Last year, as we were driving through these villages of the Upper Valais, I had inferred their mental condition from the few simple elements, of which, obviously, the lives of their inhabitants were compounded. Now, as we passed through them in more leisurely fashion, I reverted to the same subject, and recalled Ammer’s disparagements, and the account of their social and intellectual condition a native of one of them had given me, in a conversation I had chanced to have with him some days back. He had said that ‘he was prospering where he was, but would never be able to return with the fruits of his prosperity to his native village in the Upper Valais. The priests would never allow the return of anyone who, while living elsewhere, had acquired some independence of thought as well as of means; and an indisposition to be fed with’—but for his (in English) monosyllable I will substitute—what Infallibility ought to save us all from, at all events the inhabitants of the Upper Valais. ‘The priests,’ he said, ‘I still had the power, as they had the inclination, to render return to and residence in their old home, very disagreeable for such people. They were too, the cause of the inhabitants of this part of the Valais being lazy and good for nothing. How could it be otherwise with people who throughout their lives are fed only with’—again what Infallibility should save them from; ‘and who are kept in constant subjection? It is bad for men to put themselves into the hands of other men. They should rather be taught to depend upon themselves.’
And so it has come about that an Upper Valaisan who has once seen the world must remain in it, in order that the ignorance in which the priests have a vested interest might be protected against knowledge. If the time is never to be when ‘such evil shall on itself back recoil,’ then
The pillared firmament is rottenness,
And earth’s base built on stubble.
But as it has recoiled in Italy, Spain, and France, we may believe that it will in the Upper Valais; and this belief may be accompanied by the hope that the evils of the recoil of the evil may not be long-lived.
August 26.—Our destination was the Eggischhorn Hotel. As far as Viesch we took a carriage. Jean Ott was on the box with the driver. But as it proved to be possible—we should not have supposed it—to squeeze in a third sitter, a bare-headed young lady of Munster, not of the slim order of beauty, took it for granted, without leave asked or offered, that there could be no objection (none was made) to her availing herself of the opportunity: and so she got a lift to Biel. This was like the undoubting confidence with which, in the East, the poorest wayfarer will ask you to allow him to light his cigarette from your cigar. It is a kind of assumption which ought not to be displeasing, as it implies a compliment; for it is an assumption of your good sense and good nature.
For agricultural purposes rain had been abundant wherever else we had been, but here it was evident that none had fallen for a long time. There was no second cut on unirrigated grass land; the potato-haulm was short and withered; so was the hemp. The road was very dusty, and almost in a state of disintegration. On inquiring I was told that these spells of dry weather are here of very frequent occurrence. If so, can they be caused by the ascent of the heated air of the Valais dissipating the clouds that would otherwise have supplied its needs? Such droughts must contribute very considerably towards the impoverishment of the people. I observed, however, that they do not do as much as they might in the way of embanking and draining their low ground, and of irrigating their upper prairies. The appearance of the Valais above Sierre indicates that an insufficiency of moisture is its normal condition.
At 9.30 A.M., our belongings were on Jean Ott’s back, and we began the ascent of the Viescher Alp for the Eggischhorn Hotel. The work was warm, for the ascent was steep, and the sun was full on the mountain side; though, in respect of the sun, the forest, as far as it went, befriended us. There was, too, in the air, something of the oppressive closeness which precedes a thunderstorm. The hotel was reached in two hours and a half. We had telegraphed for rooms, but by some contre-temps, the two answers the proprietor had despatched to assure us that no accommodation was at present disposable in his house had failed in reaching us. We had, therefore, to take what could be arranged. It was now only mid-day, and the resources available for possible arrangements could not be ascertained till the evening. This caused some hours of suspense. Of what, at last, the good man did for us, as it was the best he could do, it would be ungracious to say more than that it might have been very much worse.
The Eggischhorn Hotel is, doubtless, all things considered, that is to say, the difficulty of access, shelter from wind, water-supply, view, and the objects to be visited in the locality, in the best site that could have been found. Still it may be observed that it is on a spot on the mountain side, from which the eye has no great range, and where, too, standing room had to be constructed for it; which is the same as saying that it is on a little narrow indent, an artificially formed niche, half excavated and half built up from below. This is in keeping with what you might have expected, and so far good. The house is small, but some additions to it, which will more than double its capacity, and very much improve the character of its accommodation, are nearly completed. The number, however, of travellers increases so rapidly that it will probably be, next year, as difficult to obtain a share in the improved and extended, as it has hitherto been in the existing, accommodation.
We had all the afternoon to look about us, and for familiarizing ourselves with the near and the distant objects. Compared with many other well-known localities 7,000 feet high, the distant objects are not numerous. They could hardly, indeed, be fewer. Still what you see of the valley below, its woods, and prairies, and villages, and of the somewhat snowy range opposite, shagged with peaks and precipices of gray rock, will satisfy one who is more disposed to be satisfied with what he has than to be dissatisfied with what he has not. The confined site of the hotel has a kind of novelty, and produces a sense of imprisonment, particularly when you are pacing up and down its miniature esplanade. And then to convince yourself that you are not a prisoner, you will break away from the miniature esplanade, and take little walks above, and to the right and left, on the mountain; and you will sit on the flowery turf, or on a ledge of protruding rock, and meditate till Fancy has had her fill. And you will not be altogether alone, for the quiet-minded kine will be on the hillside around you; and multitudinous grasshoppers will be starting up at your feet, a light-hearted little people, gaily clad in many colours, whose nerves are supple and springy, and sensitive to enjoyment in their short summer.[2] And so there will be enough of the brotherhood of life to attune your heart pleasantly, if it have not been too far enfeebled by the vanities, or ossified by the vexations of life.