First Impressions on a Tour upon the Continent

"Deo erexit Voltaire!"

There is a pretty copse or bosquet, at the end of his garden, in which the present proprietor has erected two paltry monuments, to the memory of Voltaire and his cotemporary Rousseau. I cannot wonder at the dislike which subsisted between them, since the latter was such a warm admirer, and the former so declared an enemy, of overstrained sentiment and sickly sensibility. However, they neither of them did justice to the real merits of each other; and proved individually how strong is the force of prejudice, in blinding the judgment even of the cleverest men.

The village of Ferney was by far the prettiest we had seen since we left our own country; the houses all had an air of neatness and comfort dear to an English eye, and nothing could be more gay and cheerful than their little gardens and orchards; in the former, flowers and vegetables flourished promiscuously, and in great luxuriance, and the latter were glowing with a profusion of rosy apples. We observed a species of this fruit among them, which we did not remember ever to have seen in any other country; it was quite white, and full of a sweet and spirited juice.

From hence, we drove to call upon Sir F. d'I., who is a native of Switzerland, conseiller d'etat at Geneva, and well known in England as the intelligent author of several political works. We were much charmed by the graceful politeness and hospitable frankness with which both himself and Madame d'I. received us. We had been provided with letters of introduction to them, by friends in England, and Sir F. was personally acquainted with Mr. W. He shewed us the grounds of his truly beautiful little villa, which, from being laid out under his own eye, in the English taste, bore a peculiar character of grace and cultivated refinement. I must say that our method of adorning shrubberies, lawns, gardens, &c. appeared in a very superior point of view, when compared with that of other countries. The prospect from the drawing-room windows, of the blue waters of the majestic lake, with Mont Blanc, surrounded by his attendant chain of humbler mountains, was grand beyond all idea! in short, this abode was far more like Paradise than any dwelling upon earth. Sir F. was in momentary expectation of the arrival of the Duke of Gloucester, (then visiting Geneva, &c.) and who was desirous of viewing this enchanting epitome of perfection, before he left the neighbourhood.

We returned to our inn, and my companions, leaving me under the guard of our Swiss, immediately set off upon a three days' journey to Chamouni, Mont Blanc, the Mer de Glace, &c. I found it neither prudent nor reasonable to attempt joining them in this expedition, as the cold and fatigue inseparable from it would have been too much for my strength. I expected to have been quite solitary until their return, but was agreeably disappointed; my new friends (whose polite attention to all who bear the name of English is well known), being kind enough to engage my whole time in such a manner as completely to banish ennui. Sir F., who passed many years of his life in our country, respected for his integrity and abilities, and rewarded by the esteem of Majesty, has returned to his native land (now restored to its independence), in the bosom of which he enjoys the high consideration of its most distinguished members, among whom he is noted for liberality of sentiment and a singular proportion of domestic felicity. We were told that the people of and near Geneva are remarkable for honesty, and we found no reason to doubt the accuracy of this information. We heard also that the servants, as well as country people, were faithful and harmless, and that such an offence as housebreaking, or breach of trust in pilfering personal property, was unknown: that every family in these environs went to bed without closing a shutter, and might safely leave cabinets and drawers unlocked, during any absence from home. There were twelve or more physicians in Geneva, eight out of the number having studied and taken their degrees at Edinburgh; they are all accounted clever in their profession. The apothecaries here are not allowed to practise as amongst us; they are entirely restricted to the preparation of medicines, have a thorough knowledge of the properties of drugs (which here are of the purest and finest quality always), are good chemists and botanists, and in other respects well educated men. This is a high advantage to invalids. While I was in the boutique of a little jeweller, the Princess Bariatinski came in, with one of her female attendants. She appeared a graceful unaffected young woman, was drest with extreme simplicity, and addressed herself to the persons who waited upon her with great affability, and a benevolent wish of sparing them all unnecessary trouble. She is the second wife of the prince. In the course of the day I drove about the environs in a caleche, and returned the visits of several ladies, for whom we had letters from their friends in England. Madame C. was fortunately at home, and I was much pleased by her polite reception, and also by the sweet countenance and madonna features of her grandaughter, Madame P. Their house is upon the brow of a hill, commanding the most extensive and lovely prospect; but what place is not lovely in this part of the world? I never could have imagined so delicious a sejour as the neighbourhood of Geneva affords, had I not seen and enjoyed it myself. In the grounds of Mons. de C. a singular natural phenomenon, takes place; I mean the confluence of the Rhone and the Arve. They meet here, yet without mingling their currents; the clear blue pure waters of the former being scrupulously distinct from the thick turbid stream of the latter. Destiny has compelled them to run the same course, but the laws of sympathy (more powerful still) seem for ever to prevent them from assimilating. How frequently is this the case with mankind! no ties of affinity can cause two dispositions to unite and flow on together in a tranquil or felicitous course, where nature has placed a marked opposition of sentiment and character. Those moralists who endeavour, from motives of mistaken principle, violently to force this native bent, do but ensure themselves the mortifying fate of Sisyphus.

I returned to dinner at l'hotel des Balances, intending to accept Madame C.'s polite invitation to take tea with her, at eight o'clock; but first I accompanied Sir F. and Madame d'I. in a promenade round the environs, in a little open carriage called a char: I found this a very social although somewhat rough conveyance, and it was so near the ground as to allow females to alight from or ascend it without assistance, and with perfect safety. Our drive was charming: they pointed out many glorious prospects to my observation, and I accompanied them to the campagne (or country house) of Monsieur A., who possesses one of the most elegant places in that neighbourhood. Monsieur A. is an uncle of Madame d'I.'s. We met him at the entrance of his grounds, driving in a low phaeton. It was a novelty to a curious contemplative English traveller, like myself, to observe the manners here of near relations towards each other. Monsieur A. took off his hat, and remained uncovered the whole of the time during his conversation with his niece; and, upon taking leave, the expressions of "Adieu, mon oncle!" – "Adieu, ma chere nièce!" with another mutual bow, conveyed an idea of mixed cordiality and ceremony, which was far from unpleasing. I have often thought that family intercourse among us in England is too frequently carried on in a very mistaken and (as it relates to eventual consequences) a very fatal manner. How many people think that it is needless to maintain a constant habit of good-breeding and politeness in their conduct towards immediate relations, and that the nearness of connexion gives them the liberty of wounding their self-love, and of venting unpleasant truths in the most coarse and unfeeling manner; and all this under the pretence of sincere and unrestrained friendship! How entirely do such persons forget that admirable Christian precept, "Be ye courteous one to another!"

We found Madame and Mademoiselle A. at home: the former is somewhat advanced in years; she has frequently been in England, and both of them speak our language fluently. The conversation this evening, however, was wholly carried on in French, which was an advantage to me, as it gave me an additional opportunity of conquering a ridiculous degree of awkward shyness in speaking the latter, which is a complete bar to improvement, and yet is often dignified amongst very good sort of people in our country by the name of amiablemodesty. These ladies were highly well-bred and agreeable; they knew several of my friends, the L. family in particular: Madame A. perfectly recollected the late Mr. L. many years since, at the time he was living at Geneva, and spoke of his virtues, his distinguished and noble manners, his various talents, and taste for the fine arts, in a way that brought tears of pleased remembrance into my eyes: indeed no one, who had (like myself) the honour and happiness of being intimate with this excellent and lamented man, can ever, I should think, forget him, and I shall always feel it as a source of great and flattering gratification, that I once was a favourite, and I may say, an elève, of so venerable and superior a character.

Mademoiselle A. shewed me some exquisitely fine casts from the antique, and copies of paintings (the originals of which are now in the Louvre at Paris), which formed the chief decorations of a charming saloon here, floored with walnut in so elaborate and elegant a manner, that it almost rivalled a tessellated pavement. The house and grounds altogether are delightful, and the latter reminded me of an English park. We enjoyed a promenade under some noble trees in front of the former, and then returned to take our tea, when we entered upon a very animated and (to me) a most interesting conversation upon Voltaire. Madame A. observed, that it was always a treat to her to hear the original remarks of persons who (judging for themselves) perused his works for the first time. I was sorry when the moment for taking leave arrived, and could have passed the whole of the evening here with much satisfaction. Sir F. and Madame d'I. had the goodness to deposit me safely at the hotel of Madame C., and made me promise to spend the next day with them at their lovely campagne. I found a very agreeable and intellectual society assembled at Madame C.'s. Among them were Monsieur and Madame de Saussure. He is a relation of the celebrated philosopher, who was one of the first persons who ascended to the top of Mont Blanc, many years since, and whose observations taken there have been published. Madame P. (who is very young, and almost a bride) sang like an angel: her husband also possesses no inconsiderable vocal talent, and they gave us several duets of Blangini's, which happened to be my own peculiar favourites. Le Baron de M. an intelligent gentlemanly man (a native of the Pays du Valais, I believe), and who has travelled a great deal in Italy, seemed perfectly to feel and appreciate the superior merits of the Italian school of harmony, which surprised me at first, as I had taken him for a Frenchman, and knew how rarely pure taste of that sort was to be expected from his nation. He had the politeness to conduct me home at night, and left me at the door of my apartments, with many profound bows, en preux chevalier!

The next morning, presque a mon réveil, I received a long visit from Madame P. and I afterwards drove to Sir F.'s, where I dined, and passed a very happy day. I met there the children of Count S. (minister for Russia at the approaching congress at Aix la Chapelle), and their gouvernante. These two little countesses (for so they were always called), of eight and ten years of age, and their brother, a very fine boy of five or six, ran about amid the flowers and shrubs, much at their ease, and seemed to look upon Sir F. as a father. Indeed, he had, in a manner, the charge of them at this time. In the evening I accompanied my kind hosts to the house of another very pleasant family, which was also built in a spot that commanded a superb and romantic view, where we met a very large party, among which were several English. Some of the company were in full dress, having called to take tea, in their way to a grand ball, which was given that night by our countrymen to the inhabitants of Geneva, and the latter were to return the compliment in a similar manner in the space of a few days. I was invited by several of the Genevese families, to attend this ball; but declined doing so, for various reasons. This was not the only amusement at that time anticipated; they were preparing to attend a very pretty, and I may say, chivalrous sort of fête (an alfresco breakfast), upon the borders of the lake, given to the ladies by a party of gentlemen, who were called les chevaliers du lac. The day which the gallant entertainers had long destined for this gay banquet was unfortunately early overcast by lowering and envious clouds, which, before the company had been assembled half an hour, broke over their heads in torrents of rain. We had thus an opportunity of observing, that England was not the only country where the caprices of climate render fêtes champêtres rather hazardous. The costume of the rest of the ladies was very simple, being exactly that of the French, when not bien paré, and much resembling what we wear as a morning dress, all having their gowns made high in the neck, with long sleeves, and many of them wearing large bonnets. The profusion of rich needlework in petticoats, ruffs, &c. was, however, very remarkable.

The tone of general conversation here was easy, animated, lively, and full of benevolently polite attention to the feelings of each other. In short, it was conversation; of which we do not always understand the right meaning, or enter into the true spirit, in the circles of England, whatever is the reason. We had a discussion upon the drama, and the present state of the Italian opera, both with us and upon the continent. Those who had been in England praised Miss O'Neill very rapturously, but Kean did not appear to have struck them so forcibly as I thought his merits deserved. I was asked (as the conversation turned upon the marked taste for classical and studied tragic acting upon the French stage), whether I thought Miss O'Neill or Mrs. Siddons (in her day) would have been most applauded and understood by a Parisian audience? I had no hesitation in replying that I thought the latter would have been more to their taste, as her style was rather the perfection of art than the wild and spontaneous effect of nature. They all agreed in this opinion, and seemed to prefer Miss O'Neill to her dignified and splendid rival: those who consider acting as a science, however, will not coincide with them.

At about eight o'clock we adjourned to another apartment, where tea was served: the table was very long, and covered with a cloth, round which the company seated themselves as if at dinner. The lady of the house made tea herself, and the servants waited behind her chair, to hand it about; her situation was no sinecure: There was a profusion of cakes, brioches, and fine fruit. This is always the custom at Geneva, where, as people dine at three o'clock, they of course are ready to make a sort of supper at tea-time. I never beheld any thing so resplendently beautiful as the moon during my drive home: I saw it rise like a globe of fire from behind the mountains, and throw a long track of glittering brightness upon the calm bosom of the lake. The effect was lovely, and the sky appeared to me to be of a far deeper and more decided blue colour than with us. I ought not to omit the mention of a very singular and striking phenomenon (if I may so call it), which I had likewise this day witnessed at Sir F.'s: I mean the influence of the setting sun upon the glaciers. They first, as the orb declined, assumed a yellow tint, then gradually warmed into pink, and kindled at length into a glow of rich crimson, of indescribable beauty. Mont Blanc's three fantastic peaks received it last of all, and immediately afterwards the whole snowy chain of mountains rapidly faded into their original hue of spotless (or, as my friend Mr. T. fancifully calls it, ghostly) white. Upon my return to the hotel, I had the unexpected pleasure of finding Mr. Baillie and Mr. W. safely arrived from their expedition to Chamouni. The following is the former's account to me of the incidents of their journey.

"As we could only allow ourselves two entire days in which to perform our journey to Chamouni, it was quite necessary that we should make the most of our time; the distance (if I recollect right) being from fifteen to eighteen leagues from Geneva. We started from thence at about five o'clock in the afternoon, on the 13th of September, and slept that night at Bonneville, a small town about fifteen miles on our route. There was nothing particularly worthy of remark thus far, except the magnificently beautiful tints of the setting sun upon the Mole and adjacent mountains, which we enjoyed in great perfection. The next morning we proceeded through the small town of Kluse to St. Martin, where we breakfasted, and hired mules for the remainder of our journey, the road being impassable for any carriages except those of the country, called char-a-bancs, which are the most uncomfortable conveyances that can be imagined, being built without springs.

"We passed this day two very beautiful waterfalls; but as you have already seen the P. V. (which is superior to both), I need not trouble you with an account of them. The aubergiste at St. Martin was philosopher enough to have a cabinet of the natural curiosities of the country, upon which he set no small value; his prices for the minerals, &c. being absurdly high. The prospect became far more interesting as we advanced towards the base of that hoary mountain, whose summit we had distinctly seen at a hundred and fifty miles distance, some few weeks since. We observed and admired a singular piece of water, in whose transparent bosom Mont Blanc was clearly reflected. This was the Lac de Chede, and though very small, is interesting, from its retired and solitary situation. It is infested by serpents, but I could not learn that they were venomous.

"The valley of Servoz, into which we afterwards entered, and which joins the vale of Chamouni, is romantic beyond any thing I have ever beheld. The road (cut out of the mountain's side) is in many places rough, and somewhat dangerous, a very abrupt precipice being on one hand, and the river Arve rolling below, whose waters are of great depth. I confess that I was a little disappointed with the first view of these glaciers (Note H (#note_H).), perhaps, as the imagination has no bounds, from having previously formed too magnificent an idea of them. They are situated in the valley, at the foot of the mountain, and are formed by the frozen snow, or rather snow-water. Their shape is irregularly pyramidical, and their colour a very light blue.

"The Mer de Glace, which is the object most worthy of notice in this valley, is a glacier of giant size, the pyramids of ice being in some places of prodigious altitude, and the chasms proportionably deep. From this place the Arve takes its source. It is quite impossible for me to give you an adequate idea of this stupendous sea of ice, so called from its constant, although imperceptible, movement towards the valley, the entrance of which, it is generally expected, it will in time effectually block up. We witnessed one or two avalanches, which our guide told us were inconsiderable; their noise, however, made the valley roar.

"Our trusty mules deserve mention. We really thought we could not too much admire them; although we had been prepared to find them sure-footed and steady, we had no conception that they could possibly have led us with such perfect safety through such rugged and dangerous passes; the more particularly as we had no reason to reckon upon their complaisance, having urged them to a pace to which they were quite unaccustomed, from our desire of visiting the Mer de Glace the first day.

"The inn at Chamouni was clean and comfortable, and upon a far superior scale of accommodation than could have been supposed in so forlorn a situation. The Duke of G. arrived during the evening, and consequently must have travelled through Servoz when it was dark, thereby losing all the beauties of that wonderful scene. We set off the next morning very early, upon our return. It was a severe frost, the ground quite white with the hoary particles, and the weather feeling colder than I ever remember to have experienced, although the season was but little advanced; so much so, that my companion had to walk at a great pace for a considerable distance, to preserve any degree of animal warmth. About the middle of our route we observed a monument, in the shape of a large mile-stone, which had been erected during the consulship of Bonaparte, to the memory of a young German philosopher, who was unfortunately lost, from the ignorance of his guide, while traversing these mountains. He fell into the crevice of a glacier, and was not discovered until some time afterwards, when it appeared his nails were worn off, and his fingers stripped to the bone, in his agonizing and desperate attempts to release himself from his horrible grave. The stone was erected (as it is stated in an inscription) first, as a warning to travellers in their choice of guides; secondly, to commemorate the loss of the unhappy youth; and, thirdly, to inform the world that France encourages science, even in her enemies.

"We found a variety of all the rarest Alpine plants and vegetables in this valley, and were assured that it contained also mines of gold, silver, and lead, (Note I (#note_I).) which the poverty of the state at present prevents being worked. We met at the little inn two Polish gentlemen, who had been making a pedestrian tour through Switzerland; one of them had a few days before ascended the highest mountain (next to Mont Blanc) in the neighbourhood: he was the friend and companion of an enterprising nobleman of the same nation, who some weeks since had gone up Mont Blanc, by a different route to that pursued by Monsieur de Saussure, who has written voluminously on the subject. The Pole had endured great difficulty and fatigue, and had been three days in completing his journey, having slept two nights upon the mountain: he was attended by about twenty guides, all of whom were tied together, as a precaution against any one of them falling into the chasms which are so frequently met with in the ascent. The summit was found to be considerably changed since it had last been visited. This stupendous mountain is 15000 feet above the level of the sea, and rises about 9000 from the valley of Chamouni. It is hardly necessary to tell you, that its brow is eternally crowned with frozen snow.

"Travellers who are in delicate health, or otherwise not strong, are by no means advised to undertake the journey from St. Martin to Chamouni on mules; especially if they are pressed for time, as that method of conveyance is both fatiguing and dilatory. They will find the guides of the inn particularly intelligent and conversible, possessing a knowledge of the mineral and vegetable kingdoms that is quite extraordinary in men of their situation and rank in life. They are employed during the winter months in chamois hunting, and other dangerous and hardy exercises, and are frequently detained (as they told me themselves) by the snow, for weeks together, in the cheerless shelter of the most wretched chalets."

The next day we devoted to the purchase of some of the curiosities for which this place is celebrated (Note J (#note_J).), and to taking leave of our friends, who had shewn us so much attention: we also visited the street in which Rousseau was born, and which is called after his name, the Rue de Jean Jacques Rousseau. We took leave of Sir F. and Madame d'I. with a degree of regret that was only softened by the hope of seeing them in England ere many ages should elapse. I believe I have not yet mentioned their children; a fine boy and a very promising little girl, both extremely young, and in whose welfare and happiness the parents seemed to be completely wrapped up. Yet Sir F. did not appear to have spoiled them by injudicious indulgence; on the contrary, he expressed his conviction of the necessity and importance of early moral restraint, and I had one accidental opportunity of witnessing that his practice perfectly harmonized with his theory: this desirable union does not always take place, even among parents who pride themselves upon a superior system of education.

On September 17th, we bade adieu to this delightful neighbourhood, and proceeded upon our route to Lausanne. We continued for a great length of way to wind along the borders of the lake, which sparkled like a diamond in the morning sun, and whose extensive surface was slightly rippled by a fresh and animating breeze from the mountains. With respect to the extraordinary exhilaration of mountain air, which first struck me in crossing Mont Cenis, and has been confirmed by subsequent experience, I had heard and read a thousand times of its effect; but a truth, when personally proved for the first time, always seems like a discovery, rather than a sober confirmation of the words of other people. This pure atmosphere appears to me the finest remedy possible for every sort of nervous indisposition. It would even lighten (I should think) the heavy pressure of real affliction, acting as a perfect cordial to the spirits, as well as a tonic to the body – but Rousseau has expressed this opinion so admirably in the first volume of his Nouvelle Heloise, that while I recal his magical description, any other seems powerless and inadequate. (Note K (#note_K)).

We now passed though the village of Coppet. Necker's house is still shewn here, to which he retired upon being denounced by the French government as an enemy to his country, and where the adversity of this great and amiable character was soothed by the presence of his equally celebrated daughter, Madame de Stael. I feel an involuntary sensation of attendrissement, whenever I think of the singular degree of affection that subsisted between this venerable parent and his daughter, and which breathes so touchingly in every line of her Memoires de la Vie privée de Monsieur Necker, lately published in our own country. An affection so highly wrought, as to bear rather the character of passion, and which has therefore been objected to, by many people, as overstrained and unnatural. But let it be remembered that the great virtues, the attractive gentleness, the grand and expansive mind, and superior talents of Necker, were (in her eyes) unique, and might therefore well have the effect of creating a more than ordinary portion of admiration, respect, and love: nor, in judging of Madame de Stael, should it ever be forgotten, that her extraordinary depth of feeling, and her native enthusiasm of disposition, rendered it impossible for her to experience sensations of any sort, in a mediocre degree, or even in that rationally moderated force, which can alone secure the possession of real happiness. This peculiarity of feeling, which unfortunately induced some errors in her conduct, has been admirably commented upon, by the Edinburgh Review, in its critique upon her works in general. It explains and apologizes, I think, for those wildly warm expressions in which she has indulged, when speaking of Necker's character, and which might perhaps sound strange, if uttered by a less energetic personage, or if applied to those sort of parents who are usually met with in common life. The woman who has been allowed by the general voice of her cotemporary judges to be "the greatest writer of a female, that any age, or any country, has produced;" (nay even by one distinguished genius[8 - Lord Byron.] has been called "the most powerful author, whether man or woman, of her day;") has surely a high claim upon the forbearance of all who have been charmed by her transcendent talents. At the same time, let me not be mistaken, as to my own particular sentiments upon the subject; for I have no hesitation in avowing, that as a general principle, I extremely disapprove of the admission of what is termed passion into the filial affections, and vice versa. I believe it to answer no wise or rational end, but to be, on the contrary, in nine cases out of ten, a fruitful source of disquietude and disappointment.

I fear my earnestness in the cause of a writer whose abilities I so greatly admire, has led me into a dissertation which may prove tedious to some of my readers. —Revenons à nos moutons. The country, the whole of the way to Lausanne, is one continued scene of beauty; and the pastoral air of the verdant meadows, the rich cultivation of the hills (sprinkled with the prettiest little hamlets), the appearance of comfort and neatness in the cottages (each with a garden and orchard), and the grandeur of the lake and mountains beyond, altogether formed a scene of peace, loveliness and delight, that is far more easily imagined than described. Were it possible for me to forget the charms of my dear native land, it is here that I could happily live, and tranquilly die. Not that it possesses the Armida-like fascination of the shores of the Lago Maggiore in Italy, or the high romance of parts of Savoy: the imagination here is less excited, but the heart is more interested. I turned from one to the other, with the kind of sensation which the mind experiences, when comparing a brilliantly beautiful and accomplished, a highly enchanting and charming acquaintance, with a tender, cheerful, and amiable friend.

We stopped to take breakfast at Rolle, a neat little town, where at the humble inn (la Couronne) we hailed with great satisfaction the comforts of cleanliness and domestic order, so totally unknown to the natives of the other countries through which we had passed.

Morges; a remarkably pretty town. In this neighbourhood there were many vineyards, which yielded the fruit of which the wine called vin de cote is made. The lake became much narrower here, and the mountains upon the opposite side seemed to rise abruptly from the water. Their dark purple hue contrasted finely with the light aqua-marine tint of the latter, and the fresh verdure of the banks, where the peasants were mowing their second crop of hay. The beauty of some of the cottages also struck us with admiration, but we observed as yet no particular costume.

We arrived at Lausanne to dinner. The entrance was cheerful and pretty, and the town itself is clean and gay, built upon the side of a very steep hill; the grand street forming as precipitous an ascent as that of Lansdown in Bath. We found all the inns full, therefore took lodgings at a charming house upon a hill overhanging the lake, (the view of the Chateau de Chillon and mountains, in the distance) and to which there was a garden and terrace, ornamented with green-house plants and flowers. We could hardly have desired une plus jolie campagne even for our own permanent residence and property. The restaurateur (who was an appendage to this establishment, and lived in part of the house) was a civil bustling personage, who extremely loved to hear himself talk: he told us that these lodgings ought to stand high in reputation, for they had been occupied successively by les plus grands seigneurs, who had all expressed themselves greatly pleased with their accommodations; a fair hint this, how we were expected to behave. We found, however, upon parting, that the hostess had overcharged us for these wonderful accommodations in a very preposterous manner, and she was so conscious of it, that she consented without much difficulty to take off part of her bill, and to allow us to pay for her apartments in French money, instead of the Swiss, which makes a very material difference. We breakfasted the next morning upon honeycomb from the mountains; I believe I have mentioned this before. It is a very common article for breakfast in Switzerland, and always brings an agreeable association of ideas to my mind. I ought perhaps to have made earlier mention of the great opportunity afforded to the traveller of leisurely surveying and enjoying the beauties of scenery, from the circumstance of his not being able to travel post through Switzerland: the system of voituring is, however, rather tedious, and very expensive.

The environs of Lausanne are almost equally attractive with those of Geneva, but the latter were impressed upon my memory in such bright and bewitching colours, that I could never think any other part of Switzerland quite so delightful.

We quitted Lausanne, Sept. 19, for Berne. Our road still led us through beauties innumerable. On the right was the lake, once more expanded into a breadth like the ocean, bounded, as usual, by mountains. On the left were vineyards, gardens, and hamlets. The grape ripens later here than in France, but is equally luxuriant and delicious in flavour. We frequently passed so near the glowing clusters of this tempting fruit, that we might easily have gathered as many as we chose from the windows of the carriage. There was a wonderfully fine growth of walnut trees also, stretching their long branches for many yards over the water. They are in such quantities that oil is made from the nut, for purposes of the commonest use.

We again saw part of the romantic rocks of Meillerie, so celebrated by Rousseau. We had been reading his Nouvelle Heloise for the last few days (as we were passing through the same scenes which are so beautifully depicted there), and felt as if these rocks were our old acquaintance. I always feel, in reading his works, ready to exclaim,

"I love thee, and hate thee!"

A literary friend (in a long conversation which we had upon the subject of this author) thought better of his Julie (as a single woman) than I did, or ever can; but we perfectly agreed in admiration of her conduct as a wife and mother, mistress of a family, &c. The lessons of morality (which she there exhibits) are beyond every thing beautiful and impressive; but I never can forgive the disingenuousness of her conduct in consenting to marry Monsieur de Wolmar, without having previously told him her past story. All the reasonings, the arguments, the chain of entangling circumstances, which Rousseau has contrived to justify her for not doing so, I think false, perverted, and totally unsatisfactory.

The costume of the peasants in this neighbourhood is not at all remarkable, except for their straw hats, which are universally of the gipsy shape, with a very high crown, ending in a point like a Chinese pagoda, or the top of a parasol. We took a dejeuné at Vevay, and went in a boat upon the lake, to view the Chateau de Chillon somewhat nearer than we had hitherto been able to do. The beauty of Lord Byron's affecting Tale of its Prisoner returned strongly upon my imagination. I certainly prefer his picture of Captivity to that of Sterne in the Sentimental Journey. It appears to me to be equally touching, and far more sublime. One or two of the minor incidents may probably have been founded upon the legends of the Bastile; but Byron's powerful genius stamps every line with the character of originality.

A few miles beyond Vevay the country assumed all the refined and cultivated beauties of an English park. Here (near a miniature lake) softly swelling hills of velvet turf, ornamented with the rich and feathery foliage of the beech, rose gently upon the admiring eye. There vast plantations of aspiring firs expanded their screen of darker green. Close to the road were meadows enamelled with the lilac crocus, and various wild flowers, fringed by hedges, where the white convolvulus and scarlet hawthorn berry mingled gaily with the thick hazel and other native shrubs. A few ledges of rock now and then started from amid these mild beauties, as if to evince that we were still in the vicinity of wilder scenery. This change in the landscape was novel and delightful to us all. We had not seen any thing exactly in its style since leaving England, and I almost felt annoyed when a turning in the road displayed the snowy peaks of the eternal glaciers towering, as usual, in the distance. Forgive this honest confession, ye exclusive lovers of the sublime, and recollect, that the eye as well as the mind becomes fatigued by being kept too long upon the stretch.

Stopping at a little post-house, between Vevay and Moudon, we were surprised to see a large coarse loaf of bread brought out (instead of hay) for the refreshment of the horses. They eat it in slices, and appeared to relish this sophisticated food not a little. One of the animals, however, would not take the crust in his mouth, tossing it away in the most ridiculously disdainful manner, when he had carefully devoured all the crumb, and it was not until he had received two or three good cuffs on the ears from his driver that he condescended to swallow it.

We met several prettyish women in the course of this day's journey; but the style of their beauty did not please us so much as that of France and Italy. It was mild without being soft, and fresh without being brilliant: they were, in short, neither jolie ni belle; neither had they la grace plus belle encore que la beauté; but formed a class apart, which I cannot exactly define, but which certainly I did not like.

Dined and slept at Moudon (inn, au Cerf), where we experienced the comforts of warmth, cleanliness, and good beds; no bad things after a long and cold journey. We were waited upon by a lively natural young creature, of the name of Josephine, who, together with several other girls, was staying at this inn, to learn the French language from the occasional guests. They were all of them German Swiss. We astonished them very much, by exhibiting a couple of musical snuff-boxes, which we had bought when at Geneva. The girls had never seen any thing of the kind, and were never tired of listening to them. We left Moudon the next morning at six o'clock: the country still continued to charm us with a pleasing succession of woods, mossy banks, and rich valleys, watered by little serpentine silver brooks, softly flowing through green meadows. We were still in the Pays du Vaud. Our servant Christian's national enthusiasm burst forth at every step. Our friend, who frequently took a share of his seat behind the carriage, amused us extremely with an account of his transports. "Ah! there are de cows with bells round their necks! How I love those bells! There be de neat cottages, all of wood: dey builds very pretty ones always in my country." At Lausanne (where he had been at school) it was nothing but "shaking hands," and "greetings in the market-place." – "There is a friend of mine! I know dat man! There lives such a one, a very honest person!" In short, the poor fellow was in a state of continual ecstasy, and carried it so far as to think the very stones in the road were more than commonly valuable and beautiful; for, knowing Mr. W. to have made a small collection of spars and fossils, &c. he drew his attention frequently, upon entering Switzerland, to the pebbles by the wayside, calling out every now and then, "There be a pretty stone now, Mr. V.! Very pretty stones all in my country!" A lady at Geneva, in describing the peculiar attachment of the Swiss to their native land, told me that her brother, upon being exiled to England for pecuniary reasons, actually died of the true maladie du pays, pining gradually away in hopeless longings after the dear scenes amid which his youth had been passed. We now entered the grandest and most luxuriant beech woods I ever beheld. I never had seen such magnificent trees, except in some parts of Norbury park, in Surrey; indeed the whole view strongly reminded me of that exquisite spot, and brought a thousand agreeable recollections and associations to my mind. Wherefore is it that the imagination feels a charm and a repose so delightful amid scenes of this nature? My own peculiar feeling is now confirmed by long experience, and I can consequently assert, with renewed confidence, that wood, assisted by a judicious inequality of ground, forms by far the most satisfactory and soothing feature in a landscape. A visit to mountains, glaciers, lakes, waterfalls, and impetuous floods, gives great and animating sensations, but a constant residence among them I should never desire; though I have no doubt but that a Highlander or a Swiss mountaineer would extremely despise me for the homeliness of my taste.

Payerne, a small town. The women here amazed us by their superb chevelures. We saw three in particular, who wore their hair (of a dark yet golden brown colour) twisted round the head, in a large braid, beneath an enormous flat straw hat. If these braids had been dishevelled, I am certain the hair would have swept the ground, and the thickness of its growth was even yet more remarkable than its length. We were afterwards informed of a circumstance which explained this apparent phenomenon, as I shall presently take occasion to mention. There was a large stone fountain here (with a statue of some warrior, armed from head to heel), which appeared to form the only ornament of the place.

At Avenche we observed a very singular costume among the paysannes; in addition to the full shift sleeve and becoming chemisette, confined beneath the bosom by a coloured boddice, they wore a head-dress of black gauze, lace, or thin horse-hair, transparent as a cobweb, stiffened with fine wire, and standing out widely from the temples, in the most extraordinary manner, resembling some representations I have seen of the cobra capella, or hooded serpent, the wings of a Patagonian butterfly, or the sort of bat-winged cap, which Fuseli, in the extravagance of his wild imagination, has given to his pictures of Queen Mab. The coarse, tame, insipid style of feature which accompanied this attire, however, by no means suited its peculiar character. I looked in vain for the pale, delicate, oval visage, small red lip, and large gazelle sort of dark eye, with which it would have harmonized so exquisitely. This is the usual Bernoise costume.

The country here became much more open, and was enlivened by the glittering waters of the lake of Morat (Note L (#note_L)). In almost every house we passed, we remarked great quantities of green tobacco leaves, suspended from the projecting roofs, drying in the sun. On the borders of the lake of Morat was formerly a chapel, filled with the bones of the Bourguinons, who were killed in battle, in the year 1476, when Charles the Bold was defeated. It is now destroyed, but the bones are still left "bleaching in the wind." We got out of the carriage, and discovered among them some very large thigh bones, &c. The size of the warriors to whom they belonged must have been wondrous. A small rise, upon which we stood, was entirely formed of the bodies of the slain. The fragrant wild thyme and nodding hare-bell grew thickly upon the fatal spot; and I observed a tuft of the latter wreathing its azure flowers (as if in mockery) around the fragment of a mouldering skull!

There are several beautiful little maisons de campagne near this place, with their surrounding vineyards, gardens, orchards, and fountains. They were a good deal in the style of what we are used to call cottages ornées, so few of which we had hitherto seen upon the continent, notwithstanding the adoption of a foreign title. There were also many lovely dwellings belonging to the peasantry, built of tan-coloured wood (Note M (#note_M).), with stairs and galleries on the outside, and neatly thatched or tiled. The frontispiece to this little volume, which has been kindly presented to me by an elegant amateur artist, is a most correct representation of a Swiss cottage.

We were now in the canton of Berne: passing through another wood of beech, scarcely less beautiful than the former, the tremulous light, flitting capriciously across the leaf-strewn paths, and the soft chirping of the birds above our heads, again gave us exquisite pleasure. I say we; for my sensations were fully participated by my companions.

We now crossed the river Sarine, by means of a large wooden bridge, covered overhead like a penthouse, and entered the village of Guminen, sunk between bold and rocky hills, fringed with rich trees and underwood. The females in this part of Switzerland all appeared to possess a qualification which Shakespeare has pronounced (and with truth) to be "a marvellous excellent thing in woman." I allude to the soft musical tone of their voices in speaking: it was really remarkable, and we thought it almost made amends for the want of beauty. We dined at Guminen, in a cleanly little inn (l'Ours), where, on looking out at the window, we were struck by the sight of a Lucerne paysanne in full costume. She wore the usual tresses of braided hair hanging down at length behind, and the black gauze cap; but her boddice was remarkably curious, being of black velvet, richly embossed with lilac and black beads (the latter coming from Venice, and extremely small), in the manner of embroidery; indeed such quantities had been expended, that her bust looked as if in armour. This boddice was likewise ornamented with silver filigree buttons, and long silver chains, ending in large tassels of the same material, gilt. She had also a black velvet collar, studded with Venetian beads and coloured foil, and a worked linen chemisette and full shift sleeves, white as snow. This dress must have been very expensive for a woman in her rank of life; and upon inquiry we found that she was, in fact, the wife of a rich miller. We were not annoyed here, as in Italy and France, by the clamours of beggars; they very rarely made their appearance, and even when they did, were always modest and diffident. It gave us pleasure to pass through so large a tract of country without being able to discover any trace of abject poverty among the peasantry: they all wore an air of ease and content, and we found upon inquiry that they were in general enjoying the most comfortable and independent circumstances.

From a hill near Berne we first caught the distant harmony of a number of mellow-toned bells, which pastoral sounds, our Swiss informed us, were produced by the cattle (round whose necks the bells were suspended), and who were at that moment descending in large herds from the mountains, for the evening milking. At the same time we were struck by a glorious view of the Alps (Note N (#note_N).), their frozen peaks rosy from the reflection of departing light: one of the highest of them is called, from hence, Monte Rosa. I have never listened to church bells (when their clang has been mellowed by distance) without a feeling of melancholy; but these seemed to breathe of innocent joy, and to tell a tale of peace, happiness, comfort, and domestic delight. This, I know, must have proceeded in both cases from early associations, and in the latter from the influence of ideas connected with poetry. What an ever-springing source of exquisite enjoyment is that divine gift! A susceptibility of its powers is like a sixth sense, for which it becomes all who possess it to be truly grateful to the benevolent Donor.

We now entered Berne. This is a fine large town, with a remarkably handsome entrance. We obtained most excellent rooms, replete with every essential comfort, and furnished with taste, at our inn (au Faucon), which was spacious enough to be taken for some ancient castle, when the feudal lords lodged a hundred or two of retainers, besides guests, beneath their ample roof. It was built in the form of an oblong square, with three galleries, one above another (each of which had interminable passages connected with it, all leading to different suites of apartments), looking down upon an open court or area in the midst. In this court a little army of washerwomen were assembled (belonging, I believe, to the establishment), carrying on the process of purification with great activity (in tubs almost large enough for brewing vats), and with hot water, which is an unusual thing upon the continent. Apropos to cleanliness, we all made the same observation in passing through Switzerland, namely, that the inhabitants (more especially in the protestant cantons) seemed to understand the comfort inseparable from this virtue, and that they certainly practised it in a far higher degree than any people we had seen since leaving England. We have frequently met with better accommodations (because cleanliness has been scrupulously attended to) in the inferior inns of Switzerland than in the most superb hotels of Paris, Turin, Milan, &c. I am sorry to be obliged, however, to except those of Geneva, which are allowed by the inhabitants themselves to be all very dirty.

We walked about Berne the next morning, and gave audience to Christian's venerable father and to his sister, who came over from their farm in the neighbourhood to fetch him to spend a day with them. They had not met for some years; neither father nor daughter spoke a word of any language but German patois; the latter was drest in the complete Bernoise costume, even to the little bouquet of natural flowers in the bosom. I forget what great author it is who says that "a man who has left his native place for years is generally anxious to make some figure in it, upon his return," – this was truly exemplified in our servant, who, the morning after our arrival, burst upon his town's folk, in all the glory of the most dandy English dress, appearing far more smart than his master, and forming a curious contrast to the rustic figures of his humble yet picturesque-looking relations. We proceeded, after dinner, to view the bears, and stags, which have from time immemorial been kept in the deep fosse, which surrounds the town. There are tall fir-trees planted in this moat, for the bears to climb, and plenty of green cool turf for the refreshment of the stags. The animals are separated from each other, of course. The origin of this custom is singular. In ancient times, a rich seigneur of the country, and his sons, determined to found a town, which should transmit their memories to posterity, and should be called after the name of the first animal that they might happen to kill in a grand hunting-match, which they assembled for the purpose. This animal turned out to be a bear; accordingly the town was called Berne, and the stone image of the creature was erected at the gates – a custom which is continued to the present moment. When the founders died, they left a sum of money to be laid out for the sole benefit of this bear, which in process of time so greatly accumulated, as to form quite a little fortune; so that all the successive bears have been persons of property, and accustomed to the enjoyment of those agrèmens, which an easy income can alone secure. Bonaparte pounced upon the senior bruin (called Monsieur Martin), and carried off both himself and his money to Paris, where he now lives in high reputation, and equal splendor, at the bottom of a deep pit, in le Jardin des Plantes. The people of Berne have since obtained some other bears, which are the same that we now saw, and a proper sum for their support is awarded by the government, which also is increasing by occasional legacies from individuals.

We passed the evening in company with an Englishman (an old friend of my husband's), who had spent many years upon the continent, and who had made it one of his chief objects to visit and inspect the different prisons there. We were glad (as far as nationality was concerned) to hear that those of England are (comparatively speaking) carried on upon a system of benevolence superior to most others. This gentleman told us, that the prisons of Turin at this day, were a disgrace to humanity, being the most horrible dungeons that the imagination can picture. We saw several groups of the convicts at Berne, who wore an iron collar, and were chained by the leg, to a small light cart, which (like beasts of burden) they drew daily round the town, to collect and carry away the dirt of the streets. The prisoners of both sexes are also employed in sweeping the crossways, pavements, &c. and are drest in a peculiar uniform, their labour being proportioned to the degree of their guilt. All the culprits in the country, who are not condemned to death, are sent to Berne, and are employed in these and similar offices.

The cathedral did not appear to us worth visiting; our eyes had been satiated with buildings in this style, and after having seen the glories of the Duomo at Milan, we found all other cathedrals poor and uninteresting. Most of the shops here are built under stone arches, which renders them somewhat gloomy, but adds to their convenience in rainy weather. There are numerous stone fountains in all parts of the town, many of which have a martial figure on the top; we saw one, however, with a statue of Moses upon it, no inappropriate patron, as he could make the solid rock gush out with water. Over one of the principal gateways, we remarked a colossal image of Goliah, grim and gaunt enough to frighten all the naughty boys in the place.

Happening to mention the circumstance of the extraordinary growth of hair, among the women about Payerne, we were informed that it was almost all false. The paysannes have an ancient and invariable custom of mixing great quantities of borrowed tresses with their own, in order to form that singular braid round the head, which had so forcibly attracted our notice. I should imagine the toilette of these rural belles must be an operation of some skill, for the false is so very well mingled with the real hair, that it might defy the sharp eye of the most prying old spinster to detect the method in which it is done.

We saw several girls at Berne working upon cushions (something in the manner of lace-makers), under the piazzas; they were embroidering the collars and stomachers of the Bernoise paysannes, in small Venetian beads (called in England seed beads) of all colours, gold tinsel, foil, &c. upon a ground of black velvet. Their performance was really very neat and tasteful. The prince Leopold of Coburg was here, at the same time with ourselves, looking very melancholy, and almost continually alone: he was on a visit to his sister, the grand duchess Constantine, who resides in the neighbourhood. She is separated from her husband, who is brother to the emperor of Russia. They were married, I believe (in pursuance of one of those horrible schemes of state policy, where every better feeling of the heart is cruelly sacrificed and overborne), at the age of fourteen, and the subsequent catastrophe is not to be wondered at. Of the society at Berne we could not judge, as our stay did not exceed three days and a half, but our English friend (lately mentioned, and who had been a great deal amongst the best families there) mentioned it to be particularly agreeable. During the winter, there are concerts and balls, private parties, and a company of actors. The hospital is a fine establishment, with a garden full of choice flowers and shrubs, green-house plants, and a fountain, being sustained upon the most liberal plan; any poor person, passing through the town, may find food and lodging at the hospital for twenty-four hours, and is sent away at the expiration of that time with a donation of one franc (value, in English money, tenpence). There is also an asylum for foundlings, where the children are maintained till they attain the age of fifteen, and are then put out to service. It being one of the market days, we saw many different costumes (belonging to the various cantons) assembled. That of the women of Guggisberg is frightfully ugly; a napkin is folded flat across the forehead, and tied behind in a slouching manner; the dress is of black cotton, with a very long waist, and the petticoat does not reach to the knee; their legs are terribly thick, but luckily this circumstance is reckoned amongst themselves as a beauty, and to increase it, they wear four or five pair of stockings at a time. Mr. B. observed a Tyrolese peasant, with whose manly beauty and elegant costume he was much struck. I did not see him myself; they are generally fine figures, strong and athletic, yet extremely graceful, the dress being always particularly becoming and highly picturesque.

The women of Lucerne I have already described, in the specimen of the rich miller's wife that we saw at Guminen. Entering the shop of a famous picture-dealer here, he shewed us a collection of portraits, of the most celebrated rural belles of Switzerland, among which was that of the fair bateliere of the lake Brientz. I hoped to have beheld another "Ellen, Lady of the Lake," but was greatly disappointed, not being able to admire the character of her beauty, thinking it far too coarse; but those persons who have really seen her assured us her picture by no means did her justice. We were also shewn a set of coloured prints from the original drawings of a poor wretch of the name of Mind[9 - Some of the original productions of this person are in the possession of collectors in our own country.]; he died about two years ago, and his works are very much valued in this country, not only for their intrinsic merit, but as being the performance of a cretin, which means an idiot, afflicted with a goître. We were told by the picture-dealer, who had known him well, that this Mind was one of the most deformed and horrible objects of the sort, and was perfectly imbecile and stupid in every thing that did not immediately relate to his art. He had (like some idiots who have fallen under my own personal observation) a prodigiously retentive memory, from the impressions of which he alone was able to draw. If he met any group of men or animals in his daily rambles, he would instantly run home, lock himself up, and produce shortly afterwards the most spirited and accurate drawing of the objects which had thus fired his fancy. The high finish of his colouring, also, was equally remarkable with the boldness of his outline; he more particularly excelled in drawing cats, and had completed a voluminous collection of these animals, in all their stages of existence and habits of life; from which circumstance he has obtained the name of le Raffaelle des Chats. At a first view of his works, we were inclined to doubt the truth of his having been so complete an idiot in all respects which were unconnected with his art; but as vague arguments of conjecture and probability, cannot stand against the positive evidence of attested facts, of course we gave up our objections, and felt that to persevere in them would be obstinacy, rather than penetration. The history of this man would, I think, form an interesting subject of reflection to the philosopher and the physician, and I wish it were generally known and published. This evening we went to see the exhibition of Mr. Kœnig, an excellent landscape painter; it consisted of a set of transparent views (beautiful beyond any thing of the sort that we had ever previously beheld), taken from the most celebrated scenes in Switzerland; among them, we were most pleased with the chapel of William Tell (Note O (#note_O).) by moonlight, on the lake of Zug, and with a cottage (also by moonlight) on the lakes of Bienne and Thun. The wonderful degree of nature and truth which these paintings displayed, I shall hardly forget; indeed I cannot say too much in praise of them, and would advise every traveller who visits Berne to go and see this enchanting little spectacle: I will venture to say his expectations will be greatly exceeded.