Chapter VII: Part 7

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). 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.), 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.), 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]; 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. Koenig, 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.) 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.

September 24th.--I must in justice recommend all our friends passing this way to take up their quarters _au Faucon_, as it is a most excellent house, and the mistress a very attentive sensible person.

I ought not to take leave of the place without also mentioning the _promenade_ upon the ramparts, and the glorious view of woods, hamlets, and glaciers to be seen from thence[10]. We were much amused in watching the sports of the youth of the town there, who have a green inclosure, where various games and exercises (resembling the ancient gymnastic) are carried on every evening, at a certain hour; they are admirably well calculated to cherish habits of activity and agility, and to promote both health and strength.

All the public offices here are served by persons who faithfully and zealously fulfil their functions, without emolument of any sort.

Marriages through Switzerland are much encouraged by some of their political institutions; in this canton, for instance, a bachelor cannot arrive at the honourable post of bailiff, or be admitted to the council, or become what they call a _seigneur_, which is an inferior office in the government; but at the same time so fearful are these governments of any circumstance that might in process of time by the accumulation of fortunes infringe upon their liberties, that marriages between cousins german are forbidden by law.

In the best statistic account of the population of this country taken from the public registers, it is estimated inclusive of the allied provinces at about two millions. The protestant cantons are found to be the most populous, as they are the most active, industrious, and commercial, but they are not always the richest.

The police is regulated with the most exemplary vigilance and good order; the canton is a protestant one.

Upon quitting Berne, we found the country a lovely repetition of rich waving woods (chiefly of beech and pine); the brilliant autumnal tints of the former trees glowing beneath the bright blue of a cheerful morning sky, and the aromatic perfume of the latter, scenting the freshness of the breeze. How weak and inadequate are words to express certain feelings of delight! How easy is it to mention woods and plains, rocks and lakes, and to expatiate upon the charm of each, in appropriate terms; yet how far are we all the time from conveying to the minds of our hearers or readers the sensation of enjoyment which thrilled through our own bosoms while actually beholding the scenes we attempt to describe.

We passed through several villages which appeared to be the favourite haunts of peace, health, and humble happiness. The parsonage-house in one of them was a charming picture of comfort, neatness, and picturesque taste; close to the cheerful little whitewashed church, it reared its grey venerable roof. The walls were covered by the spreading branches of a fruitful pear-tree, and the green latticed windows were shaded by a vine, which wreathed its graceful foliage, and hung in luxuriant clusters, likewise, over a small bower, or recess, adjoining the sitting-room, where I could imagine a simple primitive pastor and his happy family assembled together, enjoying the social evening meal. La Fontaine's lovely descriptions of such scenes and such beings, in his _Nouveau Tableau de Famille_, rushed upon my recollection, and I almost expected to see his sweet Augusta (in the days of her prime) come forth from the rustic porch, leaning on the arm of her valuable husband, and surrounded by their innocent and blooming race. When this same Augusta becomes a grandmother, I think La Fontaine has painted her too selfishly forgetful of the happiness of her youthful days, and of the feelings natural to girls at that age; it is not in character with the virtue and sentimental graces of her earlier years, and rather conduces to encourage in the bosom of the reader a sensation of indignant disgust at the rigid, frigid, and unamiable propensities sometimes found among the aged. This beautiful and affecting novel is so well known to all persons of good taste and discrimination, that my allusion to it will I hope be at once understood and forgiven. Beyond this neighbourhood, the country opened in the most striking manner, affording a fine and heart-cheering prospect of cultivated plains, fresh pastures, peaceful flocks and herds, walnut groves and thatched cottages; the latter looked at a distance like large beehives, and the inhabitants seemed to evince a similarity to the bees in their habits of brisk and lively industry. I can easily understand the pre-eminent attachment of the Swiss to their native land; they must indeed be senseless were they less alive to the charms of scenes like this.

We took an early dinner at Soleure (_note_ R.), or Solothurne. We were now in a catholic canton, and the difference of our accommodations at the inn (_la Couronne_) from those we had experienced in the protestant governments was very apparent, for once more dirt, in various shapes, made its unwelcome appearance. The houses were, some of them, painted gaudily on the whitewashed outsides, in the Italian manner, and the cathedral, of Grecian architecture, was full of paltry paintings. The costume of the townspeople was both tasteless and dirty; a white linen cap, with a border of muslin, half a yard in depth, flapping about in the most unbecoming way, increasing the general plainness of the women's features. Their persons, also, were awkward and ill made, particularly about the legs and feet. The place itself was full of bad smells, but situated in a picturesque part of the country. As we proceeded, we found the cottages decrease in beauty; nor did they exhibit the same degree of _aisance_ and comfort as those near Berne. The fields likewise partook of this spirit of decline, appearing less cultivated and productive. We could not help attributing this to the people having their time so perpetually broken in upon by the necessity of going to mass, and by the too frequent recurrence of _jours de fêtes_.

We passed a fine picturesque old castle upon the left, a few miles beyond Soleure, and arriving at Balstadt (a dirty-looking village), where we slept, found a most uncomfortable, slovenly inn, and bad attendance; and to heighten our miseries, our friend became so much worse, that we were obliged to send for what medical assistance the wretched place afforded. Accordingly there arrived the "village leech," who had much the air of a farrier, or cow-doctor, and who applied various nostrums without success. His unfortunate patient made a vigorous effort to shake him off the next morning, and we went on, hoping to get as far as Basle. We started with two horses and three mules, having to ascend a steep mountain immediately upon quitting Balstadt (or rather Ballstall, in modern orthography). The surrounding scenery was of a very different nature from that of the preceding day: the road (in some places nearly as perpendicular as any in the wild mountains of Savoy) led us through pale grey rocks, scooped occasionally into quarries, and fringed on one side by an infinite variety of young trees of every sort, and on the other by extensive woods of pine, whose shades formed a beautiful contrast to the brighter verdure of the velvet turf, from which they sprung. We observed (as usual) great numbers of wild barberry trees, and juniper bushes, while the purple heath-bell, waving her fairy cups amid the moss and thyme, upon every bank, gave a smiling character to the foreground.

Falkenstein Castle (a fantastic ruin, crowning the summit of a bold jutting mass of rock far above our heads) had a very imposing effect. The battled walls and narrow round towers were so much of the same colour as the mountain from which they rose, as scarcely to be distinguished from it at a distance. It reminded us strongly of some of Mrs. Radcliffe's descriptions, and our fancy easily peopled it with a terrific baron, a fair suffering heroine, a captive lover, and every other requisite _et cetera_ of romance. As we were now in _German_ Switzerland, such visions were not inappropriate, and my readers will pardon them accordingly. We saw another castle, also, further on, situated upon an eminence in the midst of magnificent woods of beech, and looking down upon a pretty hamlet of white cottages, each with its neat little _verger_ and _potager_, some of them shaded by vines, and almost all furnished with a range of beehives. The inhabitants were gathering the walnuts, apples, and plums, from their loaded trees, as we passed: a clear little wimpling stream ran through the village, and the spire of the church rose among rich tufted foliage in perspective. We began to suspect, from this appearance of comfort and neatness, that we were once more in the neighbourhood of a protestant government, which we found afterwards was really the case. The sweet stream I have just mentioned was so kind as to accompany us for a considerable way, pure, sparkling, and dashing its shallow waters over the yellow pebbles, with a rippling murmur that was delightfully soothing to the ear. The country again resumed the woody, cultivated appearance, which is so pleasing to behold, and gradually expanded into lovely meadows, which the little brook kept forever fresh and verdant.

We stopped at Liestall, where we found a cleaner town, a better inn, and a more prepossessing hostess than at Ballstall. The people manufacture gloves here: they were good, but very dear. It is not to be told how disagreeably the German language grated upon our ears in passing through these cantons; after the mellifluous harmony of the Italian, and even when compared with the French, it was doubly intolerable. Our own is harsh enough, in the opinion of foreigners; yet I can with difficulty imagine any thing so bad as German.

We arrived to dinner at Basle. This is a very large town (under a protestant jurisdiction), clean and gay. Its chief attraction to us was the river Rhine, which rolled its majestic waters beneath the windows of our auberge (_les Trois Rois_), which was spacious and convenient. We ascended to our apartments by a curious spiral staircase, in an old round tower, that formed part of the building.

The Rhine is a noble river, but inferior in beauty of colour to the Rhone at Geneva. Indeed the latter I cannot at this moment recollect without a feeling of pleasure and admiration impossible to describe.

We left Basle, Sept. 26. The road as far as Bourglibre, and even considerably beyond it, was flat and uninteresting; the cottages rather dirty than otherwise, and extremely ugly; the costume of the peasantry very indistinctly marked, and by no means becoming, being a wretched imitation of the French. All this was accounted for, when we recollected that we had now once more entered the territories of that nation, leaving modern Germany on our right, and turning our backs upon the sweet simplicity and unequalled charms of Switzerland. The postillion also strongly evinced the national character, mounting his horse with a true _gasconade_ flourish, and cracking his whip in the old well-remembered style.

We dined and slept at Colmar. The inn (_aux Six Montagnes Noirs_) was dirty, and the attendance very mediocre; but the beds were good, and free from vermin. Our host was the most hideous man I ever saw: he was absolutely strangling with fat; his bristly grizzled hair was strained off the forehead, and forced into a long thick queue, with so tight a hand, that the water in consequence was perpetually running from his little red eyes; his voice in speaking was most unpleasantly guttural, and rendered still more disagreeable by the absurd mixture of bad French and German, which he sputtered with great difficulty, in answering our necessary questions. His daughter usually sat in the bar, playing a French love ditty upon an old guitar. Of her I can only say, that she was the "softened image" of her "honoured papa."

The _paysannes_ in the near neighbourhood of Colmar wear a pretty little flat, round-eared cap, at the back of the head, made either of very gay coloured silk, or cotton, and sometimes of gold tissue with crimson spots; their neck handkerchiefs are likewise of the brightest dyes, thrown carelessly over the gown, and the ends confined before, by a girdle. These women, generally speaking, are not at all handsome; the men chiefly wear coats of coarse bright green cloth, without collars, enormously long waisted waistcoats (sometimes red, laced with gold, and large buttons), with cocked hats.

The country upon first leaving Colmar was mountainous, but not very pleasing or interesting, in spite of the inequality of ground, the presence of verdure, the view of distant villages, and a very fine clear sky; all of which are notwithstanding the materials for forming a beautiful landscape. This, to my mind, had an analogy with the persons of some women I had formerly seen; who possessed fine hair and teeth, clear bright eyes, a good complexion, were sufficiently young, and not ill-made; yet with all these requisites to beauty, were plain, awkward, and totally wanting in agreeable effect. A strange caprice of nature, but not less true than strange.

The face of things, however, rather improved, upon approaching Schelestat. The costume of the _paysannes_ brightened into a degree of taste and neatness that we had not seen equalled since leaving St. Denis, near Paris. Some of their caps were wholly of white worked muslin, with a thin clear border, and bound neatly round the head by a light blue or rose-coloured riband: the gowns also sometimes varied, being not unfrequently made of white cotton, with gay crimson sprigs upon them. We continually saw castles and churches upon the surrounding heights, and a great number of vineyards; but the villages and small towns were invariably dirty, and very ugly.

Since we had left Basle, we had been travelling through Alsace (ancient Germany), in the department of the Haut Rhin. A few miles farther, brought us into the vicinity of very fine fresh pasture lands, bordered by willows, and relieved by a magnificently rich back ground of high hills, clothed with young beech-trees, intermingled with oak. Here vast herds of cattle were feeding; close to the road, and forming a sort of border to the meadows, were extensive fields of potatoes, turnips, cabbages, and broccoli, &c. without any guard or inclosure; this (as I formerly mentioned) spoke well for the honesty of the poor people, and at all events proved them to be enjoying a degree of ease and plenty, as far as _vegetable_ riches were concerned. I remarked, in the hedges here, the first honey-suckles I had seen since leaving England. The costume of the young infants in this part of the world is very singular; they all wear little foundling-shaped caps of black velvet, studded with gold spots, or of white, with silver embroidery upon them, which has a very strange effect to an English eye; but among the French people there is such an infinite variety of fanciful attire, that nothing appears extraordinary or out of the common way.

Passing through a small village, we saw several groups of the peasantry, mingled with the Austrian soldiery, all dressed in their gayest costume (it being Sunday evening), and we caught the musical tones of the slow German waltz, to which national melody some of them were dancing. There was not the least appearance of riot or disorder; they were blamelessly rejoicing in the natural gaiety of their hearts, at the close of that day whose forenoon had been spent in the exercise of their religious duties;--that day which is devoted, in some parts of the world, to mere peaceful rest from labour, unattended with any demonstration of hilarity: in others, to a puritanical gloom, and rigid formality; but in this, to cheerful, social intercourse, and the enjoyment of a harmless mode of exercise--I say harmless, because the waltz is not looked upon by the natives here in at all the same light as it sometimes is, in the higher ranks of English society; and it is the only dance with which they are acquainted. How weak and absurd, how really wicked is the intolerance which leads people to condemn or quarrel with their fellow creatures, for the different points of view under which they regard this same day! Although I cannot quote Sterne as a moralist in all cases, I certainly do most sincerely coincide with him in his sentiments relative to religious feeling, as expressed in that chapter of his "Sentimental Journey," called "The Grace." At the same time I am perfectly aware that a similar method of passing the Sunday evening, after the service of the day is fulfilled, would not be advisable (even were it possible to try the experiment), in our own country. It does not agree with the character and habits of the nation; and the lower orders of people, (in the present state of existing circumstances), would assuredly debase it by every species of vice and immorality. They require a strongly marked line to be laid down, as a rule of right, from which all deviation would probably be dangerous. Considering the subject in this light, I should therefore be concerned to behold any great change attempted in the manner of spending the Sunday evening, and would certainly not be the first person to put myself forward in the outward display of different opinions to the generality of individuals in the country, and under the government to which I belong. We all owe an example, which may be salutary to our inferiors and dependents.

At St. Marie aux Mines we were obliged to take five horses to the carriage, as the road beyond that place was very mountainous. We had the mental refreshment of observing numbers of sweetly pretty women here, all dressed with native taste and neatness; the children also were engaging in their appearance, and the men generally good-looking. French is almost universally spoken among them.

Ascending les montagnes de St. Marie aux Mines, the scenery presented a beautiful melange of wood and rock; the road likewise was excellent. We admired the way in which the postillions managed their horses, walking, the whole of the ascent, by their side, but obliging them to maintain an unrelaxing steady pace, and this by words alone: the poor animals were almost as intelligent as their drivers, obeying them with the utmost readiness and alacrity. I must here indulge myself in marvelling at that perversion of every generous and rational feeling, which leads man to torture and abuse these generous, noble creatures. I have before mentioned, that the conduct of the French drivers to their horses is highly praiseworthy. The sleek comely appearance of the post-horses throughout France, as well as the state of their feet, evinces that they are well fed and kindly treated, and during our whole tour, we met with no instance of brutality among the postillions. These roads have been greatly improved by the present king.

We arrived to a late supper at St. Diez, where we slept. We were not disposed to quarrel with _la Poste_ for being a true country inn: the host had not been spoiled by too many English travellers, those _Milords Anglais_, of whose proverbial riches every aubergiste imagines he has a right to take advantage, and who in consequence render humbler _voyageurs_ of other nations ready to execrate their very names. We were taken for Germans, and found our bills reasonable and moderate in consequence. The _maitresse de la maison_ was a kind-hearted, natural little _bourgeoise_, and very proud of her only child (a fine infant of nine or ten months), which she brought to shew us, in hopes of its being admired and praised. Mothers, in higher life than this poor woman, are deeply sensible to the charms of this species of flattery; and, even when they know it to be flattery, are hardly ever able to resist feeling pleased and propitiated thereby. For myself, I plead guilty at once. The amount of our charges at St. Diez it may perhaps be as well to mention: for supper (which was a good one), beds, apartments, wine, fruit, lemonade, and breakfast the next morning, we three persons did not pay more than twelve English shillings.

We started from hence at eight o'clock the following day, and found the road for the first stage mountainous and woody. Most of the cottages were ugly (as usual), and the inhabitants appeared dirty and lamentably poor. For the two or three following stages the country grew perceptibly flatter, and more open; the highway began to resume the old French line of undeviating straightness, and avenues of puny seedling trees were planted by its side. Large (or rather vast) tracts of arable land, in all the baldness of a recent harvest, spread their tawny surface around, and the whole presented a picture of monotony that was far from agreeable.

All the people in this part of France seemed attached to the memory of Bonaparte. The postmaster at Menilflin had a conversation with the gentlemen upon the subject. He said that "the nation entertained a good opinion of the private virtues of Louis XVIII., and wished him well; but it was impossible not to remember what vast improvements of various sorts Bonaparte had introduced, what noble works he had achieved, and to what a pitch of military glory he had raised the country." He then asked, with some appearance of reproach, "Why the English kept him so barbarously immured in a dreadful prison?" All attempt to soften this representation of Napoleon's present circumstances seemed of no avail; our host only shook his head, and seemed to entertain a very strong persuasion of the needless cruelty of the British nation.

Beyond Menilflin the scene again changed to a view of pasture lands, with hills and woods in the distance; and upon approaching the latter we found they were chiefly of oak. The potatoe was here generally cultivated, and in great quantities. Formerly the French despised this fine vegetable, but at present they are fully sensible of its importance.

Just beyond the large town of Luneville there were many vineyards, and a profusion of walnut-trees. The vines were planted alternately with the potatoe, in patches, and the contrast of the two different shades of green was singular, and not unpleasing. Beggars at this time began to make their reappearance, clamouring, in the old cant, at the windows of the carriage.

We now passed through a landscape of wonderful richness and verdure, and enjoyed a succession of woods and vineyards for many miles. It was the time of _les vendanges_. Every waggon we met was loaded with grapes, and every peasant was reeling under the weight of a large wooden bucket (as long as himself) filled with the same luxuriant and picturesque burden. Groups of young children followed, each, like a little Bacchus, holding a ripe cluster in its hand, attended by several women carrying baskets of the fruit, and all of them singing, laughing, and warmly enjoying the cheerful scene.