Thursday, November 2nd 1854 ~ Domo d’Ossola

We started at nine o’clock this morning from Brigue in the diligence drawn by seven horses, two to the pole, three abreast next, and two abreast for leaders. The road, which is macadamized, conducts immediately from Brigue along the side of the mountain, continuously rising at the rate of one inch per foot until it reaches the highest point marked by a simple cross of wood, sixty two hundred feet above the level of the sea. We walked much of the way up admiring the views at every turn. The road on the Swiss side rises spirally, so that it looks from below like a great corkscrew laid against the mountainside. An Italian who talked French fast and badly and a young, silent German, a woman and ourselves were the only passengers. The Italian made himself as agreeable as he could, told us he was Turin lawyer etc. I endeavored to make him understand, in French, the scheme of our own government. He was polite enough to pretend a perfect comprehension of my ideas conveyed through the medium but I fear his truth suffered for his “politisse.” As we approached the summit of the mountain we found snow along the sides of the road until at the highest point it was nearly a foot deep. Near the summit the road passes through a tunnel and several covered galleries, supported by columns of solid masonry, to protect it from the avalanches of ice and snow that fall from the higher peaks above it. Quite a large cascade falls on one of the galleries while the diligence drives safely beneath it. We arrived at the highest point at four o’clock, seven hours after our departure from Brigue and then half an hour’s drive over a level road brought us to the Hospice founded by Napoleon the Great. It’s an immense stone building looking not unlike a factory with its long and regular rows of windows. Here we halted for a few moments and were shown by a monk (Father Barras) who was for many years stationed on the Gt. St. Bernard, the whole of the building. It is nicely heated by a furnace and is neat as shaker dwelling. The floors are of dark wood highly polished. The good monk took us into the cuisine and gave us a little lunch of bread, butter, cheese and wine and then reprised a gratuity for his hospitality. He took us into the chapel and the sleeping rooms and invited us to pass the night. From here the Bernese chain is still visible. The Jung Frau Monk etc. The conductor had given us up his place in the morning and now all were crowded into the “Banquette” to see to advantage our decent into Italy. Dear Switzerland adieu. Soon after learning the Hospice the sun set and the moon rose silvering the snow covered peaks and their over-hanging glaciers, in her pale radiance and deepening indefinitely the chasms beneath us. The diligence followed a terrible but beautiful drive. The horses were put into a trot, then into a gallop and we almost flew through the most magnificent scenery ever beheld. At one moment dashing through a dark tunnel cut through the solid rock and emerging to sweep along the edge of a precipice, with a torrent foaming below but at such a depth that we were aware of its presence only by its roar. And now winding around needles of rock that rose three thousand feet into the air above our heads. The atmosphere quickly changed in our rapid descent and we were soon at Isella, where our trunks were ransacked and our passports countersigned by Italians. The change has not dawned gradually but we found ourselves in a moment within range of the Italian lingo. We again resumed our seats and continued our journey descending gradually through a country of vinyards and soft verdure, white wooden houses etc. Everything is Italian in appearance and in effect we are in Piedmont with the snows of the Semplon still clinging to our wheels. At nine o’clock we found ourselves at Domo d’Ossola just at the foot of the mountain chain.