2nd November.
Still rain and wind, but with glimpses of pale sunshine which predict finer weather. The bad air prevented sleep, and the blast which sung round my head, whirling away the flimsy curtains, bestowed a cold on my chest, which shall not however detain me. The horses have passed the day in the luxury of rolling, and enjoyment of the mountain hay, of which the pastures near this produce the sweetest in the world.
3rd November.
Left early, for the clouds, though they threatened, dropped no rain, and took the road to Modane, the descent as far as Formignone being rapid, skirting the Arc and its pine-forests, the cold head ofMont Cenistowering behind. The weather grew milder and the scenery more lovely; larch and other trees not evergreen appearing beneath the masses of dark fir, and red and yellow with the tints of autumn, have a richness in their hues I never saw equalled elsewhere.
Verney, where Walpole’s dog perished, is a beautifully situated village. The pine-forests, which the wolves inhabited of yore, have retreated since that time, and now clothe only the mountain on the left, before which the little church whose bell was tolling for mass, and whither the country people were hastening in their holiday clothes, stands on its green mound alone.
Ere arriving at Modane, we passed the superb fort ofLesseillon, which tier above tier crowns crag above crag, with its batteries ready to sweep road and valley. The range of cliffs to the right among which it rises are wild and bare. In the depths of the gorge under it, the Arc, narrowed to a streamlet, cuts its passage between walls of rock; the stone arch of thePont du Diablespanning thechasm, and nearer the fort a frailer wooden bridge flung with yet more hardihood. The mountain to the left, at whose base was our road, hanging over the savage defile, was clothed with a forest, and dashing down, or trickling to our feet, cascade and torrent wound among the roots of fir and larch, or bounded over their branches. The only neighbour of the fortress is a wretched village; it must be a melancholy garrison: for some time it made a fine object in the background with the snows ofMont Cenisand his companions.
As we continued to descend, the clear green stream of the Arc, sometimes wild and angry, foams and roars among her masses of black stone, sometimes flows mildly and brightly, retreating from the road in coquettish curves, half hiding itself in a fringe of birch and larch and fir, and issuing again to smile at her admirers and receive their homage. Nothing can surpass in loveliness the valley of theMaurienne. Modane is a wretched hole, beautifully placed, a blot in Paradise; the noble road takes alternately both sides of the narrow valley. At a spot which most claimed admiration, we met a post carriage, its inmate this warm day ensconced in great coat and cap, fast asleep. We have once more the hardy peasantry, a contrast to that of Italy,the women with their fresh faces and thick ankles, ascending the mountain paths followed by their cows and goats tinkling their gay bells; and we have also the pretty country churches with their spires of grey stone peeping over rocks and through pines instead of the staring dome and unfinished Roman front of those of Italian hamlets, which wanted money as well as modesty. Avalanches of earth have hereabouts injured the road, not yet wholly repaired, and farther on the valley narrowed and became bare and less beautiful, and the rain fell heavily. At the next turn, however, we saw St. Michel close by, beneath and upon his noble crag, and galloped towards the shelter the horses, who went lightly on as if they had not been ridden three and thirty miles.
The landlord, who is an approved rogue, asked prices which made us threaten him with going to the other inn. He excused himself by saying all his provisions were brought over the mountain from Turin, so, as you may be curious to hear what St. Michel imports from Italy, our dinner consisted of two weary-looking larks, a chicken who seemed pinched with the cold of the snow-storm, a hard hearted old cauliflower, one fish and three apples.