former of these roads, as has
so often been mentioned in these pages, their destination being the
capital of Piedmont. The passage of the great St. Bernard, though so long
known by its ancient and hospitable convent, the most elevated habitation
in Europe, and in these later times so famous for the passage of a
conquering army is but a secondary alpine pass, considered in reference to
the grandeur of its scenery. The ascent, so inartificial even to this
hour, is loner and comparatively without danger, and in general it is
sufficiently direct, there being no very precipitous rise like those of
the Gemmi, the Grimsel, and various other passes in Switzerland and Italy,
except at the very neck, or col, of the mountain, where the rock is to be
literally climbed on the rude and broad steps that so frequently occur
among the paths of the Alps and the Apennines. The fatigue of this passage
comes, therefore, rather from its length, and the necessity of unremitted
diligence, than from any excessive labor demanded by the ascent; and the
reputation acquired by the great captain of our age, in leading an army
across its summit, has been obtained more by the military combinations of
which it formed the principal feature, the boldness of the conception, and
the secrecy and promptitude with which so extensive an operation was
effected, than by the physical difficulties that were overcome. In the
latter particular, the passage of St. Bernard, as this celebrated
coup-de-main is usually called, has frequently been outdone in our own
wilds; for armies have often traversed regions of broad streams, broken
mountains, and uninterrupted forests, for weeks at a time, in which the
mere bodily labor of any given number of days would be found to be greater
than that endured on this occasion by the followers of Napoleon. The
estimate we attach to every exploit is so dependent on the magnitude of
its results, that men rarely come to a perfectly impartial judgment on its
merits; the victory or defeat, however simple or bloodless, that shall
shake or assure the interests of civilized society, being always esteemed
by the world an event of greater importance, than the happiest
combinations of thought and valor that affect only the welfare of some
remote and unknown people. By the just consideration of this truth, we
come to understand the value of a nation's possessing confidence in
itself, extensive power, and a unity commensurate to its means; since
s