The Alps were just there, out of my tiny window. The scene made me think of Frankenstein -I think it was the picture by David Caspar Friedrich that was on my copy's cover. This is the one!
''The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short windings, which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the mountain. It is a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived, where trees lie broken and strewed on the ground; some entirely destroyed, others bent, leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain, or transversely upon other trees. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of snow, down which stones continually roll from above; one of them is particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound, such as even speaking in a loud voice, produces a concussion of air sufficient to draw destruction upon the head of the speaker. The pines are not tall or luxuriant, but they are sombre, and add an air of severity to the scene. I looked on the valley beneath; vast mists were rising from the rivers which ran through it, and curling in thick wreaths around the opposite mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds, while rain poured from the dark sky, and added to the melancholy impression I received from the objects around me. Alas! why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.''
Keats and Shelley lived in Rome, in fact Keats died there. I think Mary Shelley lived there too-though I am not sure. I bet she would have loved the view of the mountains from above!
I will draw a name for the London book tomorrow. Hope all is well with everyone. I hope to catch up tomorrow too.
'' Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog'' by Caspar David Friedrich.