THE ALPS AN]) THE RAILWAYS.
THE first Alpine season of this century, which has now come to an end, has been marked by the opening of a railway to Chamonix, and another step has been taken in the slow but steady process of rendering the summits of the Alps accessible to the paralytic. The line will shortly be continued over the pass at the end of the valley to Martigny ; a mountain railway is projected to the Montenvers, the most popular excursion on mule-back from Chamonix; it can hardly be doubted that in course of time there will be some sort of railway-station at or near the summit of Mont Blanc. But we will not anticipate the future, nor deplore the possible triumphs of engineering. It may be that the mountain deities or the forces of Nature will prove unconquerable, and though the valleys" may be shortly disfigured, the mountains may very long retain their wild and natural beauty. Chamonix, the classic gathering-place of Alpine climbers, is now, like Zermatt, connected -with the rest of Europe by a railroad. The traveller can leave London about ten in the morning, or Paris about nine in the evening, and reach Chamonix Station in the forenoon of the following day. That great numbers will avail themselves of the privilege of so easily reaching the foot of Mont Blanc there can be no doubt. Seven trains daily arrive at Chamonix, and five leave the enormous station which has been built behind the English church.' The carriages are for the most part overcrowded with travellers, and many have to content themselves with stand- ing room on the platforms at the end of the cars. It is evi- dent that the energy of the P. L. M. Railway Company will be rewarded, and that a rich harvest will accrue to the innkeepers, guides, and muleteers of the village. We may sympathise -with the moans of the Alpine Club, the regrets of sturdy pedestrians, and even the lamentations of those who enjoyed the long drive up on the heavy diligence, with tinkling horse-bells and cracking whip. It is impossible to deny that the valley of Chamonix is sadly disfigured by the railroad. The village itself has long ceased to be more than a collection of huge hotels ; and one large, ugly build- ing more can pass unnoticed. But though the valley is spoilt in one respect, can we expect the Commune of Chamonix to resist the introduction of a railway ? Pie- turesque valleys and secluded gorges are disfigured one after another, all over the Alps, that the inhabitants may earn an honest living.
The new line, which has the advantage of being worked by electric power, starts from Fayet-St. Gervais, where the travellers change into small tramway carriages. The remainder of the journey takes a little under an hour, and there are stations at the well-known villages of Servos and Les Honches as well -as at the foot of the Glacier des Bossone. The seats are comfortable ; the speed is not excessive; and enormous plate-glass windows will satisfy those who care to look at mountains from the inside of a railway-carriage. The electric power is conveyed to each train by a third line, raised by the side of the others, and the notices threatening danger of death to all who cross the lines lead one to suppose that it will not be long before some fatal or serious accident happens to an animal or person who cannot read. But although the trains are free from smoke and steam, they are provided with whistles, and the shrill screech of the approaching locomotive may he heard as high as, or higher than, the Grande Mulets or Tate Rousse. It is not, however, those who travel on the line who perceive the disfigurement of Nature which the new rail- way causes. It is the railroad, and not the train, which is most offensive to the sensitive eye in a narrow valley like that of Chamonix. The line is close to the old road ; enormous generating stations have been erected to produce the electric power ; the sides of the valley are scored by colossal and unsightly pipes of iron, which convey water to the turbines ; the torrent of the Arve is crossed by hideous iron bridges. It is these things, and not the passing train, which make it difficult not to regret the invasion of Alpine valleys by a railroad. As for the increasing crowds of travel- lers who will be brought to Chamonix, there is little to be said. It would be churlish to grudge these people the plea- sures of travel, and unreasonable to lament the profit which the natives will make out of them. The accommodation for travellers and the number of inns will be increased; but Chamonix, like most Alpine villages, is nothing but a centre for excursions where good inns are found; which the traveller can leave as early as possible in the morning to climb the moun- tains as high as his lungs and legs permit, to which he may return in the evening to enjoy the delicacies of table d'Ute and the delights of a feather bed. If he is able-bodied he will very soon leave the crowd behind, and enjoy in solitude, or in the company of his guide, as splendid and unspoilt mountains as amazed Pococke and Windham or fascinated De Saussure. If, on the other hand, his legs are too feeble to support his body, or his lungs too weak to supply him with breath, he should thank the railway which has enabled him (in company with many others equally afflicted) to see the highest of the Alps at so little expenditure of strength, money, and breath.
The reflections which are suggested by the opening of this railway to Chamonix apply equally to any other Alpine valley from Savoy to Tyrol into which trains have penetrated and crowds of .travellers are consequently poured during the short Alpine season. It is a common saying that the Alps are overcrowded with tourists ; and it is true if by the Alps are meant Chamonix, Grindelwald, Zermatt, Courmayeur, or Pontresina. The Alps are really overrun, as far as the tourist sees them, only because all proceed along the lines of railway, and when the railway ends few venture from the beaten track or visit places which have not been advertised. The beaten track is so narrow in the Alps that it needs but a very short excursion to leave behind the army of black-coated clergymen with alpenstocks and overdressed ladies on sweat- ing mules. There are hundreds of valleys in the great mountain chain of France, Switzerland, Italy, and Austria (often close to the great tourist centres) which are almost unknown to travellers. The inns are tolerable without being luxurious ; the mountains are magnificent without being as high as Mont Blanc ; the air is as invigorating as the best champagne. The Dauphine Alps are practically unheard of among English people, yet there are twenty-nine peaks to be climbed, all over 11,000 ft. high. The Pointe des Ecrins is only 2,000 ft. less than the highest summit of the Alps, and the general grandness is not less than many parts of the Oberland. The Savoy, the mountain valleys of Tarentaise and Maurpienne, are well known by name, but are rarely explored by any but the most adventurous. The Alps of Piedmont are second to none. Yet of the thousands who complain that Chamonix is spoilt and overcrowded, not one makes his way to Cogne or Ceresole, where hotels are excellent, railways far remote, and there is the splendid peak with the attractive title of the Gran' Paradiso. The Dolomites have been discovered ; but there are many parts of the Austrian Alps where Germans penetrate, but English are rarely seen. Here the traveller, without doubt, may reckon upon good quarters, excellent food, civil innkeepers, and trustworthy guides. The Brenner Railway (which has absolutely spoilt and disfigured a historic pass into Italy) gives easy access from every part of Europe, and when we have availed ourselves of its services, we can forget its existence and leave it behind as soon as possible. In the Alm where railways end diligences generally begin, and carriages may everywhere be found where diligences stop and the roads are yet fit for driving. The cost of travel will be somewhat higher and the pace much slower, but those who cry out against the Chamonix Railway will not be the persons to complain of this. There is, of course, one objection to ex- ploring the less-visited parts of the Alps, and that is the lad, ness of the inns. Those who have only visited Switzerland, which has earned for herself the offensive title of the "Play. ground of Europe," have little idea of what they may en. counter in the remoter Alpine valleys of France and Italy. The Latin races do not make the best innkeepers. But let the traveller have a little boldness, and next season when he plans his autumn journey to the Alps let him unroll the map of Central Europe, and turn to Mr. Murra,y's guide-books. Let him choose some places he has never heard of instead Chamonix and Zermatt. If the guide-book tells him the inns are good, he may rest assured he will not regret the change. Above all things, when he gets back to London in October be will have the great and undoubted satisfaction of telling his friends where be has been, and pitying them for not having done likewise.
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