west of the pass which lies directly in front. On both sides of the road from Secz thither, the mountains are lofty, steep, and covered with snow, while the pass of the Little St. Bernard presents itself beneath; and the attack was consequently made from the lofty heights lining this defile.

From the foot of the St. Bernard descends an Alpine torrent, called the Reclus, which passes by the village of Seez. It is very often dry, and on its left bank stands a vast mass of gypsum, to which the name of La Roche Blanche, or the White Rock, has universally been given. It protrudes like a headland from the Little St. Bernard, at the upper end of the plain of Villars, with a summit crowned with pines. It appears to close the valley of the Reclus, which struggles among the rocks at its steep base. This rock is admirably calculated for defensive operations. It commands the whole plain of Seez, and would have enabled Hannibal to act equally against the enemy on the heights above St. Germains, and on both sides of the line of the old Roman road. On this rock he is said to have passed the night, to cover the passage of his army. Triumphing over danger from his assailants, he at length reached the summit of the pass, and thenceforward suffered but little from hostile attacks; but the natural difficulties of the road, increased by the lateness of the season—it being October, when the snows have already commenced in the high Alps-caused him almost as much detention and difficulty as the opposition of the barbarians on the other side of the mountains. So heavy were his losses from these combined causes, that when he at length emerged from the valley of Aosta into the plains of the Po, und encamped in the friendly country of the Imsubrians, he had with him no more than 20,000 foot and 6,000 horse. His march across the Alps into Italy is one of the most remarkable events of ancient history.

We are indebted for the narrative of the passage of Hannibal, it will be remembered, to the historian Polybius, whose work is one of the most valuable that has come down to us from antiquity, and with which few histories, whether ancient or modern, indeed, will bear a comparison. He had a strong judgment and an ardent love of truth, and he not only collected, with accuracy and care, an account of the events that he intended to narrate, but actually made distant journeys to become acquainted with the countries which he had to describe. Now the Roche Blanche, in situation, perfectly agrees with the account which Polybius has given of such an elevation, and of the events which occurred in its vicinity. This is one of the chief points of evidence, and, taken with others, the conclusion seems inevitable, that by this pass Hannibal pursued his course. Such, indeed, is the conviction of many eminent men who have given to this part of the Alps, as well as to the narrative of the historian, their most careful attention.

The account given of Hannibal dissolving the rocks by vinegar in his passage of the Alps has been treated, in modern times, as an enigma or a fable. It has, however, been ingeniously suggested by Mr. Bakewell, that very possibly the ancients might be acquainted with the force of vapour. By boring hard calcareous rocks, and filling the cavity with concentrated vinegar, and plugging up the aperture, they might, by the evolution of gas, obtain an effect similar to the explosion of gunpowder, or the expansion of steam. This effect might be increased by making a large fire against the rock. A small degree of expansive force would rend huge masses of rock, as they split with great facility along the cross-scams." It is difficult to conceive, he remarks, how such a story as that of dissolving the Alps with vinegar could have originated without some foundation in fact; and the difficulty vanishes if we suppose that Hannibal employed vinegar, not as a chemical agent, but to act mechanically on the heated rocks, in rending them by the expansion of vapour.

The old Roman road over the Graian Alps passed to the right of the Roche Blanche. At present a modern path on the other side, through St. Germains, conducts, by an easy ascent above the village, to the hospice, which is placed on the brink of the Col, towards

the Tarentaise. It would take about three hours to walk from the Roche Blanche to the summit of the pass. About half-way up, the valley of Centron, backed by the beautiful forms of Mont Isèran, is very striking.

A remarkable fact is mentioned by two travellers, Messrs. Wickham and Cramer. “Our guide, a very respectable inhabitant of Villar, talked as a matter of everyday conversation of Hannibal, and of his march through the country at the time of the Saracens. He assured us, also, that he had himself seen and handled very large bones of beasts, which had been taken out of the little stream that flows through the ravine, up which the Roman road passed. These bones, he said, were much larger than those of oxen; and when the little stream overflowed and washed away the soil, some of these bones were sometimes found. He himself made no mention of elephants, and seemed ignorant what the bones were."

The traveller, who would enjoy one of the finest scenes in the Alps, is recommended by Mr. Brockedon to ascend the Belvidere, one of the mountains which bound the Col of the Little St. Bernard. After an hour's ascent from the hospice, which may be accomplished on a mule, a magnificent Alpine panorama stretches before, beneath, and around him. Mont Blanc, with its grand glaciers of the Miage and the Brévent, which appear to stream from its sides; the Great St. Bernard, the high summits of the Cervin, and Monte Rosa; the immense glacier of the Ruitor, extending sixteen leagues; Mont Isèran, and a thousand intermediate peaks, present themselves in magnificent succession.

CHAPTER X.

ROUTE FROM MARTIGNY TO THE HOSPICE OF THE GREAT ST. BERNARD-ITS VISITANTS AND MONKS-DOGS OF THE HOSPICE-THE MORGUE.

IF the moon be "above the tops of the snow-shining mountains," there is a view which may be highly enjoyed in ascending the hill near Martigny, to the picturesque old Feudal Tower. High above the village, and looking down the valley, a snowy ridge of great beauty forms the outline, while, in the direction of the Great St. Bernard, mountains of dark verdure rise into the air, and on one side, the eyes become dizzy as they look down into the torrent, roaring many hundred feet beneath. And then there are the ruins of the castle, surrounded by verdure, the mountains in all their grandeur, and the distant landscape, beautiful though indistinct, all lit up by the moonbeams, and especially the glittering snowy peaks.

Should the traveller propose to become familiar with the far-famed Pass of the Great St. Bernard, and to visit its celebrated Hospice, he may set out for the accomplishment of his purpose from Martigny. Starting on foot, or mounted on his mule, he will probably meet with numerous parties, chiefly of the peasantry, either proceeding to the neighbouring villages, or across the Great St. Bernard into Piedmont and Savoy, thus giving to the varied scenery through which he has to pass, the peculiar charm of active human life.

The little town of St. Branchier is situated at the entrance of the Valley of Bagnes, and near the confluence of the streams which descend from the two principal sources of the Dranse, the glaciers of Mont Velan, and those of Charmotane. The latter are of vast extent to the eastward of Mont Velan, and the route to them lies up through the Valley of Bagnes. For a few days in the height of summer, the peasants sometimes cross over them into the Val Pellina, in Piedmont; but, ordinarily, they are very difficult of

access.

The way now lies through the village of Orsières, whence a valley leads, by the Col de Ferret, to Courmayeur; the Val Entremon, luxuriant in vegetation; and the villages of Liddes and St. Pierre. The latter contains numerous inscriptions and relics, which prove its antiquity. Among these is the military column dedicated to the younger Constantine, which, it is said, formerly replaced the statue of Jupiter that was on the summit of the Great St. Bernard, but which was destroyed by Constantine, about the year 339. An old gate leading out of St. Pierre is connected with a wooden bridge thrown across a very deep and narrow ravine, through which the Dranse rushes at a frightful depth. Near this village there is also a fine cascade.

After passing St. Pierre, about half way to the Hospice of St. Bernard, the scene suddenly changes, and, instead of the fertile lands and rich woods of previous hours, a desolate tract of country is entered, without the appearance of a human dwelling. The road through a valley, surrounded by barren, rocky, mountain ridges, runs for some

distance by the side of a small stream, and then becomes rugged in the extreme, and scarcely discernible as a track. At the end of this valley, the path, such as it is, bends

Pro

to the right, on a gradual ascent, for a few miles, into a still more barren region. ceeding now, sometimes by the side of the stream, which here rushes down into the

valley with great force, and then diverging from it, huge masses of snow, at an altitude of 9,000 or 10,000 feet, are observable-remaining, probably, from age to age, and sufficiently hard to support the tread of man or mule.

The road scales the face of the deep ravine over the Dranse; it is wide enough for a carriage, and was boldly cut out of the perpendicular rock; thus suggesting the enormous difficulties which Napoleon had to overcome. It is continued through rugged defiles, into the plain of Prou, watered by streams from the glaciers, which shoot their icy masses down into contact with the verdure on the plains, on which the cows in summer find pasturage, while the plain is bounded by lofty mountain glaciers, and the enormous mass of Mont Veldu.

If now, the sky, hitherto bright and clear, has become thick and hazy, and especially if the cold is intense, one object will be recognised with delight: it is

“That house, the highest in the ancient world,

And destined to perform from age to age

The noblest service, welcoming as guests

All of all nations, and of every faith;

A temple sacred to humanity!

It is a pile of simplest masonry,

With narrow windows and vast buttresses,

Built to endure the shocks of time and chance;

Yet showing many a rent, as well it might,
Warred on for ever by the elements,

And in an evil day, not long ago,

By violent men, when on the mountain top

The French and Austrian banners met in conflict."

A monastery appears to have existed on the Great St. Bernard so early as the eighth century, but the present Hospice was founded in 962, by Bernard, a member of a noble family in Savoy, who devoted himself to an ecclesiastical life, and became archdeacon of Aosta. His name has continued attached to it since his canonisation. He died in 1008, after presiding over the convent for upwards of forty years. The only property it now has consists of a vineyard at Clarens, near the Lake of Geneva, and a farm at Roche, in the Pays de Vaud.†

In the summer of 1816, not a week passed without the falling of snow, and the ice of the lake never melted. Even in the height of summer, it always freezes early in the morning. The Hospice is rarely four months clear of snow; its average depth around the building is seven or eight feet, and sometimes there are drifts against it, rising to the height of forty feet. Not a bush is to be found near the edifice, and the wood for its fires is obtained from the forest of Ferret, a distance of four leagues. Below, are the stables, store-rooms, and other offices, and the traveller enters the corridor by a flight of steps.

The dogs, of which so much has been said, will not fail to be observed loitering at the door, and frequently passing up and down the corridors of the Hospice. They came originally from Spain. One of them, named Barry, saved a great number of lives. His remains are preserved in the Museum of Berne, and are often regarded with great interest. Another called Jupiter, was also very successful. In the year 1827, it appears he knew some persons had passed the Hospice, and he set out alone immediately to follow them. After some time his absence was remarked; and one of the inmates, by pursuing his track, found him posted over a drift of snow, where a poor woman and her child were about to perish, both of whom he was thus the instrument of rescuing from death.

The traveller will meet with a cordial greeting from the monks, none of whom are aged It is said that they devote themselves to service at the Hospice at eighteen years

men.