est degree of
satisfaction. The coast of Savoy, immediately opposite the town, is a
range of magnificent rocks, that rises some four or five thousand feet
above the surface of the water. In general these precipices are nearly
perpendicular, though their surfaces are broken by huge ravines, that
may well be termed valleys. This is the region that impends over
Meillerie, St. Gingoulph, and Evian, towns or hamlets that cling to the
bases of the mountains, and form, of themselves, beautiful objects, from
this side of the lake. The distance from Vevey to the opposite shore,
agreeably to the authority of old John, our boatman, is about five
miles, though the great purity of the atmosphere and the height of the
land make it appear less. The summit of the rocks of Savoy are broken
into the most fantastical forms, so beautifully and evenly drawn, though
they are quite irregular and without design, that I have termed them
natural arabesques. No description can give you an accurate idea of
their beauty, for I know nothing else in nature to compare them to. As
they lie nearly south of us, I cannot account for the unusual glow of
the atmosphere behind them, at every clear sunset, except from the
reflection of the glaciers; Mont Blanc lying in that direction, at the
distance of about fifty miles, though invisible. Now the effect of the
outline of these rocks, at, or after sunset, relieved by a soft, golden
sky, is not only one of the finest sights of Switzerland, but, in its
way, is just the most perfect spectacle I have ever beheld. It is not so
apt to extort sudden admiration, as the rosy tints and spectral hues of
the high Alps, at the same hour; but it wins on you, in the way the
lonely shadows of the Apennines grow on the affections, and, so far from
tiring or becoming satisfied with their view, each successive evening
brings greater delight than the last. You may get some idea of what I
mean, by imagining vast arabesques, rounded and drawn in a way that no
art can equal, standing out huge, and dark, and grand, in high relief,
blending sublimity with a bewitching softness, against a sky. whose
light is slowly passing from the glow of fiery gold, to the mildest
tints of evening. I scarcely know when this scene is most to be admired;
when the rocks appear distinct and brown, showing their material, and
the sky is burnished; or when the first are nearly black masses, on
whose surfaces nothing is visible, and the void beyond is just p