -and in every way healthy. Their free action exactly accommodates things -to the requirements both of individuals and of the times. - -What we are now contemplating is the state of things which will be -brought about when the natural action of capital, and the natural action -of landed property, have been left to take their own unimpeded course in -the valley: for it is to the actual and the possible conditions of -Continental Visp-sides, viewed in connection with the actual and the -possible conditions of Continental cities, rather than to the broad -acres and busy cities of wealthy England, that what I am now saying -belongs, notwithstanding the appearance, which is unavoidable, of a -constant reference to ourselves. Their case is not quite identical with -ours, either in their existing conditions, or their future -possibilities, as will be seen in due time and place, when we come to -the distinct, and separate, consideration of our own case. Surplus -capital, then, and capital withdrawn from business, will always be -seeking investment: and as the land of a country is the natural -reservoir for a large proportion of all such capital; and as every acre -of land is, on our supposition, saleable, as much so as a sack of wheat, -or a horse, though at the moment the owner may not be tempted by the -price that would be offered for it; and as much of the land everywhere -is always actually in the market, and on sale; the habit of looking to -land as the safest both of temporary and of final investments, will -become pretty general amongst all classes of people engaged in business. -And amongst the holders of land, those who may wish to woo fortune by -going into business, and to increase their incomes by investing the -price of their land in some good security, will have nothing to withhold -them from disposing of it. Estates, that are now in process of -formation, will inevitably, when children have to be provided for, or -upon the occurrence of any of those other causes we have already -referred to, sooner or later enter upon the reverse process of -subdivision. The great points to be kept in mind are that every acre, -though it may not be actually in the market, is yet, at the will of its -owner, marketable; and that, whatever may be the will of its present -holder, must, sooner or later, come on the market; and that capital, -availing itself of these facilities, naturally takes the direction of -the land—in the long run, and to the majority of mankind, the most -desirable of all investments; and that this maintains at a high figure -the number of proprietors, that class which it is for the interest of -the country should be as large as possible: it is obvious that this -class will be large, in the era of capital, in every country where the -land is within the reach of every man who has capital, exactly in -proportion to the amount of capital he is desirous of investing in it. - -This state of things appears to have some advantages. These may be -summed up in the general remark that it is in complete conformity with -the wants and conditions of an era of capital, such as that in which we -live. Let us, however, endeavour to resolve this general remark into its -constituent elements. As land is the most attractive of human -possessions, the one possession which gives a man a place of his own to -stand on in this world, it ought naturally to attract to itself much of -the surplus capital of the day, and of capital that is being withdrawn -from business. In the state of things, we have been just considering, -there is no hindrance to the operation of this tendency. This flow of -capital towards the land will make it far more productive than it ever -has been under any other system. For capital is nothing in the world but -bottled-up labour, reconvertible, at the will of the holder, into actual -labour, and the implements and materials and products of labour; and -this system secures the advantage that the proprietors shall generally -be men who have much capital in proportion to their land; and much of -this capital will, of course, be applied to it. More land will be -reclaimed, more rocks blasted and buried; irrigating canals and -cultivation will be carried higher up the sides of the mountains; and -more costly means of cultivation applied than are possible under either -the peasant-proprietor system, or the large estate system. And this may -be a state of things which will not dissatisfy the economist. - -It is a state of things which the modern statesman, also, ought to -regard with approval; because the possession of land has always, -everywhere, been the conservative element in human societies; and the -wide diffusion of the proprietorship of land is the only effectual means -by which the statesman of the present day can hope to balance, and -neutralise, the disturbing action of the large aggregations of -population capital has called into being in the great commercial, and -manufacturing cities of this era of capital. It ought to be a pleasing, -and reassuring sight to him to behold streams of capital and of -proprietors constantly flowing off from them towards the land: for in -these streams he knows that power is being drawn off from those terrible -centres of possible disturbance, which cause him so much anxiety; and -that what is thus drawn off from them is being added to the conservative -elements of society. So that if the order of society, or any valuable, -but, at the moment, misunderstood, institution—misunderstood because -things are in an unnatural state—should have to sustain a shock, there -would be less power on the side of those who might originate it, and -more on the side of those who would have to bear the brunt of it—a state -of things which would, probably, prevent the shock from ever occurring. -Whereas to array on one side the land of a country held by a handful of -proprietors against on the other side numbers and capital, is both to -invite the shock, and at the same time to forbid the existence of the -natural means for resisting it. - -Many great cities are terrible centres of possible disturbance, just -because there are artificial barriers which keep asunder the land and -its inhabitants on one side, and the cities with their capital and -population on the other side. If things were so that streams of those -who had had the energy and intelligence requisite for success, and had -succeeded, were constantly flowing off from the cities to the land; and -back-currents of those, who were desirous of seeking fortune, flowing -into the towns from the country; and this is what ought to be the state -of things in an era of capital; there would be less opposition of -interests and sentiments between the town and the country: they would -together form more of an homogeneous system. If the town populations -could be brought into some kind of connection with the land, they would -then, so far, have given hostages, a material guarantee, to social -peace, and order. - -Neither will they be dissatisfied who are desirous of seeing property so -distributed as to favour as much as possible the moral and intellectual -condition of the community. Property will everywhere be diffused; and -never being encumbered more than very temporarily, that is never beyond -the life of the encumbered holder, for on our supposition it will always -pass from hand to hand perfectly unencumbered in every way, its numerous -holders in every locality will be in a position to do, and to support, -whatever need be done, and supported. Take the instance of the support -of religion. It would be mischievous under the previously considered -system to disestablish a national Church, because as all the surplus -produce of the valley, in the form of a rent of 6,000_l._ a-year, is -sent out of the valley, there is nothing left in the hands of the -population, such as we imagined it had become, to support religion, -except in the humblest, that is in a thoroughly unworthy, form. And here -we cannot but think about ourselves; and our doing so will contribute -somewhat towards bringing us to a better understanding of this -particular point. As things now are in this country the portion of the -rent which is retained in every parish for the maintenance of religion -is in multitudes of cases the only part of the rent that is retained, -and spent, on the spot, among those whose labour produces it. No one -will deny that this is in many ways an advantage to them. To instance -one advantage, it is often the cause of the existence of needed -institutions, as was lately seen most conspicuously in the part the -clergy took in the establishment and maintenance of schools, which was -an undeniable benefit to their poor neighbours, and to the country, -though at the same time something besides and beyond what they were -bound to do for the maintenance of the knowledge and of the services of -religion. In many places, too, it is the only part of the rent which -supports in the locality a man of education and refinement; a social and -political advantage which cannot be denied, or overlooked. And this -appropriation of a small portion of the rent has largely benefited -literature, and to some extent science. It also gives us a large number -of families, who far outnumber those supported by the great bulk of the -rent of the country, and are in a very favourable position for bestowing -on their sons the best attainable education, carefully supervised. To -them we owe multitudes of those who are at all times doing the country, -at home and abroad, good service. We may, at the present moment, take as -instances the Lord Chancellor and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, both -of whom were brought up in rural parsonages. Surely it would be a local -and a national benefit if more of the rent of the land were somewhat -similarly conditioned. And perhaps the greater part of it would be under -the system we are now considering. And in addition to this much other -property in the form of capital, belonging to such owners of the land, -would be brought into each locality, some of which would be sunk in the -land, and some retained in securities paying interest and dividends, -which would be spent on the spot. Under such a state of things there -would be abundance of local means for the voluntary support of all -needed institutions, and of religion among the rest; and a national -establishment would then cease to be the necessity it is now. At all -events, should the national provision for the maintenance of religion, -which is incidentally a provision, and as things now are very usefully -so, for spending a small part of the rent of each parish, often a very -small part indeed, in the parish itself, be cancelled, the aspect of -things in many places, and the consequences, would be such as to bring -many, who are pretty well satisfied with things as they are without -thinking why, to join in the cry for free trade in land. - - * * * * * - -IV. We have been considering three conditions under which the land of -the valley may be held; first, that of a thoroughly carried-out system -of peasant-proprietorship, which is the natural consummation of things -when land is the only means of supporting life, or so nearly the only -means that other means disturb its action so little that they need not -be considered; and which is the cause of its being divided down to the -lowest point at which it is capable of supporting life: we then passed -to the opposite extreme, to which the name of landlordism has been -given; and we came at last to that which would result, and in places has -more or less resulted, from the free interaction of land and capital, in -this era of capital. We still have to consider how it has been brought -about that, in this era of capital, the free interaction of the two, in -this country hardly exists at all; what it is that here hinders its -existence; and so gives rise to the two abnormal, but closely connected, -phenomena, that land is held only in very large aggregations, and that -capital is driven away from the proprietorship of land, except in these -large aggregations, to seek imaginary investment at home in never-ending -bubble schemes, the manufacture of which is as much a trade as that of -calico, or sent abroad to be sunk in impossible Honduras railways, the -shares of non-existent Californian mines, and the bonds of hardly more -existent states. - -This, as it is an unnatural state of things, can have been brought about -only by the disturbing action of law. What, then, we have to consider -now is, how law has stepped in, and hindered the existence of the state -of things which the circumstances of the times demand, and which, -therefore, would be their natural and normal condition; and, as it -seems, would be fraught with so many and such great advantages to -individuals and to the country. The general sense of uneasiness, these -questions have given rise to throughout society, indicate that in this -matter there is something constitutionally wrong. - -When I was in the United States in 1867-1868, I was frequently asked how -the people of England could tolerate a system—the questioner always -supposed that such a result could only be brought about by law—that gave -the land of the country to a handful of the population? I always replied -‘that it was a natural consequence of our great wealth. A banker, an -Australian, a contractor, a merchant or manufacturer, a coal or iron -owner, made his million of money, and as he could live very well on -25,000_l._ a-year, he sunk it in land for the sake of the security the -land offered, and because, moreover, its possession gave certain social -and political advantages. That it was the competition of these -millionaires, who were willing to pay for something beyond the -productive powers of the land, that kept small purchasers out of the -market, and also induced small holders to sell.’ I gave this answer -because I wished to avoid a long explanation, involving probably a great -deal of argument; and I had not crossed the Atlantic to give, but to -receive, information. - -I knew at the time that my answer was only a partial one; that it -omitted some very important elements of the question; and, therefore, -was worth very little, except for the purpose in view at the moment. - -For instance; it rested on the assumption that the interest of money is -now so high in this country that under no circumstances—I admit that it -is so under existing circumstances—would people hold small amounts of -land, say a thousand acres, because they could get a better income by -selling the land, and investing the proceeds otherwise; and that none -can afford to buy land, except those who can afford to buy so much that -the moderate interest of the purchase will still in its amount be -sufficient for all their wants. It is acknowledged that at present it is -so. The whole question, then, turns on the point of what causes it to be -so? Is it unavoidable and natural? If so, then it is all right as it is; -and the subject is withdrawn from the category of useful discussions. - -I, however, for one, am disposed to think that it is neither unavoidable -nor natural. There is not such a great difference between the interest -of money in France and in England, as to make the great bulk of the -people of France desire, above all things, land, and the great bulk of -the people of England quite indifferent about it, and even the few who -have it in moderate extents desirous of getting rid of it. And, again, -in the United States the interest of money is higher than it is here, -and yet the ownership of land is regarded as the support, and its -cultivation as the natural employment of, I suppose, four-fifths of the -whole white population. To us, who look across the Atlantic, the cities -appear to be America. But this is an optical illusion. The United States -are as large as the whole of Europe, and the cities, though centres of -extraordinary activity, are few and far between. Its vast occupied area -maintains an agricultural population; and its agriculture is carried on -upon so grand a scale that, when the eye is directed to it, everything -else is utterly lost to view. The towns are nothing in a scene which -takes in fifteen hundred miles of farm-houses from New York to Omaha, -which begin again in the Great Salt Lake Valley, and again on the slopes -of the Sierra-Nevada, reaching to the shore of the Pacific. - -The cause, then, why what does take place in France, and in the United -States, does not take place here, must be sought for in something -peculiar to ourselves. And our English peculiarity I believe to be this, -that here the dominant and regulative fact bearing on the distribution -of land is, that it is not distributable; in plain English, that it is -not saleable. This is brought about by the law which allows estates to -be settled, that is to be taken out of the market and practically to be -rendered unsaleable. This being the general fact with respect to land, -the millions connected with its cultivation, seeing no opening for their -ever becoming possessed of an acre of it, do not save for this purpose, -and have their thoughts turned in other directions, that is to say, to -the towns, to trade, or to emigration. And the rest of the population, -being met by the same obstacle, have their thoughts with respect to -land, and the investment in it of their capital, equally shaped and -coloured by the existence of that obstacle. That which is the dominant -fact brings about what is the general feeling and practice. Where is the -rural district in which, from the general condition of things, it could -become a general practice among the population to work, and deny -themselves, in order to acquire some property in the land? Unsaleability -is the general rule, and so this motive, and everything that would be -connected with it, and grow out of it, has no existence. The same cause -acts even in a higher degree on the rest of the population, because -their thoughts are not, from the circumstances and character of their -lives, so naturally directed towards the land. It would be just the -reverse if every acre, everywhere, were always saleable: of course not -always on sale, but always saleable at the will of its owner. - -Speaking generally, we are in the unique and anomalous position of a -nation which has no class of proprietors of small, and moderate-sized -estates, cultivating their own land. If circumstances were at all -favourable to the maintenance amongst us of such a class, I believe it -would be maintained, and would go on increasing. What is the case is, -that circumstances adverse to it, and even destructive of it, have been -created artificially. By the power of settling estates, large settled -estates have everywhere been called into existence. Thenceforth the -fight in each neighbourhood is between large settled estates and small -properties. The large settled estates are endowed, practically, with -perpetuity, and they have within themselves great powers of purchasing, -that is of extension; for their owners are already wealthy, and have, -also, the power of discounting, for the purpose of making purchases, the -future increase in value of their estates; and they always have a strong -motive for making such purchases. The small properties, as things now -are, have very little of the element of perpetuity; generally no -self-contained power of extension by purchase; and their proprietors -have no special motives for attempting to extend them. The absorption, -then, of the small properties is inevitable; and has been, indeed, -almost entirely effected already. Our system creates the large estates, -and endows them with the power of swallowing up the small ones; and so -year by year takes the land, more and more, out of the market: the -general result being that at last we have come to have only a handful of -very wealthy rent-receiving proprietors, and few cultivating -proprietors; and that the thoughts, the prospects, and the capital of -the richest nation in the world are all pretty completely turned away -from the land. - -We said that our system was not either unavoidable or natural. We ought, -therefore, to show how it could have been avoided. We partially did this -when we pointed out its causes. Let us, however, endeavour now to find -for ourselves a distinct answer to the question, In what way could its -growth and establishment have been prevented? I need not repeat its -peculiarities: they have just been referred to. Suppose, then, a century -ago, the Legislature had come to be of opinion that it was contrary to -public policy that an existing generation should have its hands tied, in -dealing with the land of the country, by the necessities, or the -personal and family ambitions, or the ideas, of preceding generations; -and that public policy required that the land of the country should pass -from hand to hand perfectly free, each successive holder having an -absolute interest in it; receiving, and transmitting it, quite -unencumbered, precisely in the same way as a sovereign passes from hand -to hand. And that, therefore, it had been enacted, with the view of -securing these conditions, that land should not be charged in any way; -that it should not be encumbered with any uses, or settlements of any -kind; and that there should be no power of mortgaging it beyond the -life, or tenancy, of the mortgagor. Such an enactment, it is obvious, -would have rendered the existence of the present system impossible. It -would have had this effect, because no one having had the power of -encumbering land in favour of his widow and younger children, those -whose property was only land, would have been obliged to provide for -their widows and younger children by bequeathing to them certain -portions of the land itself. This would have subdivided the large -estates. It, also, would have secured to every owner the power of at any -time selling his land, if for any reason he were desirous of so dealing -with it. It is, then, presumably, the permission of the very opposite to -that which would have prevented the present state of things from -existing, that has given it existence. - -We have been speaking of what might have been done. Let us look at -something that has been done. The course of recent legislation upon this -subject is very instructive; and, as far as it goes, is confirmatory of -what we have been saying as to both the cause, and the remedy, of -existing evils. We often hear remarks made upon the mischievous -consequences of land being held in mortmain. But the fact is, that in -this country there is no such thing as land held in mortmain. The -Legislature has seen the ill effects of its being so held, and, by a -series of Acts, all having the same object, has released what was so -held. The estates vested in the Ecclesiastical Commission were made -saleable in 1843; the episcopal and capitular estates in 1851; the -estates of all other ecclesiastical corporations in 1860; of -universities and colleges in 1858. The estates of schools and charities, -and of municipal bodies, are now in the same state. By this series of -enactments the Legislature has, I believe, completely abolished the -holding of land in mortmain. It could not, we may be sure, have done -otherwise. There was among all enlightened people an overwhelmingly -preponderant perception of what ought to be done; and it was -comparatively easy to deal with that portion of the land of the country -to which these enactments apply. The ground they took was not that the -corporate estates had a worse body of tenants, or were worse cultivated -than settled estates, for that was not the case, but that it was an evil -that land should not be saleable; and so some, that was not saleable -before, was made saleable. - -And now let us see how these Acts have worked. There have been instances -in which incumbents of parishes have sold their glebes, and colleges -some of their estates. But who have been the purchasers of these glebes -and college estates? As far as I can hear, in every instance the -purchasers have been large landed proprietors. And they did no wrong in -buying them. Reader, had you and I been in their places we should have -done just what they did. The result, however, has been that the large -estates have become larger; that is to say, the amount of land that was, -through settlements, practically unsaleable, is now greater than it was -before; and that through legislation which had for its aim to make land -saleable. The present system was so widely established, so powerful, and -so ready and so able to avail itself of every opportunity, that there -was no possibility of its being otherwise. The fate, then, of that -portion of the previously mortmain-held land that has been sold, shows -how our existing system works; and enables us to see by an instance, -which, though not great in amount, is yet distinct and palpable, the -tendency in our large settled estates to continue growing, and by so -doing to diminish the amount of saleable land in the country. If, -instead of being misled by names, we look at facts, the true -mortmain-held land of this country is the settled estates. - -The corporate lands are, probably, worth somewhere about 30,000,000_l._ -An idea is afloat that there will be a proposal to sell these, and to -capitalise the price. But one can hardly suppose that many, except -‘adjacent’ proprietors, will be found to support the scheme, after -people have seen what has become of such portions of these lands as have -already been sold under the recent Acts just referred to; and when they -remember that the discharge of certain duties is attached to the -revenues of these corporate and endowment estates. And if these duties -are not always discharged satisfactorily, that is a matter which better -superintendence might set right. At all events, it is better for the -public that they should get out of these estates something, than that -they should get nothing. If the public desire that it should be so, the -Legislature, we may be sure, will be ready enough to see that all -endowments are turned to good account. - -We frequently hear the remark, and it is made as if it explained the -existence and the character of our present system, that feudalism still -flourishes in this country. This is very wide indeed of the mark. There -are many, we may be sure, who would be disposed to think that it would -be of advantage if something like the division of land of the feudal -times still obtained amongst us. The records of the Exchequer give the -number of knights’ fees at 60,215. Let that, however, be as it may, our -system is as unlike that of feudalism as anything can be. It belongs in -its whole character to the era of capital, but in the form a land-system -must assume; and this is its distinguishing feature, when the flow of -capital to the land has been so interfered with as practically to -prohibit its investment in land, except by very rich people, in very -large amounts; that is to say, by people who already have a great deal -of land, or who have a great deal of capital. This is an artificial -state of things belonging to the era of capital. The natural state of -things in the era of capital would be the direct opposite: for that -would issue in there being a multitude of owners of estates, purchased -and used for all manner of purposes; and to all the land being -marketable; and, indeed, to a considerable portion of it, everywhere, -being at any time in the market. Both of these states, the artificial -and the natural one, are equally possible in the era of capital. The -first is brought about, when, as I have pointed out, the action of the -law favours perpetuity, unsaleability, and agglomeration. The latter, -when all the land is saleable; and everyone who has capital, no matter -whether much or little, is able to buy. There is no feudalism in either -of these two states of things. The former is a factitious kind of -capitalism. - -It may sound paradoxical, after what has been said, to announce that the -change suggested in our present system would have the effect of raising -the price of land: I am, however, of opinion that it would have this -paradoxical effect; because, though it would largely increase the -supply, it would in a still greater degree increase the demand for, and -the uses of land. It would make all who have capital possible -purchasers, and would be an inducement to many, particularly among those -whose work is on the land, to save capital in order that they might -become purchasers. It would bring into play and activity a great variety -of motives for purchasing. For instance; we should then see joint-stock -companies buying land which offers no particular advantages for -residence, for the single purpose of manufacturing food out of it. They -would pour capital into it in such amounts as only proprietors, who were -also joint-stock companies, could. They would drain, mix soils, employ -steam machinery for cultivation, for preparing artificial manures, and -for cutting, crushing, and cooking food for cattle; they would build -beet-sugar factories, or whatever else would pay when done well, and on -a large scale. Other districts adapted to small properties, if such -there be, we should see falling into the hands of small proprietors. -Others again, which from their salubrity, or beauty, or local proximity -to large towns, were adapted for residential purposes, we should see -turned to this account: so that in places where now there may be one, or -perhaps not one, resident proprietor, there would be a hundred, or a -thousand. In these days of railways and capital all this is natural: and -as it is natural it is what would be best for us. I cannot see anything -bad in such a state of things; and I think it is what will be brought -about eventually. If it had existed during the last fifty years, -probably a large portion of the 1,000,000,000_l._ of capital that have -been sent out of the country, would have been kept at home. If there -were perfect freedom in dealing with the land, in this rich and populous -country, the price of agricultural land would rise to a higher price -than it has attained in Switzerland, Belgium, and parts of France, where -it has long been selling for more than it sells for here. If a -joint-stock company were to demonstrate that 25_l._ of capital per acre -applied to the cultivation of 1,000 acres was a profitable speculation, -would that have any tendency to lower the value of land? - -I believe that some of us will live to see the joint-stock principle -introduced into farming, or rather applied to the ownership and -cultivation of the land. My reason for believing this is, that it has -been found to answer in everything else; and that I can see no other way -in which capital, to the amount required in these days, can be applied -to the land; and that I can see in the nature of the case no reason why -it should not be so applied to the land. I take it for granted that, at -this moment, land can be cultivated more productively, and more -economically, comparing the amount of produce with the cost of producing -it, in farms of about 1,000 acres each, cultivated highly, and by steam -machinery, than in any other fashion. If it be so, then the system must -force its way to general adoption; and to the looker-on, practically, no -question remains uncertain but that of time. If he is satisfied that it -is the natural system in the era of capital, he knows that, sooner or -later, it must come. One of its pre-requisites, which it will take time -to bring about, is, that the land should be owned by those who cultivate -it; probably, in each case, by a firm. Whether the firm consist of three -or four partners, or of three or four dozen shareholders, will make no -difference. On no other conditions will the costly plant be provided, or -the inducement in the way of profits be sufficient. - -The past history of agriculture will here help us in our attempt to -understand its future. The aboriginal agricultural implement was, as we -all know, a burnt stick—a broken branch, with its point hardened in the -fire. That was in the stone era, and so the forest could not be felled. -Only here and there a small plot could be cultivated with such an -implement. The rest of the land, that is to say almost the whole of it, -was a game preserve for wild animals, deer, wild cattle, wild hogs, &c. -After nobody knows how many ages of this style of farming, and of -utilising the land, came the discovery of metals. An iron hoe was then -regarded as a more wonderful machine than a steam-plough is now. It was -beyond the means of any individual, except perhaps here and there a -great chief. Villages may have clubbed together the few articles they -had of exchangeable value, that is to say became a joint-stock company, -to secure the possession of one of these marvellous implements. Whatever -the land had yielded to the tillage of the burnt stick, and through the -game preserves, it now yielded a great deal more. The game preserves -still continued: but with respect to animal food also there had been a -little advance, for domestic animals now began to appear in the village. -One advance always draws on others. But the domestic animals were at -first kept only in small numbers, for they wandered over large expanses -of land, almost exclusively forest; the game still remaining the more -important of the two. This was the second stage. But as time goes on -iron, and the domestic animals, become more abundant; and an ox, or so -many ox-hides, can be exchanged for a hoe. It is now possible to get so -much more food out of the land, that one man can raise enough for the -support of two. This immediately leads to slavery, which always makes -its appearance in rude societies as soon as they have reached the point -at which one man can produce more food than is sufficient for himself. -This advances agriculture some steps further. Cattle become abundant; -labour is abundant; and a sufficiency of iron is procurable. The forest -is, therefore, taken in hand, and fields, that is spaces where the trees -have been felled, are formed. And now the plough appears on the scene, -and civilised society is fairly under weigh. Cultivation continues to -extend, and with cultivation pasturage. The forest gradually disappears, -and domestic animals entirely take the place of wild game, except for -purposes of amusement and luxury. And so on up to the system with which -we are all familiar. Every discovery advanced matters a step, and made -the land more productive. As, for instance, the introduction of -artificial grasses and roots, for our ancestors in the autumn used to -kill and salt the beef and mutton they would require for the winter and -spring. Then came a better supply of manures, and the two together -rendered the abandonment of fallows possible. The land has all along -been a constant quantity. It, from the beginning, has been the same. But -its produce has from the first been increasing through never-ceasing -advances in the means and methods of cultivating it and of turning it to -account. - -And now another advance is in sight, that of cultivation by steam. This -implies a great deal. In each stage there grew out of the nature of -things, as they then were, a certain definite proportion between the -means used and the amount of land cultivated as one concern. In the -burnt stick era the little cultivated plots might have shown in the -forest as the stars do in the field of heaven. In the hoe-period they -were multiplied and enlarged as the stars appear to us through a -telescope. Then we had peasant proprietors, and small tenants. The -number and size of the luminous, that is, of the cultivated, plots were -increasing, as means and appliances increased and improved. And now we -suppose that a farm ought properly to be of 400 or 500 acres in extent. -This means that the instruments of production and our organisation have -advanced very greatly. So must it be with steam cultivation: each -concern must be on a large scale. I have supposed that not less than -1,000 acres will be necessary for turning to good account the machinery -that will be required for tilling the soil, and gathering in the crops, -and preparing them for market, for preparing food for the stock, and for -making artificial manures, &c. No existing buildings will be of any use. -Everything will have to be constructed for the purposes required. Land, -therefore, that has to be cultivated in this way must be regarded as -quite unprovided with the necessary plant, as much so as a thousand -acres of the prairie of Colorado, or of the Pampas of La Plata. And as -nobody will invest all this costly fixed plant on other people’s land, -the land must be owned by those who are to cultivate it in this way. But -the purchasing, the providing with such plant, and the so cultivating a -thousand acres will require not less than 75,000_l._ This, at present at -all events, is quite beyond a farmer’s means. It can, therefore, -speaking generally, only be done by firms or companies. If it will pay, -they will do it. Lord Derby tells us the land ought to yield twice as -much as it does now. We may, I suppose, set the present gross produce of -good average land fairly farmed at 10_l._ an acre. If land highly -cultivated by steam, and with the liberal application of capital we are -supposing, would advance its produce to only half of Lord Derby’s -supposed possible increase, the gross yield would be 15_l._ an acre. And -this might give, after allowing one-third for working expenses, -deterioration, and insurance, 13⅓_l._ per cent. on the investment; but -we will put the working at half, which will leave a profit of 10 per -cent. If this could be done, then the streams of English capital that -are perennially flowing off into all countries would be profitably -diverted to the cultivation and enrichment of our own land; and no small -portion of the other millions we are year by year paying the foreigner -for food, might be paid to food-manufacturers of our own, and so saved -to the country. - -France produces at home its own sugar; and, besides, sends to us 60,000 -tons a-year. We do not manufacture sugar at home, because an English -tenant would not spend 8,000_l._, if he had it, in erecting a sugar -factory on another man’s land; but such firms of proprietors could, and -probably would, on their own. - -Capital swept away the peasant proprietor. It has almost swept away the -50-acre tenant. And it will sweep away the 250-acre tenant. But it -offers to all better careers than those it closes against them. The -system it is bringing upon us will employ more hands, and will require -them all to be better men, and will pay them all better, both for their -work and for their capital. Under it there will be openings everywhere -for everyone to become what he is fit to become. This will be a premium -on education; and it will do more to suppress drunkenness in the rural -districts than any conceivable licensing, or permissive, or prohibitory -Acts. - -I do not know what, under such a state of things, will become of our old -friend, who was also the friend of our forefathers—the agricultural -pauper. On a farm of a thousand acres, carried on in the fashion we have -been supposing, there would be no place for him. Upon its area there -would not be a man who was not wanted. And all who were wanted would be -well paid and well housed. There would be engine-men, and stock tenders, -and horsemen, and labourers, more in number perhaps than the hands now -employed on the same space, but all would be better off, and would be -better men. In order, however, that this may be brought about, capital -must be allowed free access to the land, that is to say, the land must -be set free. - -The argument from the picturesque will not arrest the course of events. -Never was the country so picturesque as when there was no cultivation at -all, and the noble savage pursued his wild game through the primæval -forest over hill and dale. The little hoed plots of a succeeding epoch -were a great encroachment on the picturesque. The fields that came in -with the plough carried the disfigurement still further. Our hedges and -copses, under the existing system, are rapidly disappearing. But the -human interest in the scene has always been increasing: and it will -culminate when the steam-engine shall have brought in a system under -which those who do the very lowest forms of labour then required will be -better fed, and housed, and clothed, and paid, because it will be a -system that will not admit of bad work, than was possible under previous -systems, which did not depend for their success on the intelligence of -the labourer, and the accuracy and excellence of his work. - -Such a system would carry out to their logical and ultimate consummation -the free interaction of capital and agricultural land. All such land, -the implements, and whole plant employed in its cultivation, and even -the labour, skill, and intelligence of its cultivators, would be -represented by dividend-receiving, 10_l._, 5_l._, or 1_l._ share -certificates, transferable merely by the double endorsement of the -seller and of the buyer. The old certificate, thus endorsed, would be -presented to the manager, if necessary by post; and a new certificate -would be issued to the new holder. These certificates would circulate -almost as freely as money; but as it would be a kind of money that would -carry a dividend at the rate of capital employed in safe ventures, say -four-and-a-half or five per cent., with a prospect of improvement, -wherein it would differ from the low interest of Exchequer bills, the -holding of such certificates would be the most attractive kind of -savings’ bank to the poor, and to all. The great difficulty in the way -of saving in the case of the poor, and of all who are unacquainted with -business, is to find suitable, and safe, investments. That difficulty -would be removed; and they would be enabled to participate, according to -their means, as easily, and on the same footing, as the richest and the -best informed, in the wealth and property of the country. Any labourer -on any joint-stock farm, or elsewhere, any artisan, any servant girl, -any poor governess, who might save a few pounds, might invest them in a -share or two; and the increment, whether earned or unearned, in the -value of land, and of its produce, would go to them proportionally with -the wealthiest. Everyone would, in this way, have opened to him an -avenue for participating, to any amount possible to him, in the -possession of the land everywhere. A large proportion of the population -would thus become interested in the development of its resources, and so -in the prosperity of the country, and in the order and stability of -society. The land would, in a sense, become mobilised; and the -possession of it rendered capable of universal diffusion. Any one of the -present owners, who might come to wish that any portion of his land -might be held, and used, in this fashion, might receive, if he chose to -be so paid, as many shares in each concern formed out of it, as would -equal the value of land he might make over to it. - -If the possibility of such a system could be demonstrated, the existing -owners of land might be the first to wish to see it carried out. The -following figures will show why. Suppose a thousand acres of -agricultural land is letting at what is about the average rent of such -land, that is at about 30_s._ an acre, the landlord will be receiving -for it 1,500_l._ a-year, subject to some not inconsiderable deductions. -But if this same land were sold to a cultivating firm at 50_l._ an acre, -the price being received in shares, and the concern were to pay to -original shareholders 10 per cent. the rent of 1,500_l._, subject to -deductions, would have become a dividend of 5,000_l._ subject to no -deductions. But we will suppose only 3,000_l._, for that will be double -the present rent, and so quite sufficient for our argument. - -So far as the system might be adopted would ownership of the land of the -old kind cease, and in its place be substituted, in convenient amounts, -dividend-receiving, easily transferable, and freely circulating capital -stock certificates, within everybody’s reach, secured upon definite -portions of the agricultural land of the country, representing its -present value, and participating in its future advances in value. Such -certificates would, also, offer an improving security for trust funds of -all kinds, and for endowments. - -The combination of what I have observed, during a life in the country, -of the requirements of land, and of the condition and wants of the poor, -with my experience of the duties of a trustee (which have devolved upon -me to, perhaps, an unusually great extent), suggested to me the ideas I -have just been endeavouring to present to the reader. If they are -practicable they may contribute to the solution of existing difficulties -of several kinds. I am aware that they cannot do this, because in that -case they would be quite visionary, if they are not in harmony with the -natural requirements and conditions of the era of capital. That they -would have been impracticable in other times does not prove that they -would be impracticable now. - -But we have been enticed off the main line of our discussion to a -by-path, which was offering a very interesting view into the future. We -must now return to the point we had before reached, which was that of -the popular misconceptions that are held with respect to our existing -system. There are, then, again, others who suppose that its salient -peculiarities may be explained by a reference to what is frequently -spoken of as ‘The Law of Primogeniture.’ We have, however, in this -country no law of primogeniture in any sense that can be intended in -such a reference. There is no body of rights attaching by law to the -eldest son. The extent of what may be regarded as law in this matter is -the right of the eldest son of a peer to succeed to his father’s -peerage; and of the eldest sons of those who have hereditary titles to -succeed to their father’s titles. The power of entailing landed property -only acts in favour of the system of primogeniture, because the holders -of landed property themselves choose to work it in this direction; for -it might be used equally in favour of equal partition. There is then no -law of primogeniture in the sense supposed. A man who buys land, or in -any way comes to have the absolute disposal of it, as the word absolute -implies, may dispose of it as he pleases. He may, if such should be his -wish, leave it all to his youngest child, or in equal partition amongst -all his children. Only, should he die intestate, the law will deal with -his land (but we have just been told that this is to be altered) in the -way in which, looking at the conduct in this matter of English landlords -generally, it may be supposed the man himself would have dealt with it -had he made a will. Possibly he may not have made a will because he knew -that the law would so dispose of it. The law in the few exceptional -cases of this kind that arise from time to time, recognises, and acts -on, the state of opinion and sentiment which has grown out of the power, -it had itself given, of charging and encumbering land—a power which -probably had no very glaring economical evils and inconveniences in an -age when the population of the country was only a third of what it is at -present, and when capital was only in an embryonic condition, and when, -too, perhaps the political system this power upheld appeared to be -necessary. - -It is not, then, any law of primogeniture which has brought about our -present land-system, but certain powers, conferred by law, which have -suggested to people the desirability of acting on, and enabled them to -act on, the voluntarily adopted principle of primogeniture; that is to -say the power of charging and encumbering their estates. And, now that -the era of capital is upon us, it is not improbable that the policy of -continuing this power will be debated, for at such a time it has some -very obvious evils and inconveniences. I do not mean that it will be -reconsidered by the legislature before many years have elapsed, or in -the first instance; for in a matter of this kind the legislature can do -nothing but give form and sanction to what the circumstances of the -times have already settled. If it shall be generally felt that the ill -consequences of the exercise of this power overbalance its advantages, -we may suppose that it will be withdrawn. This is not a question that -will be much affected by any amount of speaking or writing, if that be -all. If the facts of the matter are of themselves not felt as evils and -inconveniences, no amount of speaking or of writing will bring people so -to regard them. But should they come to be so felt, the people of this -country will be desirous of dealing with them as all men, always and -everywhere, have dealt with such matters, when they were seen to admit -of removal. But however that may be, it is not a law of primogeniture, -but certain law-conferred powers, enabling people to act on the -principle of primogeniture, which are the cause of the existing state of -things in this matter. - -In the discussion of this subject, which ramifies in many directions, -for it has moral and social, as well as economical, political, and -constitutional bearings, many questions will be propounded, and will -have to be considered: such, for instance, as whether, in these several -respects, a comparatively small number of large landowners is better, in -this era of capital, and of large cities, than a large number of -landowners, holding estates varying in dimensions, according to the -amounts of capital people would, from a variety of motives, be desirous -of investing in land, were all the land of the country free and -marketable; or, in other words, whether, in such times, the artificial -condition of things we have been considering is safer than, and -preferable to, the natural condition? The share-certificates, I just now -spoke about, would make it free and marketable to the greatest -imaginable degree. - -It will also be asked whether it is fair to the land-owner, and, all -things considered, advantageous to the community, that he should be -obliged to provide for his widow and younger children either by saving -the means for making such provision from his income, or by leaving to -them, absolutely, what portions of his landed property he may think fit? -Those same share-certificates would supply an easy, inexpensive, and -safe method of providing for widows and younger children. - -Another question will be whether in this era of capital, which means -that there will always be some large capitalists as well as many small -ones, the liberation of the land would really lead to the extinction of -large estates? Largeness is a word of comparative signification. Of -course there would be few such large estates as there are now, because -that is the result of growth through many generations under the very -peculiar circumstances we have been referring to: but if the interchange -of land and capital were perfectly free there would be everywhere many -considerable estates, though the general order of things might be -estates of moderate size, descending to holdings of small extent, which -might be the most numerous of all; or such holdings might not be very -numerous: for in matters of this kind there is always much that is -unforeseen. One point, however, may, I think, be held to be certain: we -shall never, in this country, see anything approximating to peasant -proprietorship. That is simply inconceivable in the era of capital. Both -the land and the man can be turned, now, to better account. Its -advocates are either ignorant demagogues, or members of that harmless -class who, having their eyes in the back of their heads, can only see, -and wish for, what has passed away. If we ever come to have -share-estates, such as I have endeavoured to describe, they will, -probably, average, as I said, about 1,000 acres each. - -It will, perhaps, also, be suggested that there may be some mixed method -of proceeding, which, while respecting existing arrangements, would, at -the same time, largely increase the number of proprietors; as, for -instance, to deal with the rents of endowments compulsorily, and with -those of the owners of land at their option, just as the tithe was dealt -with; that is to say, to convert the rent into a permanent charge upon -the land; and then to sell the land, subject to this rent-charge, the -yearly value of which would be ascertained, as is done in the case of -the tithe commutation rent-charge, by reference to certain averages of -the price of the different kinds of grain cultivated in this country. -The immediate gain to corporations, and trustees, and to proprietors who -might be disposed to sell, would be considerable, for they would -continue to get their present rents, without deductions, and would, -besides, be able to sell the proprietary right in the land, and its -capacity for future increase in value, for whatever they would fetch in -the market. This would suit the share-system, for the land might then be -bought with or without the rent, as it might happen in each case. - -Our opinions on any question are very much influenced by our observation -of the direction things are taking. Now, with respect to our existing -land-system, all changes in matters connected with, or bearing upon, it, -and which appear to be either imminent, or possible, are likely to take -only the direction of what will be unfavourable to its maintenance. For -instance, if it be decided that endowments, now consisting of land, -should be capitalised, in order that more land may be brought into the -market, the line of argument, that triumphed against them, will be -equally available against our existing land-system. And, furthermore, if -the lands belonging to charities, institutions, and corporations be -sold, it is evident that, as things now are, they will, for the most -part, be bought up by the owners of large contiguous estates; so that, -in fact, the remedy attempted will only make the evil it was intended to -remedy, more glaring: the great estates will have become greater. The -fate of the corporate estates, thus compulsorily sold, will be that of -the thousands of small properties the large estates have of late years -swallowed up. Everybody knows that many houses of the gentry of former -times are now farm-houses on every large estate. It cannot be otherwise, -for this is how a large estate is formed. All the smaller estates in the -neighbourhood, just like the meteoric bodies which come at last to be -overpowered by the attraction of our planet, must, as things are now, -gravitate towards it: their end is, sooner or later, generally the -former, to fall into it. So, if the estates of the endowments are sold, -will it be with them. It has been so with those that have been already -sold. - -Again, if the Church be disestablished and disendowed, a certain -proportion of the rent of each parish in the country, pretty generally -more or less increased by private income, will cease to be spent within -the parish. What is so spent at present, as far as it goes, and to a -great extent in many cases, lessens the hard and repellent features of -the absenteeism of the owners of the land in those parishes. -Disendowment, therefore, will make the evils and inconveniences of the -present system, whatever they may be, more felt, and more conspicuous; -and a better mark, as they will then stand clear of all shelter, for -adverse comment. - -So, too, if the agricultural land of this country should continue, and -there is no reason for supposing the contrary, to fall, year by year, -into fewer hands, the strength of those who will have to defend the -system will be diminishing at the very time that wealth, intelligence, -numbers, union, and every element of power, are increasing on the side -of those who cannot see that they have any interest in maintaining it. - -If the recent Education Act have the intended effect of educating the -millions who have no landed property, the most coveted of all human -possessions, will they find anything in the existing system that will -commend it to their favour? Will they not rather be in favour of a -system, which would make every acre of land in the country marketable? - -If people should come to think that the reason why France, -notwithstanding the abject condition of a large proportion of its -peasant-proprietors, and without our stupendous prosperity in -manufactures and commerce, has become so rich, is that it keeps its -savings at home, because the land of the country is marketable, while -we, every year, scatter tens of millions of pounds of our savings all -over the earth to be utterly lost, because they cannot be invested at -home in the land of the country, the natural reservoir, or savings’ -bank, of the surplus capital of a country, as well as the best field for -its employment, will they not go on to wish that the land here, too, -could be made marketable? - -If population and capital go on increasing, may we not anticipate that -this will engender a desire—for in these days of railways and telegraphs -it is much the same where a man lives—that the agricultural land of the -country should be brought into the state of divisibility and -marketableness, into which some of the land in the neighbourhood of our -great cities has been brought through the pressure of circumstances? -This pressure may extend, and be felt with respect to the land of the -whole country. - -In an era, too, when popular principles so thoroughly pervade society as -to influence all our legislation, is it probable that a system which is -the reverse of popular will commend itself to general acceptance? It is -also on the cards now that manual labour may become so costly as to -necessitate, if a great deal of land is not to go out of cultivation, -the substitution of machinery to such an extent as will be done, -generally, only by those who own the land. - -The whole stream of tendency, then, both in what is now occurring, and -in what is likely to occur in no remote future, seems setting strongly -in a direction which cannot be regarded as favourable to the maintenance -of our present land-system. And the observation of this will, sooner or -later, consciously or unconsciously, very much modify opinion on the -subject; for in human affairs, just as with respect to the operations of -Nature, we are disposed to acquiesce in what we have come to understand -is inevitable. - -But we have for some time lost sight of the Valley of the Visp, though -not of its imaginary sole Proprietor. He has all along been before us. -What we have been considering was how, in this era of capital, he came -to be its sole proprietor, what are the action and effects of those -artificial conditions which placed him in this position, and what are -the chances of the maintenance of these artificial conditions. - -Things move fast in these days: but few people expect that any change -will take place in his time. He will continue in the position of social -eminence, and of political power, he now occupies. He will go on hoping -to leave after him a line of descendants occupying the same, or even a -greater, position. This will be the dominant motive in his mind. If any -land is to be bought in his neighbourhood, there will still be a -likelihood that he will become the purchaser of it. It has always been -so, since the estate became the predominant one in those parts. And that -it should be so is now regarded almost as a law of nature; as something -quite inevitable; so that no one need enquire whether it is beneficent -in its action, or otherwise. If he have not cash in hand to pay for the -new purchase, he will mortgage his property to the amount of the price. -In this era of capital the value of land goes on increasing, and so the -mortgage will in time be paid off by the estate itself. In this way, in -these times, every large estate has within itself, even without Austrian -marriages,[1] a progress-generated power of absorption and growth. -Without lessening the area of the estate, he will provide for those who -are dependent on him by charging it with the payment of whatever he may -please to leave them: so that while no very apparent injustice will be -done to them, the position of the single representative of the family -will not be affected, for he will still appear before the world as the -owner of the whole estate. He will also hope that, from time to time, -the representatives of the family will, by making purchases in the way -in which he has, and by the introduction of great heiresses into the -family, increase the extent of the estate. - -Footnote 1: - - Bella gerant alii. Tu felix Austria nube: Nam, quæ Mars aliis, dat - tibi regna Venus. - -At times, when he hears how demagogues are raving about the -nationalisation of the land, and the tyranny of capital; and when he -visits the valley, and sees the condition of many, indeed of all the -people on the estate, he may feel that he is in a somewhat invidious -position. But he will feel also that no one is to blame: his progenitors -could not well have acted otherwise than as they did; nor could he well -act otherwise than as he is acting, and will act. And those who are -discussing the matter, sometimes with the tone of men who are suffering -a wrong, would, we may be sure, not act otherwise, under the -circumstances, themselves. - -Suppose, however, that for the restricted and artificial action of -capital, which has brought this state of things about, its natural -action has been substituted: what will be the effect on the hopes, and -on the family, of the proprietor of our valley? We may venture to -predict that the natural order of things will give him a securer chance -of realising his hopes in their best sense. His family will start, in -the race of life, in possession of the whole of the land of the valley. -For them this will be no bad start. The land of the valley will bear -division for several generations without reducing the members of the -family to a bad position, even if none of them should do anything at all -to improve their position. But this, judging by the ordinary principles -of human nature, we may be sure, speaking generally, will not be the -case. Two centuries hence, it will be their own fault, if, instead of -the family being really only one man, they have not become a clan in the -valley: a clan possessed of more social importance, and of more -political influence, than could attach to a family represented by a -single member. Some will have become invigorated by the inducements to -exertion that will have come home to them, and by the wholesome -consciousness in each that he is somewhat dependent on himself for -maintaining and improving his position. Whatever efforts to advance -themselves they may come to make, will not be made under unfavourable -circumstances. None of them will have occasion to feel, as perhaps some -of their ancestors at times had, that they are in an invidious position; -and none will regard them with feelings that, if not ‘somewhat leavened -with a sense of injustice,’ do yet arise from a suspicion that things -are not quite as they ought to be, through there having been some kind -of interference with their natural course. Is not this a nobler, a more -patriotic, a more human, and in every way a better prospect than that -which is now feeding the somewhat misdirected paternal ambition of the -present proprietor? Would it not be a better anticipation of the -fortunes of his family, to think of them as a numerous body of -proprietors, occupying a good position, through the natural action of -the circumstances and conditions of the times, than to look forward to -the uncertain character and uncertain position of a single member of his -family, who will be maintained, if maintained, by conditions, on the -permanency of which no dependence can be placed, because they are at -discord with the needs and circumstances of the times? - -Land now no longer rules. Capital is king. Capital it is that does -everything now; that even, but under abnormal and artificial conditions, -aggregates our large estates. Under this dynasty the advantages the land -is capable of conferring on man are not withdrawn, but much increased -both in degree and in variety; and everything desirable, the land not -excepted, becomes, in a manner and degree inconceivable in all foregone -times, the reward of personal exertion and worth. This is what -distinguishes this dynasty from those that have preceded it. If it be -the true king, it will prove its legitimacy, by removing all artificial -barriers to the development and exercise of its beneficent powers. If it -cannot do this, it is a bastard dynasty, and will be dethroned. - - * * * * * - -V. But I have not yet exhausted all the possible forms in which land may -be held. Their name is legion. Every country, and every condition of -society, has had, has now, and will have, its own. I say nothing of the -serf-system: that among civilised nations has gone for ever. So has the -system of village communities. The co-operative system, however, has -believers, and, it appears possible, may have a trial. But I, for one, -because I believe in capital, and in the individual, have no belief in -this kind of co-operation, as a general system, either in manufactures -and commerce, or, and that least of all, in agriculture: and, with -respect to the latter, whether the co-operators be renters, or owners. -Ownership would make no difference at all beyond the power owners would -possess of mortgaging their land; and this, as it is a resource that -would very soon be exhausted, need not be considered here. The only -practical difference would be, that co-operative renters would require a -larger extent of land to live from than co-operative owners, whose land -was unmortgaged. If the system of co-operation were general, -competition, and the increase of population that would have to be -provided for, and which would lead either to subdivision, or to an -increase of co-operators upon each farm, would inevitably bring the -style of living down to a point at which it would be no better than it -is now in the Visp Valley. And this is so low a condition of life, both -materially and intellectually, that most people are of opinion that it -is not worth while to go in for its maintenance, or even, perhaps, to -regret its disappearance. - -A population of co-operators sunk to this depth, and they could not but -sink to it, would, like the old Irish potatovors, or the French petty -proprietors, be in a state of chronic wretchedness and degradation: -this, in bad seasons, amounts to a state of starvation. If the -individual Irish potatovor could not, and the individual French petty -proprietor, in whom the parsimonious disposition of his race is -exaggerated, rarely can, save, because bad seasons oblige him to -mortgage his little plot of land, from which he can hardly extract a -living in good seasons, we may be sure that neither would, nor could, -such co-operators. I am disposed to prefer the present condition of our -agricultural labourers, the most feeble class amongst us. At all events, -they have more than one buffer between themselves and bad seasons. First -there is the reservoir of capital possessed by the farmer. This is, to -the extent of wages, generally, sufficient. In consequence of its -existence bad seasons make little or no difference to hired labourers. -But under the co-operative system there would be no farmers, but only -co-operators, just able to get along in ordinary seasons. Our labourers -have, also, a second buffer, which is often of some use to them, in -their wealthy neighbours. But under the co-operative system there would -probably be no wealthy neighbours. They possess, too, a third buffer in -the State, which comes in, in the last resort, to rescue them from the -extreme consequences of every kind of calamity. But under a system of -peasant co-operators there could hardly be anything resembling our -poor-law; for the rationale of that is, that the people who cultivate -the soil of the country, are themselves devoid of all property. These -three buffers, then, would all have disappeared; and nothing, as far as -we can see, would arise, or could be created, to take their place. Such -co-operators would be only co-operative peasant-proprietors: which is an -absurdity. - -Another sufficient objection to this system is, that this is the era of -capital, and that such a system would most effectually prohibit the -outflow of capital to the land. Capital could no more be invested in the -ownings of a wretched population of co-operators, than it could be in -the plots of Irish potatovors, or of French petty proprietors. - - * * * * * - -The conclusion, then, to which my moralising on the spectacle of the -Valley of the Visp brought me was, that it belongs to a state of things, -which, even in such secluded retreats, will not be able to linger on -much longer: at all events, that it is not desirable that it should. We -live under the dominion of capital, that is to say, of property other -than land, or rather, perhaps, of an accumulated, and still -accumulating, interest or dividend-bearing essence of all property -(which is labour stored up in some material), reconvertible at will, for -productive purposes, into land, labour, or anything men have of -exchangeable value. This mighty essence of all property is within the -reach of us all, in proportion to our respective opportunities and -abilities, and the efforts to gain possession of it we choose to make. -But though within the reach of all, it is the mightiest of all -magicians; and it is evident that it must modify both the possession, -the distribution, and the use of land, as well as everything else with -which we have to do. In this there is nothing to be regretted. On the -contrary, we ought all of us to congratulate ourselves on the advent of -such an era: for it means that our resources for living, and for living -well, in respect of all the requirements of human happiness, have been -thereby vastly enlarged, and with a power of indefinite enlargement, -irrespective of the area of the country. It means, too, that careers -have been thereby opened to all, in ways which would have been -inconceivable when land supplied the only resource for living; for that -now every moral and intellectual endowment, every form of labour, and -every aptitude can be turned to account. Even land can be made -productive of greater benefits to us than we were wont to derive from -it, for capital is showing that it has economical, and other, capacities -for improving man’s estate, undreamt of by its old cultivators. - -Popular language, which is the expression of popular ideas, on this -subject is adequate. It gives correctly the philosophy of the matter. -What is wanted is that it should be clearly and generally understood, -and used with accuracy. Money has both an intrinsic value as the -representative of so much labour expended in the acquisition of the -precious metals, and a conventional use as a metallic certificate, -entitling its holder to exchange it against anything else in the world -anyone has to part with, that costs in its production an equal amount of -labour, there being at the time no abnormal disturbance of the ratio of -supply and demand. In the latter respect it matters not whether the -certificate is on gold or paper: for the paper represents gold, or equal -value. When earned, or otherwise acquired, by a kitchen-maid, a -speculator, or a prime-minister, it may be used in any one of three -ways. First, it may be spent. Secondly, it may be hoarded. Thirdly, it -may be used as capital. By spending is meant using money for the -acquisition of what perishes in the use; when it passes into another -man’s hands who again has the option of using it in any one of the three -ways. It is evident that a man may spend money for clothing, food, and -other necessary purposes, in order to live, and to enable him to do his -work in life well, whatever it may be: it is then spent well, and in a -sense productively. Or he may spend it on vice, or ostentation, or -hurtful pleasures: it is then spent ill. By hoarding is meant putting it -away unproductively for future use. This was originally the only -alternative to spending. The money stored away in the treasuries of the -old Pharaohs was an instance of this unproductive suspension of use. -This is still the practice, everywhere, among rude and ignorant people: -it is the hibernation of money; its active uses are put in abeyance. As -capital it may be used in two ways. It may either be invested, or -employed. Investing it means placing it in securities that do not -require management, as, for instance, consols, mortgages, the rent of -land, &c.; the correlative of which is interest. Employing it means -placing it in reproductive industries, as, for instance, in agriculture, -manufactures, trade, commerce, &c., which require management, and the -correlative of which is profit. This when divided among shareholders, -who manage the concern jointly, or by a selection from their body, -becomes dividend. This is the highest form of economical organisation. -It gives to all, in their respective proportions, however small those -proportions may be, the power of employing capital; and to all who have -the ability and integrity, the chance of rising to its management. It is -the full development of the era of capital. It is the stage we have now -reached. It enables the kitchen-maid, and everybody, to participate in -the highest advantages of capital. I think we shall see it employed in -this way in the cultivation and proprietorship of the land. If so, then, -I think the poor and ignorant will have brought home to them a very -strong motive for saving, because they will have constantly before their -eyes a safe and profitable means of employing their savings. They, too, -may thus become capitalists of the best kind. - -Two pregnant errors, however, there appear to be, which it will be -necessary for us to avoid, especially, in order that, as respects the -land, we may secure the natural conditions and natural advantages of our -era of capital. One is the error of making people’s wills for them -directly, in the way done in France. This breaks up the land of a -country into properties smaller than they would become under the natural -circumstances of the times: thus condemning, through legislation, a -large part of the population, deluded by the fallacious disguise of -proprietorship, to life-long misery. The other error is that of making -people’s wills for them indirectly, in the way done in some other -countries. This has the opposite effect of agglomerating the land of the -country into estates larger than they would become under the natural -circumstances of the times, and of reducing the number of proprietors of -agricultural land almost to the vanishing point. The first method both -increases the number of wretched, degraded, and almost useless -proprietors, and diminishes the size of the properties, to a highly -mischievous degree. The latter just in proportion as it increases the -size of the estates diminishes the number of proprietors. Both limit the -variety of uses to which the land may be put. Both introduce causes of -political action at variance with the natural conditions of the times. -Every system has some advantages: but whatever may be the advantages of -the latter, it is, at all events, an interference with the natural -rights of each generation, and with the natural course of things; for it -prevents the ownership, and the uses, of the land of the country -adjusting themselves to the circumstances and the requirements of the -times; and hinders the application, to its culture, of that combination -of knowledge, energy, and capital, which is manifestly within reach, and -has become requisite for developing its productiveness to the degree -acknowledged to be possible now, but which cannot be secured under our -present landlord-and-tenant system. If, however, this be a serious evil, -it is, for reasons already given, one of that class of evils which -engender their own remedy. - -Many are of opinion that landlordism was all along at the bottom of the -evils of Ireland. Landlordism is probably the cause of the Liberalism of -Scotch constituencies. If so, what is there to prevent the same cause -having, eventually, somewhat similar effects in England? And, if so, -then, what next? If, however, the law, instead of interfering with the -natural course of things, by indirectly making people’s wills for them, -would take care that the land of the country should pass from generation -to generation, and from hand to hand, free from every kind of -encumbrance, and so be all, at all times, at the will of the holder, -marketable, a question, which is now causing much anxiety, because it -may, before long, give much trouble, would probably die away, and be no -more heard of; nor, probably, should we hear any more of the -antagonisms, with which we are all now so familiar, between the town and -the country. One step, at least, would have been taken towards making us -one people. - - * * * * * - -The stimulus new scenes apply to the mind, more particularly when its -owner is passing through them on foot, and alone, accounts for the -foregoing chapter. But its having been thought out under such -circumstances by A is no reason for its being read by B, who is neither -on foot, nor, probably, alone; and the only scene before whom is, -doubtless, the not unfamiliar one of his own fireside; one which, -perhaps, has never invited, and may, too, be quite unfitted for, either -the debate, or the rumination, of such discussions. Still, as it was -suggested by, and constructed in the mind during, the tramp I am -recording, and was so one of its incidents, I set it down here in its -place. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - WALK TO SAAS IM GRUND—FEE, AND ITS GLACIER—THE MATTMARK SEE - - - Nature never did betray - The heart that loved her. ’Tis her privilege - Through all the years of this our life to lead - From joy to joy: for she can so inform - The mind that is within us, so impress - With quietness and beauty, and so feed - With lofty thoughts.—WORDSWORTH. - -_September 4._—Started at 6 A.M. My wife and myself on foot, the little -boy on horseback. We walked down the Zermatt valley to Stalden; and -then, turning to the right, ascended the Saas valley. The latter being -narrower—so narrow as to bring the opposite mountains very near to -you—makes the scenery often more striking than that of the parallel, and -wider, valley you have just left. Sometimes the mountain sides are so -precipitous, quite down to the torrent, which tumbles, and brawls, along -the rocky bottom, that no space is presented even for a cherry or -apple-tree. For a great part of the way there is no valley, but only a -fissure between the two mountain ranges; and nothing can establish -itself in the rifts, and almost on the surface of the rocks, but the -larch. - -We stopped at a small roadside inn, about an hour and a half from Saas, -for luncheon. A German professor and his wife came in for the same -purpose. He was a tall, gaunt, study-worn man; she a tough, determined -little woman. He recommended Heidelberg (it was not his university) both -as a winter residence, and as a place of education. The pair appeared to -be, like their country-people generally, honest, earnest, and -simple-minded, and in the habit of making the most of their small means -without complaining. They were carrying very little besides themselves. -We reached Saas im Grund at 12.30. We had been on our legs for six -hours. The reason why walking on the level takes more out of one than -climbing for an equal number of hours, is not merely that in walking the -effort is always the same, but that it is at the same time rapid and -continuous; whereas in climbing it is not only varied, sometimes up and -sometimes down, but is also deliberate, and often interrupted for a -moment or two, while you are looking where to set your foot. - -A guide, who was on his way to Saas, overtook us soon after we had left -St. Niklaus, and asked permission to accompany our party. He had lately -made his first attempt to ascend the Matterhorn. He had not got to the -top, but his having failed to do so was no fault of his. He could speak -a little French, and was a good-natured, talkative fellow. - -At Saas we put up at Zurbriggen’s Hotel. We found the house clean, the -people obliging, the charges moderate, and the aspect of things quite -unlike—all the difference being on the right side—that of the large -Swiss caravansary. - -The contrast between Saas and Zermatt is very great. At Zermatt the -valley ends, with great emphasis, in a grand amphitheatre of mountains -and snowy peaks. At Saas it seems suddenly brought to a close without -any objects of interest to look upon. With the mind full of Zermatt, -Saas appears but a lame and impotent conclusion. The village, however, -is very far indeed from being at the head of the valley. That is to be -found at the Monte Moro, five hours further on; and, as it includes the -Allalein glacier, the grand scenery of the Mattmark See, and of the -Monte Moro itself, it has enough to satisfy even great expectations; -such as one has, of course, coming from Zermatt. - -_September 5._—Went to the Fee glacier with the guide who had joined -company with us yesterday. My wife and I walked. The blue boy rode. The -path from the village lies across the stream, and up the hill on the -west side of the valley. This brings you to a mountain-surrounded -expanse of greenest grass, in which lies the village of Fee. The -substantial character of the _châlets_, and their tidy air, imply that -the inhabitants of the place are pretty well off. At the western -extremity of the reclaimed and irrigated meadow is the great Fee -glacier. The mounds and ridges of _débris_ the glacier has brought down -are very considerable. I mean the mounds and ridges that are still -naked; for, of course, all that now forms the cultivated valley must -equally, only at remoter dates, have been brought down by the same -agency. The only difference between the two is that time, and man, have -levelled the latter, and enabled it to clothe itself in a vestment of -luxuriant grass. This grass it is that has built and peopled the -village. In this way human thought and feeling, or rather the -multiplication of the thinking and feeling organism, man, is the direct -result of the storms, and frosts, that have shattered, and riven, the -mountain peaks above; and of the glacier which has transported the -fragments to the sheltered valley, where they could be turned to human -account; and, in the act of transporting them, so ground and comminuted -their constituent particles as to render them capable of maintaining a -rich vegetation; and which same glacier is, at this moment, engaged in -supplying the irrigating streams, the stimulant of the richness of the -vegetation. - -The upper part of the naked _débris_ overlays large masses of ice. This -is very uneven, and full of depressions and cracks, the sides of which -are, generally, covered with loose stones, but, sometimes, only with a -thin film of mud. A fall upon this combination of ice, pebbles, and -slush is the easily attained consequence of inattention to what you are -about, and where you are going, while crossing such ground. We had a -walk on the glacier; and then, having taken in a fresh supply of -materials for keeping up the steam, at a station on one of the _moraine_ -ridges, which gave us a good view of the contiguous glacier, the -overhanging mountains, and the green valley, we returned to Saas in the -afternoon. - -After dinner I started with our guide—his communicativeness during the -two days he had been with us had made us feel as if he were an old -acquaintance—for a walk over the Monte Moro, down the Val Anzasca, and -over the Simplon, to Brieg. I also took a porter with me, who was to -carry my _sac_ as far as Macugnaga, from which place the guide was to -take charge of it. He would not undertake to carry it where he was known -as a guide, for that, he affirmed, would be losing caste. My wrappers I -sent from Saas to Brieg by post. The charge was a franc and a half for a -great coat and shawl. The latter, of fine wool, four yards in length, -and two in width, is less than half the weight of an ordinary travelling -rug, and more than twice as serviceable. My portmanteau I had already -despatched from Zermatt for Brieg by the same common carriers. The -facilities of the Swiss post-office for the conveyance of baggage—we -found them very convenient—result from the department having absorbed -all the diligences. It has thus become the carrier not only of letters, -but equally of travellers, and of parcels of all kinds. In fact it seems -that in Switzerland you may post anything short of a house. Mistakes -appear to be made very seldom; and when they are made you have a -responsible office to deal with, whose interest it is to set them right. -At Saas the post-master was also the chemist, the doctor, the -alpenstock-maker, &c. &c. of the place. Where there are but few people -there must be many employments which will not occupy the whole of a -man’s time, or, singly, support him. - -My wife and the little boy accompanied me half of the way to the -Mattmark See. Our plan was that they should return to Saas, and on the -third day meet me again at Brieg. Soon after they left me I met two -well-grown, clean-limbed Englishmen—it is always a pleasure to meet such -specimens of one’s countrymen—with whom I had a little conversation. I -asked them what snow there was on the pass which they had just come -over. They told me they had crossed seven snow-fields. The next morning -I found only four, and of these two small enough. They could have had no -wish to misrepresent; but so fallible is human testimony; and nowhere -more so than in Switzerland, where you never find two eye-witnesses -giving the same account of the same thing. It is possible, however, that -they may have made some _détour_ in crossing, and, illogically, answered -a question different from the one put to them. - -When the path reaches the Allalein glacier the scenery becomes grand. -You are again on the visible confines of the ice-and-snow world. On the -left side of the glacier you ascend a stiffish mountain. This brings you -to the Mattmark See. The path is a little above, and the whole length -of, its eastern side. It is carried on a level line along a very rocky -descent, a few yards above the water. The humble plants in the narrow -rocky strip between the path and the lake were charmingly full of -colour, for at this time the leaves of many of them were assuming their -rich autumnal tints. At the foot of this narrow strip of shattered -rocks, interspersed with highly coloured vegetation, was the unruffled -water, looking like polished steel, dark, hard, smooth, and cold. Beyond -the water, and rising precipitously from it, towered the rugged, -slaty-coloured mountains, capped with white, and streaked in their -ravines with snow-drifts and glaciers. - -At the further end of the lake stands the Mattmark Inn, exactly where it -ought to stand. Further back, you would be disturbed by the feeling that -you had not yet seen everything, and so were forming an imperfect -conception of the scene. Further on, the scene would, by comparison, be -dull. Higher up, the opposite mountain would not look so overpowering, -and you would lose the mighty masses of fallen rock, as big as houses, -which are close to the inn; and you might also lose the water, which is -the distinguishing feature of the scene. As to the inn itself, so far -away in the mountains you cannot expect anything very extensive either -in the way of structure or of _cuisine_. But you will get here, which is -worlds better, a clean house, very obliging people, and all that they -can offer for your entertainment—of course without much variety—good of -its kind. If you go to Switzerland for what is peculiar to Switzerland, -these are the places you should look out for. Large hotels, full of -loiterers, among whom there may be perhaps a French count, or even a -Russian Prince, may be found elsewhere than in Switzerland, should you -think them worth finding. But the very advantage of the Mattmark See -Inn, and of other mountain inns like it, is that you will see in them -none of this kind of people, while you will have plenty of the grandest -mountain scenery, and plenty of mountain work, if that is what you have -come for, all around you. From the great hotels you may see the outline -of the mountains; but that is a very different thing from being in the -midst of the mountains themselves; in the very society and company of -the mountains; so that you look at each other face to face, and can make -out all their features, and all the components, and the whole colouring, -of every feature. - -From Saas to the Mattmark See Hotel is three hours and a half. Before -turning in I ordered coffee at 3.50 A.M., and told the guide and porter -to be ready for a start at 4 A.M. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - OVER MONTE MORO BY MACUGNAGA TO PONTE GRANDE, AND DOMO D’OSSOLA - - - Creation’s heir, the world, the world is mine.—GOLDSMITH. - -_September 6._—At 3.50 A.M. coffee was ready, but was told that it was -not so with the guide and porter. On looking them up, I found them both -in bed, and asleep. I was not quite unprepared for this, from something -I had been told at Saas about the way in which my friend sometimes spent -his evenings. But, having taken a kind of liking to him, I had replied -that this would make no difference to me, so long as he was all right -during the day. About that I was assured that I need entertain no doubt. -The delay, however, caused on this occasion, by his inability to wake of -himself at the appointed time, did not, as it happened, amount to much. -After a gentle ascent of, if I recollect rightly, about forty minutes, -and somewhat beyond the Distel _châlets_, we came to the first snow. It -might have been a quarter of a mile across. With nails in your boots, -and an alpenstock in your hand, this is almost as easy to walk upon as -the path that brings you to it, only, of course, that you cannot walk -upon it quite so quickly. Beyond this, the ascent is somewhat stiff up -to the summit. Sometimes it is on a ledge of gneiss, with a deep -precipice down to the glacier-ravine on your left hand. Another -snow-field also has to be crossed here, which lies at an angle of, -perhaps, 25° or 30°. The summit of the pass is like a small crater a few -yards across. Here my friend, who had been as brisk and talkative as -heretofore since we started, called a halt for breakfast. The cold meat -and bread were certainly of the driest, and that perhaps encouraged him -in the idea that not they, but the liquid with which they were washed -down, was the essential part of the repast. Young Andermatten, a name -well known in these parts, was now carrying my _sac_. He had met us -between the two snow-fields we had passed, and as my porter had some -reason for wishing to return to Saas, he had undertaken to supply his -place to Macugnaga. - -As soon as you leave the summit you begin to descend a ledge of very -smooth gneiss, about six or eight feet wide. On your left is a -precipice; on your right a broken wall of rock. You go down this for -about a hundred yards, and then get off it by a few projecting steps, -which have been fixed in the face of the rock. This takes you on to some -snow lying at a sharp incline. It would not do to slip on this ledge of -gneiss; and, at first, not being used to such paths, that is to say if -it is your first pass, you think you must slip. But you take heart when -you see your guide walking down it much the same as if he were walking -on London pavement. He turns round to see what you are about, and to -offer assistance; but that you cannot accept. Still you are glad when it -is done. The descent to Macugnaga is, throughout, rough and steep. -Ascending it, and with the sun on your back—it faces the south—must be -hard work. If it had been a Swiss mountain there would, long ago, have -been a good horse-path made to the top. - -This is an old and easy pass. Ordinary lungs, ankles, and head, are all -that it wants. It was known to, and used by, the Romans. It was for some -time occupied by the Saracens, who left their name upon it, as they did -names of their own on several peaks and places around it. - -As you trudge over the mountain, in the fresh morning air, accompanied -by your guide and porter, and with your attention quickened to receive -the impressions of the grandeur around you, which you know will hold a -place among the most valued and abiding of your mental possessions, you -feel as if you were really one of the lords of creation. This feeling -would be a wee bit marred, if the eternal mountain had been -presumptuously appropriated by some mortal molecule, for then you might -be troubled with apprehensions of disturbing, or of being thought likely -to disturb, his ibexes and chamois. - -I made the Monte Rosa Hotel at Macugnaga at 8.30; that is to say, in -four hours from the Mattmark See, excluding the twenty minutes’ halt in -the little crateriform chamber on the top of the Moro. I now had a -breakfast, which, by the grace of ‘mine host,’ bore a close resemblance -to a dinner, for it consisted of a long succession of dishes. This did -not come amiss to one who, having been up some time before the sun, had -an appetite that took a deal of killing; and ‘mine host’ had also the -grace to charge modestly for what he purveyed bountifully. I found that -the inn of the Mattmark See was an off-hand house of his, under the -management of his wife. He is besides by profession a guide. He must, -therefore, be doubly disposed to regard with favour and sympathy those -who do the Monte Moro. I found here a London member of the faculty, who -was making Macugnaga his head-quarters for a part of his holiday; and -his fuller experiences of the house, and landlord, were all on the right -side. The balcony of the hotel commands the best possible view of the -upper ten thousand feet of Monte Rosa: its subterranean foundations—the -remaining third of its height—are spread out beneath you. You are just -at a good distance for taking in the whole of the visible structure—the -height, the form, the ravines, the glacier, and the contiguous peaks, -with the head of the valley for the foreground. It is a grand, varied, -complete, impressive sight. - -At 1 P.M. left the Monte Rosa Hotel for Ponte Grande. The guide, who was -now also porter, shouldered my _sac_ with a jaunty air, and we started -at a good pace. My new acquaintance of the hotel joined company for the -first mile and a half. At parting we hoped that we should meet again at -the Athenæum. At this point you leave the path on _terra firma_, and -take to a path, laid on a wooden platform, strewn with sand, which -overhangs the brawling Anza. This platform road is curious, and well -worth seeing. In some places it is supported by lofty pine poles, which -must be fifty or sixty feet high. You hardly understand how support can -be found for it in the sheer chasms it occasionally has to be carried -along. I have somewhere read that the old Roman road along the bank of -the Danube was in places constructed in this fashion, and that the holes -cut in the rock, for the bearings of the king-posts and struts, are -still visible. This of the Anza is very much out of repair. In some -places there are gaps you must step, or jump, over. In others it has -been entirely destroyed, and you must make a little _détour_ to recover -it. For a mile or two, or more, above Ceppo Morelli you quit it -altogether, and take to a rocky mule path, which might easily enough be -very considerably improved. At Ceppo Morelli is a bridge of one long, -slender, much-elevated arch, somewhat in the form a loop caterpillar -assumes in walking. Here you return to the left bank; and the carriage -road of the Val Anzasca commences. Hitherto we had been walking at a -good pace for a rough path; but now the road, having become smooth, -invited us to quicken our pace to near four miles an hour. The guide, -who had already called two halts, now called them at shorter intervals. -He was evidently breaking down. Still he was unwilling to lessen speed. -We reached Ponte Grande in a little over four hours. Here is what -appeared to be a fairly good hotel. Just before I turned in, the -waitress came to inform me that my guide had ordered a carriage, in my -name, for the next day. She suspected that all was not right. I asked -her to have the carriage counter-ordered, as he was under contract to -walk with me over the Simplon to Brieg; and to tell him that I should be -off at five o’clock in the morning. - -_September 7._—Found that the guide’s feet were so swollen that he was -quite incapable of going any further. The way, I suppose, in which I had -understood that he sometimes spent his evenings had been a bad -preparation for continuous hard walking, in a valley with very little -air, commanded all day by an unclouded sun, and with a dozen, or more, -pounds on his back. I was now obliged to leave my _sac_, with -instructions that it should be sent on to Domo D’Ossola by diligence; -and then started alone. To Pié de Muléra (7½ miles) there is an -excellent carriage road. So far you are on the mountain side. From -thence to Domo D’Ossola (about 7 miles more) the road is generally on -the flat. There was a perfectly clear sky, and no air was stirring; and -so I found the latter part of my morning’s tramp very warm. Under such -conditions one might expect even a water-drinker’s feet to swell. - -I was in Domo D’Ossola at 12 o’clock. Having breakfasted leisurely and -looked over the newspapers in the reading-room of the hotel, I was ready -for another ten or twelve miles; and should have done this in the -evening had I not thought it better to wait for my _sac_. As it was, I -spent the afternoon and night at Domo. As I care little for towns, -particularly third or fourth-rate ones, and have seen enough of churches -and hôtels de ville, this was an unprofitable waste of time. I amused -myself as well as I could with the arrival and departure of the -diligences, and with the Italian aspect of things. The hotel was -cheerless and lifeless. As soon as a diligence left, everyone about the -place suddenly became invisible, just as if they had all sunk into the -ground, or melted away into the air. Still, it may be the least unlively -house, as things go, in a place so dismally doleful. - -To go back then to the valley of the Anza. As soon as you enter it at -Macugnaga you see that you are among a more sprightly and joyous people; -and are struck with the contrasts between them and the homely Swiss on -the other side of the mountains. They are better dressed, and with more -attention to effect; particularly the women with their white linen -smocks, showing very white beneath the dark jacket, not untouched with -colour—this is worn open and sleeveless; and with their more -gaudily-coloured kerchiefs on their heads. The dress of the fairer part -of creation in Switzerland is somewhat sombre. They make little use of -colour, and appear to be attracted most by what will wear best; and, if -it may be written, will require least washing. The women in this valley -have good eyes. They are not unaware of the advantage, and use them -accordingly. Their complexion, too, is clear. That of the Swiss is, -generally, somewhat cloudy. Their bearing and air are those of people -who are of opinion that the best use of life is to enjoy it. The Swiss -seem to regard life as if they were a little oppressed by its cares and -labours. Perhaps the conditions of existence on their side of the -mountains are so hard, that the people must take things seriously. One -respects their laborious industry. There is a kind of manliness in their -never-ending struggle against the niggardliness and severity of nature. -This, and their forethought, one applauds, only regretting that so much -toil should secure so little enjoyment; and should have such humble -issues. There is something that pleases, and attracts, in the smiles, -and in the greater sense of enjoyment, of the light-hearted Italian. - -In the upper part of this valley German is still spoken. Here also it is -observable that not nearly so much has been done, as on the Swiss side, -to reclaim and irrigate the land. You wish to know whether this is at -all attributable to a difference in the distribution and tenure of -landed property. You pass several mines: some of gold. The abundance and -size of the chesnut-trees are a new feature. You contrast their -freely-spreading branches and noble foliage with the formal and gloomy -pines, of whose society you have lately had much. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - THE SIMPLON - - - Julius Cæsar also left behind him a treatise in two books on - Analogy (_a department of grammar_); which he composed while - crossing the Alps.—SUETONIUS. - -_September 8._—Last night I had told the head-waiter that I must be off -at 5 A.M., and he had replied that it was impossible: that at that hour -no one in the hotel would be up; that coffee could not be prepared -before six. I, however, gained my point by asking him to set the coffee -for me overnight; telling him that I would take it in the morning cold. -This proposal appeared to him so uncivilised, that he was confounded by -its enormity, and offered no further resistance. I then paid the bill; -and was off this morning at the desired time. - -As my _sac_ had not arrived from Ponte Grande, I left written -instructions that, when it turned up—it was due last evening—it should -be sent on to Brieg. Thus I had gained nothing by the afternoon I had -lost. At Ponte Grande, on the morning after the break-down of my own -porter-guide, it was evident that the master of the hotel had conceived -the very natural idea of persuading me to take one of his people in that -double capacity, or, that failing, to take a carriage. In resentment of -this, I had contented myself with putting into my pocket what I should -want most during the two following days; and had left the bag, and the -rest of what was in it, to chance. I now saw the absurdity of what I had -done; for why, in such a matter, should I have taken into consideration, -the landlord’s scheming, or anything in the world, except my own -convenience? My bag, as might have been expected, did not turn up at -Brieg. This made me still more conscious of my absurdity. Eventually, -however, by the aid of the telegraph and post-office, I recovered it at -Interlaken. This I felt I had not deserved. - -As you begin to ascend the Simplon, perhaps you will be thinking—at all -events you have read remarks of the kind often enough to be reminded of -them now—that its road is a line of masonry, carried for forty-four -miles over mountains, and through storm and avalanche-swept ravines; -that it is one of the mighty works by which man has triumphed over a -great obstacle, which nature had placed in his path; that it was -constructed for purposes of war and rapine, and for the aggrandizement -of an individual, but is now used for the purposes of peace, and for the -friendly intercourse of nations; and that the barrier, which it has -practically removed, had its use in those times when it was shielding -nascent civilisation from northern barbarism. If so, you will not -altogether regret that you are on foot, and alone. This will give you an -opportunity for conferring, without irrelevant interruptions, with the -_genius loci_, and allow the trains of thought it brings you to unfold -themselves, as they will, in your mind: and so, probably, you will feel -no want of a _vehiculum_, either literally, or in the metaphorical -sense, in which the proverb says the _bonus amicus_ is a substitute for -it. - -This day’s walk was very diversified. It began with level ground; some -of it productive, and well cultivated; some covered with the coarse -shingle the torrent stream, which passes through it, has brought down -from the mountains. The ascent then commenced through a region of -chestnuts and trellised vines. After that came the zone of pines, -sometimes lost, and again recovered. At last the scene was compounded of -the naked mountain side, the savage ravine, and the blustering torrent, -overtopped with rugged crags; these at times capped with snow, and with -glaciers between. But even to the summit, as you follow the road, all is -not desolation; for wherever the soil, formed by the weathering of the -rock, could be retained, your eye will rest on some little expanse of -green turf; or, if the situation be too exposed, and the soil too poor -and shallow for turf, it will be clad in the sober mantle of humble -Alpine plants. - -As I walked along I often noticed how the surface of the fragments of -rock lying in the torrent, and their side looking up the stream, were -being worn away; while the side looking down, and its upper angle, -remained quite unworn. This teaches how the solid rock itself, at the -bottom of the torrent, that is to say how its channel, is always being -abraded; which means being lowered. While this is going on below, the -frosts, and storms, and earthquakes are, at the same time, bringing down -the rocks from above. This accounts for the top of the valley, -vertically, being very much wider than the bottom. If there had been no -frosts, and storms, and earthquakes, the torrent would now be running in -a perfectly perpendicular-sided trough, of the same depth as the -existing valley—but, then, there would be no valley, only a trough. The -valley is wider at the top than at the bottom, because the widening -action of frost, storms, and earthquakes has been going on at the top -for tens of thousands of years; while it has been going on lower down, -with very much less force, only for some hundreds of years. You observe -the contrast between the calm majesty of the everlasting mountains and -the brawling impatience of the insignificant torrent. The torrent, -however, has already set its mark on the mountains; and you see is -surely, though slowly, having the best of it. It works, and works -incessantly day and night; winter and summer; fair weather and foul. -Everything that occurs aids it. The mountain merely stands still to be -kicked to death by grass-hoppers. But the end of the conflict will be -their mutual destruction. The torrent will so far carry away the -mountain, that the mountain will no longer be able to feed the torrent. -Probably, in the ages preceding the torrent, a glacier, availing itself -of some aboriginal facilities in the lay of the ground, commenced the -work of excavation, which its successor, the torrent, took up, and has -since continued in the line thus prepared for it. - -_La belle horreur_ of the gorge of Gondo, its sheer, adamantine, -mountain-high precipices, its terrific chasms, its overhanging rocks, -its raging torrent, its rugged peaks against the sky, make it the great -sight of the ascent. Two bits interested me especially at the moment, -and have impressed themselves on my mind more distinctly than the rest. -The first was the Fall of the Frosinone. Crashing and roaring, it leaps -down from the mountain, a dozen yards or so from the road, under which -it passes, beneath a most audaciously conceived and executed bridge, -and, immediately, on your left, rushes into the torrent of the Gorge. -The road, at once, enters the long tunnel of the Gondo, upon which the -bridge abuts. Here is an unparalleled combination of extraordinary and -stirring objects. The other is a cascade, a little way off, of a -character, in every particular, the opposite of that of the Fall of the -Frosinone. It is on the other side of the Gorge. Here there is no -ruggedness in the rock. The cleavage of nature has left it, from top to -bottom, with a polished surface. Over this almost perpendicular face of -the mountain the water glides down so smoothly and so noiselessly that, -at night, you would pass it without being aware of the existence of the -cascade. The water is as smooth as the rock, and so transparent that you -everywhere see the rock through it. It is only, everywhere, equally -marked with a delicate network of lines, and bars, of white foam. The -effect is precisely that of an endless broad band of lace, rapidly and -everlastingly, drawn down the side of the mountain. - -The day was bright and warm; and the walk, being all the while against -the collar, brought one into the category of thirsty souls. I must have -drunk, I believe, twenty times at the little runnels that crossed the -road. However heated you may be, and however cold the water, no bad -consequences appear to ensue. At 12.30 P.M. I got to the village of -Simplon. Here I breakfasted, or dined, for under the circumstances the -meal was as much breakfast as dinner; or, rather, it was both in one. As -I was now just twenty-two miles from Domo D’Ossola, that is just half -way to Brieg, I had thought of sleeping here. Finding the house, -however, in possession of a company of strolling Italian players, whose -noise and childishness were insufferable, I left the hotel—uninviting -enough of itself from the slovenly, dirty look of everything about it; -and made for the Hospice, five miles further on. I found it in a -sheltered, green depression, on the very summit of the pass. It is a -large rectangular massive building, well able to set at defiance even an -Alpine winter storm. As it has no stabling, it takes in only those who -come on foot. - -The Brother, who showed me to my berth, was very young and very -good-natured. He brought to me in my room all that I wanted, instead of -obliging me to go to the refectory for my supper, where, as it happened, -I should have met again the Italian players I had run away from some -hours before; for they had followed me on to the Hospice. I might have -guessed that they would not have stayed at the inn. Perhaps my -alpenstock, and very dusty feet, had some weight with the good man. - -_September 9._—Was up, and out of my room at 5 A.M. Found no one -stirring in the Hospice but a lad and a girl. Both appeared to be about -fourteen years of age. For an early traveller to begin the day with, -there was plenty of coffee and milk, and of bread and butter, in my -room; the remains of the bountiful refection of yesterday evening. On my -asking the young people where I was to find some one to whom I might -make an acknowledgment for the hospitality I had received, I was told -that it was the custom for the visitors to make their offerings in the -chapel, putting them in a basin which was shown me behind the door. I -left them in the chapel, discussing the amount I had deposited. Having -complied with this ceremony, I started for Brieg. As the road was good, -and the whole of it downhill, I walked at a good pace, and had completed -the sixteen miles at 9.15. There is a short cut by which you may be -saved the long _détour_ by Berisal, and lessen the distance, as the -books say, though I do not believe the books upon this point, to the -amount of five miles. I did not look for this short cut, for fear that -my attempting to take it might issue in a loss of time. When you don’t -know the country, the short cut often proves the longest way. - -Soon after commencing the descent you come to the galleries, partly -excavated in the rock, and partly formed of very massive masonry, -through which the road is carried along the flank of the Monte Leone, -and across the gorge of Schalbet. These galleries, as well as the Houses -of Refuge and the Hospice, shelter the traveller from the storms and -avalanches, which are frequent in this part of the pass. The great -Kaltenwasser glacier of Monte Leone hangs over them; and the torrent -from it slips over the roof of one of the galleries. To find yourself in -this way beneath an Alpine torrent, and to look into it, as it dashes -by, through an opening in the side of the galleries, will give to some a -new sensation. This is the head-water of the Saltine, which joins the -Rhone at Brieg. As you pass along this part of the road you have before -you the terrific forces, and savagery, of Alpine nature; but you reflect -that civilised man has been able, if not to overcome them, yet at all -events to protect himself from them. You think that it is something to -be a man; or, with less of personal feeling, that civilisation has -endowed him with much power. These scenes stir the mind. They enlarge -thought, and strengthen will. Below Berisal the torrent of the Gauter, -an affluent of the Saltine, is crossed by a massive stone bridge. This -is so lofty that it appears a light and airy structure; still it -possesses what it requires, a great deal of strength, to enable it to -resist the blasts created by the falling avalanches, which are frequent -in this neighbourhood. You are surprised at coming so soon in sight of -Brieg, and of the valley of the Rhone. You see that you have now -completely surmounted the great barrier nature interposed between her -darling Italy, where you were yesterday morning, and the hardy North, of -which you rejoice to be a child. Perhaps you will think that it was not -ill done that you crossed it on foot. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - BRIEG—THROUGH THE UPPER RHONE VALLEY BY _CHAR_ TO THE RHONE - GLACIER—HÔTEL DU GLACIER DU RHÔNE - - - Happy the man whose wish and care - A few paternal acres bound; - Content to breathe his native air - On his own ground. - - Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, - Whose flocks supply him with attire; - Whose trees in summer yield him shade, - In winter fire.—POPE. - -MY first hour at Brieg was spent in finding the single barber of the -place. He was an idle fellow; and, having it all his own way, was, as it -appeared, in the habit of devoting his mornings to society and -amusement. His evenings, also, we may suppose, were not allowed, like -his business, to run entirely to waste. At last by despatching three -little boys, in different directions, to search for him, the finder to -be rewarded with half a franc, I succeeded in bringing him back to his -razors: mine were in the _sac_ I had lost sight of through having lost -sight of self. I had breakfasted; had had a little talk with two or -three people in the hotel; had looked over the place—no great labour, -but the conclusion to which the inspection brought me was that things -appear to be better organised in it, and life to be pitched at a higher -level, than in places of equal smallness amongst ourselves; had traced -the Saltine down to its junction with the Rhone; had had some talk with -a woman who was regulating the irrigation of a meadow; and had, having -thus exhausted everything local, just retired to my room with a cigar -and a book, when the blue boy burst open the door to report himself, -like the armies of the old Romans, before he had been expected. When I -had left Saas, the calculation had been that my wife and he would not -reach Brieg till the evening of this day; and that that might also be -the time of my own arrival. We were both before our time. In such -calculations, however, it is wise to allow some margin for ‘the -unforeseen,’ and for the imperfections and uncertainties of the human -machine. As it happened, had I not lost an afternoon at Domo D’Ossola—I -shall for the future in all such deliberations, instinctively, eliminate -irrelevant matter—I should have slept in Brieg last night; though, -indeed, under the circumstances, there would have been in that no -particular gain. - -During my absence my wife, and the little man, had made two excursions; -one to the Trift glacier with young Andermatten for guide—the youth who -in the first hours of the same day had carried my sac into Macugnaga, -and had then forthwith returned to Saas; and the other, without a guide, -to the Mattmark See. Knowing that their thoughts were turned in this -direction, I had sent them a note from the Mattmark See, pencilled on -the night of the 5th, begging them not to attempt it, as the road was -quite too rough and steep, in the latter part, for a child who had shown -no great capacity for mountaineering. They did not get my note till they -were on the way. My prudence, however, was no match for their -enterprise. They managed to get to the Mattmark See Hotel; and, after -dinner, to return the same evening to Saas. As the little man was not -ten years old, I accept the seven hours they were on foot as an augury -of future endurance. I had almost thought, but I ought to have known -better, that my note would have deterred them from going; and so, as I -tramped along to Ponte Grande, I had not pictured them to myself, as now -I did, toiling up the open mountain, and trudging along the lonely shore -of the dark Mattmark See, in the very centre of the Alpine world, -without another breathing thing in sight. - -On the morning of this day (the 9th) my wife had walked from Saas to -Visp, fourteen miles. The little boy had ridden. From Visp to Brieg they -had come on in the diligence. - -_September 10._—As it was thirty miles of, we may call it, high road, -and that not particularly interesting, from Brieg to the Rhone glacier, -for which we were bound, we took a _voiture_ for the day. It was a -three-horse affair. The driver was an ill-conditioned fellow; but not -without some redeeming qualities, for he was the only one of his kind we -met with throughout our excursion; and in the afternoon, when _bonne -main_ had become the uppermost thought in what mind he had, he showed -some capacity for the rudiments of civilisation. At Viesch he insisted -on stopping for two hours; two hours that were an age, as there was -nothing to see there, and nothing that we could do, having just -breakfasted at Brieg. It was an aggravation to see at least a dozen -one-horse vehicles pass by without one of them halting. At Munster we -stopped again, for an hour and a half: but that was for dinner. - -This was the first time I had been on wheels since getting upon my own -legs at Visp, on August 29. If we had had time enough, it would have -been better to have walked this morning to the Belle Alp, giving to it -one day; then on to the Eggishorn, for the great Aletsch glacier; two -days more: and thus reaching the Rhone glacier on the fourth day. But as -we could hardly have spared the time for this, we were satisfied with -what we did. To refuse to take a carriage on a carriage road, when much -time is saved by taking it, and every object along the road can be seen -as well from a carriage as on foot, is the pedantry of pedestrianism, -which sacrifices the substance of one’s object for useless consistency. - -In the upper part of the Rhone valley there are considerable expanses of -good grass land, particularly about Munster; and the villages are -numerous, and close together. Each of these villages, as seen from a -little distance, is a cluster of _châlets_, without any visible internal -spaces, and without any apparent differences in their dimensions, or -structure. They have no suburbs; there is no shading off; the bright -green meadow is not gradually lost in the dark brown village. The houses -do not gradually thin out in the fields. There are no fields; no -detached houses. There is nothing but the expanse of grass, and these -clusters of _châlets_, each like a piece of honeycomb laid upon it; and -as distinct from each other as so many communities of bees. Each village -looks as if it were something that had dropped from heaven upon the -grass; or like a compact, homogeneous excrescence upon the grass—a kind -of Brobdingnagian fungus. There is, however, one exception to the -general uniformity of the excrescence, and that is the church tower. It -stands above the rest, just as its shaft would, if the Brobdingnagian -fungus were turned upside down. - -Here you have, apparently without disturbing elements, as perfect a -picture, as could now be seen, of the old rationale of religion; that it -is a power among men, equally above all, interpreting to all their moral -nature, and proclaiming the interpretation to all with an authoritative -voice; and obliging all, by its constant authoritative iteration, to -receive the proclamation; and to allow its reception to form within -themselves, even if they were such as by nature would have been without -conscience, the ideas and sentiments requisite for society. You see that -this Arcadian application of the function of religion may have been -completely, and undisturbedly realised, in times past, in such isolated -and self-contained villages; and that you are at the moment looking upon -one in which it is still being realised to some extent. But you, who -belong to the outside world, and know it, too; its large cities, its -wealth, its poverty, its estranged classes, its mental activity, its -social and controversial battle-shouts, its pæans of short-lived -triumph, its cries of agonising defeat, its individualism, are aware -that the day for such an exhibition of religion is gone by. Your -religion, if you are religious, will be in the form, and after the kind, -needed now in that outside world. It will have stronger roots, that seek -their nutriment at greater distances; a firmer knit stem, such as a tree -will have that has grown up in the open, exposed to many gales; and more -wide-spreading branches, such as those far-travelling roots, and that -firm-knit stem, can alone support. And this will enable you to -understand, and, if you do understand, will save you from despising, the -religion of the Alpine village before you: for you will find that it is -the same as your own, only in embryo. - -At Oberwald, three and a half miles from the Rhone glacier, the road -leaves the grassy valley, and begins to ascend the zig-zags on the -mountain-side. We here found the inclination to leave the carriage, and -walk, irresistible. This road, which is carried over the Furca Pass to -Andermatt, is a grand achievement, for which the country, and those who -travel in it, have to thank the modern, more centralised and -democratised government. To it also their thanks are due for the new -coinage, the most simple in the world, whereas the old cantonal coinages -it superseded were the most confusing, and the worst; for the postal -arrangements, which are very good; for the telegraph; and even for the -railways. And, furthermore it must be credited with many advances, and -improvements, that have been made in the Swiss system of education. - -The Rhone glacier is a broad and grand river of ice. As it descends from -the mountains on a rapid incline you see a great deal of it from below, -and are disposed to regard it as worthy to be the parent of a great -historic river. The Rhone, however, itself issues from it, at present, -in a very feeble and disappointing fashion. It slips out from beneath -the ice so quietly, and inconspicuously, that you might pass by it, as -doubtless many do, without observing it. It steals off, as if it were -ashamed of its parentage; of which, rather, it might well be proud. - -A word about the Hôtel du Glacier du Rhône. It has plenty of pretension; -but I never passed a night in a house I was so glad to leave in the -morning. Nowhere did one ever meet with such a plague of flies, flies so -swarming, and so persecuting; and nowhere did one ever meet with such -revolting stenches. What produces the stenches is what produces the -flies; that is want of drainage, and the non-removal of unclean -accumulations. At first, on account of the stench which pervaded the -gallery—it was that of the first and chief floor, I refused to take the -room I was shown to; and only, after a time, consented on the assurance -that this matter could, and should be set right. This assurance was -utterly fallacious; for, though I kept my window wide open, from the -time I entered the room till I left it, I soon sickened, and was -afflicted with uninterrupted nausea throughout the whole night. Want of -proper drainage, the cause of these horrors, is very common in Swiss -hotels. Their pretentious character, which, with many thoughtless -people, atones for much, ought, on the contrary, to intensify one’s -sense of such shameful neglect. The larger the house is the larger are -the gains of the landlord, and the greater is the number of people -exposed to the mischief. I do not at all join in the cry against the -rise in the charges of the monster hotels of Southern Switzerland. -Landlords, like other people, have a right to charge what they can get, -when the commodity they deal in is much in demand. But, as their charges -are certainly remunerative, there can be no reason for forbearing to -denounce manifest and disgraceful disregard of necessary sanitary -arrangements. I heard the next morning from one, who spoke from that -day’s personal experience, that matters were no better at the -neighbouring hotel of the Grimsel Hospice. Strange is it that man should -be so careless about poisoning the very air nature has made so pure! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - -WALK OVER THE GRIMSEL BY THE AAR VALLEY, HELLE PLATTE, FALLS OF HANDECK, - TO MEIRINGEN - - - These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good; - Almighty, Thine this universal frame, - Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wondrous, then! - Unspeakable, Who sitt’st above the heavens - To us invisible, or dimly seen - In these Thy lowest works.—MILTON. - -_September 11._—We were off at 6 A.M. for a long day over the Grimsel -Pass to Meiringen. As usual, my wife and I on foot, and the little man -on horseback. You begin the ascent of the mountain immediately from the -hotel. It is stiff walking all the way to the top, which is reached in -about an hour. The height above the sea is somewhat more than 7,000 -feet. On the side of the mountain the most conspicuous plant is the -Rhododendron, the rose of the Alps. On the summit of the pass is a dark -tarn. The mephitic Hospice, about three fourths of a mile off, is 700 -feet below. Soon after you begin the descent you come upon indications -of former glacier action in polished slabs of gneiss all around you. On -your right is a rugged glacier, among still more rugged pinnacles of -rock. Before you and to the left, is a world of snowy mountains, of -which you catch some glimpses. After a few yards of descent from the -Hospice the path strikes the Aar, fresh from its exit from the upper and -lower Aar glaciers. It then turns to the right along the margin of the -torrent: the torrent and the path passing side by side through a narrow -defile, overtopped, right and left, with precipitous mountains. After a -time the path leaves the margin of the torrent, having first been -carried over it by a narrow stone bridge. Everywhere you find -indications of the great height to which the glaciers reached in some -remote epoch. Among these are several instances of deep horizontal -lines, graven along the apparently perpendicular face of the mountain, -at a height of even 2,000 feet above the valley. In a place called -_Helle Platte_, or the Open Plain, the path is carried over what was -formerly the bed of the glacier; the gneiss still retaining the polish -that was given to its surface so many millenniums ago. This extends for -about a quarter of a mile, the interstices, between the mighty slabs of -gneiss being filled with fringes and patches of stunted Rhododendrons, -and of the Pinus Pumilio, a spreading dwarf pine, that does not reach -more than three or four feet from the ground; but which, notwithstanding -its diminutive size, conveys to you, far more impressively than its -lofty congeners, the idea of great age. This scene surrounded by naked -mountain masses, as rugged as adamantine, stirs the mind deeply. The -effect culminates as you pass the bridge, beneath which the torrent of -the Aar roars and dashes along its rock-impeded channel. No animal life -is seen, with the one exception of a multitude of butterflies, glancing -to and fro in the clear warm sunshine, like winged flowers. Your thought -is interested by the contrast between their feeble fragile beauty and -the force and savagery of surrounding nature. - -The way in which I saw that the Aar had cut its channel through the -gneiss suggested to me the inquiry, whether what had enabled it to do -this was not the fact that the pebbles and broken rock the torrent -brought down were gneiss, so that it was gneiss which it had to dash -against the sides and bottom of its channel. Perhaps torrent-borne -fragments of gneiss may widen and deepen a gneiss channel as effectually -as fragments of lime-stone may a lime-stone channel. - -At eleven miles from the Rhone glacier you reach Handeck: a small -expanse of greenest Alpine meadow, intermixed with pine-forest, and -surrounded with dark craggy mountains. Here we called a halt for -luncheon, and a cigar. It was a bright, airy day; one to be for ever -remembered. Many travellers came and went; some facing up, some down the -pass. Fortunately this charming spot has not yet been disfigured by a -staring stone hotel. The suave landlord, and expectant porter, have not -yet invaded it. But I am afraid that they cannot be far off. At all -events for the present, may it long remain so! you have the wooden -_châlet_, with its low panelled reception room, innocent of gilding and -of paint; the green rock-strewn turf coming up to the door; and the -bench along the wall outside. You can here get a mutton-chop that has -not been first passed through a bath to make _potage_ for yesterday’s -visitors, and then, for you, had its impoverishment thinly disguised by -having been dipped into a nondescript _sauce piquante_. - -This charming halting-place is enriched with far the best waterfall in -Switzerland—the Fall of the Handeck. The Staubbach, Byron’s -magniloquence nevertheless, and the rest of them, are only overflows of -house-gutters. There, where they are, just at the first stage of the -watershed of Europe, they can be accepted as being very much what they -ought to be; but one cannot be impressed with them as waterfalls. Here, -however, is something of quite a different kind: not so much from the -volume of the falling water, as from its character, and the point of -view from which it is seen. Two or three hundred yards below the -_châlet_ the Aar is chafing along its clean rock-channel, strewn with -boulders as large as houses; on a sudden it takes a leap, of about two -hundred feet, into a dark, appalling, iron-bound chasm. Precisely at the -point, where it takes this leap, the Handeck, coming blustering down on -the left, at a right angle to the Aar, takes the same leap. The two -cataracts are mingled together, midway in the chasm. A wooden bridge has -been thrown over the falls. You stand upon this, and see the hurrying -torrents dashing themselves into the deep chasm below you. You are half -stunned by their angry roar. You observe that they have no power to -undermine, and wear away, the granite against which they are dashing, -and breaking themselves. The frail bridge vibrates under your feet. -Fortunately you are looking down the fall instead of up, and this, by -engendering an irrational sense of the possibility of your slipping into -it, heightens the effect. For some hours about midday—we were there at -that time—it is crowned with the prismatic bow. - -Here my wife took a horse for the rest of the day, being too ill of the -Hôtel du Glacier du Rhône to walk any further. After some miles the -savage character of the scenery began to relent. This mitigation went on -increasing, till at last we found ourselves crossing the emerald meadows -of Guttanen—a village of _châlets_. Next came the little town of Imhof. -Here an hotel, and a brewery, a good road, and the slackened pace of the -Aar made it evident that we were out of the mountains; and the plain at -Meiringen was soon reached. This was a walk of about twenty-six miles. -As all the hard work came in the first hour, it was a very much easier -day than the twenty-seven miles up the southern side of the Simplon. - -As we were in Meiringen by 4.20 P.M., there was time for a walk up the -hill, close to the hotel, to see the Falls of the Reichenbach. I was -glad to find the little man ready to accompany me, for he had been so -silent all day that I had been thinking he was fatigued, or not well. -When we had got some way up the hill we met a Frenchman coming down, who -told us that a toll would soon be levied upon us; his comment upon the -fact being that we should have to pay for looking at the mountains, if -it could in any way be managed. Regarding this toll as a piece of -extortion, and not at all caring to see the fall, we returned to the -hotel. If I had thought it really worth going to see, I should, acting -on the wisdom I had purchased at Ponte Grande, have eliminated from -consideration, though perhaps with a growl, the meanness and rapacity of -the demand, as irrelevant matter, and have gone on; but it was getting -late, and we thought we had seen enough of the fall from the road as we -were entering Meiringen. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - _CHAR_ TO INTERLAKEN—WALK OVER THE WENGERN ALP TO GRINDELWALD - - - I love not man the less, but nature more - From these our interviews.—BYRON. - -_September 12._—This morning we went by _char_ from Meiringen to -Interlaken, along the northern side of the Lake of Brienz. Again, if we -had had time, it would have been better to have walked along the -southern side, putting up for the night at Giesbach. While stopping at -the town of Brienz to bait the horse, we visited some of the -wood-carving shops, in one of which we found a school for indoctrinating -children in the mysteries, not of the three R’s, but of this trade, -which is the great industry of the place: everybody here being engaged -in it. The three main staples of Southern Switzerland are this -wood-carving, cheese-making, and hotel-keeping. With the latter we must -connect the dependent employments of the guides and porters, and of -those who let out horses and carriages. I know not how much of the -cheese is sent out of the country in exchange for foreign commodities, -but pretty nearly the whole of the carved wood, and of the hotel -accommodation, is exchanged for foreign cash. - -This morning I witnessed the following scene. A practical man—I took him -for one, who had struck oil—was leaving the hotel. A porter, assuming an -expectant air, takes up a position at the door of the hotel. The -practical man addresses him in a firm tone, ‘Now, sir, tell me -everything, you have done for me beyond your duty to the hotel.’ A look -of blankness comes over the porter’s face, and he steps aside. The -practical man, with the look of one who has discharged a lofty duty, -steps into his carriage. I do not record this for imitation. - -Interlaken, which we reached early in the day, is a town of hotels and -_pensions_. We were at The Jungfrau, which commands an excellent view of -the famous mountain from which it takes its name. The view from this -point is much improved by its comprising two intermediate distances in -two ranges of hills, which do not at all interfere with the dominant -object, but rather set off to advantage its snowy summits and flanks. -The Jungfraublick, a large new hotel, on a spur of the nearest hill, is -better situated, for it is out of the town; and, being elevated above -the lakes, commands several good views. The majority of the visitors at -our hotel were Germans: quiet, earnest, and methodical, they appeared to -be regarding travelling, sight-seeing, and life itself, scientifically. - -Interlaken, being situated on low ground, between two high ranges of -mountains, at no great distance from each other, is, on a quiet sunny -day, a very oven for heat. It has, however, in its main street some very -umbrageous lofty walnut-trees. They are the survivors of what was once, -and not many years ago, a grand unbroken avenue. - -_September 13._—Started early in a carriage for Lauterbrunnen, where we -left it, with orders that it should be taken round to Grindelwald, there -to be ready for us the next morning. At Lauterbrunnen we put the blue -boy on horseback, and began the ascent of the Wengern Alp. People go up -this mountain for the purpose of getting the most accessible, nearest, -and best view of the Jungfrau, Mönch, and Eiger. As you turn to the left -to ascend the mountain, you regret that you are not going up the valley, -which you see would lead you up among glaciers and snowy peaks; or that -you are not taking the path to the right, which you see would carry you -over, and above the Staubbach, and you know would give you grand views -of the snow-world. The path you are taking you take in faith, for it -does not, from what is in sight, give any indications of what is in -store for you; before, however, the day is done, you will have reason -enough for being satisfied with the choice you had made; or which, -perhaps, had been made for you. - -At first the ascent is very stiff, and a good test of lungs and legs. -This lasts for about an hour. Then comes a reach of easy work among -upland meadows and forest. The work, however, again stiffens; but one is -cheered by the nearness of the Jungfrau, and, occasionally, by the -thunder of an avalanche, falling from its sides. You are now above the -forest, and on the coarse sedgy turf; and, if you please, you may sit -down, and light your cigar, giving as your reason, that you wish to -contemplate the view, and listen to the avalanches. It would, however, -be better to go on at once to the hotel, which is not far off. This was -what we were virtuous enough to do. The ascent occupied a little under -four hours. We had luncheon at the hotel. It is on the edge of the -ravine, on the opposite side of which rises, almost perpendicularly, the -mighty Jungfrau. Though it must be two miles off, it seems so near that -you fancy you might almost touch it with your hand. The dark, -slate-coloured rock, and the snow, are in excellent contrast. The vast -chasm below you, and the cold, hard, silent cliffs before you, the -silence frequently broken on bright, warm days—and the day we were there -was as bright and warm as could be—by the reverberation of the falling -avalanches—there are no small, or insignificant objects in sight to mar -the effect—are the elements of an Alpine scene you are glad to think you -will carry away impressed on your memory. You are now content that the -path on the right, up to Mürren, has been left for another day. As you -watch the avalanches gliding down the ravines, and shot over the -precipices, in streams of white dust, for the first fall or two shiver -them into minute fragments, you are puzzled to know what it is that -makes the thunder—what the noise is all about, the process being so -smooth and regular. - -We allowed ourselves an hour and a half for mental photography and for -luncheon—mine was a basin of rice-water, for I had not yet recovered -from the Hôtel du Glacier du Rhône. We then again took up our staves, -and set our faces towards Grindelwald. In half an hour from our inn, we -came to a second, on the summit of the Col. The descent immediately -commences. This is not nearly so steep as the ascent we had just -accomplished. It requires three hours. The path passes through the -forest of death-struck pines Byron mentions in his journal. Not many -remain. Of these some are quite, some are almost dead. It was composed -of the Pinus Cembra. The malady which is destroying it may perhaps have -been engendered by a local change of climate; or some other circumstance -may have prevented the young plants from establishing themselves; as, -for instance, want of shelter, from too much of the forest having been -cut at the same time. I mention this because I observed in exposed -situations in the Rocky Mountains—it was so above Nevada City, on the -road to Georgetown—wherever the forest had been entirely cleared away, -the young pines came up in myriads, but all died off, either withered by -the droughts of summer, or by the bleak winds of winter: of course -neither of these causes could have afflicted the tender nurselings, had -the old forest been standing. - -The descent, like that to Virgil’s Avernus, is easy, but, unlike that -into the Vale of Years, has a charming prospect; for the valley of -Grindelwald, with its meadows, corn-fields, and _châlets_, is all spread -out before you, like a map. It is a sight which awakens thought and -touches the heart. You see that a good breadth of land has been -reclaimed, where nature was so hard and adverse. How much labour has -been expended in burying the stones, and bringing the soil to the -surface, and in irrigating those many, now bright, smooth meadows! How -much thought and care is, day by day, bestowed on every little plot of -that corn and garden ground, in the hope of getting a sufficiency of the -many things that will be needed in the long winter! How much talk is -there, every evening, in every household, about the way in which things -are going on, and about what has to be done! A shoulder-basket must now -be made for little Victor, and little tasks must be found for him, -proportioned to his little strength, that he may, betimes, learn to -labour; and something must be found, too, for the old grandame to do, -that she may not come to feel that she is only burdensome. Some garden -or dairy product, a little better than common, they may have in their -humble stores, must be reserved for the _fête_, now not far off. -Wilhelm, who many a mother in the valley wishes may be her son-in-law, -and who of late has been more thoughtful than was his wont, hearing the -_fête_ mentioned, is reminded of the _edelweiss_ he had gone in search -of, and found on the Eiger, that he may have its tell-tale flower, on -that day when all hearts will be glad and open, to offer to Adeline. I -suppose the fat Vale of Aylesbury, where purple and fine linen are not -wanting, and there is sumptuous fare every day, has its poetry; but so, -also, has the hard-won valley of Grindelwald, where home-spun is not -unknown, and every man eats the bread of carefulness. - -We put up at the Aigle, a new hotel, with three or four _dépendances_, -at the further end of the village. Grindelwald is not of the compact -order of Swiss villages; indeed, it is almost a town; at all events, it -is lighted with gas. It straggles along the main road for about three -quarters of a mile; to those coming from Lauterbrunnen all uphill. It -abounds in hotels. After a hard day—not the Wengern Alp, but the Hôtel -du Glacier du Rhône, had made it hard—it appeared a gratuitous, almost a -cruel, infliction to have to pass so many doors that stood open -invitingly, with more than usual persuasiveness, and to trudge on, and -up, in the hope of reaching the end of the place, which, under the -circumstances, seemed like the Irishman’s bit of string, which had had -its end cut off. But to those who will persevere, even the street of -Grindelwald will be found to have an end; and one, too, that is worth -finding, for it brings you to a pleasantly situated, and well-kept inn, -where you can get a chicken that has not been detained in the bath an -unconscionable time. What has been disagreeable in travelling we soon -forget, but my recollections of the Aigle of Grindelwald remain. - -There are, as I just said, many hotels in the place; but as there are -also six thousand cows in the valley, not travellers, but cheese must be -its main reliance. It has another industry in ice, which is cut in -blocks out of the glacier, and sent as far even as Paris. The price -returned for this is one of the rills of the stream of wealth, which -railways are pouring into Switzerland, or enabling it to collect for the -outside world. Two great glaciers come down into the village from the -two sides of the Mettenberg, which here has the Eiger on its right, and -the Wetterhorn on its left. - -We had been on the tramp to-day, excluding the halt for luncheon, eight -hours. With the exception of not more than five minutes on the little -man’s horse, my wife did the whole of it on foot, stepping out briskly -even to the long-sought end of Grindelwald. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - INTERLAKEN AGAIN—CHAR UP THE VALLEY OF THE KANDER—WALK OVER THE GEMMI, - SLEEPING AT SCHWARENBACH - - - —rather— - To see the wonders of the world abroad - Than, living dully sluggardized at home, - Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.—SHAKESPEARE. - -_September 14._—Returned early in our _voiture_ to Interlaken. From the -tramping point of view, the right thing to have done in the afternoon -would have been to have ascended one of the ranges of mountains, which -shut in Interlaken on the right and left. But it was fair that the -little man should have his turn, and his heart was all for the railway, -the steamer, and the Lake of Thun: and so we went by rail, and boat, to -Thun and back. The railway, with its smart carriages, some of them two -stories high, is only a mile or two in length, from Interlaken to its -port on the lake, and is a mere toy. As to the sail on the lake, it -supplies enough for the eye to feed upon. The chief objects on the south -side are the Niesen and the Stockhorn; the two mountains which form the -porch of the valley of the Kander, up which lies the road to the Gemmi. -The boat was very crowded with people who were going northward; the -greater part of them to Berne, the rail for which commences at Thun. -About Thun what interests one most at this season, as things are seen -from the water, are the gardens of some of the houses on the edge of the -lake. The little man, from familiarity with threshing machines and -agricultural implements, has a strong turn for machinery; hence the -attraction for him of the railway and steamboat. On board the latter he -poked about, looking into everything, as if he were taking the -opportunity to inspect some of his own property. - -This was a day, which, to its end, was given up to the young gentleman, -for in the evening he would have us go to the Cursaal to see a display -of fireworks. They were pretty good. The best thing was the illumination -of a copious jet of water, which was thrown up to the height of about a -hundred feet, and fell very much broken and dispersed; the upward rush, -and the falling drops, reflecting a powerful red light, which, screened -to the spectators, was burnt in front of the fountain. The shrubberies, -and trees, all about, were at times illuminated, successively, with red, -blue, and white lights: this was meant to be weird and spectral. - -_September 15._—It was Sunday. We went twice to the English service. On -both occasions the preacher was extemporary. He was fluent and -imaginative. Fluency, and imaginative power (I say this without -intending a reference to the sermons we heard this day), if entirely -trusted to at the moment of speaking, and not kept under the control of -previously matured thought, will generally run away with a preacher, and -lead him into making inconsequential, and unguarded statements. And if -he is, besides, a man of some miscellaneous reading, it is not -improbable that much of it will be presented to his audience in an -undigested form, and not unfrequently rather incongruously. In short, -all that he says is likely to be what Shakespeare calls unproportioned -speaking. - -While we were at Interlaken, the moon was approaching the full. Both -evenings we watched it passing over the peaks of the Jungfrau. The snow, -however, had none of the deadly white, I had expected it would have had -when seen by moonlight. But the moon was beyond the mountain, and so -almost all the snow on our side was in the shade. - -_September 16._—Were to have started at 6 A.M. for the Valley of the -Kander, on our way to the Gemmi: through the dilatoriness, however, of -the _voiturier_ we had some difficulty in getting off by 6.25. And this -was not his only lapse; for, an hour after a forty minutes’ halt for -breakfast, he insisted on halting again, for two hours more, at a -roadside inn, where he, and his horse, were baited; both probably at our -expense, for he had brought nothing with him for either. As these -stoppages are, sometimes, not so much needed for the horse, as the -result of arrangements between innkeepers and drivers, which become -profitable to them through what is extracted from you, it would, -perhaps, not be a bad plan to make it understood beforehand, that your -payments will, to some extent, depend on the time at which the driver -may bring you to your destination. - -The road is, at first, along the lake. At the place, where it makes an -angle, and turns its back upon the lake, we breakfasted. The inn looks -upon the lake. The house itself is not bad; but what is best about it is -the feeling it gives rise to that you have escaped from the crowding, -the bad smells (the Jungfrau was free from these), and the pretensions, -of a monster hotel, where everything is in disagreeable contrast to -surrounding nature; the effects of life in the former at every turn -counteracting and marring the effects of the latter. - -A geologist should follow the new channel by which the Kander 150 years -ago was taken into the lake. He will be interested by an inspection of -the large delta, at the mouth of its new outlet, formed by the vast -amount of _débris_ the torrent-stream has since brought down. Formerly -it ran parallel to the lake; and joined the Aar below it, in this part -of its course keeping a great deal of land in a marshy condition. All -this has now been reclaimed. - -The scenery of the valley is interesting. From Frutigen—it was here that -our two hours’ halt had been called—to Kandersteg, at the foot of the -Gemmi, is eight miles. The last half of this my wife and I walked. - -At Kandersteg we dined; and having placed the little man, and the -baggage, on horses, we began the ascent at 3.30. The road is in -excellent repair. For the first hour and a half it is stiff walking -through a pine forest. The views of the valley of the Kander, and of the -mountains, are good. The road is then, for some distance, taken -horizontally along the side of the mountain, again through the pine -forest. Between the clean stems of the trees you look down, on your -left, into the barren, and truly Alpine, Valley of Gasteren. At first it -is a rocky gorge; and then it opens into an expanse of level, pale grey -sand, and small shingle, through which you can make out, from above, the -glacier stream passing in several small channels. The forest is -succeeded by an open level of poor mountain pasture and rocky ground. On -the left of this are the peaks of the Altels, and of the Rinderhorn, -with snow-fields and glacier. You then begin to ascend again through a -scene that is the very grandeur of desolation. There is no vegetation; -nothing that has life. It appears as if the mighty fragments of dark -rock, with which the whole is covered, had been rained down from heaven -in its wrath, and had completely buried out of sight everything that -might once have struggled up here for life, and even whatever could have -supported life. This mountain in ruins, this wrack of rocks, brings you -to the Schwarenbach inn. It stands on the edge of a crateriform -depression, in what appears at the time, and from the spot, to be the -summit of the mountain. This depression terminates, on the right, in a -grand mountain amphitheatre. - -The inn is precisely what it ought to be; small, without any pretension, -and without any artificial _entourage_. The people, too, who keep it are -most ready, and obliging. This is just the sort of place one would like -to make one’s head-quarters, for a few days, for excursions from it -among the surrounding summits, and for familiarising oneself with the -spirit of the mountains. - -_September 17._—Started a little after 5 A.M., that we might see the sun -rise from the summit of the pass. Overnight I had been roused out of my -first sleep by a loud, hurried knocking against the thin partition, that -separated my room from my wife’s, accompanied by repeated calls to get -up at once. I lighted a match, and looked at my watch. It was just 11 -o’clock. At 4.30 A.M. the knocking was again heard: but this time it -came from the opposite side of the partition. - -The morning was very cold. The blue boy, and the luggage, were on -horseback; my wife, and I, on foot. The ascent continued for about two -miles further. For the first mile the path takes you by two or three -more crater-like depressions, similar to the one on the edge of which -the inn stands. You then come to a dark mountain lake, fed by the -glacier of the Wildstrubel, at the southern end of it. It is another -scene of awful desolation. You are surprised at observing that the -detrital matter, neither of the glacier, nor of the environing -mountains, has in the least degree diminished the size of the lake. It -seems to-day to be just the same, in size and form, that it must have -been thousands of years ago. The crest of the ridge is reached a little -beyond the lake. The sight that here bursts upon you is grand indeed. -The eye passes over the valley of the Rhone—that, however, is not yet -visible—and rests on the long series of snowy peaks, which you know are -the finials of the barrier ridges that separate Switzerland from -Italy—the Michabel, the Weisshorn, the Matterhorn, the Dent d’Heréns, -the Dent Blanche. On this morning they all stood clear of cloud. While -close, on our left, just to show us how near we were to losing the view, -a dense mist was streaming over the mountains, like a turbid, aerial -river, flowing uphill Nothing could be grander; the rocky peaks around -us, the snowy peaks before us, and the river of cloud rolling by us. We -had reached the right point at the right moment. - -Having impressed the view on our minds, as ‘a possession for ever,’ we -began the descent. The little man got off his horse, for the descent can -only be made on foot; at all events it always has been, since the fatal -accident, caused by the stumbling of her horse, which here befell the -Comtesse d’Arlincourt in 1861. The luggage, too, was now readjusted, and -more tightly braced up on the baggage horse. - -Among those who keep to beaten paths the descent of the Gemmi is the -crowning glory of their excursion. This it is that awakens within them -most the sensations of awe and wonder. And there is much to justify -these feelings. As you come down the pass, you cannot but be surprised -at the boldness, ingenuity, and perseverance of those who projected, and -made it. And, perhaps, your surprise will be heightened when, on getting -to the bottom, and looking up at the sheer precipice of some thousands -of feet of hard rock, you find that you are unable to make out a trace -of the path you have just been descending. A fissure in the -perpendicular face of the mountain just made it conceivable that a -series of zig-zags might be carried up to the top. And this was what the -engineer attempted, and succeeded in doing. Originally, many of the -zig-zags were nothing more than grooves in the face of the rock, just -sufficient to give foothold to a pedestrian. During the last century, -however, they have been widened into grooves that admit, with perfect -safety, the passage of a packhorse with his burden. The external wall of -a house may be ascended by a staircase applied to it; and so may the -perpendicular face of a mountain, two or three thousand feet high. And -it will come to the same thing if the staircase is, in some places, let -into the face either of the house, or of the mountain wall. The motive -of the formation of the pass was to save a _détour_ of some days in -getting from the neighbourhood of Thun and Interlaken to the Valais. I -suppose it was worth making as a saving of time and labour. But, be that -as it may, it impresses itself on the mind as a never-to-be-forgotten -passage of one’s Alpine travel. The blue boy skipped down it, like a -chamois, far in advance of everybody; a guide, of course, being with -him. My wife insisted on going down at the head of the rest of the -party, on the plea that she was incapable of going behind. I took the -position assigned me, with a little hug of myself at the conceit, the -benefit of which, however, at the time I kept to myself, that those, who -can go as well behind as before, must be twice as clever as those who -can go before only. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - LEUKABAD—AIGLE - - - The life of man is as the life of leaves, - Which, green to-day, to-morrow sears, and then - Another race unfolds itself to run - Again the course of growth and of decay: - So waxes, and so wanes the race of man.—HOMER. - -AT a little after 8 A.M. we entered Leukabad, having been out three -hours from Schwarenbach. I was content that both our _personnel_ and our -_matériel_ were safe, plus the ineffaceable impression on our minds of -the pass itself. - -Having breakfasted—it is pleasant to have lived so much before -breakfast—we sallied forth to look at the town and the baths. There are -several hotels in the place, and they were all pretty well tenanted. -Still the aspect of things was not lively. There was none of the stir -you observe among the Alpine people at such places as Chamouni and -Zermatt; nor was there any of the obtrusive bigness, and of the staring -newness of the hotels almost everywhere, which give you to understand -very clearly that, at all events, a great deal of business is being -done. Here nothing was new, and everything was faded. The names over the -hotels and shops had been there many a day; and the hotels and shops -themselves made one think of a dead forest covered with lichens and -moss, the lichens and moss being at least half dead also. People moved -about so noiselessly that you looked to see if their feet were muffled; -saying nothing to each other, and having nothing to say. The place was -as dumb as it was faded. We saw an old man washing old bottles, of a -by-gone form, at an old fountain, into and out of which the water was -feebly dribbling, as if it had nearly done coming and had nowhere to go. -He was the only person we saw doing anything, and he did it as if he -thought there was no use in doing it. Those who were taking the baths -were oppressed with a consciousness that they were getting no good from -them; and that they were doing it only because something must be -attempted. Their despondency had an air of obstinacy that would not be -comforted, deep and silent; like that of people who have just found out -that the foundations on which they have long been building great -expectations, are all a delusion,—either a figment of their own, or a -tradition from times when such things were not understood—and who have -not yet come to think that the world may still have something else for -them to turn to. At 12 o’clock the _voiturier_ we had engaged to take us -to Sierre, came up to the door of the hotel, with his worm-eaten vehicle -and his worn-out horses. But he came in so mute and spectral a -fashion—anywhere else he would have announced himself with a little -final flourish and crack of his whip—that we were not for some time -aware of his arrival. It was a relief when he lighted his cigar, for -that was the first indication of life we had seen in the place. - -On the road to Sierre we passed through dust enough to bury Leukabad—a -ceremony which it would be as well should not be deferred any longer. -And, if Sierre had been put on the top of it, there would still have -been some to spare. - -This dusty drive enhanced the pleasantness of recalling our late -mountain walks. We had now completed the circuit of the great ice-field -of the Bernese Oberland, which is more than 100 square miles in extent, -and is supposed to be the largest in Europe. Its boundaries, all of -which we had traced, are the Valais, the Grimsel, the Valley of the Aar, -and the Gemmi. We had had a near or more distant view of all its chief -snowy peaks, but had nowhere crossed any part of the snow-field itself. -That, perhaps, may be the work of another day, when the blue boy will be -old enough, and the rest of the party not yet too old, for such work; -for those who are not up to Peaks, either of the first or second class, -may still graduate as Pass-men by crossing the ice-fields between the -Peaks. - -Another possible arrangement for the work of the two last days would -have been to have ascended the Niesen, at the foot of which we had -passed yesterday morning. This would have obliged us to have slept at -Kandersteg instead of, as we did, at the top of the Gemmi. The ascent of -the Niesen, even for such a party as was ours, would have been easy -enough; and the views from it are said to be very good. In that case, -however, we should have had to do the Gemmi at one stretch. Our loss -would have been sleeping at Kandersteg, and not at the Schwarenbach, and -the abandonment of our chance of a good sunrise from the summit of the -Pass; though that was a chance which, as it happened, was worth nothing -to us; for, in such perfectly fine, and singularly clear weather as we -had, the sun rises and sets without those glories of colour which -require haze and clouds for their reflection. - -As to weather, which is the first, the second, and the third requisite -in such an expedition, we had scarcely seen a cloud during our three -weeks’ tramp. Up to the day before I got on my legs at Visp it had been -an unusually wet and cold season. During the night I was at the Simplon -Hospice it rained a little. That was the only shower that fell, where I -was, during the whole time we were out. The quarter of an hour’s snow on -the Riffel was merely the passage of a stray bit of mountain scud. The -sun, throughout, had shone so brightly that some of its brightness had -been reflected from the world outside upon the world within. Almost -every party of travellers in Switzerland, this year, we met with had a -very different account to give of the weather they had encountered. When -good luck is pleased to come, it must fall to some one; and this year it -fell to us. - -So ended the second act of our little family excursion. The scene of the -first had been the Valleys of Zermatt and Saas, with my intercalated -tramp over the Monte Moro, through the Val Anzasca, and over the -Simplon. I can, with a safe conscience, recommend the precise route we -took to any family party, constituted at all as ours was. The time -occupied, from first to last, was exactly three weeks; and three weeks -they were, which we look back upon as well spent. It had no -difficulties, and enough of interest and variety. As to the cost, I can -give no details or items, for I keep no accounts, and never have. But, -speaking in the gross, I believe it cost somewhat less than thirty -shillings a head a day. Doubtless, it may be done for less. The best -rule in such matters, of course, is, if you can afford it, to have what -you want, and what will make a pleasure pleasant. As to equipment, what -you need actually carry along with you is so little, that the statement -of it would appear to people at home ridiculous. But, then, you can send -on by the Post from place to place not only your heavy luggage, but such -articles as your hat, if you are youthful, or old-fashioned enough to -take a hat with you, and your spare pair of walking boots, and every -thing else you may wish to have occasionally. - -And here I have a suggestion to throw out, which occurred to me while I -was on the tramp. What put it into my head was the incongruity of hotel -life with excursions amid such scenes. In the Rocky Mountains the great -enjoyment of the year is camping out in the fine season. In Syria and in -India people travel with their tents. Why should we not camp out, and -travel with our tents, in July and August in Switzerland; and so break -loose altogether from the hotels? One mule, or horse, would carry the -tent and all the tent furniture. If sometimes, but such a necessity -would seldom arise, you had to pitch your tent on damp grass land, no -inconvenience, I believe, would ensue. I have slept on a damp meadow -under a tent on a bare plank, and was none the worse for it. And with -the addition of a little hay, or straw, upon the plank, and upon that a -waterproof sheet, you would have a luxurious bed for one who had walked -five-and-twenty miles, and had not been under a roof during the day. The -tent-mule might carry three light planks, each six feet long; for I will -suppose that the party consists of two travellers, and a guide who also -acts as muleteer. A saucepan, kettle, gridiron, and a few stores, to be -renewed as required, would be necessary. Were the weather to prove -unaccommodating there would always be the hotels at hand to take refuge -in. A month of such campaigning would be very independent; and, I -believe, very healthful and enjoyable. - -At Sierre we took the rail for Aigle. There were a great many tedious -delays on the way: one at almost every station. But to complain would be -unreasonable, for, of course, the natives like to get as much as they -can for the fares they have paid; and the lower the fare the greater the -gain, if they get much of the rail for it. It was near 6 o’clock when we -reached Aigle, where we intended to set up our head-quarters for some -days, while looking out for a winter residence for my wife and the -little man. - -The night was still, and clear. In that unpolluted atmosphere, and among -the mountains, the bright, soft, gleaming of the moon—it was now a -little beyond the full—as it brings out the silvered peaks, and seems to -darken the ravines, casts, as old Homer[2] noted long ago, a pleasing -spell over you; and you become indisposed to mar the silence of nature -with a word. The spell, however, on this occasion was somewhat broken by -the disturbing effect of continuous lightning, in the direction of the -head of the valley, though the horizon was undimmed, throughout its -whole circumference, by so much as a trace of haziness. - -Footnote 2: - - As when in heaven the stars - Are shining round about the lustrous moon, - Exceeding bright; and all the air is still; - And every jutting peak, and beacon point - Stands clear, e’en to the wooded slopes below; - And the whole field of ether, opened out - Unfathomable, shows each particular star; - And at the sight the shepherd to his heart - Is fill’d with gladness.—ILIAD viii. 551. - - I have essayed a rendering of this famous simile, not because I hope - to succeed where so many are supposed to have failed, but because, as - may be believed of a country parsonage, I have not a single - translation of it at hand. It may be objected to the one I am driven - to offer that the unfathomableness of the field of ether is a modern - idea; and that Homer meant immensity in the direction, not of the - profundity of the celestial space, but in the direction of its - expansion. Our idea, however, embraces the whole of Homer’s, and goes - beyond it. - - The double mention of the stars is hardly tautological; for the first - mention of them is an indispensable stroke in the sketch, which was - intended to convey to our minds the idea of a fine bright night; while - the shining of so many particular stars in the immeasurable field of - heaven is the point of the simile. As many as are the stars visible in - such a sky, so many were the camp fires of the Trojan bivouac on the - broad plain. - -Of this witching power of the moon all people appear to be conscious. -But how does it come to act upon us in this way? Many, doubtless, have -tried to analyze, and get to the bottom of the feeling. I would suggest -that the effect is produced by an unconscious comparison of the moon -with the sun; and, then, by an unconscious inference drawn from the -comparison. The sun is the lord of our waking hours, and, as respects -the moon, is our standard of comparison. Whatever we think of we must -think of in reference to something else, that something else being the -leading and most familiar object of the class the thing, at the moment -thought about, belongs to, except it be the leading object itself, when -the reverse reference is made. When, then, we look at the moon, there is -a reference in the mind to the ideas and feelings, the results of our -experience, we have about the sun. We may not be aware of this, but it -is so, and cannot be otherwise. The sun is what gives us our conception -of a large luminous body, apparently moving, majestically, round our -earth. Having, then, made this comparison unconsciously—if it were done -consciously there would be no spell, or witchery—we note the -differences. The light is not the same. It does not penetrate to the -recesses of objects. It does not give clear definition. It does not -enable us to make out surfaces at a distance. It is not dazzling. It -does not enable the beholder to distinguish colours. There is something -spectral about it. But, above all, it is light unaccompanied by warmth. -The substratum of our thought, as we look at the moon, is the sun: yet -everything is different. The inference, again unconsciously arrived at, -is that of the wondrous variety, combined with unspeakable magnitude, -and other deeply affecting particulars, in these the greatest works, as -they strike us at the moment, of the dimly-apprehended mystery of the -universe. These half-formed thoughts, and their corresponding emotions, -are brought home, not so much by the sun, because we are too familiar -with it, and the objects we compare it with unconsciously are of -inferior grandeur, as they are by the moon, that is, by the -contemplation of it on a bright clear night. The moon stands far above -all natural objects, indeed, it stands almost alone, in possessing the -means for producing, in the way I have supposed, on all minds the effect -we are endeavouring to understand. And the effect is deepened by the -character of the hour. It is night. All is still. There is nothing to -distract attention; nothing to dissipate the effect. - -It will help us here, if we see that it is, in part, the same reason, -which impels the dog to bay the moon. With him, as with ourselves, the -standard of comparison is the sun. The light of the full moon invites -him to look out from his kennel. He sees, as he thinks, the sun in -heaven. The sun has ever been to him the source of warmth as well as of -light. He has come to connect the idea of light emanating from a great -luminary in heaven with that of warmth. But this sun, he is looking at -now, does not give him any warmth. It even appears to strike him with a -chill. The light, too, which it emits has differences, which are very -perceptible, but unwonted, and unintelligible. It does not enable him to -make out familiar objects in the way in which light ought. His nerves -are affected by these differences and disappointments. His agitation -increases. In the still night there is nothing to divert his thoughts. -It becomes insupportable. He gives unconscious expression to his -agitation. He bays the moon. It is an expression of deep distress. - -These feelings of the dog may also in some respects be compared to the -feelings that used to come over all mankind, and still come over the -savage, and other untutored people, at the contemplation of an eclipse. - -_September 18._—The lightning of last night was not an empty threat, for -this morning dense masses of cloud were rolling down the valley, and -there was much rain. We had been talking of going up the _Dent du Midi_; -but, as it was, we could not get out till late in the afternoon, and -then it still continued to be showery. We managed, however, to see one -of the factories for parquetry floors, of which there are several here. -Their work is beautifully executed, and very cheap. It is sent all over -the world. We saw some orders that had just been executed for Egypt, and -for the United States. - -The contrast between Aigle and Leukabad is complete. Here everything is -new, and neat, and bright. Opposite to us, across the road—we were quite -new ourselves—was a house, in its trim grounds, as new, and neat, and -bright as freshly wrought stone, and fresh paint could make it. There -was not a weather-stain upon it. At the bottom of our garden were a -party of jabbering Italian masons running up what was to be a large -_pension_. But the most conspicuous of the new things in Aigle was a -grand hotel, a little way off, nearer the mountains: so new that the -grounds were not yet laid out. And so it was with almost everything in -this flourishing little place, which has secured its full share in the -rapidly-growing prosperity of the country. Its attractions are that it -has a dry soil; a warm, sunny situation; and cheerful views. The baths -of Leukabad cannot keep it alive. The sunshine of Aigle gives it life. -If the decay of Leukabad, and the prosperity of Aigle at all show that -people now endeavour to retain health by natural means, whereas the plan -formerly was to let it go, and then endeavour to recover it by very -doubtful means, we may deem the world has, in this particular, grown -somewhat wiser than it was of yore; and so far, to go back once more to -our old friend, Homer, we may boast that we are better than our fathers. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - THE DRAMA OF THE MOUNTAINS - - - Non canimus surdis.—VIRGIL. - -I will here give two or three pages to the blue boy. He is not at all -aware that I am about to put him into print. The reader, I trust, will -think that the betrayal of confidence involved in my doing so is not -altogether unjustifiable. I mentioned that on the day we crossed the -Grimsel, from the Rhone Glacier to Meiringen, he was unusually silent. -He afterwards told me that he had then been engaged in composing a -drama, which was to be entitled ‘The Drama of the Mountains,’ in which -the most conspicuous mountains he had seen—he had in 1870 made the -acquaintance of M. Blanc—were to be the _Dramatis Personæ_. Nothing more -was said on the subject then, or afterwards. We have infantine -productions of Dr. Johnson, Pope, the late Professor Conington, and of -others. I now offer the following drama, as an addition to this kind of -literature. I can vouch for its entire authenticity and genuineness. It -shall be printed from the blue boy’s own MS. The whole composition was -arranged in his mind, some days before it was put upon paper, without a -hint or suggestion from anybody, and subsequently not a word was -corrected, nor even a point in the stopping altered. It could not have -been more entirely his own had he been the only soul in Switzerland at -the time it was composed. He was alone, too, at the time it was put upon -paper. On the first day we were at Aigle—I have just mentioned that it -was a wet day—I found him writing it _currente calamo_; and on hearing -what he was about, I immediately left the room. - -I must premise that last summer I had read to him Shakespeare’s Julius -Cæsar (he was then translating Cæsar’s Commentaries), and the Midsummer -Night’s Dream. On each of which occasions he immediately afterwards -produced a drama of his own; one in the high classical style founded on -Roman history, the other in the style of Bottom’s interlude. His having -had those two plays read to him is the extent of his acquaintance with -dramatic literature. - -Those who may happen to have no personal acquaintance with his _dramatis -personæ_, will allow a word or two on the appropriateness of the parts -imagined for them. Blanc, of course, is Emperor in his own, the old, -right: from his shoulders and upwards he is higher than any of his -people. So with Rosa: she has the same fitness for being Empress. -Weishorn and Jungfrau are, beyond controversy, worthy of being, as the -order of nature has made them, Prince and Princess Imperial. Cervin (the -blue boy thinks in French, and so he calls Matterhorn by his French -name), by reason of his signal and conspicuous uprightness, is the best -of Prime Ministers. Schreckhorn’s name and character fit him for the -Ministry of Police, and prepare us for his horrible treason. Simplon has -conferred on him the place of the Emperor’s Messenger, on account of his -services to the world in supporting the most serviceable of the great -passes into Italy. We are not surprised at finding Silberhorn acting as -Chancellor of the Exchequer. Mönch appropriately counsels peace. -Finsteraarhorn, it will be observed, is taunted with hardly daring to -show his face: a sarcastic allusion to the difficulty there is of -getting a view of this mountain. - -That the Empire of the Mountains was transferred to the Potentate of the -Himalaya, was intended not only as an illustration of the bad policy of -calling in to our assistance one stronger than ourselves—the mistake the -horse made when he entered into a league with man to drive the stag from -the contested pasture—but, also, as an application, and this was the -main idea, of the broad simple principle of _detur digniori_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - _THE DRAMA OF THE MOUNTAINS._ - - ------- - - Dramatis Personæ. - - BLANC, _emperor of the Alps_. - ROSA, _his wife_. - CERVIN, _his prime-minister_. - JUNGFRAU, _his daughter_. - WEISHORN, _his son_. - FINSTERAARHORN, _Jungfrau’s husband_. - MÖNCH, _the priest_. - SCHRECKHORN, _the police-agent_. - SIMPLON, _messenger of the Alps_. - SILBERHORN, _treasurer_. - ──── - CHIMOULARI, _king of the Himalaya_. - DWALAGIRI, _his prime-minister_. - EVEREST, _his son_. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - Prologue. - - The empire of the Alps consists of a large number of European - mountains, who think themselves the highest in the world; but it - is not so, for the kingdom of the Himalaya is still higher and - wiser. In the empire of the Alps, there had been internal - disturbances between Blanc, the emperor, and Schreckhorn, the - police-agent, in which Schreckhorn had mostly had the advantage - and had shut the others up in a prison. But they escaped and - applied to Chimoulari, king of the Himalaya, to help them, which - he accordingly did, and defeated Schreckhorn. Chimoulari then - received the empire of the Alps, and was then emperor of all the - mountains in the world. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - ACT I. - - - SCENE I. - - BLANC’S _Palace_. - - (_Enter_ BLANC, CERVIN, WEISHORN, JUNGFRAU, ROSA, FINSTERAARHORN, - MÖNCH.) - - BLANC. - -Are we all met? - - WEISHORN. - -Yes, we are; we must not speak too loud, for Schreckhorn is outside the -door. - - CERVIN. - -Schreckhorn outside the door! impossible! - - FINSTERAARHORN. - -Fear nothing. - - CERVIN. - -Finster, really, this is too bad: you wish to have us all in the lockup; -yes, you who hardly dare to show your face! - - ROSA. - -Blanc, my husband, please send Finster out. - - JUNGFRAU. - -Blanc, don’t, don’t.—Rosa, what do you mean; do you wish to deliver -Finster into the hands of Schreckhorn? - - MÖNCH. - -Peace! peace! (_Exeunt omnes._) - - (_Enter_ SCHRECKHORN _and_ SILBERHORN.) - - SCHRECKHORN. - -Silberhorn, pay me your debts. - - SILBERHORN. - - Please, my lord. - - SCHRECKHORN. - -Please is nothing to me; pay! - - SILBERHORN. - -Blanc, come and help me. (_Enter_ BLANC.) - - SCHRECKHORN. - -I condemn you both to lose fifty feet of your height. - - BLANC. - -Ah! (_Exeunt omnes_). - - - SCENE II. - - _The Same._ - - (_Enter_ BLANC _and_ SIMPLON.) - - BLANC. - -Would it not be better if you called in Chimoulari? - - SIMPLON. - -Yes, I will immediately. (_Exeunt duo._) - - - SCENE III. - - _The Same._ - - (_Enter_ BLANC, CHIMOULARI, DWALAGIRI, _and_ EVEREST.) - - CHIMOULARI. - -Blanc, what do you want? - - BLANC. - -To make war against Schreckhorn. - - DWALAGIRI. - -That is very easy. - - EVEREST. - -I will be general. (_Exeunt._) - - - SCENE IV. - - _The Same._ - - (_Enter_ SCHRECKHORN _and_ EVEREST.) - - EVEREST. - -Down with Thee. - - SCHRECKHORN. - -I will bring thee to nothing! - -(EVEREST _knocks down_ SCHRECKHORN, _kills him, and goes out_.) - - - SCENE V. - - _The Same._ - - (_Enter_ BLANC, CHIMOULARI, _and_ EVEREST.) - - EVEREST. - -I have killed Schreckhorn. - - CHIMOULARI. - -Now, Blanc, give me the Empire of the Alps. - - BLANC. - -Must I yield it? yes, I suppose. - - (EVEREST _and_ BLANC _exeunt_.) - - CHIMOULARI. - -Now am I monarch of all around me! let me rejoice. - - * * * * * - -I do not give this little drama as a wonderful work for a child of -between nine and ten, but to show what I think any child of average -powers might do, spontaneously and with pleasure, if only parents and -teachers could be brought to understand that the area of their -teaching should be expanded to its natural limits, that is to the -history of man, and to a general acquaintance with our earth. The -proper starting point for the former is the history, in its widest -sense, of the towns and localities with which the child is familiar; -and for the latter the natural objects, mountains, rivers, valleys, -plains, vegetation, animal life, meteorology, &c., of the same -localities. The teacher should then pass on, in both these -departments, from what has been understood, because it has been seen, -to what will be understood, though not seen, because it differs in -certain particulars, that can be explained, from what is already -understood. So much for the area: and an equally great change must be -brought about in the manner of teaching. We must adopt the natural -method as well as the natural area; that is to say, we must teach -orally and conversationally. In this way only can what is taught to a -child be made intelligible. And if it be not made intelligible it -cannot possibly interest. One step more: all about man and nature, -that has thus been taught orally and conversationally, should always -be subsequently repeated in the child’s own words. This, among many -other great advantages, cultivates as nothing else can, because, -again, in the natural way, both the power of attention and the power -of continuous extemporary expression. Teaching by the book and by -heart—well so phrased, for the understanding has nothing to do with -it, and it takes all heart out of a child—has, among others, this -conspicuous evil, that at the cost to the child of compulsory -ignorance, and gratuitously-engendered aversion to mental effort, it -saves nothing, except the necessity, in the teacher, of knowing -anything about what he professes to teach. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - ON SWISS HOTELS - - - In this the antique, and well-noted face - Of plain old form is much disfigured.—SHAKESPEARE. - -For the word or two I have to say about the Swiss monster hotels, I can -make the one mentioned at the close of the twelfth chapter my _point de -départ_ with safety; for I never entered it, and only know from what I -saw outside, that it is fire-new, and as monstrous as new. As you look -at one of these modern caravansaries, you are amused at thinking how -precisely everything in it is the facsimile of all that you have seen in -a score of others. The Swiss believe, and act, too, on the belief, that -they have reduced hotel-keeping to an exact science; among them, -therefore, in this matter, there cannot be any longer two opinions about -the form of, or the way of doing, any one thing whatsoever. Everywhere -the building itself appears arranged, externally and internally, on the -same plan. Of an hotel, as of a five-pound note, there can be but one -idea. In either case any deviation from the archetypal paradigm would -disqualify the thing produced from being regarded as that which it -professes to be. - -As to life within the hotel, everywhere you have the same breakfast: -coffee, two kinds of bread (the more solid kind almost always sticky and -sour, the flour having been made from imperfectly ripened and -imperfectly harvested grain), butter that is somewhat insipid, and honey -that will inevitably soil your fingers, and perhaps trouble your -interior. Exact science has demonstrated, beyond controversy, that -precisely this breakfast, for every day in the three hundred and -sixty-five, hits with mathematical rigour the point at which the wants -and rights of the traveller—though, indeed, he has no business himself -to think about his having any rights or wants at all—meet the -scientifically regarded economies of the innkeeper. This unvarying -breakfast is everywhere served to you on the same unvarying china—always -white, solid, and heavy. Exact science informs us that if china of this -kind be used there is a smaller amount of breakage, and that -replacements are easy: and from exact science there is no appeal. That -you who have to use it would prefer a little variety now and then has -nothing at all to do with the matter. - -And then as to your dinner: it also is always the same. As the -dinner-bell reminds you of this, you find that you are agitated by an -involuntary shudder. Always, and everywhere, the same viands cooked in -the same fashion; and served, too, again on the same white, solid, heavy -china. There is the inevitable _filet de bœuf_: more inevitable than the -conscience of an evil deed, for that does not rise up before you -throughout your whole life every day. One feels that one could almost -give a year’s income never to see or hear mention made of this _filet de -bœuf_ any more. Then come mutton and chicken, the latter always with -salad. Sometimes, however, one of the two latter is replaced with veal. -But the beef, the mutton, the veal, and the chicken, before they were -roasted or ragouted, had been passed through the already-mentioned bath, -in order to make the _potage_ with which you commenced your repast. The -mind, encouraged by the wilfulness of the palate, refuses to form a -conception of a sirloin of beef, or of a leg of mutton, that had been -boiled before it was roasted; or of a beef-steak, or of a mutton-chop, -that had passed through the digester on its way to the gridiron; or of a -veal-cutlet that has had its natural insipidity aggravated by this -exhaustive treatment. The regale concludes with, every day, the same -dried figs and the same raisins; or if it be late enough in the season, -with the same plums and the same pears, so called, eked out by the same -little cakes and the same little biscuits. Swiss hotel science -repudiates entirely the ideas of roasted joints, and almost entirely of -puddings. As to the wine, it has not, as might be expected, any -exceptional merit; and as to the varieties indicated on the _carte_, -they do not always correspond with the varieties of Nature: for science -has demonstrated that a variety of labels constitute a variety of kinds. - -You are pursued by this scientific sameness to your bed-room; and are -soon haunted in your dreams with the idea that you are carrying about -with you everywhere your bed and your bed-room furniture. As to the -looking-glass, it is never on a dressing-table, but always nailed to the -wall; for the science of Swiss hotel-keeping has discovered that the -frame for a glass of this kind is cheaper than what would be required -for one placed on a table; and that, besides, there is a far less chance -of the glass itself being broken when it has become a fixture on the -wall. This, however, obliges you to encumber yourself with a glass of -your own; for a man cannot shave by a glass that has not its back to the -light. Not even in the lock of your bed-room door is there a shadow of -variation. It is always of iron, for iron is cheaper than brass; and -always of the same form and size: they must all have been made at the -same factory. And this unfailing black iron lock, always of the same -size, is always attached to the surface of the door instead of being let -into it. Your candlestick, too, is always the same—you fall back again -on the theory of a single factory—a mere pedestal of brass with a glass -cup at the top—I have, however, occasionally seen them without this -glass cup—to receive the overflowings of the compo, which is often -euphoniously described in the bill as _bougie_. But possibly where the -glass is now wanting, it may, as exact science does not recognise -disturbing causes, have originally existed. The candle again, in the -unvarying candlestick, is always everywhere the same, with a wick that -is but little more than a thread. The _rationale_ of this tenuity of the -wick is that the compo may not be consumed too rapidly for science. But -then the least gust of air, or a careless quick movement of the candle, -extinguishes it. You then have to relight it with a sulphurous lucifer, -always everywhere sulphurous. - -As to the traveller himself, he soon comes to find that he is not -regarded as a thinking, feeling, and acting, or in any way independent -entity. He is not supposed to have any likes or dislikes; any wants or -ways of his own: he is merely one of the constituent molecules of an -aggregated mass of inert, insentient matter, which must be manipulated -in a certain fixed manner, which the discoveries of hotel science have -shown to be necessary in order to produce a certain determinate result -in the form of a certain amount of profit. Or he may compare himself to -one of the milch-cows belonging to the hotel, which must have that -amount of attention bestowed upon it, that amount of daily provender, -and of that kind, and at night that berth and bedding, which at the -least cost will produce the greatest amount of milk. Finding yourself -treated in this way, merely as a unit in a large herd, you become aware -that you are losing your sense of personal identity. How can you go on -believing that you are what Nature made you, or that you have any -special nature at all of your own, when, from being constantly herded -with a hundred other people, all fed during the day, and provided for -during the night, in precisely the same fashion, everything is -conspiring to impress upon you the self-obliterating conviction that you -are exactly what all the rest are: nothing more, nothing less, and -nothing different? - -Of your associate molecules, your fellow milch-cows, in these monster -hotels, the majority speak your own language. Of these perhaps you will -regard with most sympathy and favour the mountain-climbers, although you -may yourself have ceased, as will probably be the case, if you are on -the shady side of fifty, to look upon athletics, pure and simple, as the -object of life. Still these vigorous specimens of youthful British -humanity have set themselves something to do, and are doing it; and it -is something that requires, at all events, enterprise and endurance. Not -many of them, however, are to be found in the most aggravated form of -the monster hotel, for that belongs to the towns rather than to the -mountains. Another class is composed of those who do not climb, but are -merely enthusiasts on the subject of mountain scenery. Of these the most -gushing are of the fairer sex. With them, too, you can go as far as they -go; though not quite to the extent of applying the epithet of ‘lovely’ -to everything indiscriminately, even to rugged peaks, and rivers of ice; -nor of being consumed by their uncontrollable desire to know, for a few -moments, the name of every peak and point that happens to be in sight, -and to arrive at this evanescent knowledge by the process of questioning -the bystanders. You meet also multitudes of lawyers, clergymen, -schoolmasters, and literary men. These, speaking generally, are the -_élite_ of the corresponding classes you have at home. Another large -item is made up of men engaged in trade and business, from London and -the manufacturing districts. It is a very good thing for them that they -are able to leave their counters, and counting-houses, and factories; -and to exchange, for a time, the murky atmosphere, and the moil and toil -of the routine of their ordinary lives for the mountains. This makes you -glad to see them also. - -Everybody knows that our Transatlantic cousins will be met with -everywhere in shoals, and nowhere are these shoals greater than in -Switzerland. Some of those you fall in with will be New York -shoddy-lords, some will be Pennsylvanians who have struck oil, some will -be successful speculators in real estate in the neighbourhood of rising -western cities. But if you have known the American in his own country, -and in his own home, and are not dissatisfied with a man, merely because -he cannot pronounce the Shibboleths of Eton and Oxford, you will be glad -to make the acquaintance of a large proportion of the Americans you -encounter. They are clear-headed and hard-headed; men who hold their own -ground, and are, at the same time, sociable and friendly. - -The Germans come next in number to those who speak our own tongue, they -are quiet, honest, and earnest; and have evidently come to Switzerland -for the purpose—there is no doubt about that—of constructing in their -minds a correct idea of the nucleus, and central watershed, of Europe. -But, as few of us speak German, there is little intercourse between them -and English travellers. - -Among the inmates of all these large hotels, because it is in them that -such wanderers find most nearly what suits them, there remains a -conspicuous _residuum_, that of those who have nothing in the world to -do, and who, as thoroughly as if they were peak-and-pass-men, do it. -They belong to all countries: Russia, France, England, and America -supply each its respective quota. They are, for the most part, -carefully, sometimes rather loudly got up: they have not much else to -attend to. And from this, perhaps also from a little assumption in their -manner, they contrive somewhat to obtrude themselves on the general -notice of the world in the hotel. They belong to the class of failures, -the _coups manqués_, of civilised humanity. They are the waifs and -strays of modern society, with money enough, and often plenty of it, to -live out of their own country. Sometimes with not enough left to live at -home as they once did. They have no sense of home, nor love of country; -but a sufficient sense of the duty men owe to themselves. You sometimes -hear them intimating, as a reason for their voluntary expatriation, that -they do not quite like their own country, and countrymen—perhaps no -great proof of the demerit of either, or of their own judgment. The -largest portion of the self-depreciators of this kind belong to the -English quota of the class. - -The disciples of so exalted and serene a philosophy, having got beyond -home, and country, and all inconveniently large ideas of duty, can have -no prejudices. Pet ideas, however, like the rest of the world, they -have; and the one they most pet is expressed in our time-honoured, -home-manufactured phrase, though amongst ourselves its use is prompted -by the anxieties and fears of deep love, that ‘the sun of England has -set.’ This is quite intelligible in a certain class of Frenchmen and -Russians. The wish, with them, was father to the thought. They, as might -have been expected, have become dazzled at the excess of light which -radiates from our sun, and can now only look at it through the green -lens. This old familiar phrase, coming from such oracular lips (but the -announcement as it comes from them is history, not prophecy, for it is -the announcement of a _fait accompli_), is accepted, with thorough -satisfaction, by those of our countrymen who are disposed to regard its -promulgators with submissive admiration, and are vainly endeavouring to -form themselves on their model. They are only too thankful for any -crumbs which fall from such tables. But be this as it may, the business -of these wanderers is to go up and down, and to and fro, upon the earth. -In this respect their occupation resembles the description the reprobate -sprite gave of his. And he, too, had lost the sense, if we may so put -it, of home, and country, and duty; and must also have had in his eyes -some tint of green. But they go only where locomotion and life are easy; -and where they may expect to find the society of congenial sprites, who -will not ruffle them, will not be blind to their merits, and will take -them, occasionally, at the price they set upon themselves. - -It may, then, be placed on the credit side of the account of these -scientifically managed hotels, though, at the time, one, being averse to -entering them, and not averse to leaving them, is not disposed to credit -them with much good, that they supply some materials for ‘the proper -study of mankind.’ It was not, however, for the purpose of obtaining -facilities for the prosecution of this study that you came to -Switzerland: perhaps, rather it was that you might lose sight of it for -a time. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - -BERNE—SWISS FOUNTAINS—ZURICH—MUSEUM OF RELICS FROM ANCIENT - LAKE-VILLAGES—BAUR EN VILLE—RÉCOLTE DES VOYAGEURS—C’EST UN PAUVRE - PAYS - - - Beyond compare, of all things best - Is water.—PINDAR. - -_September 19._—We spent the day at Vevey. Vineyards were everywhere -along the sides of the railway. It is pleasing to note the care with -which the vine, that peerless gift of Nature’s bounty to man, is -cultivated; how the land is terraced and fenced, and how scrupulously -clean it is kept. This indicates the value of the land that is adapted -to its growth, and is in keeping with the character of the gift. Had a -swim in the lake. My first plunge into it was thirty-one years ago, on -returning to Geneva from a walking expedition to Chamouni. - -On the following day (dates are no longer needed, for our excursion was -now ended, and I was returning home, on my own hook) I started for -Zurich by way of Berne. The country, as seen from the rails, looks as if -it were fertile, and carefully cultivated. The three points in which, to -the eye of a passer-by, their agriculture appears to differ most from -ours are, first, the greater cleanness of the land. I know no farmers—of -course there are many exceptions, and notably where there is -steam-ploughing—who cultivate so many weeds as the famous British -farmer. Secondly, their not giving to their land so much manure as we -do. One, however, may be mistaken on this point. And, thirdly, in the -absence of live stock from the fields. I understood that the price of -land is very high: the figures given to me were higher than the price of -equally good agricultural land would come to here at home. - -Since I was last at Berne, it appeared to me that a great deal had been -done in the way of extension and improvement. The place has the look of -having thriven much, and of still continuing to thrive. A few years ago -a neighbouring stream was diverted, and made to flow through the heart -of the city. It supplies, in its new course, several copious public -fountains. These are sculptured and decorated, as if the people loved -the water, and wished to heighten their pleasure at seeing, and -welcoming, and using it. One of the most pleasing sights in a Swiss -town—it is the same down to the smallest village—is this abundance of -good water with which it is supplied. It is ever in sight, for every use -of man and beast. In our English cities there was no want—the omission -is still far from having been set right—that was so conspicuously -neglected. And this, though an abundant supply of good water is not only -a first necessity of life, but equally so of civilisation. The reasons -of our negligence, in a matter of so much importance, are not far to -seek. As the Swiss manage their own affairs, their first care is to -provide themselves with what all need; and, evidently, the first thing -of this kind to be attended to is the water-supply. Their system, too, -of political, and, as respects the land, to some extent, of possessive -equality, has engendered a sentiment of philanthropy; not of the -charitable, or condescending, kind, but a general desire in all to -attend to the rights, the wants, and the well-being of all. It would be -distressing to all alike to find that any one had not as much water as -he could require, supplied to him in the handiest way, in which it might -be possible for the opportunities, and combined resources of the -community to effect this. - -Different influences have been at work amongst ourselves. The community -has not managed its own affairs in such a manner, and on such a footing, -as that the wants and interests of the humbler, and more helpless, -classes should be as much felt, and attended to, as the wants and -interests of the well-to-do classes, and of those who are able to take -care of themselves. This has hindered the importance, or rather the -necessity, of an abundant supply of water presenting itself, generally, -to men’s intelligence, and conscience, as really one of the primal cares -of the community. This has not been one of the points which town -councils, and rate-payers (perhaps because they were rate-payers) have -seen in a proper light. There has been something which has stood in the -way of their seeing it at all. Then there have been influential bodies -in every community, whose interests lay in an opposite direction. I mean -the water companies, and the manufacturers, and retailers of -intoxicating liquors. You could hardly expect them to have seen very -distinctly that it was the duty, and the interest, of the community to -provide everywhere, and for everybody, a visible, constant, gratuitous -supply of fresh, running, sparkling water. Nor, indeed, could the -government of the country be expected to be more sharp-sighted in this -matter than the local administrations; for it had to collect an enormous -revenue for the purpose of enabling it to pay the interest of an -enormous debt. There was, therefore, something to indispose it, also, to -supply a want, the supply of which must inevitably reduce the number of -millions it was collecting, every year, on the production and -consumption of intoxicating drinks. These are the reasons which have -issued in the fact, that water has been kept out of, or not brought -into, the sight of the inhabitants of our English towns, and villages. -It was not because water could be supplied on easier terms in -Switzerland than in this country, because we find as much attention paid -to its abundant free supply in some other continental countries, for -instance in Italy, as in Switzerland. - -Everyone who will give the subject a little thought will come to the -conclusion, that it is this neglect which is mainly answerable for some -of the preventable maladies, and for much of the drunkenness, and so of -the misery and crime, which afflicts our working classes. The efforts -that have been made of late years to set up drinking-fountains in -London, and in many of our towns, is an indication that in this supreme -matter our eyes are beginning to be opened. When they are completely -opened, a public, free, inexhaustible supply of the purest possible -water will be the first care of every community, great and small; and -drinking-fountains will, everywhere, offer an alternative to the -gin-palace and public-house, and in winter as well as in summer. - -To the reflecting mind, the overflowing sparkling fountains of the Swiss -towns are very pleasing objects. So, too, to the natural eye, and ear, -are the brawling stream in every valley, and the trickling rills on -every hill-side. There is water, water, everywhere; and every drop to -drink. This the pedestrian, at all events, will appreciate; and when the -sun is bright, he will be thankful for it a dozen times a day. - - * * * * * - -At Zurich I was much interested by the public collection of objects, -found at the bottom of the lake, and on the site of the old -lake-villages. Herodotus mentions a powerful Thracian people, who dwelt -in a similarly constructed city on Lake Prasias. The Irish and Scotch -cranoges are also instances of ancient structures of the same kind. To -this day, in New Guinea and Borneo, and in Africa, we find water-towns -still inhabited. In all these cases it was the same necessity, that of -providing against sudden attacks from more powerful neighbours, that -suggested the idea. And if we may refer to the same class, the -lagoon-protected infancy of Venice, then the Queen of the Adriatic, with -her St. Mark’s, and her palaces, owes her existence to the idea, from -which originated, in a very old past, the little wooden huts of the Lake -of Zurich. - -The objects which have been recovered reveal the habits, arts, -conditions of life, and much of the internal history of those who -formed, and used them. About the events of their external history, -though much of this can be pretty well imagined, of course they are -silent. Nor have they anything to tell us in reply to the questions of -who the people were, whence they came, or what became of them? The -information they give us begins with the time when men, in central -Europe, had not attained to a knowledge of metals, and were using -implements of bone and stone for war, hunting, and domestic purposes. -Abundance of their stone tools have been found, and also of specimens of -the work done with them. For instance, some of the series of piles, upon -which the dwellings were placed, and these piles are found by the -hundred, we see were hacked to the point, which was to fit them for -driving, with stone chisels and hatchets. And then, in other series of -piles, we pass on to the era when stone had been superseded by bronze -and iron tools. It is very interesting to have thus before us the actual -tools, and the actual work done with them, together with ocular -demonstration of the way in which, by the superiority of their work, the -first metal tools superseded their perfected predecessors of stone. - -Everything, one may almost say, has been preserved, and, too, in a most -wonderfully perfect state. Besides the tools and weapons in great -variety, there are their nets and clothes, their pottery in jars and -cups, and utensils for many purposes, the bones of the animals on which -they feasted, the different kinds of fruit they had gathered from the -forest, and of grain they had cultivated. In all these matters the old -lake-dwellers have bequeathed to us the means of comparing notes with -them. The bones that have been found of the ox, the sheep, and the dog -show that the varieties of the respective species then kept by the -dwellers in this neighbourhood were not precisely identical with any of -their varieties now known. They were, too, great hunters, and game was -abundant in the locality. Among the vast quantities of bones of wild -animals, that have been found, are those of the wolf, the bear, the -beaver, the wild boar, the stag, the European bison (which still exists -in the Forest of Lithuania, and is the largest quadruped next after the -rhinoceros), and of the urus, the aboriginal wild ox of Europe, which is -now extinct. - -They were also agriculturists. One of the kinds of wheat they cultivated -was what we call the Egyptian, or Mummy Wheat. Some of the specimens of -this could not be more perfect had they been only just harvested. It had -several small ears ranged round a main central ear, and from this reason -sometimes goes by the name of the hen-and-chickens wheat. It is -interesting to know that so distinctly marked a variety was being -cultivated at so remote a period, on the banks of the Lake of Zurich, by -these trans-Alpine barbarians, and on the banks of the Nile, by the -subjects of the early Pharaohs, at the same time. Here is a kind of -possible connection between the builders of Karnac and the builders of -these pile-supported huts; and also a point in the history of one of our -Cereals, of the birth, parentage, and education of all of which so -little is known. Two kinds of millet, and a six-rowed variety of barley -have also been found. These rude contributories to the ancestry of the -modern European were at the same time collecting for food, from the -neighbouring forests, sloes, bullaces, wild cherries, beech-mast, -crab-apples, elder-berries, the hips of the wild rose, raspberries, -blackberries, and hazel-nuts; for well-preserved remains of all these -have been found on the sites of the lake-villages. Some of the specimens -are supposed to show slight differences from the same fruits now growing -wild in the neighbourhood. These differences, if they do really exist, -must, notwithstanding their slightness, indicate a long lapse of time. - -They also cultivated flax. Nets and lines made from it, together with -the very scales of the fish the nets and lines caught, and the woven -cloth, with the very fringes that decorated the dresses into which it -had been formed, and even the weights used in working the looms, are all -here, to teach us how widely spread, in very early times, were the most -necessary of the useful arts. There has, then, been no solution in the -continuity of man’s history. His wants were from the first substantially -the same as they are at this day; and these wants were from the first -supplied by the same contrivances as at this day, with the difference -that, in every age, the contrivances were raised to the level of the -knowledge, and consequent resources, of the times. The spinning-jenny, -and the power-loom, in a few large cities, are now doing for millions -what the wives and daughters of these old lake-dwellers, seated in -summer on the wooden platform above the water, and in winter within the -hut, did for each separate family. The wants of what appear to us as the -primæval times, but which were in fact very far from that, have been -enlarged and multiplied, in proportion as man’s means for meeting them -became improved and enlarged; and this kind of growth in the old wants, -consequent upon growth in our means for supplying them, constitutes what -is generally meant by progress. And this material progress it is, which -makes possible moral and intellectual progress, the glory, and -privilege, and happiness of man. - -One cannot help comparing these relics of the old lake-village with the -copiously furnished stateliness of its modern neighbour, the city of -Zurich. You set them, in thought, by the side of its handsome streets of -stone houses, its rich shops, its large factories, especially of iron, -in which labour is so skilfully organised, and so scientifically -directed, its university, its general intelligence, its conscious -efforts to cultivate, and turn to account, that intelligence, its -accumulated wealth, its patriotism, its knowledge of, and connection -with, every part of the world. But varied, complex, great, and -interesting as all this is, still it is only the step now at length -reached, by the labour of many generations, in the true and natural -development of what was existing on the lake some thousands of years -ago. Society, such as it was, in those old days, in the rude, -wood-built, water-protected huts was the embryo of society, such as it -now is in the proud, modern city. How natural, then, is the jealous care -with which it guards these old relics; for if they do not speak to the -Zurichers of their own actual ancestors they show them what were the -germs out of which has grown their present condition. - - * * * * * - -I spoke of the large Swiss hotels exactly as they impressed me. I found -in them nothing that was attractive to me. Why it was so I endeavoured -to explain. I must, however, here note that what I then said is not -applicable to Baur’s Hotel at Zurich. I said as much to the manager on -leaving, though I was sure that he must often have received similar -commendation from others. The house is as well ordered as you would wish -to see your own home. The bedrooms are of a good size, and well -furnished. The table is liberal. The _cuisine_ good. A wholesome Rhenish -wine is supplied at dinner. The attendants are clean and attentive. -Everything you are likely to want is provided; nor are there any traps -set, or any wish apparent that you should call, for extras. For meals at -irregular hours there is an excellent _restaurant_ in the house, -distinct from the dining _salon_. This hotel, though large, has none of -the cold, hard, obtrusive air of its monster brethren. In short, things -are so managed that you feel that you are in a good, comfortable hotel, -and not in a large factory, where bales of travellers, yourself a bale, -are undergoing the process, like truck-loads of brute material, of -scientific manipulation. I was at Baur _en ville_. Baur _au lac_, at a -distance of three or four minutes’ walk, is, I suppose, managed in the -same fashion, and is the same kind of thing. - -But how about the _note_? I suppose wages, and the price of provisions, -must be much the same in Zurich as in other Swiss towns, but the _note_ -did not lighten my purse as much as experience would have led me to have -expected. A man, then, even an innkeeper, may sometimes be found, whose -merits are obvious to the world, but who enhances them—and this is true -virtue—by himself setting a low price upon them. - - * * * * * - -Hitherto the risings and settings of the sun had been, as I mentioned, -almost achromatic. I suppose on account of the clearness of the -atmosphere. But now a great change had taken place; there had been falls -of rain, and even of snow, and the air had become full of moisture, and -there was much cloud; in consequence, there were in the evenings some -most glorious atmospheric fields of colour. I keep in mind one of these -sunsets above the rest, because of the way in which it placed the murky, -swart outline of the ridges and peaks of the Jura in contrast with the -usual oranges and reds above, but which, though seen so often, one never -tires of looking at. It is almost enough to condemn a country house, -that the sunset cannot be seen from it. - -I have another reason for recollecting this sunset. I was with several -persons at the moment who were observing it together. Among these were -two Swiss gentlemen. But in the change of weather which it indicated, -they only saw a hint that this year’s _récolte des voyageurs_, as they -phrased it, was drawing to a close: a true harvest, which costs -Switzerland little, and is got in with not unthrifty husbandry, and -which one is glad should benefit so many, both among those who do the -harvesting, and among those who are harvested. A French gentleman, -however, who happened to be present, and had been spending the summer on -the banks of the Lake of Geneva—it might be inferred that his -recollections of the way in which he had himself been harvested, were -not in all respects pleasant—turned to me with the aside, _C’est un -pauvre pays_. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - A REMARK ON SWISS EDUCATION - - - The proper study of mankind is man.—POPE. - -It has long been my practice, wherever I find myself, to inquire into -the provisions made for education, and into the modes of teaching -adopted; and, also, by observation, and talking to the people -themselves, to do what I can, as far as opportunities go, to collect -materials for enabling me to form an opinion on the results and fruits -of what has been done. I did this wherever I was on this excursion; and -as it was my object in going to Zurich to see its Polytechnic -University, I will here give one of the conclusions I came to on the -subject of Swiss education. - -It was constructed by the Swiss to suit their own wants. That it does -admirably well. Such a system, however, would be very far from suiting -equally well that large class amongst ourselves, who are destined for -either a public life, or for what may be called the semi-public life of -our men of property, and of a large proportion of those whose special -work is that of one of the learned professions: at all events, both law -and divinity, as practised in this country, have direct connections with -political life. The Swiss, however, are a small, and a poor people, -whose affairs are, in the main, managed locally. They have no need of -trained statesmen; they have no _haute politique_. Speaking generally, -they are a nation of peasant-proprietors, artisans, manufacturers, and -tradesmen. At present, in many parts of the country, the only tritons -among the minnows are the innkeepers. Manufactures, which mean also -commerce, are, here and there, introducing a moneyed class; and the -hundreds of thousands of pounds, spent every year in the country, by -tens of thousands of travellers, are enriching bankers, and, through -many channels, many others. Now the education such a people requires is -one that will make intelligent artisans, intelligent manufacturers, and -intelligent tradesmen; and which will give to that portion of the -population for whom work cannot be found at home, sufficient -intelligence to dispose them to go into foreign countries; and will -enable them, when there, to take their bread out of the mouths of the -inhabitants of those countries. This is what the Swiss system aims at -doing. And wherever it is well carried out,—of course this is done much -better in the Protestant than in the Catholic cantons,—it attains its -aim. In many of the Catholic cantons the people are content to be as -their fathers were: they do not see very distinctly the advantage of -cultivating the intelligence of their children; and it cannot be -supposed that the village priest will be very forward in enlightening -them on this point. - -What the Swiss system, true to its object, sets itself to teach is the -languages that will be useful in business, arithmetic, mathematics, the -principles of the useful arts, and the elements of the sciences. All -this is just what will enable the Swiss to get on in the careers that -will be open to them. They are an intensely practical people; and these -thoroughly practical subjects they take care shall be taught -sufficiently for the purpose they have in view. They have no idea of not -getting their pennyworth for their penny. Their philanthropy, and their -love of home, the unfailing and fruitful source of so many virtues, make -them desirous of giving every chance to their children; and they are -interested in, and proud of, and spend their money on, their schools for -their children’s sake. All this is just as it should be. It is a very -good thing for them; and, as far as it goes, it would be a very good -thing for us, if we had the same system at work here. It is exactly what -is wanted for nine-tenths of our population; and what they must have if -we are to keep our place in the world. But when this shall have been -done, if there is ever to be a time when it will have been done, there -will still remain one-tenth of our population, a number equal to, or -greater than, that of the whole Swiss nation, which will be capable of -receiving, and will need for the life that will be before them, -something different from, and higher than, a Swiss education. - -The Swiss system is large and liberal for a tradesman; it almost makes -of him a gentleman. But for an English gentleman it would be narrow and -illiberal. It would not properly qualify him for the careers that are -open to him, and for the life that is before him. It is not the kind of -culture that will produce statesmen, jurists, divines, orators, poets, -historians, literary lay teachers, or philosophers. If, by the grace of -nature, an English boy had been intended for any one of these vocations, -to bring him up in the Swiss fashion would be to rob him of his -birthright: and the more thoroughly the system had been applied to him, -the more complete would be the robbery, and the greater the injustice -and the injury. - -An English gentleman has not been properly qualified for what is his -work in life, unless his education has been such as to make him -acquainted with the history of man, and with what may be called the -sciences of humanity. By the sciences of humanity I mean ethics, -economics, polity, jurisprudence, the history of opinion, the history of -literature, dialectics, oratory. An acquaintance with these is what, -from the first, should be kept in view. They should be worked up to from -the beginning of the process, for they are the crown and completion of -the mental training he will require. They are that training. And this is -just what our system, not from intelligent and deliberate design, but -from a happy accident, does in some degree attempt. It provides for it -in the study of the history of Greece and Rome, two of the most -important and instructive developments of the history of man; and, -furthermore, in the direct study of some of the above-mentioned -sciences. I say it does this not so much by intelligent design, as by a -happy accident, because that it is doing it at this day is merely the -result of our having retained the classical system our forefathers -established at a time when there was nothing else to teach; and which -they established just because there was nothing else to teach then. We -may now, knowing what we want, and what materials we have to work with, -very much enlarge and improve their system. We may advance from the -classics to general history and humanity; of course still retaining the -classics, which contain the most important chapters in the history of -the fortunes, of the culture, and of the mind of man. And this, which is -just what we ought to do, is what, perhaps, we shall do, when we come to -understand what it is that gives it its value, and makes it -indispensable for us. - -Another capital defect in a system, such as that of the Swiss, is that -it does not cultivate, but rather represses and deadens, the -imagination. This is the instrument of the creative faculty in man, that -in which we make the nearest approach to, and which gives to man in the -form and degree possible for him, the plastic power that is exhibited to -us in the richness, and diversity, of nature. It is this which makes a -man myriad-minded; which enables him to look at things from all sides, -and to see them in all lights; to regard them as minds most unlike his -own regard them; to be in his single self all men to all things; it is -what gives insight; and the power of forming accurate and distinct -conceptions of things in the three forms of what they actually are, of -what they have been, and of what, with reference to other conceptions -that have a bearing upon them, they ought to be. A man cannot be a poet, -an orator, an artist, hardly an inventor, or discoverer, an historian, -or a statesman, without the exercise of this faculty. His rank in any -one of these fields of intellectual work will depend on the degree to -which it has been developed within him; and the kind of discipline it is -under. Our system, in a rough, and haphazard, kind of a way, and again -more by accident than by intelligent, deliberate design, does something -for its cultivation, by the study of the poets and orators of Greece and -Rome; and by attempts at poetical composition. This is good as far as it -goes; but insufficient for the great purpose. And this insufficiency of -the means we are employing is aggravated, when they have to be applied -under the direction of masters and tutors, who possibly, and probably, -too, have never given a thought to the nature and purposes of the -imaginative faculty; and, therefore, are, of course, equally heedless of -the right methods of using the means, that happen to be in their hands, -for awakening, cultivating, and strengthening it. - -Its proper cultivation in these times should not be confined to the -poetry of the old world. That is valuable, not merely on account of its -perfectness of form, but because it is one-sided, unchristian, and -narrow. It is the poetry of a small, highly privileged class, when that -small class was everything, and the bulk of mankind nothing. It is not -the poetry of humanity broadly. The recognition of the humanity of all -men equally constitutes one essential difference between the modern and -the old world. And this limited, and somewhat abnormal, humanity of the -ancient poetry is, furthermore, somewhat unconnected with a knowledge -of, and love for, nature—the _milieu_ of man. All this makes it very -valuable as a study of a distinct development, under peculiar -circumstances, of the poetic faculty. But it is insufficient. It is no -substitute for an acquaintance with the poetry of the modern world; -which, too, it should follow, and not precede. That is the truer and -more normal development. It has additional roots, a wider range, a -larger inspiration; it takes cognizance of what is in man, irrespective -of conditions, or rather under every condition: and it also consciously -regards man and nature connectedly; man’s internal nature, and nature -external to man, are to its apprehension correlated. Here, too, it has -received a new revelation. - -And the attempt to turn a child’s mind in the direction of nature, and -to give him some general acquaintance with nature, and with modern -poetry, would be invaluable for another reason: for not only is this now -necessary, as an indispensable part of mental culture for all, being a -part of the rightful mental inheritance of those whose lot is cast in -these times, but because experience has taught us that there are many -minds, which have no aptitude for the acquisition of languages, either -from some congenital defects, or, as is most probable, from some faults -and omissions of early teaching and associations—but whatever may have -been in their cases the cause is a matter of no consequence now: the -mischief exists, and cannot be removed. Still, though deficient to this -extent, they may have no disinclination for the study of nature: that, -in the young, can hardly be possible. Here, then, is something that will -enable them to live a not unworthy intellectual life. It is necessary -for all: as a part of complete culture for those who are capable of -complete culture; and, for those who are not, as a sufficient culture. - - * * * * * - -The advocates of the continuance—to the extent and for the purposes I -have indicated—of classical study will labour under a great and unfair -disadvantage, as long as the classics shall be taught with but slight -perception, on the part of those who teach them, of their bearing on the -higher work of the day. As long as the main object of our public schools -shall continue to be professedly linguistic, and that, too, in a -somewhat narrow, and shallow fashion; and their tone, sometimes a little -ostentatiously, at variance with that of the world, and of the day, for -the work of which they ought to be a preparation (it was so with them -originally) so long will the advocacy of classical studies be unfairly -weighted with a sense of the justice of the charge of unreality brought -against them, as now conducted. Whereas in the advocates of modern -knowledge as the object and instrument of education, and in its -teachers, there is none of this unreality, or want of connexion with the -thought, and with the work, of the world that is stirring around us. We, -however, hold that it is a different department of work and thought, to -which the latter training mainly and primarily applies. A public man -need not, as a public man, know anything of astronomy and geology; -though, of course, he is behind the age, and his culture is incomplete, -if he does not. Of all such subjects he ought, as an educated man, to -have a general knowledge; and he will also be the better, as a public -man, for having it; but what is primarily and indispensably required of -him is a knowledge of man, and of all kinds of social phenomena in their -whole range; what they are, how they came to be what they are, and how -they affect man. Here his knowledge should be full and precise: and a -very valuable part of this knowledge is contained in the literature of -the old world. He ought to have lived through those ages. To have done -so is a vast extension of experience of the most useful kind. But he -cannot have lived through those times, unless he is familiar with the -feelings and thoughts, and actions of the men of those times, together -with the circumstances, and conditions, under which they so thought, and -felt, and acted. And he cannot have this familiarity unless he has a -knowledge of the very words, in which they, themselves, expressed, and -described, those feelings, thoughts, and actions. - -One word more. There is no knowledge so valuable as that of what is -knowledge; nor any intellectual habit so valuable as that which disposes -us in every thing to require knowledge, and to separate that which is -knowledge from that which is not. Theoretically, there is no reason why -either the study of language, or theology, should not be made a training -for this knowledge, and for this habit. But as this is a matter of -practice, as well as of theory, we must look at things as they are, and -see where what we want is actually found, and what has in those cases -produced it; and where there has been a failure in producing it, and -what has been in those cases the cause of this failure. Who, then, are -most conspicuous for knowing in what knowledge consists, and for the -habit of requiring knowledge as a ground for thought and action, and for -being ever on the alert to separate knowledge from its counterfeits? No -one, I think, would hesitate in replying, those who have had some -scientific training. And it is easy to see how scientific training gives -this knowledge, and this habit. It makes no difference what the matter -of the study be, whether the stars, or the fungi; whether the physiology -of man, or of an earth-worm. The object is soon seen to be truth; and -the motive is soon felt to be the satisfaction which truth gives to the -mind, and the desire to escape, in the practical order, from the -wastefulness, and the mischief of error. Whatever, therefore, is -necessary for the attainment of truth is submitted to, or acquired, or -eliminated, or avoided, in accordance with the exigency of each case. In -these pursuits men learn to guard against appearances that they may not -be misled by them; to sift evidence; to distinguish facts from supposed, -or alleged, facts; to observe patiently and closely; to suspend -judgment; to distinguish probability from certainty; to distinguish -different degrees of probability; to distinguish what they know from -what they wish; not to wish for anything but ascertained and -demonstrable truth; to examine everything, and to hold fast only that -which is demonstrably true; to guard against ambiguities in words; to -use words for photographing facts, and not to make them a mist which -obscures both the object of inquiry, and the paths which lead to it. As -a matter of observation, and of fact, these are the habits of mind, -which the scientific study of any subject inculcates, and makes natural -to a man. They become his second nature. Of course they ought to be the -nature of all educated people. And when a man’s mind has been thus -trained in the study, scientifically pursued, of any one subject, he -applies these habits to the consideration of all other subjects, with -which he may have to do: to those, with which he is not familiar, he -addresses himself with the same ideas, and the same ways of thinking, as -he does to that, with which he is familiar. He knows what knowledge is; -and, while he can suspend his judgment, he cannot be satisfied with -anything but knowledge. What he does not know upon these subjects he -knows that he does not know. The study of language, and theology, if -scientifically taught, are doubtless capable of supplying this training, -but looking at our educated classes generally, and at those who have had -administered to them the greatest amount of these two studies, it does -not appear that the desired effect has been produced. If, then, these -things are so, here is both something that should be an object, and -something that is a defect, as things now are, in our higher education. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - -ELSASS—LOTHRINGEN—METZ—GRAVELOTTE—MOTHER OF THE CURÉ OF STE. MARIE AUX - CHÊNES—WATERLOO. - - - It is a just award - That they who take, should perish by, the sword. - -I included Mulhouse, Colmar, Strasbourg, Bitche, and Metz in my homeward -journey. As I passed along, the higher peaks of the Vosges were white -with recently fallen snow. It is not, however, the forest-clad -mountains, and their snow-capped summits which interest most the thought -of the traveller, as he traverses this district, now, but the -consequences of that recent transference of power, of which the names -just written down remind him: the cotton industry of Mulhouse and -Colmar; the astonishing agricultural wealth of the neighbourhood of -Strasbourg, where the land yields, side by side, in singular luxuriance -the five agricultural products, sugar-beet, hops, wine, tobacco, and -maize, which in Europe pay the best; the strategical importance, and -military strength, of Strasbourg, Bitche, and Metz; the variety of the -manufactures, and of the agricultural resources, of the country round -Metz; and, more than all this wealth and strength, the people themselves -of these districts, who were the manliest, the most industrious, and the -most thriving part of the population of France. One can, at present, -hardly estimate rightly the value of what has thus been taken from -France, and given, if the expression may be allowed, to her natural -enemy. Still it was France herself that laid this incalculable stake -upon the table: her portion of the left bank of the Rhine against -Prussia’s; and insisted on the game being played. And the chances were -against her. She had acquired Strasbourg by amazing treachery; and now -the ignorance, arrogance, and vice by which she was to lose it, were -equally amazing. And this war of 1870-71 was a natural sequel of the -wrongs the first Napoleon did to Germany. That it was that had obliged -the Germans to devote themselves to military organisation, and to -understand the necessity of national union; and which was hardening -their will, and nerving their arm. As to the French, one would be glad -to find that they were delivering themselves from those causes in -themselves, which led to their great catastrophe. But the existing -generation cannot expect to see the day, when the rural population of -France will have attained to more enlightenment than they have at -present, and its city population to more rational ideas of liberty, -justice, and truth, than they have exhibited hitherto; for the lives of -the former are too hard, and the latter are too fanatical, to admit of -much immediate improvement in either. - -I stopped at Metz to see the battle-field of Gravelotte. I went over it -with two Englishmen, who had come to Metz for the same purpose. We were -provided with maps, and plans, and narratives of the great battle. It -was a bright fine day. We started at 8.30 A.M., and did not get back to -Metz till 5 P.M. It requires, at least, six hours to go over the field, -including the hour you stop at Ste. Marie aux Chênes for baiting your -horses, and for luncheon. - -The French ground was well chosen for a defensive battle. It was along -the ridge of the rising ground, facing to the west, from St. Privat and -Roncour on their right, to the high ground opposite to, and behind St. -Hubert, on their left. St. Hubert was a farmhouse in the depression. It -had a walled garden. This ground was about five miles in length. Early -in the day the Germans occupied only a part of the ground in front of -the French position, beginning at Gravelotte, a little to the south-west -of the French left. At this time there was no enemy in front of the -French right. The ground here, rendered strong by a line of detached -farm-houses, woods, and villages, was occupied by French outposts. From -all these they were driven, in succession, by the extension of the -German left. The strongest position here, and in it much hard fighting -took place, was the village of Ste. Marie aux Chênes. The Germans first -attacked the French left at St. Hubert. From this they drove them out. -One can hardly understand how they managed to get possession of it, for -the French occupied the high ground all round it. To march upon it was -like marching into the bottom of a bowl to attack a strong place in the -bottom, commanded by the enemy’s cannon from every part of the rim. -Having, however, established themselves here, they advanced up the hill -against the French left. But, though they were repulsed, they were not -driven out of St. Hubert. In the evening, the Germans, having -established themselves along the front of the French right, and having -even somewhat outflanked it, attacked them at St. Privat and Roncour. -Here was most desperate fighting; and one, while standing on the ground, -is surprised that any troops could have faced what the Germans had to go -through. Their advance was made up a perfectly smooth, and open, -incline, three-quarters of a mile across, the whole of it completely -swept, and commanded by the French cannon, mitrailleuse, and Chassepots, -which we must recollect killed some hundreds of yards further than the -needle-gun. A Saxon corps, that had been coming up with forced marches, -in the evening reached this point, and went straight up the hill. In -fourteen minutes half its strength was _hors du combat_. There is a -monument on the spot to those who fell here. The whole field is full of -German monuments, for wherever their men fell, there they were buried; -and there a monument has since been raised to their memory. At last the -French right was driven off this ground, and out of the strong village -of St. Privat behind it. It was now dark. The French were in no -position, or condition, to renew the fight the next day; and so, during -the night, they withdrew to Metz, leaving their material behind. They -had fought a defensive battle, which suited neither the character of -their troops, nor the circumstances of their position. - -At Ste. Marie aux Chênes, where we stopped an hour for luncheon, we -spent part of the time in walking about the village, and looking at the -traces of the fight. It is a large village, every house of which has -thick rubble or stone walls. All the buildings in it were occupied -strongly by the French; and all were, successively, carried. It was a -from house-to-house and hand-to-hand fight. We found all the doors, -window-shutters, and window-frames in the place, new, because the old -ones had been battered in, hacked to pieces, and destroyed by the -Germans, as they forced their way into each house separately. No -prisoners were taken. - -Among other spots we visited here was a little enclosed space, where the -Germans had buried their dead. While we were looking at the grave of a -young Englishman of the name of Annesly—Von Annesly he is called on the -stone—who had fallen in the assault on the village—he had attained to -the rank of lieutenant in the German service—an elderly peasant woman -approached; and, on finding that we were not Germans, freely entered -into conversation with us. She soon told us that she was the mother of -the Curé of the village. She had been one among the few inhabitants of -the place, who, having taken refuge in cellars, had remained in it -during the assault. She was very communicative, and invited us to -accompany her to her house, where she showed us, with touching pride, -their best tea service, and the church ornaments, which are used on fête -days. The best room in the house had been appropriated to their safe -keeping, and exhibition. The china service had been a present, what we -should call a testimonial, and was placed, _en évidence_, on a table in -the middle of the room. The church ornaments were arranged on a large -sofa. They consisted of artificial flowers moulded in porcelain, with a -great deal of gilding. The good woman then took us into the study; M. le -Curé’s study, as she was careful to tell us. She never referred to M. le -Curé, and her thoughts were never far from him, without a smile of -satisfied motherly emotion playing over her face. Those were M. le -Curé’s books. There were about half-a-dozen. That was the table at which -M. le Curé sometimes wrote. That garden, the outer door of the study -opened upon it, was a beautiful garden, which M. le Curé worked in -himself. M. le Curé was now absent from home, for the purpose of making -a collection for the purchase of a figure of the Virgin, to commemorate -her goodness in having miraculously saved the Church, when so much -injury had been done to every other building in the place: but the -church in the neighbouring village we saw had been burnt during the -assault upon it. The good villagers had been very liberal in their -contributions for the purchase of the figure. The sum, however, -mentioned as their contributions, amounted only to a few francs. Still -it might have been much for them to give, for they may not have been -much in the habit of giving. M. le Curé’s study, the scene of his -peaceful and sacred studies, had been made a hospital. There, just where -he always sits, a limb had been amputated. Here, and there, on the floor -wounded men had died. The floor of M. le Curé’s study had been stained -with blood. One memento of that fearful day had been preserved. It was a -small hole in the door through which a bullet had passed: but that was a -bullet that had hurt nobody. I shall never think of the field of -Gravelotte without a pleasing recollection of the mother of the Curé of -Ste. Marie aux Chênes. She was a tall woman with what seemed a hard -face, but at every mention of M. le Curé, or of the Holy Virgin, it was -lighted up, and softened. She wore a faded cotton dress, and a -weather-stained, coalscuttle-shaped straw bonnet—her grandmother, -perhaps, had once been proud of it—but the reflection of her simple, -motherly, happy heart on her face, refined both face and dress. The -heart’s ease only was noticed. - -The Germans have done, and are doing, everything that could be done, to -restore to the people what they lost during the war. They have, in these -parts, repaired every house and building that admitted of repair; and -completely rebuilt all that had been too much injured for repair. They -have thus given many new lamps for very old ones. They have not yet -rebuilt the Church of St. Privat, because the people themselves have not -yet decided, whether they wish the new one to be the facsimile of the -old one, or a larger structure, such as the increased population of the -modern village requires: the familiar opposition between those who are -afraid to acknowledge that the world has made any advances, and those -who see nothing objectionable in advances, or in accommodating -themselves to them. Of the other injuries, the people in these parts had -sustained by the war, they were asked to make an estimate themselves. -Half of their estimates was immediately paid to them; and they were told -that the remaining half would be paid, after the 1st of October, on -their having decided to become German citizens. The inhabitants of the -villages round Metz had had their corn, and cattle, and horses swept off -by the French Commissariat. These poor people the Germans fed during the -siege with provisions brought from Germany. I could not hear in Metz, or -in the neighbourhood, of a single instance of a German soldier having -been seen drunk, or that any act of violence could be charged against -them; nor could I hear even of oppression or harshness of any kind. - -Metz, with its central arsenal, and its outer circle of apparently -impregnable hill fortresses, gives you the idea of a place which nature -had formed expressly for this gunpowder era, intending that its owners -should fortify it, and use it as a rallying place for defeated -armies—the armies, not of a small, but of a great nation; where they -might in safety collect their shattered fragments; and, having -re-organised and re-equipped themselves, might again take the field for -fresh efforts. In the days of bows and spears it could not have had this -value, which it may lose when our present instruments of war shall have -been superseded by discoveries not yet dreamt of; but, although the -French were not able to turn the place to such an account, still this -seems to be one of the uses that may be made of it by its possessors: -besides being an impregnable advanced post for the invasion of a -neighbour. - -The Cathedral is far too short for its height. It contains some windows -of very good old stained glass. The only person I saw in it was an -American. Shall I say that we had both come to see it, just as we might -go to see some curious object in a museum? I, at all events, accused -myself of something of this kind, for I had a consciousness of the -discord between such a purpose, and the history and character of the -structure. For however much it may now have the appearance of a thing -unused, and unloved, and from which the soul has fled, yet was it built -to satisfy a want, in the religious order, which all men longed to -satisfy; and to give visible expression to a feeling, which then stirred -every heart. Not anything else, not money, not power, could have built -it; that is to say, could have summoned into existence the sentiments, -of which the building is an embodiment. - -But on this occasion its clustered columns, its groined roof, its lofty -aisles, its jewelled light, transported my thoughts only to Mr. -Spurgeon’s Tabernacle; for I found myself endeavouring to understand and -measure the difference between the two: but the endeavour brought me to -see, under so much outward diversity, only an inward identity. They are -both equally the result of the desire to form elevated and right -conceptions of God—the focal name in which all elevated and right -conceptions meet; and so to open the heart and mind, as that these -elevated and right conceptions, which have been projected from them, may -react upon them. This is Religion, the Spiritual life, in their simplest -expression, in their inner form. In the ages of Faith, as they have been -called, the most effectual way of attaining the desired end was through -the eye; that is to say, the means, that could then be used with most -effect, was art, in architecture, sculpture, painting, music. In the -then state of the heart and of the imagination these best stirred and -attuned them. Hence the Cathedral, and all that is implied in it. In -these days, not of the knowledge, or of the conditions of life, or of -the faith, of the old kinds, the most effectual means, especially among -the lower strata of the middle class, is not art, which would have no -power over them, but such direct appeals to their understandings and -consciences, as will not be beyond their capacities. Hence Mr. Spurgeon -and his Tabernacle. But the object is in both one and the same. - -No sooner, however, had I come to this, which seemed for a moment to be -a conclusion, than my thoughts entered the reverse process, and the -identity I had been contemplating was transformed into diversity. The -juxtaposition, in the mind’s eye, of the Cathedral and of the Tabernacle -suggested a difference, if not in the elements of religion itself, yet, -at all events, in the modes through which different religious systems -have attempted to act on the world. The Cathedral seemed to represent -two modes: that which may for convenience be called, using the word in a -good sense, the heathen mode; that is to say, culture, but in the form -only of art; and the priestly, or Judaical, mode, which means -organization. Its grand and beautiful structure grew out of the former, -through the aid of the latter. The Tabernacle represents a totally -different mode—the prophetical; and prophesying is the principle of -life, of growth, and of development in religion. We see this throughout -the history both of the Old and of the New Dispensation. Romanism has -killed this vital principle; and is, therefore, as good as, or worse -than, dead; for it has a bad odour. It is now all dead heathenism, and -dead organization: a gilt and gaily painted monstrous iron machine, -which can be set at work, but which has no heart. This explains -everything. This is the key that unlocks its whole modern history. Its -long ghastly list of persecutions, its Inquisition, its St. -Bartholemew’s, its Infallible Monocracy, are all alike logically -deducible from the determination to live by other means than that of -prophesying; in fact, utterly to suppress the one means of life, and to -live, if such a thing were possible, by those means only which have not -life in themselves. But Persecutions, Inquisitions, St. Bartholemew’s, -and Infallibility can be of no avail: for prophesying has always and -everywhere been, and will always and everywhere be, the life of -religion; and, therefore, destructive, sooner or later, of all cast-iron -systems. With respect to the Tabernacle, it is not so much that it has -rejected the other two modes, as that it has no comprehension of their -nature and use. It never, therefore, has either risen to the level of -ordinary culture, or organized itself as a religious system. It makes no -appeal to the former, and, Wesleyanism excepted, no use of the latter. -This explains why, though not devoid of life, it is without form, and -without attractive power for refined minds. Christianity, it is evident, -in its early days depended entirely on prophesying. As it grew, having -at that time the living power of assimilating what it needed, it -borrowed organization from Judaism, and culture and art from heathenism: -but prophesying must always be the distinctively Christian mode; so long -as Christianity addresses itself to what is in man, that is, to his -knowledge and moral consciousness. - -Which, therefore, of these modes is the best is an inquiry, which would -be somewhat sterile, and misleading; for each is good in its proper -place, and degree, and for its proper purpose; and under some -circumstances one, and under other circumstances another, will -inevitably be resorted to. It would be more profitable to keep in mind -that not one is ever exempt in its use from error and perversion. These, -at every turn and step, will reappear, as the unavoidable results of the -imperfections of those, in whose hands the administration of religion, -as of all human affairs, must rest: for they are but men; and, Error and -Perversion, you both have the same name, and that name is Man. History, -and experience, teach us that, in the long run, the most efficient check -to these errors and perversions, both in those who minister, and in -those who are ministered to, is, as far as is possible in this world of -necessarily mixed motives, and defective knowledge, to be dead unto -self, and alive unto God, that is to the good work one finds set before -one. Herein is the true apostolism: not for self, but for the end for -which one was sent—for an object, beyond self, distinctly seen, and -distinctly good. This in an individual is almost, and in a body of men -perhaps quite, impossible. Still it is just what always has to be done -by ‘the Church,’ which, in whatever sense we take the word, will be a -body of men; and by Mr. Spurgeon, acting with those who believe in him; -and, therefore, whenever attempted, will only be done very imperfectly. -So it must be. But we see that, notwithstanding, the world has advanced, -and is advancing. In ‘the Church,’ and among the Spurgeons and their -respective people, and among others, who cannot be quite correctly -ranged under either of these categories, there will always be some -(generally a very small minority; but these are not questions that can -be decided by counting hands) who have caught partial glimpses of what -ought to be said and done, and who will set themselves the task, -generally a very thankless one, of making their partial glimpses known. -One thing, however, at all events is certain: it is safer to trust to -the Spirit of the Prophet than to the culture and organization of the -Priest, if they must be had separately: though, perhaps, their due -combination, might be best of all. - -These were the thoughts which passed through my mind, while I was in the -Cathedral of Metz; for the American, who came in just after I had -entered it, required but a very few minutes for ‘doing’ this grand old -monument of mediæval piety; and soon left it to the twilight—the day was -nearly run out—and to my twilight meditations. - -The Hotel de l’Europe, the best in Metz, is not good. The head-waiter—he -was an Austrian—was so imperious that I soon found it advisable, -whenever I had occasion to ask him a question, to apologise for the -trouble I was giving him. The angular peg had been put into the round -hole. Nature had intended him for a German prince. They charge here for -a two-horse carriage to Gravelotte, including the driver, two Napoleons. -At this rate they must get back, one would think, every week the -original cost of the rickety vehicle and half-starved horses. There is, -however, but little competition in the matter of the imperious waiter, -and none at all in that of the costly carriage he provides for you. - -At Metz, and I heard that it was so, generally, throughout both the -annexed provinces, a great many people were desirous of selling their -houses and land. There was not, however, by any means an equal number of -people who were desirous of purchasing. This fewness of purchasers -indicates the prevalence of an opinion that the loss of these provinces -is far too great for France ever to acquiesce in; and that, therefore, -she will, on the first opportunity that may offer, endeavour to recover -them by the sword: in which case they will become the theatre of war. It -is true that the course of events in the New World, as well as in the -Old, has taught the present generation, very impressively, the lesson -that what is expected is seldom what happens; still, one may say, of -course with a strong feeling of the uncertainty of human affairs, that -there is nothing apparent, at present, on the surface of things, to give -rise to the supposition that a second reference, on the part of the -French, to the arbitrament of the sword, would lead to a different issue -from that which the first had. Empire is maintained, and retained, by -the means by which it was obtained; and there seems no probability of -Germany ever allowing herself to be caught napping; or of her strength, -energy, and determination being sapped by national corruption. That is -not a consummation which the solid character of the people renders at -all likely. Even their rude climate, which, to some extent, forbids a -life of sensuous and vicious self-indulgence, will, we may think, help -them in the future to maintain the character, which has always -distinguished them hitherto; it seems to make earnestness, and mental -hardihood, natural to them. One’s thoughts on this subject would be very -much modified, if there were in France any symptoms, which might lead -one to hope that she was ‘coming to herself.’ - -On leaving Metz, by an early train, I had to form one in a scene of -crowding and confusion greater than I had ever elsewhere encountered on -that side of the Channel, except a few days before at Strasbourg, where -it was as bad. We are often told that the advantage of the foreign -system of over-administration is that everything of this kind is -rendered impossible; but here it was all in excess. Tickets for all -classes were issued by the same clerk, and for two trains at the same -time, for one was to start only a few minutes before the other. Some -people were pushing; some were in a high state of excitement. There was -no possibility of forming a _queue_. I was told that this, and many -other things of the same kind, would be set right after the 1st of -October, on which day the Germans would take all these matters into -their own hands. Hitherto they had interfered with the local -administration as little as possible. One consequence of this had been -that the existing authorities, whose reign was so soon to expire, had -not been very attentive to their duties; perhaps they had not been very -desirous of keeping things straight; and the lower orders, availing -themselves of the license that had been permitted, had become so -insubordinate, that it had been found difficult, in some cases -impossible, to carry on the operations of factories, in which many hands -were employed. But after the 1st of October there was to be an end of -all this: a German burgomaster was to be appointed, and German order was -to be maintained. On that morning I wished that, as far as the station -at Metz was concerned, the change had already been effected. - -In the neighbourhood of Luxembourg, I saw several trains full of iron -ore. From Luxembourg to Namur the country is, generally, very poor. It -consists mainly of lime-stone hills, heaths, and woods in which there is -little or no good timber. Between Namur and Brussels the country -improves, agriculturally, very much. - -At Brussels I had some difficulty in getting a bed; all the hotels being -full of Belgian and English volunteers, and of people who had come to -see the international shooting. There had just been a public reception -of volunteers, and everybody was in the streets. I heard a burly -tradesman, who was standing at the door of his shop, shout at the top of -his voice, but the result did not correspond with the effort, as one of -our volunteers was passing, in the uniform of a Scottish corps, -‘Shotland for ever’—the land, doubtless, of good shots. Etymologists, -consider this, and be cautious. - -The much-lauded Hotel de Ville I venture to think unsatisfactory. For so -much ornamentation it is deficient in size. Its chief external feature -is the multitude of figures upon it. The effect of this is bad. One sees -no reason why they should be there. They are too small. They are -indistinguishable from each other, There is no action: merely rows of -figures. This was unavoidable in the position assigned them, but its -being unavoidable was no reason for assigning them that position, nor -does it at all contribute towards rendering them pleasing objects. - -Many of the volunteers made a night of it in honour of their English -visitors. Having been woke, by their shouting and hurrahing in the -streets, at one o’clock in the morning, I was disposed to think such -demonstrations unbecoming in bearded warriors. - -I went with a party of Englishmen, and some Americans, to Waterloo. We -were driven over the old, straight, stone-paved, poplar-bordered road, -by an English whip, in an English four-horse stage-coach. The road is -just what it was, when Wellington passed over it, from ‘the revelry at -night’ for the great fight. That part, however, of the Forest of -Soignies, which should be on the right of the road, has been destroyed, -to make way for the plough. What remains of the forest, on the left, -consists of tall, straight, unbranching beech, with the surface of the -ground, between the trunks, clear and smooth. While we were at Hougomont -a violent thunderstorm, accompanied with heavy rain, drifted over the -field. As the soil is a tenacious clay, which becomes very slippery when -wet, this storm was most opportune, for it showed us what kind of -footing the contending hosts had on the great day. Hougomont is still -very much in the condition in which it was left on the evening of that -day. What was burnt has not been rebuilt; and what remained, has not -been added to, or altered. The loop-holes that were made in the garden -wall are still there. So also are the hedge, and ditch, on the outside -of the orchard. The only difference is that the whole of the wood of -Hougomont has gone the way of a part of the Forest of Soignies. We have -all of us tried to understand Waterloo; but a visit to the field itself -will show that it is no more possible to understand, fully and rightly, -this than any other battle, without ocular knowledge of the ground on -which it was fought. A comparison of the field of Waterloo with that of -Gravelotte will assist a civilian in estimating the extent of the change -in tactics, which modern improvements in the weapons of war have -necessitated. He will see that the battle of June 18, 1815, belongs to -an order of things that is obsolete now. With the cannon, and rifles, of -the present day, it could not have been fought as it was; and would not, -probably, have been fought where it was. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - -HOW THE OBSERVATION AND KNOWLEDGE OF NATURE, AND THE CONDITIONS OF - SOCIETY AFFECT RELIGION AND THEOLOGY. AN INSTRUCTIVE PARALLELISM. - CONCLUSION. - - - Consider the lilies of the field.—_Gospel of St. Matthew._ - The powers that be are ordained of God.—_Epistle to the Romans._ - -It was 8 o’clock in the evening when I left Brussels. At 6 o’clock the -next morning I stepped upon the platform of the Charing Cross Station. -So ended, after very nearly five weeks, my little excursion. In the -foregoing pages I have set down, not only what I saw, which could not -have had much novelty, but the thoughts, also, as well about man as -about nature, which what I saw suggested to me; and these, too, may not -have much value. To some, however, everything in nature is instructive -and interesting, and so is everything in man; or they seem to be so. -But, in order to secure this instruction and interest, I believe that -they must be viewed connectedly. The one is properly intelligible only -by the light that shines from the other. To regard either separately is -to misunderstand both. Nature is the field in which He, Whose form no -man hath seen at any time, reveals to us His Creative Power, for the -purpose that the intelligent contemplation of the objects, He presents -to our view, should engender in us certain sentiments and ideas, which -have from the beginning, in the degree and form possible at each epoch, -underlaid religion. Our fellow men are the field in which He reveals to -us the capacities and conditions; the strength, the weaknesses, the -workings, and the aspirations of moral and of intellectual being, as -conditioned in ourselves: another, and perhaps a higher, revelation of -Himself; and the consciousness of which being in the individual -constitutes, as far as we know, in this visible world of ours, the -distinctive privilege of man; and the exercise of which, under the sense -of responsibility, crowns the edifice of religion. The study of both has -been equally submitted to us, is equally our duty, and is necessary for -the completion of our happiness. They are the correlated parts of a -single revelation, and of a single study. The man who shuts his eyes to -the one, or to the other, cannot understand, at all events as fully as -he might, either that portion of the revelation at which he looks -exclusively, or himself, or Him, Who makes the revelation, in the sense -in which He has willed that each should be understood. - -The products of our modern advanced methods of agriculture bear the same -kind of relation to the products of the burnt stick (they could both -support life, but very differently), that the religious sentiments and -ideas produced by our knowledge of nature bear to those which the -ignorant observation of a few prominent phenomena, as thunder and -lightning, the power of the wind and of the sun, the action of fire, -life and death, produced in the minds of the men of that remote day. The -mind of the inhabitants of this country, precisely like the land of this -country, was just the same at that day as at this. The powers and -capacities of each are invariable. What varies, and always in the -direction of advance, is that which is applied to the mind: as is the -case also with respect to the land. The knowledge of what produces the -thunder and lightning, of the laws that govern the motions of the -heavenly bodies, of what originates and calms the wind, of the forces of -nature, of the structure of animals and plants, are so many instruments, -by which the constant quantity, the human mind, is cultivated for -greater productiveness. No one dreams that we have approached the end of -such knowledge, any more than that our agriculture has reached its last -advance. The state of knowledge, whatever it may be at any time (from -that of our rudest forefathers to our own), produces corresponding ideas -and sentiments. Its reception into the mind unfailingly generates those -ideas and sentiments, just as the application of any method of -agriculture, with the appliances that belong to it, gives the amount and -kind of produce from the land proper to that method and to those -appliances. As an instance taken from a highly civilized people, the -close observation of the instincts of animals, and of the properties of -plants, offered to the leisure, accompanied by some other favouring -circumstances, of the ancient Egyptians, but unaccompanied by any -knowledge of the laws, the forces, and the order of nature; that is to -say, their existing knowledge, together with the existing limitations to -that knowledge, led unavoidably to the ideas and sentiments we find in -them; that is to say, to what was their religion, which combined the -worship of plants and animals, with belief in a future life. - -The other self-acting factor to that organization of thought and -sentiment, which is religion, is the observation of what will perfect -human society, and the life of the individual, under the conditions of -their existence at the time. Certain things ought to be removed: it is -religion to remove them. Certain things ought to be maintained: it is -religion to maintain them. Certain things ought to be established: it is -religion to establish them. Certain knowledge ought to be propagated: it -is religion to propagate it. - -Now both these contributions to religion, the knowledge of nature, which -is inexhaustible, and the conditions of human society, which are -endlessly multiform, are progressively variable quantities; religion, -therefore, the resultant of the combined action of the two, must itself -vary with them; that is to say, must advance with them. - -It is a corollary to this, that from the day a religion forms itself -into a completed system, it becomes a matured fruit; the perfected -result of a train of anterior and contemporary conditions, that have -long been working towards its production. Thenceforth it is useful for a -time just as a fruit may be. It has, also, in itself, as a fruit has, -the seed of a future growth. But with that exception, though still -serviceable, it is dead, though organized, matter. A certain concurrence -of conditions, which can never be repeated, because knowledge and -society are ever advancing, produced the fruit, which, like that of the -aloe, can only be produced once out of its own concurrence of -conditions. Man’s spiritual nature feeds on that fruit, and is nourished -by it, for a greater or less number of generations. At last, for it must -come, a new concurrence of conditions arises, and a new fruit is -produced. The vital germ that was in the old fruit, passed into the -_milieu_ of the new ideas and sentiments, and a new growth commenced. -Organization then ensued, and in due time bore, as its fruit, its own -matured and perfected system. At the establishment of Christianity, in -the order of knowledge, the perception of the absurdity of thousands of -local divinities, and, in the social and political order, the -establishment of an Universal Empire, which gave rise to a sense of the -brotherhood of mankind, combined in demanding that the whole -organization of religious thought should be recast. Everyone can see the -part these two facts had in the construction, and in bringing about the -reception, of Christian ideas and Christian morality. In these days we -see that social and political conditions are changing, though we cannot -so exactly define and describe in what that change consists as we can -that just referred to; but we know that at the time of that change there -was, though it was distinctly felt, the same absence of power to define -and describe it distinctly. About the recent advance, however, in -knowledge there is no want of distinctness: that is as palpable as it -is, beyond measure, greater than the advances of all former times. It -amounts almost to a revelation of the constitution and order of nature. -The ideas and sentiments this new knowledge has given rise to are -somewhat different from, for instance they are grander and give more -satisfaction to thought than, the ideas and sentiments that accompanied -the knowledge, or rather the ignorance, on the same subjects, of two, or -of one, thousand years back. This must have some effect on the religion -of Christendom, and the effect cannot but be elevating and improving. -This knowledge cannot possibly be bad, because it is only the attainment -of the ideas, which, on the theory both of religion and of commonsense, -were in the mind of the Creator before they were embodied in nature; -which were embodied in nature, and were submitted to us, in order that -they might be attained to by us, for the sake of the effect the -knowledge would have upon our minds, that is to say, ultimately on our -religion. - -This knowledge, it is notorious, is not estimated in this way by many -good men amongst us, they, on the contrary, being disposed to regard it -rather with repugnance, horror, and consternation. The reason is not far -to seek. They have, probably, in all such cases, received only a -theological and literary training. Now every theology, as is seen in the -meaning of the word, and as belongs to the nature of the construction, -contains an implicit assertion, both that no new knowledge, which can -have any good influence on men’s thoughts, sentiments, and lives, can be -attained, subsequently to the date of its own formation; and that the -workings of human society will never lead to advances beyond those, -which had at that time been reached. And literary training, in this -country, has hitherto meant a kind of _dilettante_ acquaintance with the -literature of the ancient Greeks and Romans, regarded, not as a chapter -in the moral and intellectual history of the race, but rather as -supplying models for expression. No wonder, then, need be felt at -finding those, who are conversant only with what is dead, scared at the -phenomena of life. The wonder would be if it were otherwise. But the -same conditions, we all know, act differently on differently constituted -minds: and this explains the opposite effect which modern criticism has -upon the minds of some of those who have had only literary training. -This criticism they find opposed to some of the positions of the old -theology; and the effect of this discovery upon them is that it makes -them hostile to religion itself. As well might Newton have felt horror -at the idea of gravitation because Ptolemy had believed in cycles and -epicycles. It is the preponderance of literary training in them, also, -that issues in this opposite result. - -Religion is the organization of all that men know both of outward nature -and of man, for the purpose of guiding life, of perfecting the -individual and society, and of feeding the mind and the heart with the -contemplation of the beauty and order of the universe, inclusive of man -and of God, that is to say, of the conception we can form, at the time, -of the All-originating, All-ordering, and All-governing Power. This is, -ever has been, and ever will be Religion, unless we should pass into a -New Dispensation, at present inconceivable, because it would require the -recasting, at all events, of man, if not of the external conditions of -his existence, that is, of the world also. But as long as things -continue as they have been, knowledge will always advance religion; and -religion will always conform itself to knowledge. The essential -difference between one religion and another, from Fetishism up to -Christianity, is one of knowledge. - -Before the construction of systematic theologies, knowledge and religion -were convertible terms. It was so under the Old Dispensation; and so -again in the early days of Christianity. After their construction the -former term was modified. It had been generic, it thenceforth became -specific. The differentiating limitation imposed upon it was that of -this particular theology, exclusive of all other theologies; and, as it -was a theology, this involved the exclusion of the ideas of correction -and enlargement. - -Error and insufficiency must, from the nature of the materials dealt -with, after a time be found in every theology. In this sense every -Church has erred, and could not but have erred. The mischief, however, -is not in this error and insufficiency, for they are remediable. The -progress of knowledge which points out the error, often indeed creating -it by the introduction of additional data, supplies the means for -correcting it; and the advance in the conditions of society, which -creates the insufficiency, suggests the means for correcting it, too. -Nor, again, is the mischief in the ignorance of the majority, for that -can to the extent required be removed. It is in the determination of -some, from whom better things might have been expected, not to examine -all things with the intention of holding fast that which is true; but to -close their eyes and ears, as theologians, against all that the educated -world now knows, and all that the uneducated masses are repelled by in -what is now presented to them as the Word of God. This determination -puts them in the position of being obliged to support, and encourage, -only those who address themselves to the ignorance of the age, but not -for the purpose of removing it; and to oppose, and discourage, those who -address themselves to the knowledge of the age, for the purpose of -making it religious. We need not repeat what we have been told will -happen, when the blind lead the blind. - -The recollection of what has given to our political constitution its -orderly and peaceful development might be of use here. It goes on -accommodating itself smoothly, and without convulsions, to the altering -conditions of society, because political parties amongst us are not -coincident with classes. Members of the popular party are to be found in -the highest classes as well as in the lowest, and of the stationary -party in the lowest as well as in the highest. This is what has here -exorcized the demon of revolution. If party lines had been drawn -horizontally instead of vertically, class would have been arrayed -against class; and, probably, ignorance and violence, supported by -numbers, would have made a clean sweep of our institutions, and, to no -small extent, of our civilization. What has been advantageous in the -political order would be equally so in the religious. What has saved us -from a political, might, if adopted, save us from a possible religious, -crash. It is a miserably short-sighted policy to endeavour to drive from -the camp of religion, or of the National Church, those who have accepted -the knowledge of our times, and who have sympathies with the existing -tendencies or possibilities of society: so that on one side shall be -arrayed only those, who rest on what is old, and on the other only -those, who have no disposition to reject what is new. Whereas the true -bridge from the present to the future can be constructed by neither of -these parties alone; but must be the work of those, whose wish and -effort are to combine, and to harmonise, the new with the old. This -appreciation of what is needed, is, at all events, in accordance with -the meaning of the saying, to the authority of which we must all defer, -that ‘every scribe, who is instructed unto the Kingdom of Heaven, will -bring forth out of his treasures things new as well as old.’ The course -taken by those, who lose sight of the guidance offered them in this -saying, can only bring them into a false position. - -It is very instructive to observe how circumstances analogous to those, -which existed among the chosen people, at the date of the promulgation -of Christianity, are, at this moment, amongst ourselves producing -analogous effects. We have lately heard those, who are attempting to -make the knowledge, men have now been permitted to attain to, an element -of religion, which is what knowledge must always become in the end, -described as ‘maudlin sentimentalists.’ Precisely the same expression, -motivated by precisely the same feelings, and ideas, might have been -applied with the same propriety, or impropriety, and with the same -certainty of disastrous recoil on those who used it, to the teaching of -the Divine Master Himself. He appealed from the hard, narrow, rigid -forms, in which the old Law had been fossilized, to the sense men had -come to have of what was moral, and needed, and to the knowledge they -had come to have of what was true, under the then advanced conditions of -society and of knowledge. The maintainers of the fossilized Law were for -binding heart and mind fast in the fetters of dogmatic human traditions. -He was for setting mind and heart free by the reception of what was -broad and true; at once human and divine. That alone was desirable, -beneficent, and from God. It blessed, strengthened, emancipated, and -gave peace. No authority, however venerable, could be pleaded against -it. No thrones, principalities, or powers, however exalted, would be -able to withstand it. There was no fear or possibility of its being -refuted: for it was nothing but the perception, and the practical -recognition, of existing knowledge, and of existing conditions. Men, -they might be many, might reject it, but to their own detriment only. -The facts would remain. The rest, all whose eyes were open, or could be -opened, to perceive what was before their eyes, would receive it as from -God. The more it was set in the broad light of day the better. It must -be proclaimed in the highways, and the market-places, and in the Temple -itself. If those who had received it were to hold their peace, the -stones would immediately cry out. It was God’s Truth. It was God’s Word: -not because it was written, for as yet it was not written, but because, -as the Word of God ever had, and ever would, come, it came from the pure -heart, and the enlightened understanding, and approved itself to those, -who had eyes to see, and ears to hear, and hearts to understand. Let -every one examine it. If in that day had been known what is now known of -man’s history, and of nature, and of what is seen of the possibility of -raising men, throughout society, to a higher moral and intellectual -level than was heretofore attainable, we may be sure that there would -have been no attempt to discredit such knowledge, and such aspirations; -and that they would have been urged as extending our knowledge of God, -and of His will; that they would have been appealed to, and that men -would have been called upon to raise themselves to the level of what had -become conceivable, and, conceivably, attainable. At all events, the one -great point, the one paramount duty, was to proclaim what was then seen -to be true. To keep back nothing. To care nothing for the consequences, -in the way of what it might overthrow; to be ready to spend and be spent -for the consequences, in the way of the good it must produce. The -requisite boldness would come to its promulgators from feeling, that it -was God’s work, and that He was on their side. The issue could not be -doubtful. The Gates of Hell could not prevail against the Truth. It was, -notwithstanding its ‘maudlin sentimentality,’ mighty to the pulling down -of strongholds; and went forth conquering, and to conquer. So will it do -again. So will it do ever. The parallelism is complete at every point. -It is only strange that it has not been seen, and dwelt upon, till all -have become familiar with it. The facts, the situation, the ideas, the -hopes and fears, are the same. So, too, is the language needed to -describe them, each and all. - -The thoughts, which this chapter outlines, were often, as might be -supposed, in my mind during the little excursion described in the -foregoing pages. They are, as far as I can see, the logical and -inevitable conclusions of the acquaintance some have, such as it may be, -with history and with physical science; and I suppose that travelling -further along the same road would only enable them to see the object to -which it leads with more distinctness. In Switzerland there is much both -in the singularly varied mental condition of the people themselves, and -in the impressive aspects of nature, to confirm them. The narrative, -though its form, in keeping with the particular purpose in which it -originated, is at times somewhat minute, may yet, as things were, for -the most part, seen and regarded through the medium of ideas I have just -referred to, contribute a little to their illustration. It was my wish, -at all events, that my mind and heart should be always open, -unreservedly, to the teaching of all that I saw, both of man and of -nature; but still, I trust, with that caution, and sense of -responsibility, that befit the formation of opinions, by which—for one -is conscious that they are the inner man, the true self—one must stand, -or fall, and in which one must live, and die. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - INDEX. - - Aar, 150-2 - - Aigle, 183 - - Absenteeism, 43 - - Agriculture, capital improves, 60. - In the United States, 69. - Burnt stick and hoe eras, 81. - Progress in size of farms, 83-85. - In Alsace, 230 - - American lads mountaineering, 13 - - Americans in Switzerland, 200 - - Animal worship, rationale of, in the ancient Egyptians, 253 - - Antithesis, an Alpine, 13 - - Anza, 126 - - Apostolism, true, 243 - - Armies of the Romans, 141 - - Art, place of, in religion, 241 - - Auroch, 212 - - Austrian marriages, 100. - Waiter, 244 - - Avalanches, 22, 158 - - Blue boy, 13, 16, 141, 142, 154, 163, 164, 171, 184-193 - - Bonus amicus pro vehiculo, 133 - - Breakfast at a monster hotel, 195 - - Bridge, from the present to the future, 260 - - Brieg, 140 - - Brienz, 155 - - Brussels, 247. - Hôtel de Ville, unsatisfactory, 248 - - Bubble schemes why alluring, 67 - - Buffers, our labourers have three, 105, 106 - - Butterflies, 53, 151 - - Camping out, 177 - - Capital, power of, in modern societies, 50. - Revolution effected by, 53. - Inversion of land and, 54. - Peel and Gladstone, due to, 55. - A ladder, 56. - Era of, on Visp-side, 50-66. - Will improve agriculture, 61. - Flow of, to the land will counterbalance cities, 62. - Moral and intellectual effects, 63. - Increases size of agricultural concerns, 85. - Size of estates in era of, 94. - Is king, 103. - Essence of all property, 106, 107. - Uses of, discriminated, 108, 109 - - Carpet, magical bit of, 3 - - Caterpillar, 53, 127 - - Cathedral of Metz, 238-242 - - Ceppo Morelli, 127 - - Certificates of land-shares, 87, 89, 93, 94 - - C’est un pauvre pays, 217 - - Change, modern craving for, 4, 5 - - Christianity, in what sense a recast of religious thought, 255. - A - modern parallel to the ground taken by first promulgators of, 261-263 - - Church, value of establishment, 65. - Effect of disestablishment, 97 - - Cities, land counterpoise to, 62; - and land, 93 - - Classics, place of, in English education, 222, 223. - Unfairly weighted, 226 - - Colmar and Mulhouse, cotton industry of, 230 - - Continuity of human history, 213 - - Co-operation inapplicable to land, 104-106 - - Corporate estates, 74, 76, 96 - - Cost of Swiss travel, 176 - - Coups manqués of humanity, 202 - - Cranoges, Irish and Scotch, 210 - - Curé of Sainte Marie aux Chênes, 235 - - Danube, Roman road on the banks of the, 126 - - Dinner, last, in London, 3. - At Macugnaga, 125. - At a monster hotel, 196 - - Disorder, temporary, permitted at Strasbourg and Metz, 246 - - Distel, 122 - - Dogs, why bay the moon, 181 - - Domo D’Ossola, 128 - - Drama of the Mountains, 184-193 - - Drunkenness, how may be discouraged, 85. - Want of drink-water a cause of, 209 - - Dust, 174 - - Eclipse, feelings caused by, 182 - - Edelweiss, 161 - - Education, property is an, 33. - What would promote, 84. - Spread of, unfavourable to - existing land-system, 97. - Range and method of teaching, 192, 193. - Swiss aims, 218-221. - How applicable, and how not, to us, 221-223. - Sciences of humanity needed, 221, 222. - Imagination should be cultivated, 223. - Place of poetry in, 224 - - Eggishorn, 143 - - Elsass, agricultural wealth of, 230 - - Empire, how retained, 245 - - Enthusiastic ladies, 200 - - Establishments, religious, useful under landlordism, 65. - Effect of disestablishment, 97 - - Etymology of field, 82. - Of Scotland, 247 - - Expected, what is, seldom happens, 245 - - Eyes in back of the head, 97 - - Fallows abandoned, 83 - - Falls of Frosinone, 135. - Another, 136. - Aar and Handeck, 152. - Staubbach, 152. - Reichenbach, 154 - - Fee, 116 - - Field, etymology of, 82 - - Feudalism, none in our landlordism, 77 - - Findelen, 17 - - Fireworks at Interlaken, 164 - - Flies, 147 - - Flowers, 14, 18 - - France, a cause of its wealth, 98. - Insisted on war, 231 - - French petty proprietors, 105, 106, 110 - - Frosinone, 135 - - Fruit, religion is a, 254 - - Fungus, a Brobdingnagian, 144 - - Game, 82 - - Gasteren, 167 - - Gauter, 139 - - Gemmi, 167-71 - - Geneva, Lake of, excavated by glacier, 8 - - Genius loci, 133 - - Geology of Rhone Valley, 7. - Of Alpine valleys, 134. - Of Delta of the Kander, 166 - - German professor, 114. - Travellers, 156, 201. - At Gravelotte, 232-6. - At Metz, 237. - Conquests will be retained, 245 - - Glacier action, 7. - Bies, 9. - Gorner, 9. - Fee, 116. - Allalein, 119. - Kaltenwasser, 138. - Rhone, 146. - Old Aar, 150. - Grindelwald, 162 - - Gladstone, the Right Hon. W. E., 55 - - Gneiss, channel how cut in, 151 - - God, the focal name, 239 - - Gondo, 135 - - Gorner Grat, 12 - - Government, modern Swiss, 146 - - Gravelotte, battle of, 232-6 - - Grimsel, 149 - - Grindelwald, 160 - - Guide, 18, 115, 123, 127 - - Guttanen, 153 - - Handeck, 151, 152 - - Health, better to keep than to recover, 183 - - Helle Platte, 150 - - History, continuity of, 213 - - Homer, a simile of his, 178, 183 - - Honesty, 36, 39 - - Hornli, 17 - - Hospice, Simplon, 135. - Grimsel, 148, 149 - - Hotels, St. Niklaus, 8. - Riffel, 16. - Saas, 115. - Mattmark See, 120. - Macugnaga, 125. - Ponte Grande, 127. - Domo D’Ossola, 128. - Simplon, 135. - Du Glacier du Rhone, 147. - Interlaken, 156. - Grindelwald, 161. - Schwarenbach, 168. - Swiss monster hotels, 194-204. - Zurich, 215. - Metz, 244 - - Human interest of improved agriculture, 86 - - Humanity, sciences of, place in education, 221 - - Humility, true, 216 - - Ice sent from Grindelwald to Paris, 162. - Ice-field of Bernese Oberland, 174 - - Ignorance of the day, some address themselves to, but not for the - purpose of removing it, 259 - - Imagination, place in education, 223. - How to be cultivated, 224 - - Imhof, 153 - - Industry, Swiss, 34-8, 46, 129 - - Intellectual life among peasant proprietors, 32. - Under landlordism, 48. - Under capital, 63, 107 - - Interlaken, 155, 156 - - Investments for all, 87, 88 - - Invidious position, 101, 102 - - Italians compared to Swiss, 129 - - Jack of many trades, 118 - - Joint-stock cultivation of the land, 78-89 - - Jungfrau, 156-8 - - Kander, Delta of the, 166 - - Kandersteg, 167 - - King, capital is, 103 - - Kitchen-maids, acquisition and use of capital within reach of, 109 - - Knights’ fees, number of, 77 - - Knowledge, what it is, 227. - Grammatical and theological studies obscure, 229. - Its effects on religion, 257 - - Lake-villages, 210-215 - - Land, reclamation, and cultivation of, 21. - In Greece and Rome, 51. - In feudal times, 52. - Inversion of land and capital, 54. - Settlement of, prevents distribution, 70. - Joint-stock principle applicable to, 78. - Land mobilised, 88. - Increased value under joint-stock cultivation, 88, 89. - Land and cities, 93. - Size of landed estates in era of capital, 94. - Might be sold subject to rent-charge, 95. - Tendency of things with respect to; corporate estates, 96. - Disestablishment, 97. - Increasing size of estates, 97. - Education, 97. - Perception of cause of wealth of France, 98. - Increase in our population and wealth, 98. - Popular character of modern legislation, 99. - Rise in cost of labour, 99. - How two kinds of wills affect land, 110. - Culture and price of, in Switzerland, 206 - - Landlordism, 41, 50. - Political effects in Ireland and Scotland, 111 - - Landowners, advantage to, of joint-stock cultivation of the land, 89. - Diminishing numbers, 97 - - Lausanne, 3 - - Lauterbrunnen, 157 - - Leukabad, 172-174 - - Life, who scared by phenomena of, 257 - - Literary and theological training, effects of, 256 - - Lords of creation, 124 - - Lothringen, 231 - - Lowe, Right Hon. R., 65 - - Luxembourg, 247 - - Macugnaga, 125 - - Magician, capital a, 107 - - Man, conditions antecedent to, 116 - - Matterhorn, 12, 17, 18 - - Mattmark See, 119, 120 - - Meiringen, 153 - - Men and women highest form of wealth, 32 - - Methods of teaching, 192, 193 - - Metz, 230 - - Money-lords, 55 - - Monte Leone, 138 - - Moon on the Jungfrau, 165. - Witchery of the, 179. - Why dogs bay, 181 - - Moral value of peasant-proprietorship, 34-40. - Under landlordism, 46 - - Morality, man lives not only by or for, 40 - - Moro, Monte, 123 - - Mortmain, history of abolition of, 74. - Its failure, 75 - - Mother of Curé of Ste. Marie aux Chênes, 235 - - Mountaineering, 10, 19, 20 - - Mountains seen face to face, 121 - - Munster, 144 - - Museum of Lake-Villages, 210, 215 - - Myriad-minded, 223 - - Nature, 192, 225 - - Nautical felicity, 6 - - New world’s contributions to old, 7 - - Niesen, 175 - - Nonconformity, strength and weakness of, 241, 242 - - Oberwald, 146 - - Opinion, how stream of tendency affects, 99 - - Organisation, religious, 241 - - Ownership of land, proposed form of, 89 - - Paganism, modern, 26 - - Parallelism of the present religious situation and that at the - promulgation of Christianity, 261-263 - - Paris, 1 - - Parquetry flooring, 182 - - Pauper, euthanasia of agricultural, 86 - - Peak-climbers and pass-men, 10, 18, 175, 199 - - Peasant-proprietorship, 29-40. - Impossible here, 94. - French, 105, 106, 110 - - Pedestrianism, pedantry of, 144 - - Peel, Sir R., 55 - - Personal worth, 103 - - Physical science teaches what truth is, 228 - - Picturesque will not stop advances, 86 - - Pié de Muléra, 128 - - Pinus Cembra, 11, 159. Pumilio, 150 - - Platform road, 126 - - Poetry of Vale of Grindelwald, 161. - Classical and modern, 224 - - Pompeii, 52 - - Ponte Grande, 127 - - Poor-law, rationale of, 106 - - Population under peasant-proprietorship, 31. - Under landlordism, 45 - - Porter and practical man, 156 - - Possibilities, 27 - - Post-office, Swiss, 118 - - Potatovors, Irish, 105, 106 - - Practical man and porter, 156 - - Prasias, Lake, 210 - - Prayers played for, 24 - - Primogeniture, 90 - - Property, educational effects of, 33 - - Prophesying, place of, in religion, 241, 242 - - Prospects of great proprietors, 100 - - Railways, delays on Swiss, 138 - - Récolte des voyageurs, 217 - - Reichenbach, falls of, 154 - - Religion, 25. - Its primitive and modern forms, 145. - Relation to art, organisation, and prophesying, 141, 142. - Error and perversion in, 242, 243. - Relation of the knowledge of nature and of man to, 251. - How affected by the conditions of society, 253. - Progressive, 254. - A parellelism, 261-263 - - Religious establishments, when useful, 64 - - Rent-charge, land might be sold subject to, 95 - - Responsibility in the formation of opinions, 264 - - Revolution, a great but bloodless, 53 - - Rhone, Delta of Upper, 7. - Source of, 146 - - Riffel, 11, 16 - - Rocky mountains, young pines in, 160. - Camping out in, 177 - - Romanism, decay of, 25, 26. - How uses art, organisation, and prophesying, 241 - - Saas, 113, 121 - - Sac, lost, 131 - - St. Niklaus, 8, 21 - - Ste. Marie aux Chênes, fight in, 234. - Mother of curé of, 235 - - Saltine, 139 - - Saracens, 124 - - Savings’ bank for all, 87, 109 - - Scene from Gorner Grat, 12. - Valley of Saas, 113. - Mattmark, 120. - Macugnaga, 125. - Gemmi, 169 - - Schwartz See, 16, 17 - - Scotland, a Belgian’s etymology of, 247 - - Selborne, White of, 4. - Lord, 4, 65 - - Self, when to be considered, 132. - When not, 243 - - Sermon on the Riffel, 15. - Effect of fluency and imagination on, 165 - - Settlement of land prevents distribution, 70. - Action of settled estates, 72. - How preventible, 73 - - Shawls, fine, better than rugs, 117 - - Simplon, 131-139 - - Size of estates in era of capital, 94 - - Slavery, 82 - - Society, conditions of, affect religion, 253 - - Sprite, the reprobate, 203 - - Spurgeon, Mr., 239, 243 - - Stalden, 113 - - Steam culture, 83 - - Stenches in hotels, 8, 147, 148 - - Stone age, 81, 211 - - Strasbourg, 230 - - Sugar factories, 84 - - Sun, colourless risings, 175. - Of England has set, 202. - A good sunset, 216, 217 - - Swiss life in a valley, 23, 29, 40. - Compared with Italians, 129. - Monster hotels, 194-204. - Swiss sights suggestive, 264 - - Teaching, range and method of, 192, 193 - - Technical University of Zurich, 218 - - Tendency of events as respects land, 96 - - Tents, travelling with, in Switzerland, 177 - - Testimony, fallibility of, 118 - - Theology, 256 - - Thun, 163 - - Too soon but late at last, 168 - - Travel, order of, 5 - - Travellers in monster hotels, 198. - Swiss, classified, 199, 203 - - Trust-funds, investment proposed for, 89 - - Twice as clever, 171 - - United States, answer to a question asked in the, 68 - Agriculture of, 69 - - Urus, 212 - - Val Anzasca, 126, 129, 130 - - Valleys, geology of Alpine, 134. - View of Grindelwald, 160 - - Venice, 210 - - Verrieres, 2 - - Villages of Upper Rhone Valley, 144. - Old Lake, 210-215 - - Vines and vineyards, 205 - - Virgin, the Holy, at Ste. Marie aux Chênes, 236 - - Virtue, highest form of, 38 - - Visp, 8. - Life and religion in Valley of the, 21-27. - Thoughts about land suggested by the Valley of the, 28-112 - - Voiturier, boorish, 143. - Dilatory, 165. - Payment should depend on time, 166 - - Water-supply in Switzerland, 206-209. - In England, 207, 208. - Would lessen drunkenness, 209 - - Waterloo, 248, 249 - - Weather, 175 - - Well-being, constituents of, 40 - - Wengern Alp, 157, 158 - - Wheat cultivated by Old Lake villagers, 212 - - White of Selborne, 4 - - Widows and younger children provided for by landowners, 93 - - Wife, 5, 142, 162, 168, 171 - - Wildstrubel, 169 - - Will strengthened, 139 - - Wills, two errors with respect to, 110 - - Wine, 197 - - Wood-carving, 155 - - Zermatt, 9, 10, 115 - - Zmutt glacier, 17 - - Zurich Museum of lake village antiquities, 210-215. - Modern city, 214. - Technical University, 218 - - - - - LONDON: PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - AND PARLIAMENT STREET - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR. - - * * * * * - - _The Duty and Discipline of Extemporary - Preaching._ - - SECOND EDITION. - - C. SCRIBNER & CO., NEW YORK. - - * * * * * - - _A Winter in the United States_: - - Being Table-Talk collected during a Tour through the late Southern - Confederation, the Far West, the Rocky Mountains, &c. - - JOHN MURRAY, LONDON. - - * * * * * - - _Egypt of the Pharaohs and of the Kedivé._ - - SECOND EDITION. 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