Hobby-O

Edited from B.L.  Add.  Mss. 56536 and 56537

Monday August 26th 1816

Set off at half-past six to Séchéron,1 along the finest road in the world by the lake.  Breakfasted five hours off at Rolle.  “Les Suisses ne veulent pas du baton.”2  Went on to Nyon,3 two hours – thence walked on to Coppet.4  Tried to get a boat – could not – walked on to Genthod5 – thence crossed over in a boat to the vineyard below the Villa Diodati.6  Went up and found Byron, in a delightful house and spot.  We had seen the icy crags of Mont Blanc on the other side – here we had the lines of the Jura – the town, the lake, the flowery banks, &c.  Dined – <went out in a boat I got wet and seasick7 – letter from Sophy and Matty.

Tuesday August 27th 1816

Walked with S.B.Davies to Geneva – ugly town.8  Bazaars with high wooden domes.  Went to Hentsch,9 to the post office.  Found letter from my mother.  Wrote one to her – came home – dined – went on water – wet and sick – M^r.  Shelley.10

Wednesday August 28th 1816

Up late – fishing in boiling hot day.  Went through Geneva to Ferney11 – saw the chateau of Voltaire – his small bedroom – picture of de Kaim,12 like Talma.13  His lingière and his chimney-sweeper – simple bedroom – Frederick of Prussia14 himself, exactly like one’s notions of him.  Garden behind of no extent; pond of gold and silver fish.  Front of the house small, but well built, a circular plot of ground planted round with sycamores.  Theatre15 not seen – [  ] it was in the left corner of the garden, north road.  The little church hard by has lost the inscription “Deo erexit Voltaire.”16  Went in here – little tawdry ornaments – the pyramid, where he intended to be laid like a buttress, at the back side of the altar chair – the place in which his heart was in his bedroom, now empty – it was taken to the Panthéon at Paris – a composition broken; Mlle Denis17 put it up:

Mon coeur est au milieu de vous

All the avenues in the neighbourhood planted by Voltaire – the country populous now – an old man who showed us the church recollected him – he wore an embroidered coat and a wig covering his shoulders.  He saw him go to Paris for the last time – he was tall and very thin – we were taken by him to the tomb of Père Hugonet, the pastor of Ferney,18 a great friend of Voltaire’s who died in 1809.  Georg his père Adam.19

Came back through Geneva – anecdotes thereof – English speculative club – cricket – tennis – no theatre – dined and talked.

Thursday August 29th 1816

Byron, S.B.Davies,  Dr Polidori, and myself set off in two carriages for Chamounix20 with three servants.  We went in my landaulet,21 and the suite in the hinder conveyance.  At starting, our postillion, who was a butcher, was found not to be able to ride.  Byron and S.B.Davies left the carriage and left the Dr and I to our fate.  Joseph22 mounted, and rode some way, until I trusted the butcher again.  The demand for horses at Séchéron had caused this.

We went through a fine country: a vale with hills on both sides, but at some distance, the river Arve flowing at our right below, to Bonneville – <a small town> – five hours from Cologny, which we did in three.  Arriving by three p.m. here, we dined excellently on trout baignées (fritters) &c.  The mountain called the Mole was near us, to the left, the latter part of the ride.  We entered the Sardinian and Catholic country23 an hour from Diodati, but were not asked for passports by the guard.  At five we set off again from Sallenche.  We continued in the valley of the Arve, which narrowed at every step, and seemed completely shut up by tremendous hills.  When we came to the little town of Cluses, where a rock projects over the bridge that crosses the river, we had crossed to the left bank of the Arve on leaving Bonneville.

The evening closed in, and I soon got off to walk – the shadows of mountains on both sides towering close above the torrent that roared at my feet were alone discernible.  Dr Polidori made me before remark the singular appearance of the vertical strata in some of the vast precipices on our left.24  Sallenche is six hours from Bonneville.  I walked into it with the carriages at about ten.  The road had been a little cut up here and there, but was not bad for a good postillion – but our butcher nearly upset the Doctor and the landaulet.  We got four rooms at the little inn – supped and went to bed – bit and did not sleep.  Fine day.

Friday August 30th 1816

Set off for Chamounix in three charabans – two horses to each, a postillion, and a guide behind to answer questions and to prop up the carriage when likely to fall over a ravine.  We ran along a flat ground at first, the Arve on our right, noble hills narrowing on each side to the right, topped with snow, and part of the chain of Mont Blanc itself, swelling into the sky in front.  We began to mount the side of the hills on the left, climbing these Alps, passed on our left the waterfall of the Chede, and then the very little copper lake on the hill; on the right in which, Ebel25 says, Mont Blanc is sometimes seen.  Passed the black torrent, over which the charabans were carried, continued mounting and then descending a little, until we came, at half-past ten, to the village of Servoz, where are copper, lead and a few26 silver mines, and where we dined in an orchard near the little inn, very well, on trout, honey, and bread and butter, and ham.  Several English parties in the orchard – Thomas Hope and wife.27

Set off at twelve – fine day.  Crossed the Arve, which here runs down a very deep, magnificent woody dell.  The whole scenery in front closed by the snows of the roots and needles of Mont Blanc – here commences the wonder of this journey.  We wound up a zigzag path for an hour, and then to the left beneath saw the first view of the opening valley of Chamounix, the farms in green and yellow plots, in the parish of Les Houches – they looked like Lilliputian habitations, and seemed to us as much a discovery of a new world as they did to Pococke,28 who first found this valley in 1741.  Every step increased the sublimity of the prospect – the needles of the south, and the Gontes, darting their peaks into the clouds and above them.  At last we saw the first avalanche of white, running down the precipitous dell of the mountain, and then the glacier of Boissons – immense durated masses of blue ice, stretching, as it were, into the very vegetation of the valley – a miraculous rather than romantic appearance.

Came down into this valley to the village of Les Houches, where were peasants waiting with poles with iron spikes at the end, some five of whom, that is three too many, leading our own Sallanche guides, took us up a pine wood to the right of the glacier – rather a painful ascent.  We came out at last upon a flat plain of the glacier, just above where it declines into the valley.  Just under the glacier we found a scaled ridge of sandstone thrown up, and remnants of pines thrown down by avalanches.  The air was cold; the streams running from the glacier icy.  The guides went before.  One man made steps with a pickaxe.  We climbed up the side of the ice, and came on the plain, where we had to pass some deep and broad crevasses, in which we heard the ice-streams roaring below.  Above us were the snow precipices of the mountain, rising into the clouds below the vertically split masses of the glacier itself, stretching down to the cornfields.  The opposite hills were covered with wood, and pastures were seen near the summits, and also one wooden village in a position apparently innocent.29  The going down the other side of the glacier was not a little perilous, especially to Byron,30 who slid down an ice ridge.

We left this wonder of the world, descending through another pine wood on a marsh, on which I slipped down where a white ice-stream whetted the ground.  We returned to our carriages, having crossed the glacier in an hour and a quarter, which is a quarter of an hour less than usual.  In half an hour the charabans arrived at Chamounix, and in an hour, by walking, remarked the Arve, white from the ice torrents in one stream, and clear from the fountain-source.

We put up at the Hotel d’Angleterre.31  (Mem: all the people speak French patois all over this part of Soissy, which was in the ancient department of the Leman) and got four rooms in this little damned bad, dear inn – [  ].  Dined ill.

After dinner, at six, went in charabans up the valley to the source of the Arveiron, a stream that runs into the Arve from the glacier which extends into the valley from the famous Sea of Ice.32  We scrambled up to the stream under the ice masses, and were warned not to approach to the fountain under the ice itself, as the glaciers are never tranquil.  Davies picked his way over the torrent to the fountain, and we all adventurously followed and put our heads under the overrarching ice and saw their rushing fountains below for a moment.  Two men, the guides said, had been killed by clambering33 up the source of34 this ice, which burst out and destroyed them, and wounded a third.

We left this savage scene, well-wetted below.  On coming to this spot we saw the very summit of Mont Blanc, le bosse de dromedaire, a white boss just distinguishable from the clouds and stretching upwards beyond the flight of an eagle.  I never saw anything that gave one an idea of intense height before.

Came to an inn.  Germans and one English at a little table d’hôte, who were made to pay, poor devils, five francs for their supper.  We had seventy-one francs to pay for three meals &c., besides twenty-four francs for four bottles of wine.  I put on my bed-gown, to the astonishment of the gentry, being wet for the second time that day.  Bed, seven.35

Saturday August 31st 1816

Up at six; off at about eight after breakfasting, and after visiting the cabinet of a marchand naturaliste, which is a sort of trade here, as there are many such cabinets, and as all the way from Sallanche to Chamounix there are boys and girls offering the little specimens for sale.

The points of Mont Blanc and the neighbourhood are arranged after the plan of Messrs Pictet and Saussure.36  Lord Byron bought some crystals, agates, and other cut stones.37  I bought a collection of the plants of Mont Blanc, about a hundred, for eighteen francs.38  We saw a burying in the front of the little church, and [a] service in the church, in which, whilst mass was singing, there was a man, very curly, perched on a scaffolding, whitewashing the roof.

Setting off, a boy asked leave to ride before our charaban.  I saw an instance of honesty, rare, I think, in illa fortunâ.39  A child sold him a fowl for eighteen sous – he had paid the money, but afterwards called out to the boy to ask him whether he meant eighteen sous French or Swiss; and on hearing the latter, paid the difference.  “Il ne faut pas tromper le monde,” he said, and a little after the child ran up, saying he had miscalculated, and should lose no sous for selling his fowl at eighteen sous.  “Well, well,” said the other, “give me my money then – here’s your hen,” which he gave him without any ill-nature.

This boy told me that from October to May the valley is blocked up with snow so that horses cannot travel, and men with difficulty cut a way from cottage to cottage – that each family salts a cow and a pig, [which], cut in sparing slices, adds a savour to their green soup, and subsists them for the winter.  The women then spend their time in spinning the flax that grows in the valley, the men dress the hemp and attend to the cattle; but as for any other work there is not more than one month’s labour in six.  Eau de vie40 is drunk, but little wine, and that bad.  None is made in the valley, or nearer than the other side of Sallanche.  The boy added that one man had settled there from Paris, and had 2,000 francs a year – he painted out his mansion.

We went along the same way we came, and left the valley of Chamounix by the ridge of the noble ravine of the Arve on our right, taking many a look back at the majestic snows of Mont Blanc and her craggy needles rushing into the clouds.

Arrived at Servoz half-past eleven.  Went to look at the monument, a little above the road,41 of the Saxon literatus, naturalist and poet Eschen,42 who fell into a crevass of the glacier of Bouet.  The monument is pyramidical and plain, recording the event in front as happening under the magistrature of Bonaparte, Cambacérès, and the Le Brun, Consuls of the French Republic – one of the few remaining records of those times.43  The right side contains advice to travellers to take careful guides, and the left an encomium on the French Republic for her hospitable reception of strangers, and her protection of genius in all people.

We dined again in the orchard, and saw company as before, amongst them a son and daughter, as Berger said, of Marshall <Macdonald> Marmont.44  I walked on the day holding up found my way to the fall of the Chede on the right of the road near a vineyard.  It is of great height, and has a considerable body of water.  We went on to Sallanche, and put up for the day at three o’clock.  S.B.Davies and I walked about the town in the rain – went into a billiard-room, where workmen were the players, and a woman with a board the marker.  Sallanche the capital, perhaps, of these Alps.  Seen a great many goiters – Dr Polidori says they are caused, not by bad water, but by bad air45 – much more common, for that reason, amongst sedentary females than men who change their atmosphere.  They are not found where there is a free current, he says.  There is nothing known of that particular gland of the throat which they affect.

Dined at Sallanche – account time as usual.  Tea, and bed.

Sunday September 1st 1816

Up at seven – off after breakfast, and paying a bill of 230 francs in all for charabans and lodging, besides sixty for postillions and guides for Bonneville.

Had now an opportunity of seeing the fine narrow valley of the Arve from Sallanche to Cluses, and remarked the vertical and circular strata, as if a bubble had burst on the high precipices on our right above our head, as also the vast fragments detached from the rocks and now by the roadside.  It seemed strange that anyone should live in the cottages under the hills.  Saw a cataract lost in foam for some depth, and then recovering itself anon, under ledge of the rocks.  Dr.  Polidori spoke to me of the Huttonian and Wernerian theories,46 and declared himself for both as causes of phenomena.

Arrived at Bonneville, where were many parties, English and others: Capells, Neckars.  Dined nobly – dinner three francs more than before.  Set off at three for home.  It rained great part of the way.

I read Crabbe’s Village,47 and some other poems of his – the first book of the Village is, I think, the best, and quite in the old quotable style.  Superior to anything in these days.

(Mem: Byron has given me before another Canto of Childe Harold to read.48  It is very fine in parts, but I doubt whether I like it so much as his first Cantos – there is an air of mystery and metaphysics about it.  Also his Monody on Sheridan,49 to be spoken at Drury Lane, which has some very good lines, but is, I think, a little wire-drawn, especially at the beginning; his Castle of Chillon50 I have not read.)

Arrived at Cologny and Chateau Diodati at about eight – found letter from <Harriet> Henry of the 23rd August.  Henry tells me that Ridgway says only forty or fifty copies of the Letters remain – he says all are well – thank heaven if they are, the apprehensions of the health of some of them make me perfectly miserable, and spoil all my amusements.  Both Byron and Davies remark that I am changed and sobered, and look as if in love.

Monday September 2nd 1816

Walked to Geneva – finish51 weather.  After breakfast – with Scrope – dined, and talked and went to bed, twelve, her great failures in [  ]52

Tuesday September 3rd 1816

Rowed over to Séchéron in Byron’s boat, and thence into the staked port of Geneva, whose quay is piled with offals and wood.  Went to two watchmakers, and could find no hunting watch.  The watchmaker told me that the great manufacture here was chiefly for exportation – the home consumption [is] very little, so that they only answered demands according to foreign fashions.  I saw the day before, at Bottes,53 watches for forty-nine Napoleons, and hardly any below ten; however, today I was shown a very pretty lady’s watch at fifty francs.  Dr Polidori tells me that most of the shopkeepers under the bazaars are Germans, the great body of Genevese being employed in watchmaking.  Went to Manget’s reading rooms – paper of the 16th August.  Don Hustler,54 the tutor of Trinity.

Walked home, Dr Polidori having missed his appointment at the boat.  We dined after waiting for the Doctor, and Davies, much to Byron’s horror.  Evening as usual – letter from Sophia.

Wednesday September 4th 1816

I went to play tennis with the marker this morning – a match which brought Professor Pictet,55 who amongst his other pursuits is manager of the tennis court, and has written a treatise on it, to the place, and [an]other twenty56 who had not seen such an amateur for a long time – the tennis court here has no dedans.57  It was built by a society of fifteen or sixteen, cost 170 Napoleons, and twenty Napoleons more would have made the dedans, &c., so from this may be judged the spirit of the Genevese.  Davies was beat three set even by the marker,58 the first hard match.

I sat at home, wrote letters to Cullen59 about the Letters from Paris,60 ordering them to be published in November next, and sending an alteratum which takes Mark out of my introductory letter.61  The same62 to Lady Melbourne, to my father, to dear Sophia, to whom I send by Scrope Cent vues Suisses, and the collection of plants to my mother.63  Felt uneasiness in my throat and head.  Polidori says I shall die of apoplexy or [  ] pneumony.64  Dined, wrote in the evening, and talked with Byron till twelve about his affairs.

Thursday September 5th 1816

Called at half-past three.  Up.  Walked with S.B.D. through the dark to Geneva; kept at the gate, which ought to have opened at half-past four, till past five, and then waited at the diligence, which ought to have gone at five, till six – so much for Genevese discipline.  Took leave of my friend and fellow-traveller, with whom I have not had even a bickering upon our six weeks’ tour65 – good fortune attend him.66  Walked back to Diodati – spent the morning until breakfast in writing journal, sleeping, and reading Crabbe’s Borough,67 which is much inferior, I think, to his Village.  Dined at home.  A boat in the evening, I believe.

Friday September 6th 1816

Read a volume of Madame de Staël’s Corinna;68 very good, but prosy I think.  Also Constant’s Adolphe,69 which though short, is tiresome, as perhaps it is meant to be, as it paints the annoyance of an attached woman who will not be deserted.70

Rainy weather – hardly went out.

Saturday September 7th 1816

Two volumes of Ghost Stories – the shaving one good.71  A volume of The Antiquary.72

Out a little – rainy.  Went to Geneva with Byron.  Read papers at Manget’s.  Dined later, Byron being at Madame de Staël’s.73  Rocca74 says that Rogers’ poem on Meillerie75 is an itinerary of the lake.

Sunday September 8th 1816

Read the other two volumes of The Antiquary – a very good novel, with the faults of the other two; that is, a laborious display of the art of writing, the research too apparent – too much Scotch.  The Old Buck76 is like the Baron of Bradwardine,77 his niece like Rose, Miss Wardor something like Flora in Waverley.  The German adept78 may be specific, as he says in the preface, he is but he is not generic, therefore not natural enough, although Sir Joseph Banks79 told me that in his time three fellows of the Royal Society were persuaded by some cheat of the philosopher’s stone.  The remorse of Lord Glenallen80 seems to me rather outrageous, and certainly that of the old woman81 is. both Byron and myself were much struck with the soliloquy of the fisherman to his boat in which his son had been drowned;82 the beggar83 is well-drawn, though a spice of Meg Merrilies.84  On the whole I do not like this novel, epecially the third volume, so well as the other two, but I like it better than any other of our times.85  There is no love in it, and “absurd womankind”86 do not play too distinguished a part.87

Went on the water after dinner.

Monday September 9th 1816

Went in Byron’s boat, fishing on the lake – caught nothing.  Was told not to fish within the harbour posts.  Dined, and wrote letters to Mrs Leigh,88 to Henry, to Harriet, after a delightful little row on the lake – the long flakes of red and black clouds resting on the Jura – the vinedresser singing …

Tuesday September 10th 1816

Walked with Dr Polidori and Joseph to the junction of the white Arve and blue Rhone behind Geneva,89 five quarters of an hour from Coligny.  Much pleased with the scene – the rivers join between red precipices of a tolerable height; there is a country house on the right bank, fast overlooking the juncture.  Caught no fish, but caught one of the artificial minnows – soldiers bathing, and playing indecent tricks.  I can understand how it is possible for the Arve to push back the water of the Rhone into the lake.

Going back over the plain palais by the gate of the town, near the Philosopher’s Walk, where the magistrates were shot,90 and where no-one will walk, although it is adorned with a bust of Rousseau, took some ice on the terrace.  Here were respectable-looking men, playing dominos as at Paris.  Just on this side Geneva looks a respectable, decent town.

Went to Manget’s, and read in Chronicle for August 21st and 22nd, Fouché’s letter to Wellington,91 which, it seems, is to serve as a sort of preface to his memoirs.  It is to me almost convincing – some of his excuses I had already used for him,92 and the courage with which he extolls the character of Napoleon when at the height of his power, and lays down the faults of the restored dynasty, cannot but do a service to his character with every party.

A tremendously hot day – dined – in the evening rowed on the lake with Byron and Dr Polidori.

Wednesday September 11th 1816

Rain in the morning.  Read about half of Forsyth’s Italy,93 which I admire more than ever.  Recollect the Cardinal of York’s94 joke he had heard of “second sight in Scotland,” but not of “1ère sight.”  Charles Edward95 died a drunkard, or rather of drunkenness, having reformed of late; but, says I, the ruins of intemperance are never venerable.  Forsyth is equally candid to and free with all, whether the revolutionary ruffians of Milan or the assassins of Russo.96  He must have had a good deal of fun about97 him.  At Tivoli he hired “a Cicerone and asses,”98 poor fellow.  Think of this book being recommended to me by Tweddie,99 that I might speak to Sir Joseph Banks and he to the French Institute, and so procure Forsyth’s likeness.

Admiral Tchichagoff,100 or Cherchagoff as he himself spelt it, called in Lord Byron today to introduce himself.  He made a speech to me, about intruding upon solitude, which he had made for Lord Byron.  A tallish, thin, [  ]-faced man, [who] talked English sensibly.101  He said the Turks were not so much afraid of the Russians as formerly – they had no moral discipline, he said, but mechanical, yes – they would not keep together in the field, but between walls would fight to extremity.102  He said Russia had sacrificed Serbia103 by her bad policy.¹¹ [  ] Georges had fled into Austria where they were going to take the little money he had saved, so he ran into Russia, where they have given him the title of General.  Tchichagoff said all talent was calculation, and that Bonaparte had more calculation than anybody.  Byron was first going to ask him why he (meaning the Russians) let Bonaparte get out of Russia – now it was the Admiral who did not let him get out, by not intercepting him at the Beresina with the Moldavian army.  Madame Kutusoff104 said, “Wittgenstein saved Petersburg,105 my husband saved Russia, and Tchichagoff saved Bonaparte.”  He came from Lausanne to Geneva to see Ferney, he says.

Strolled down to the waterside – unwell, with pain over my heart.  Dined – walked along the lakeside with Byron – home.  Letter from Matty,106 1st September.  Thunder and lightning flashing over the whole lake.

Talk on Brougham,107 who seems to have committed himself to Madame de Staël about Lord and Lady Byron.

Cursed night – sleepless – head bad singing head when a peal for lightnings.108

Thursday September 12th 1816

Wrote journal this morning for a week.  Went in hard rain with Byron and Polidori to Madame de Staël’s barony at Coppet.109  Unfortunately, Rocca,110 of whom, as Sharp says, she has made an honest man, was ill, and created confusion rather; but she – the Baroness – received us very hospitably, and me with particular civility – she had heard of the Letters from Playfair and the Edinburgh.111  She is herself writing on Napoleon.  She told me she could not believe I had no copy with me, which shows the difference of French and English writers.  Her daughter, the Duchess of Broglie,112 [is] very dingy, but sensible, and very good-natured, and more talky than when a girl.  Mr de Broglie113 did not talk much, as English was the language chiefly kept up.  The young baron speaks that tongue perfectly.  Parry Ockenden114 came in, a man recommended by the Lady Bessborough.115  Also a Miss Randall, formerly governess to the Duchess116 – then Bonstetten117 and Schlegel,118 who appear intimates of the house.  The drawing-room was in confusion, and the dining-room table too small and confused; but this house is more like an English country house than I had imagined.

We sat down to dinner – I was between Schlegel and the Duke of Broglie.  The conversation was lively, and ran chiefly on Sheridan.  Schlegel would have his School for Scandal had no invention, and talked, I thought, rather dogmatically.  He is a little thin man with a largish sharp face, thin grey hair, intelligent-looking.  Talked English well – Bonstetten, dumpy, lively little old man, in a green age of very agreeable converse, not talking English, but apparently understanding it, he had seen or heard of the Albanian Travels in the Bibliothèque Britannique, now Bibliothèque universelle,119 but neither he nor Schlegel had the least notion of the present state of the Greeks, and the great change of their studies by Coray.120

Bonstetten has had the fortune, and the misfortune, to be the friend of Gray and Müller – one suspected, and the other convicted, of a false taste121 – but is here acquitted participation; his appearance, when contrasted with the “rich, the powerful, the beautiful” of Gray’s letters,122 is something ridiculous – a little bailly of the Pays de Vaud to be an Alexander; nor does one quite see the man to whom Müller addressed his enthusiastic letters.123  He was lent Gray’s letters by Lord Byron, and seemed highly proud of them – the originals he gave away some time ago.  He said to Polidori and Lord Byron, “I believe that Gray had been killed by Johnson’s criticism” – that is, by a criticism which recorded his death!!!124

After dinner we talked of Constant,125 and I most faithlessly126 attacked his novel and his wife,127 about whom Madame de Staël, like a true woman, asked me coyly my opinion – [I] compared his perpetual repetitions of the same tiresome sentiments and the leaves of his book to the leaves of an artichoke – only meant for licking up the butter, when one would do as well as five hundred.  This sally128 was crowned by the smiles of all present, and the decided fiat of Madame who, after laughing heartily, said seriously, “That is very good indeed.”  She then told me that Ockenden had promised to send for my book, he having it at Lausanne.  She said that she recognized several of her own phrases in Adolphe, where they were quite out of place – animation in dull heavy matter – glow-worms on dead leaves, or dirty paths.  I might have said, showing the poverty of the surrounding soil.

We had a very satisfactory day indeed.  Ockenden invited Byron and me to his house at Lausanne.  Madame de Staël told me that she hoped to see me again, and in short I must here for the first time, I believe, record a sort of successful effort at talk.129

Broke up at half-past eight.  Came near Genthod, and crossed the water in a [  ] nights in Byron’s boat, and wrote letter to Sophy.

Friday September 13th 1816

Read today (which was fine, with no fire), Memoirs of Ten Years Consulate at Tripoli, written chiefly by the sister of the late Tully,130 our resident there.  The style is strange, but the book records some most extraordinary traits of conduct, not, I presume, to be met with out of Barbary.  The story of the dissension of the three brothers, sons of the Bashaw – of the murder of the Bey Hassan, the older by the youngest, Siddy Useph, in Lilla Halluma’s (their mother’s) apartment131 – the subsequent expulsion of the whole family by Alli ben Zool, a pirate, and the recovery of the throne by Siddy Useph in prejudice to his father and brother Siddy Hamet,132 have a dramatic effect, and present a scene in which villainy is most gloriously triumphant – Useph reigns now.133  Hassan and Useph pore repeatedly on the Koran, and once drank each other’s blood in pledge of faith.134  Hassan was of a noble, generous nature.  He used to call Useph “the beautiful, rash youth,” with which title the editors have foolishly headed a page.135  There are an infinite number of stories perfectly Oriental in the book, and some descriptions are excellent – particularly that of the dreadful plague in 1785.136  Amidst the horrors which fill the annals of this state here137 recorded, the devotion of two hundred mountaineers, who undertake the defence of the Consul’s house out of gratitude,138 is like an oasis in the desert.

Siddy Useph seems to have been a complete Clodius.  He came disguised to a female feast.139

<Walked> rode to Geneva.  Met Lord and Lady Jersey140 and stayed too long talking – they had seen my verses at Kiliberg.141  Went to Hentsch, who showed me his translation of Fare Thee Well142 – a translation of that, and The Bride of Abydos143 in the French papers.

French Chamber of Deputies dissolved at last144 – we shall see whether this is a trick.

Dined – went on water.  Letter from dear Sophy – she is well and at Hadsper.

Saturday September 14th 1816

Went across the water and back with the breeze – fine weather.  Two Carvellas,145 Greeks, dined here, one a physician, the other student in law.  The M.D. crooked146 – both told me that the English under Campbell147 in the Islands, had made themselves detested.  Campbell punishes beyond the law, and would not suffer the criminal to confess before execution.  Maitland,148 they said, had restored a little the character of the English, which to my mind seems most unaccountably falling everywhere … they were from the Islands.  Mustoxidthi149 is removed to Venice – he publishes an account of inedited Greek works.  The Greeks report badly of Austrian Italy150 – Filicaia151 and Beccaria152 [are] forbidden books.

Sharp153 called today.  He told me he envied me my youth, and my intended tour.  Here is the man who said he knew not what it was to be really happy until he was fifty!!!

Byron and I went on the water after dinner.

Sunday September 15th 1816

Read Casti, Novelle Galanti,154 and part of Madame de Staël on suicide.155  She cants, but she can never write ill.156

Sailed over and back with Byron in a light breeze.  Dined.  Sailing again.  Sent letter to Baillie157 today.

Helped Dr Polidori to settle his involved accounts with Lord Byron, and took leave of him.158  He does not answer to Madame de Staël’s definition of a happy man. whose capacities are squared with his inclinations.  Took leave of him – poor fellow!! He is anything but an amiable man, and has a most unmeasured ambition, as well as inordinate vanity.  The true ingredients of misery …

Monday September 16th 1816

Journal from Thursday.  Polidori went this morning.  Byron and I went to Geneva.  Called on Lord Jersey159 at “Maison Verte” – he not at home.160 … the evening and on the lake …161

Tuesday September 17th 1816

Did not sleep – up at five.  Off at past seven in the charaban with broken wheels and two saddle-horses, with Joseph and Berger.162  Breakfasted at Nyon – stopped some time also at Morges, a considerable town on the lake, and arrived at Lausanne, or Ouchy rather, the port, at five o’clock.  Found a decent inn.

Walk[ed] up to Ockeden’s,163 the great Bellevue above the town, and dined with him, his daughter and son, a Mlle Clasière, the late French minister’s niece, Miss Clasière’s governess, and Mr de Lujreau, or some such name.  The latter had seen Gibbon164 – he said it was not true he was ever neglected, or is now forgotten by, the people of Lausanne.  A grave is called a “Gebhoniae.”  Gibbon was a great tyrant in forms – he has heard Gibbon say, “Monsieur, je vous aie prie pour trois heures.  Il fait trois heures et dix minutes! Faites servir!” Gibbon consulted a Dr William, a lucky quack, and placed great confidence in him.  He spoke Vaudois – he was one day at table – a large trout was served – William said, “On ne vient jamais chez Mr Gibbon sans y rencontrer quelque monstre!” – Gibbon looked up and smiled – then, tapping his snuffbox, “De quel monstre parlez-vous?” – “Oh!” said William, catching himself, “pas de vous, Monsieur Gibbon!”

Monsieur de Lujreau, who is of Lausanne, said that there was still a very chosen society at Lausanne – he owned the English character had fallen since the peace – he told a funny story of Bicknell the Latter165 at Chamounix – Ockenden and he talked of the turn taken against the English in the Bibliothèque universelle, which was formerly called Bibliothèque brittanique.166  The first article is on English literature by Pictet de Rougemont,167 who was at Congress, and probably took his notions of the English from Castlereagh, and has been piqued by something against us.  Madame de Staël has taken up the cudgel for us.  I hear the article is a foolish one, and since see it is – very peremptory and rude.  The Germans are elsewhere said to monopolize literature as the English do commerce.  Lord Byron and Scott are, however, exempted in Madame’s article, in a passage omitted by Madame Necker de Saussure.  Ockenden once heard Schlegel say to Madame de Stael, who was lauding the English, “I see that every nation is uppermost in turn in this house!” Madame was very angry.

Walked down to Ouchy at ten – damp sheets168 – wretched night.

Wednesday September 18th 1816

Up at five, and at six walked on towards Vevey,169 keeping near the lake.  Not on the turnpike road till I came to the village of Lutry – noble view of mountains opposite – the country all vines, and getting more precipitous until the vineyards raised on terraces supported with regular walls.  The houses with little high windows, wooden galleries, long pents in the hills, reminding me of the south of Europe.  Road close to the lake good, between vineyard walls, the [  ] above the doors of the vineyards in the walls looking like embrasures.  Grapes appeared many, but little hopes of ripening.  This is the farmers’ [  ] [  ].

After walking three hours, and passing two or three little narrow streeted towns, of which the best [is] St Saphorin, sat upon a rock and [a]waited the carriage, which overtook me.  Saw Vevey, then in a flat below before me.  Arrived there at near ten – drove to the city of London in the beautiful market place,170 which was shut up, and then came to the Three Crowns.  Breakfasted, then walked up to the church on a lovely terrace commanding a noble view of the lake, the mountains of the Vallais, and Savoy, and also of the background – the viney, wooded hillocks above the course of the river Veyveyse171 – and overlooking Vevey.

Saw, in the church, Ludlow’s172 monument, of which the epitaph, as an Englishman told me in the church, is given in Addison’s Travels.173  It is singular that no notice is given of his voting for the death of Charles.  The Latin is nothing singular: he lived thirty-two years abroad, and was buried by his faithful wife, Elisabeth de Thomas, in 1693.  On the ground nearby, beneath Ludlow’s monument but in the aisle, is the black slab covering the remains of Broughton,174 who read the sentence on Charles and was exiled for it – both which facts are mentioned, somewhat singularly, “sententiam regis regum profari,”175 meaning that Charles’ sentence was from God.  Coming from the church and lolling on the bench of the terrace, there where Ludlow may have often contemplated the noble scenery of the lake, I tried to write something but could only boggle:

It is not cowardice to fly

From tyranny’s triumphant face

It is not banishment to die

An exile only from disgrace –176

Came down.  Walked into the pretty market-place, opening upon the banks of the lake – the market house a handsome, colonnaded structure, looking very well from the water.  The carriage, &c., got off before us.  We had to walk, which we did, and saw near the gate, going out on the right, Ludlow’s house – over the door within the court is “Omne solum forti patria – quia patris 1684”177 in gold letters.

Walked two-thirds of way to Clarens to overtake the carriage – arrived Clarens178 – most delicious village.  Put up at a farmer’s house, then drove on to Chillon.  Clarens is three-quarters of a league from Vevey, and Chillon about the same from Clarens.  The road to Chillon, with the lake close under to the right and the woody knolls, precipices, and dells on the left under magnificent mountains, interspersed with villages, running up the woody [  ], [is] altogether unparalleled.  Rousseau did well to fix on this spot for his Julie.179  The situation of Montreux village, in a woody niche under the mountain Dent de Jaman, most surpassing.

Came to Chillon Castle.180  Formidable walls, but small in comparison with Welsh castles.  Went to it over wooden bridge – shown it by deaf drunken soldier,181 one of two or three guarding the garrison.  Saw the colonaded dungeons, the column to which Bonivard182 was attached for six years.  The iron ring still there, the black beam in the next dungeon, on which the wretches were hung by torchlight without the parade which administers courage to dying malefactors.  Saw in another part dungeons three deep, to which the entry by ladders one above another.  Our drunkard observed, happy was he who had the upper dungeon.  Chillon, now a small store for arms and a few cannon and powder, belongs to the Canton of Vaud.  The dungeons under the level of the water, which is 600 feet close under the walls.183  Saw view of the lake from the upper part of the castle, where Rhone comes into the lake.184  Also the little islet with a few trees on it, the only islet in the lake.185

Returned to Clarens – dined on fish and omelette – next up the hill, after dinner, to le Chatelard, or Castle of Clarens.  Found it just rented by Lady Mary Ross.186  Saw her sitting-room, a large handsome room, in which were paintings on the wainscot – one was pointed out by the farmer’s wife, who was our guide, as “Rousseau and Julie,” thus identifying St Preux,187 as was done before, with Rousseau.  Saw Blair’s and some other sermons188 on the table.  Looked at the noble view from the terrace and the top of the house – such a spot!! The castle rises on a pyramidical hill of vineyards, with thickets of noble trees behind and in the neighbouring dells.  Coming down, we had pointed to us by our peasant guide where the bosquet de Julie189 was formerly, before cut down by the monks of St Bernard – its site was a vineyard just above Clarens.  The peasant had read Rousseau, whom he also confounded with St Preux.  He said Rousseau wrote from Meillerie – he added, “now and then – they are but embellishments,” and yet he gave a certainty to the recorded spots as if something had happened there.  No romance has ever received such a complete local habitation – perhaps the actual Héloïse has given some identity to her new namesake – we wandered into a neighbouring grove of noble trees on the declivity of the hills, where Byron said Julie and St Preux might have walked.190

Came down, got into the charaban, and drove again to Chillon and past, to a torrent which turned a mill.  Came back in the evening by starlight.  Good tea, good Vaud wine, good Friburgh beer like porter.  Bed bad, and damp – could not sleep, after this beautiful day’s tour.  Recalled that I saw a lady in a charaban asleep opposite the most beautiful scenery of Montreux.191

Thursday September 19th 1816

Sent off coachman and Joseph to go round by Bulle with the charaban.  Byron and I, with Berger, a guide and a mule, and our two saddle horses, set off at half-past eight to cross the Dent de Jaman, 3,200 and odd feet above the level of the lake.192  Continued ascending amongst rich pastures and declivities till we passed Chernex,193 a small town in the mountains, part of which was lately burnt down.  One hour from Clarens.  Continued ascending through the same pasture scenery; road now and then very difficult.  One hour more, till we came to an open and larger range of rising meadows.  Here we stopped at L’Union de Mont d’Avant, a post-house in those hills, where are many isolated shepherd huts.  These green hanging meadows quite new to me.  We took fried fish and wine we had brought with us, refreshed our horses for an hour, and marched on.

We came to a torrent where we [were] told to pass quickly, for fear stones should fall, and thence had a perpetual ascent up stony stairs, and now and then wooden paths.  In one hour we were on the top of the pass, a green isthmus of pasture land with half-a-dozen scattered chalets for cattle, having the serrated ridges of hills on our left, green up to the summit, and the Dent de Jaman194 on our right, towering above us, apparently nearly perpendicular in this position.  We had here a view into the fathomless vallies of the Saane, or Sarine,195 immediately under us.  A decent-looking young woman was sitting on a stone looking down upon them as if for curiosity, though she belonged to the shepherd – the shepherdess of the Alps.

We determined to ascend the Dent, and went down a dell to our right in order to mount on the best side.  Beginning again the ascent, we heard over our heads, on an immense craggy summit, as high as the Dent, loud shouting, and looking up saw a tall figure on the top of the mountain with a cow, which would have looked unnatural in a picture as the figures seemed to belong rather to the sky than the earth.  This shepherd belonged to the meadows on the other hills.  We came amongst fine cows with bells round their necks, feeding at a great height, left our horses and mule in charge of a herdsman, and began to climb up the ascent.  It was green for some way, and had pastures for cows, some of which we saw were above a long layer of snow, which we passed, and which the summer had not dissolved.  I had some scrambling up mossy stones at last, not very difficult, till I got to the summit, which is green, although it has rocky precipices on two sides.

From the top had a view of the Lake of Geneva, and particularly the north shore, with the Canton of Vaud laid out like a map – saw the two branches of the Rhone – the mountains of Savoy – the Alps of the Canton of Berne.  Berger got up, but Lord Byron halted twenty196 yards below.  The thin clouds flitted under us like a coup de canon, as Berger observed.  The same pointed out that ants had built their nests close to the peak.

Slid and slipped down.  Arrived at our horses.  Looking up, saw our herd[sman], still on the opposite Alp.  He began to play on a pipe,197 which we heard distinctly – as also his shouts of laughter intended for the echo, which reverberated them from every hill.  Our guide hallooed to him to give the Ranz des Vaches,198 and we heard him soon sing, or rather [give] out, this tune, which is properly a calling together the cows.

The whole scene gave us quite a new idea of Alpine life.  Byron observed that the glowing green pastures, with their cottages and cows in these heights, were like a dream, something too brilliant and wild for reality.199  The cows are driven to the hills the 11th of June and down the 11th of October – many perish by falling from the rocks.

Descended from these pastures into some fine woods and got into the path.  Descending, crossed through a wall200 into the Canton of Friburgh.  Continued going downhill, a rocky path, into the depths of the valleys.  Passed a small village or town in the mountains – observed the religious inscriptions, on the houses as elsewhere in this district – “House raised by the Divine Succour” – “This house built by the hand of –– ––, but a better house in heaven,” &c.  Some of an ancient date in the valleys – “1688,” [and] the carpenter’s name recorded.  An immense quantity of wood employed on the pents, some of the wooden tiles of which kept down by stones.  Observed the Friburgh-women [with] large coils of hair on their heads, made out with stuffing.

At five p.m. arrived at the small town of Montbovon, whose white spire we had some little time seen in this delicious valley.  The river ran through the green sloping pastures under woody rocks.  It is the Saane, or Sarine.  I fished201 – caught a decent trout, and hooked another.  Our inn was very mediocre indeed in appearance – no meat to be had – my fish and an omelette served.  We slept in private houses hired by the host – a very good room I had, with fine chest of drawers and slept well for first time – road not much peopled.

Friday September 20th 1816

In this valley saw few goiters.202  Joseph remarked this – it confirms what Polidori told me, that snow water has nothing to do with the matter.  The women are good-looking.

Up between five and six – waited till seven, and then set off walking.  Went what is called the high road.  Observed the effect of the morning scene on these green declivities203 and glowing woods – on hills narrowing and opening by turns – saw cataract of the Saane rushing under an Alpine bridge, where another joins it from another valley – the small black and white church tower204 of Rossinière in green hanging meadows.  On the other side of Saane they were cutting down the second crop – flax grown here.  Cross a village called Moulins, where a mountain-torrent rushes into the Saane.  Observed an inn there, with a religious inscription showing it was built in 1688.

From this point the valley opens from the narrow pass of the Tine, formed by the two hills of Aulaz and Courjeon.  We were now again in the Pays de Vaud, as we saw by the French orders to lock the wheels of the carriage with a shoe.  Crossed the Saane – saw before me the church of Chateau d’Oex on a green hill and another green hill in the valley – walked there by ten o’clock.  Went up the church hill, where formerly was a castle of Gruyères – view down the valley, and the mountains of Rullihorn, opposite to the South.  No inns at Chateau d’Oex, a small neat market place.  Long inscriptions, with inviolations as usual forbidding the abuse of the town fountain – fountains very common in Switzerland.

The car came up, and we went on to Rougemont, an hour more – the church and Bailly’s house205 on a green hillock to the right, entering.  Stopped to breakfast at the great wooden inn; observed there many signalements stuck up from the government at Lausanne – amongst others two of women expelled the canton of Vaud one for mauvaise conduite and the other libertinage – there also was the description of Didier of Grenoble.206  Paid twelve francs for tea, coffee, and cold meat, this being reckoned a poor country, as no corn is grown here, and the bread is sent from Thun.207  The language of the Pays Gessenai and of the Pays de Vaud is patois French, and the district itself is called Pays d’Enhaut Romand.

Left Rougemont for Saanen, or Gessenai.  Taking my fishing rod and descending to the river flowing, or rather rushing, between pine precipices, went up a rivulet and then descending to the Saane, fished without a rise.  Climbed up a precipice from the river – passed the ruined tower of the Chateau of Vanel, belonging to the Counts of Gruyere – formerly from this point and the rivulet, begins the German part of the Pays de Gessenai – tried all down the river to opposite Saanen, where it runs a quarter of a mile to the right, and where it flows from the narrow valley of the Launen.208

Crossed through Gessenai, being about to mistake the way, and got up a green hill into the road for Thoun.  Saw the charaban following – saw snow mountains down the Lauen valley.  Ascending almost continually, on hard, stoney roads through a high country [of] pasture lands crossed with mountains – a house or two and a village – small black cherry- and walnut- and pear- and apple-trees by the roadside.  Got into Canton of Berne, and descending into the Simmenthal – there the valley again narrow – the mountains to the right covered with snow – the pastures running off the hills.  Black cottages dotting the green steeps – cows, &c.  The Ebel says [this] is one of the richest counties in [the Swiss Alps]209 – its cheeses and its wools are esteemed.  It may be so, but it is certainly the dearest – forty-five francs charged us in the miserable inn of Zweysimmen, of which [we] paid thirty.  The whole valley is thirteen leagues long – three long hours from Gessenai.  The road very bad.

Arrived at Zweisimmen,210 a town where the Bailly resides, and where he sent to ask us if we wanted any wine, and to state his regrets we had not lodged at his house.  The Lion and Bear now one inn – very bad.  Up ladders, through black kitchens, to rooms where I knocked my head.211  All deutsch, or rather, plat deutsch here – tried fishing in vain in the river.  By Joseph’s help good supper, but infernal bed with fleas.

Saturday September 21st 1816

Great disturbances about the bill – our coachman sure they bled him at the jugular.  I walked on as usual a little before eight.  Road at first by the Simmen river plain, then saw a pretty reach of the stream flowing under a steep of firs.  Got into car, went up and down, but mountains on the whole, through two or three villages in the Simmenthal, which grew more and more picturesque.  To the little village of Weissenburg, in a bottom very picturesque, which gives a name to some hot sources a mile or two off, four or five hours from Zweysimmen.  The valley is here very narrow, but hanging pastures are seen on each range of hills.  That on the right is called the chain of the Niesen, that on the left the chain of the Stockhorn.  These chains are from 6 to 8,000 feet above the level of the sea, the snow mountains at the bottom of the valley 9 and 10,000.

We breakfasted at Weissenburg.  Twelve francs!!! again declared voleurs by our voiturier.  Left Weissenburg half-past one for Thoun.  Five hours – road still on the pent of the left declivity of the valley, which became more narrow.  Passed Latterbach and Erlenbach212 – saw to the right a tremendous deep valley closed up by a glacier alp.  The Nieder Simmen river flowing through it, green.  Niesen 5,564 feet above the Lake of Thoun,213 and 7,340 feet above the sea rising in front before, looking green to the high summit.

Thence the valley straitening, we went lower down into it, advancing through thick brushwood below and pines above, through a grand pass of gigantic rocks above woods on our left and woods in hills to our right, under the Niesen, till we squeezed out of the Simmenthal and saw the Chateau of Wimmis on the feet of the Niesen, amidst woods at our right.  The road, going under woody acclivities and a green plain, gave us now, as we looked back, a view of the great frozen Alps.  The Blumis Alp, next to the Niesen and the Jungfrau,214 which, Joseph contended, were not so high as the Niesen.  Left the river flowing between a woody dell to our right – caught a view of part of the Lake of Thoun.  Went over a rising ground and came to the marshland, which Thoun stands a little way up.  The mouth of the Aar, Thoun two leagues from Wimmis.  Got there by a quarter past five.

Put up at the Freyhoff, an excellent inn.  Walked out on the bank of the Aar to the Chateau of Schadau, as recommended, with its terrace which we could not miss, by Sharp215 – the lake pretty, the Alps in clouds, the Stockhorn to the right of the Simmenthal visible.  Schadau Chateau in very good active order – belongs to a Mr Ney216 of Berne.217

Returned, crossing the river, in a female ferry-boat, to our inn.  Heard concert given by a music school company.  Dined in great room, and fell upon Clintons218 and Mr Poynton⁷ and women.219

From the outlet of Simmenthal the country is quite different.  Find roads, good inns, and crowds of English.

Wrote journal and went to bed in good bed.

Sunday September 22nd 1816

Sent horses by land.  Breakfasted, and went ourselves in boat (for nine francs, besides two francs five Swiss, one half more than French, for provisions) for Neuhaus, near the bottom of the lake – reckoned three leagues whilst the road is five.

Off half-past eight.  Got to Neuhaus twelve – beautiful passage.  Saw the Blumis Alp, Jungfrau, and the two higher summits, distinctly at first, with tide of white clouds resting in their lower regions.  The Niesen and Stockhorn summits not visible.  We kept near the left bank – woody, and getting more high and precipitous as we advanced, till ended in rocks cut down close to water’s edge, and curving mountains whose clouds rose to the Alp tops – reminded of Utraikee220 in appearance.  The single house of Neuhaus – landed – instant offer of one-horse German waggons made to us.  Chose one, left word for Joseph to come on, and drove to Interlaken and Unterseen, looking about for the Interlaken, of which we had heard so much.  This isthmus is composed of flat, very green meadows, and orchards between high woody mountains, but not equal to our Gessenai valleys, we thought.  Interlacken is a sort of suburb to Unterseen, a largish town, but the inn of Interlacken is on the other side, near Brientz.

Crossed the river at Untersee.  Went on three leagues and a half to Lauterbrunnen, the whole approach to which, through a woody, rocky cavern, stretching, as it were, to the skies and closed up in front by precipices of ice and snow of the Jungfrau, is not to be described – we admired221 everything as we advanced into these secluded regions – a large stone, apparenty detached from the crags above, nearly stopped up the road.  We saw an iron plate fixed upon it commemorating the massacre of one brother by another – the Lord of Rotenflhue,222 whom justice had destroyed, and razed his castles.

The only inn at Lauterbrunnen was full with young ladies and gentlemen, and a red-waistcoated groom, who observed the place was not much like England.  Whilst he said this he looked at the Staubbach waterfall,223 rushing down a rock 900 perpendicular feet, just opposite on our right.  We lodged at the pastor’s, just opposite the Staubbach, and before dinner went with a guide, and horse for Byron, lower down the valley, till we came to a waterfall roaring down a crevice into a pool below from the roots of the Jungfrau.  The valley was closed up by the glaciers of the 224 mountain, and just here the rocks on both sides were cut down perpendicularly from an immense height, as if they had been torn asunder.  On the left called the Hunnenflue, on the right the Pletschberg.

We returned to the parsonage through a tremendous shower, accompanied with lightning and echoing thunder.  I sought shelter under the eves of a cottage, and was not treated with much ceremony, either by the rain or by the peasants within.  The folks here are too much accustomed to tourists.  Wet through, dressed and dined.  The pastor sat down with us.  He told us that Heber, the painter of Captain Cook’s scenery,225 was his relation, and had been in the house.  There was a young painter of Neufchatel in the house then, who shewed us some exquisite views.  Everything was very comfortable in the parson’s house, which has two good rooms at least – travellers pay their expenses, &c.  Joseph asked for ours and was told they were twenty-six francs, which is comparatively cheap – slept well.

Monday September 23rd 1816

Up seven.226  Our parson told us of a village on the opposite hills 5,000 feet above the sea, whose inhabitants come down to his church, and which he is obliged to visit once a year.  The young painter observed that the view of the Jungfrau and other high Alps was best at a certain distance – they appear to mount as you mount, he said.

Breakfasted, and set off at nine, with one Séchéron horse and a Lauterbrun horse, the mare or filly being sent the high road to Grindelwald, which goes to the village of Zweylütschinen, one league at the mouth of the valley, and then turns down to the Grindelwald.

I walked the first hour and a half, climbing up steep sides of the Tschuggen hill, green, woody, and cultivated with knots of cottages, till we came to the bare, green declivity of the Wengern Alp, where there were no herds, but a solitary flock of goats, the keeper of which, a little boy, came hopping and skipping down the hill towards them.

In two hours we were just opposite to the majestic Jungfrau and the two Eighers, the first a mass of rock and ice and snow, whose roots and whose summit were visible close to us.  The sun glazed the conical point of the Silver Tooth,227 a peak rising a little to the right below the summit of the Jungfrau, then the white cone of the Wetterhorn rose upon us as we mounted higher up the slope of Wegern Alp, the ridge of which, where there is a division wall,228 we attained by half-past eleven and looked down upon the Grindelwald.  It is during the half hour before arriving at this point. when you are turning round the green slopes of the Wengernberg or Alp, that you have the best view of the Jungfrau, only separated from you by the dale, half-choaked-up with snows and avalanches, called the Trümleten-thal.⁶

We took the bridles off our horses and put them to feed near a pool half-formed by a ridge of melting snows under the wall.  Byron and I ascended to the summit, called Malinetha,229 to the left, 6,285 French feet above the level of the sea, an easy ascent, although on the Lauterbrun side it is one vast precipice.  We were fifty minutes getting up, and when we arrived, the valley of Lauterbrun and the sides of the Jungfrau and Eighers were enveloped in clouds, which dashed up like waves of foam from the measureless crater and gulphs below and made the depths appear more hideous.  The two Eighers were soon clear.  The Grindelwald was a sunny tract, beneath whose frequent [  ] black cottages looked like scattered flocks of goats.

We lay down a short time contemplating this glorious scene, the wildness of which had, however, been somewhat infringed upon by the apparition of two or three females on horseback,230 just as we were congratulating ourselves on the superior solitariness of these scenes to Chamounix.  We wrote our names on a bit of paper, which we hid under a small stone near a blue flower.231  The flowers on these Alps appeared to me of a more bright and distinct hue – some yellow plants seemed to have communicated their tints to the stones, which appeared spotted with inlaid gold … here it struck me one might have for a simile, that the constitution of our country was like an avalanche, which a word louder than a whisper would crumble upon our heads232 – so say the ministers.  Here one’s spirits seemed lighter, one’s head more clear.  We descended.  I lost my cane-head.  Come to our horses, refreshed with meat and wine, in which I dissolved some snow.  Heard avalanches echoing down the great Alps beside us, but could not catch a sight of the fall.

Setting off for the Grindelwald, we found the descent more stony and difficult than the rise from the other side.  We had the enormous precipices of the great Giant (Eigher) splitting down the whole mountain close on our right, without an intervening dell.  The ride down into the valley was a delightful close to our day’s journey – it was of three hours, nearly.  I left the party to get to the bed of the black Lutschine, a stream flowing from the lower glacier of the Grindelwald between the Eigher and the Mettenbergh Alp, which is a branch of the great valley stretching between the Schreckhorn the Wetterhorns and the Mettenberg.  Joseph could catch no fish in this frozen stream.  The inhabitants of the Grindelwald valley were getting in their second harvest – they were more jocose and less simple with us passengers than to be expected from these regions, but the Grindelwald is a frequented valley, only a day and a half from Berne.

Arrived at the Bear, a new inn, at four.  A damp wood house, too full of Clintons233 and others.  We dined, and afterwards set out for the upper glacier, an hour’s ride on horseback, with our parson’s man for guide.  We went by a rocky path, and it was almost dark before we reached the foot of this frozen sea, tumbling from between the Mettenbergh and Wetterhorn Alps in vast billows over our heads.  A seat of deal is put now for the accommodation of ladies.  We went down to the ice, then returned over the same path, rather perilous in the dark, the sky dotted with stars, the valley with cottage lights, with now and then a faint flash of lightning, added to the strangeness of the scene.

Came back, tea’d, and took [  ]234 and went to bed.  A goat with a bell running about the gallery, and noisy couples about, above, and underneath, did not let me sleep much.

Tuesday September 24th 1816

Set off at half-past seven, with our own two horses and two from Lauterbrun, with the parson’s man for guide, a slow good-natured dunce, at six francs a day, the horses at twelve each, accompanied by peasants, who chose to take care of them gratis.235

Went first by the upper glacier.  The Schreckhorn236 rose upon us above the Mettenbergh, between that mountain and the Wetterhorn; the hills before us partially covered, but the white razor ridge of the great giant237 was blazing in the sun.  The Wetterhorn was close to our right with its mighty precipices.  We ascended an easy road in point of height, but bad for our horses, up the marshes and pastures of the Bach Alp and Ross Alp, till we got to the ridge of the Grosse Scheidegg in two hours and a half, the latter part of our journey in cold vapour, which showed us but partial views of the Alps on our right and behind us.  The ridge is called the Eselsrucken, or ass’s back, 6,045 French feet above the sea.  The height of these Alps is about thus, as given in Ebel: Jungfrau, 12,852; Eigher, 12,268; Wetterhorn, 11,453.238  The Schreckhorns and Vieschorns one or two hundred feet higher.

Descending from the ridge, whence we had seen a circular chain of serrated mountains of the Faulhorn and Schwartzhorns &c., we came down the the Alpiglen, a dreary green lake, burnt, as it were, with cold, with here and there blasted forests of white pine.239  Stopped a little at twenty minutes to eleven in the Schwarzwald Alp opposite the Schwarzwald glacier, stretching down between the Wetterhorn and Wellhorn Alps and torrent.  In less than an hour, still descending through the black forest, where we saw a mountain post-house, came in sight of the Great Rose glacier – Rosenlaui, situated between the Wellhorn and Nellihorn mountains.  This is by far the finest glacier I have seen, suspended like a sea at a vast height, and lost in the masses of snow which cover the tops of these great Alps.  It is a branch of the ice valley of Gauli.  The best view of this glacier, which Joseph said had its name from being the flower of glaciers, was from the green plain under the Schwartzwald through which flows the Reichenback torrent.  This is a very cold region, the path stoney and difficult for horses.  The plain has many chalets, or cheese houses, raised on rick frames and well secured iron bolts and bars at the window holes.

We did not see a soul in this mountain except by the posthouse in the forest.  Crossed the Rheichenbach, and travelled an hour about by its right bank, where it runs more furiously through rocks and torn-up trees, down forests of blasted pines, till we went through a sort of pass of high hills on the left and woody summits on the right.  Went by a village, and soon after came upon the noble valley of Hasli, with its green-peopled mountains beyond.  Of this we had a fine prospect from a green knoll at the mouth of the high ravine, called the Zmirgi.  This is most magnificent indeed; a lovely vale through which runs the Aar, and where is seen the pretty town of Meiringen laid out between high woody sweeping acclivities, stretching as far as the eye can reach towards the greater Alps of the Grimsel to the south, and winding to the north toward the lake of Brientz, interlaced with fine waterfalls.  The ride had been rather tedious from the Scheideck downwards, and much in mist.

We were glad to descend into the valley, which we did very soon, not going to the bridge of Meyringhen, but turning to the left to the baths of Hasli.  Saw, and went to see, the fall of the Rheichenbach after climbing a green hill to a deal gazebo, built by the Bailiff, who has hung up an order there and at the roadside to give nothing to guides thither; but could not prevent our being told that this edict did not include voluntary gifts.  We were disappointed by the Rheichenbach, which is after all best seen by the path.  There are three falls, we saw, top and bottom.

Arrived half-past one at the Bath house, a miserable solitary post-house, where we ate something, and took tea as usual – opposite side of the valley, three high waterfalls – the Hasli valley ten leagues long.  The people are reckoned the finest in Switzerland.  Bonstetten has since told me that he has found Swedish words in this valley; the women famous for beauty, and, Bonstetten says, for incontinence.

Went from Hazli baths, half past three, in the rain, and travelled three hours by the side of the Aar, which we crossed at the mouth of the valley to Brientz, a wooden hamlet on the corner of the lake of that name.  As the lake opened upon us with its woody cliffs and precipices close to the water’s edge more than half an hour before our arrival, we saw snow had fallen that day on the hills above the lake.  Arrived quite soaked through Pulsford’s waterproof cloak,240 where it was not double, below but dry above, at a very decent inn, where I should have enjoyed myself better if the door of our dinner room had been higher and I had not knocked my forehead a violent blow.241

Dined, however, very well, and after dinner four singers – girls, three sisters and a cousin, were introduced by Joseph, and sang a Ranz de Vaches (not Croch’s)242 and other songs in parts, and generally standing falling in a circle – one song was about a big belly.  This singing was usual, as the payment was fixed at seven francs ten sous, and we heard there was a better singing-party at Interlachen.  Madelaine, Elizabeth, and another Madelaine Flick were three of their names; a fiddle afterwards struck up below, and we, going down, found Joseph capering an Allemand with shoes and stockings off, greatly to his own delight and really well.  The more gentlemanly Berger joined afterwards in waltzing, which did also the farmers and boors with boots and pipes, and in such a manner as might shame a ball room in England.  The singing girls were violent, but we saw nothing incorrect, though a loud cry of women in the night called us up from bed.

NB.  Byron observed the whole family squinted at this inn – the costume of the women large, loose shift sleeves – black bodice.

Wednesday September 25th 1816

Rained in the morning, but we set off in dry at half-past eight in a boat which was to take us to Interlachen for three francs.  Sent horses by land.  Sent away our Lauterbrun horses, giving twelve francs a day for each, and the guide six.  Rowed by a man and three women – one, the man’s wife, was obscenely joked with by her husband in presence of their daughter in the boat.  The lake is closer, and the banks more precipitous than those of Thoun – at the lower part it is very beautiful indeed, especially at the parsonage of Ringgenberg, and the old church on a big hill above, whence is seen the narrow entrance of the Lauterbrun valley.

Went a little way down the outlet of the Aar, and landed near a covered bridge.  The Aar runs rather rapidly beyond this spot, and I tried to fish, but was stopped by the rain, when went into the Interlachen inn hard by – good and cheap, kept by a pantaloon who said he had been hired at a hundred louis a year, and his two daughters at thirty each, by an English Lord to go to England with him.  Said he had been ruined by the revolution, that is, had not got a fortune by it.  He told us the son – youngest – of the great Haller,243 “president of all the universities in Switzerland and Germany,” lived here.  “I saw his house – he is the bailiff here, I fancy.”  Byron dined.  Interlachen inn is where travellers ought to stop.

Set off in three-franc charabanc for Neuhaus, arriving at which, set off with our old boatman of Thoun for that town, Joseph going with the horses round by land on our right, and a very bad, craggy path he found it.  We saw him, and cattle, scrambling on the rocks.  It was fine weather, and I walked the last hour or so, beating the boat – a hard race.  Arrived at half-past five at the Freyhoff – found it was Thoun fair.  Saw a pretty, genteel young woman dressed as a peasant.  I dined well, and heard from the cream-faced waiter244 that one Alexander —————, who can neither write nor read, and was not worth a sixpence when he married, has now 300 cows, and makes a procession crowning his cattle with mountain roses, accompanied by all his friends when he drives his herds from and to the mountains.  He told me something of the former riches of the Bailliage of Thoun under the old Berne government, which made a man 100,000 francs in five years.

Thursday September 26th 1816

Set off at half-past eight, after paying enormous bill, for Berne, five leagues – good road on the right of the Aar – country rich, corn-enclosed, woody, uneven, but not hilly.  Women kating flax245 in companies.  Byron lost his cane after we heard the mare was lamed.246  We went on, philosophising on ill and good luck, to Berne, where we put up at the Falcon at half-past eleven.  Whilst Byron dined, I walked about.  Went to natural history cabinet, and saw what large birds are natives of Switzerland.

Cane recovered, and mare reported well – we compared ourselves to Polycrates.247

Set off at half-past three for Fribourg, six leagues.  We went through the same rich country, with now and then a little rising ground – enclosed corn and meadow fields, like England.  Crossed the La Singine river at La Singine village, halfway into county of Fribourg.  Here, we were told, was fought one of the battles between Swiss and French in 1799.  The landlord seemed to exult in the number of French killed, and said General Pigeon248 was pigeoned here, but Berger, a Pays de Vaud man, said the French passed.

We observed an immediate difference between costume of Berne and Fribourg when we crossed the river.  We did not arrive at Fribourg until nine at night.  Climbing up the terrace streets of this old town, just perceiving the hill of the hermitages on our left, we put up at the Hotel des Marchands.  Had good beds, a fire, and at seven a dinner.

Friday September 27th 1816

Walked to the catholic church of St Nicholas opposite, during service.  Thence to the Morat lime tree249 … it is not a mulberry tree, as Ebel says.250  Its branches are supported by trellice-work, raised on pillars of stone erected in 1756 – it is hollow and much shrunk, but still in full leaf.  A man grinding knives under it seemed the historian of the tree – it is still a very considerable shade.  Saw the beautiful position of this town, looking on woody acclivities on the other side of the river, which flows nearly round the base of the town.

Set off at ten – after leaving the place a little, saw a man hanging on a gallows – there had been two lately of those, one of whom was broke on the wheel – [the] first for murder, the other a horse-stealer, a species of offender not pardoned in this country of horses.

Overtook the goods of the monks of la Trappe, leaving the charteaux here for Normandy – they have been sent back to France by order of the Diet, as being great intriguers – Joseph said they castrated boys!!! which was received with a loud laugh by our coachman, but persisted in.  The landlord at Payerne said he had known them come into his house dressed as officers, and leave it as monks.  They are very rich.  We soon overtook a diligence carrying some of the nuns of the same order – ugly and old, as far as I saw, whilst they unpacked themselves at Payerne.  Passed a country house belonging to the procureur of St Bernard hospice, where are two dogs sculptured so well on the gateway posts that our coachman cried out, “Voilà beaux chiens!” Passed the village of Belfaux,251 where the people would have burnt Comte the Ventriloquist if an old soldier had not saved him.252

Country like England – road good, and between fruit trees – arrived at Payerne half-past one.  Saw at the inn, Hotel de Ville, the relic called Queen Bertha’s Saddle253 – her majesty road astride, as high as a Tartar, apparently.

At half-past three set out for Yverdun.  Went through the same sort of English country at first, except that we had tobacco grounds, furnishing the Fribourg snuffs – the plant will not ripen this year.  We came to the lake254 winding down its sandy woody banks, under whose beautiful acclivities we had a charming evening ride to Yverdun.  We came to the town through large rows of tall poplars under the high walls, which gave a singular appearance to this place.  Put up at a cheap inn, which would have given us good accommodation had it not been for the Duchess of Courland255 being there.

Saturday September 28th 1816

Took a view of the lake of Neuchatel from the poplar marsh in a delicious morning.  Had an excellent breakfast.  We had told us that Pestalozzi256 had a hundred scholars at thirty louis board and lodging each.

We set off at nine through beautifully open country of vineyards and corn grounds and woody dells, with the Jura to our right.  To Orbe257 two leagues – beautiful position of Orbe, its old castle, the dell, and river winding up the recesses of Mont Jura and the Val d’Orbe.  Passed the same beautiful country to Lassara, two leagues, coming by a village258 called The Middle of the World, because the little rivulet divides, and one stream runs to the Lake of Geneva and thence to the Mediterranean, the other to the lake of Neuchatel and thence to the North Sea.  Lassara, on a height, commands a full view.  Went one league to Cossonay.

There, whilst Byron dined at a wretched dear inn, I walked out and found a sloping green field, where are a few apple trees, opposite the grounds and gardens of the chateau or house belonging to Mr Delanat.  From this field I looked down upon the deep woody dell in which runs the Orbe – on the swelling plains of mead- and wine-land set with villages – on the Lake of Geneva and its Savoy hills, with the Clarens mountains – in short, on one of the most lovely prospects in Switzerland.  The spot appeared to have been well selected for a view, as I found an overgrown bower.  I lay down in the sun, enjoyed myself most entirely, and dared to write down in my pocket-book259 that I was happy.  After, sat under a walnut-tree in Mr Delanat’s grounds, which are open to strangers.

Set off, after waiting for some relationships of Berger, at near four, and travelled through the same sort of country, having a view of Lausanne to our left till we came to the town of Aubonne, with the position of which, on a woody precipice overlooking the river, we were much delighted, and wound up the hill to the town instead of going on to Rolle.  We thought ourselves going to a solitary place, out of reach of travellers, which we wished to see because Tavernier260 had lived there, and said he had never seen anything comparable to it but Yerevan261 – however, we found the Duchess of Courland had half-crammed the inn, and, after we were lodged, came our ever-recurring friends the Clintons, who could not get room.

Byron and I walked to the terrace, which gave us the finest view we had ever seen of the Lake of Geneva, and if clear, does show from one end to the other of it.  The moon rose over the Savoy Alps as we were contemplating the prospect.  There was a large proud walk shaded with pine trees on this terrace, whose declivities down to the sea are a mixture of vineyards and woody grounds.

I supped alone,262 and Berger told me about the former state of Pays de Vaud, when under the government of Berne.263  He owned the government to be paternal, and attentive to the wants and distresses of the people, but keeping up its authority by perpetual and intolerable perquisites – a peasant was not allowed to salt a pig without leave, so that in 1814, when it was supposed Berne would make an attempt to recover her dominions, the very children and women were ready to fight.  Napoleon’s arrival prevented the insurrection, as probably did it that of the canton of Aargau.¹¹

At bed I had alarms at night, and suffered intrusion from an old woman and chamber-pot in the morning, my room being the usual channel to a certain place, and usually occupied by part of the family.  The crockery was broken, and the dame terrified.

After breakfast (dear inn) walked to terrace, but the mists prevented the view.

We set off at nine.  Went down the hill through a pine avenue by a path, and then a sort of cultivated forest – on …

… Sunday September 29th 1816 …

… met gentlemen of Geneva, dining out their Sunday ladies as in England.  Got into the high road – at Nyon by half-past eleven.  Byron dined.  We went on to Geneva, and came in as fine day as we set out, having had only four hours rain en route to Diodati, by four o’clock; thus finishing what we accounted a very prosperous and beautiful tour.

Found a letter from Lady Melbourne, from my father, from Matty,264 and [an] invitation from Madame de Staël for Tuesday next.  Dined at home as usual.  Lake. &c.

Monday September 30th 1816

Reading.  Went to Geneva, saw Hentsch, back again.  Lake in the evening.265

Tuesday October 1st 1816

Dine at Coppet.  Present, among others, the Prince of Mecklenburgh and the Duchess of Ragusa,266 Bonstetten, Schlegel, two Roccas, and many others.  Table crammed.  Introduced by Madame de Staël to Rocca, as an admirer of his memoirs, which I am.  He said many handsome things to me of the Letters from Paris.  Said they were extremely impartial – that Bonaparte was a bon homme, who did not let anything stand in the way of any object – that my description of him was most exact.  Rocca [is] a very aimiable man, talking freely about his own or other persons’ compositions, à la manière étrangere.

Nothing was said remarkable.  I sat next to Miss Randall, who told me that in the time of Napoleon the Duchess of Ragusa would not be seen in a house where Madame de Staël was, and used particularly to object to meet her.  Schlegel and Madame de Staël sparred at dinner, selon leur usage.  After dinner, when the great party was gone, Madame de Staël said, “There now, they are all gone – now we can talk freely – ain’t I a good person to show you princes and duchesses, &c?”

We began to cose.267  She would not let Rocca talk to me too much on account of his chest, which is affected by his wounds.  Sharp says Madame de Staël has made an honest man of Rocca (if I have not recorded this before).268  Corinna269 said nothing today but civilities.  Her Duchess daughter was very kind – she would carve the beef at dinner – she seemed much attached to the Duke, and ran out of the room when he was first announced from Paris.  I promised Schlegel today a copy of my Travels.  A Mr Schmidt270 told me he had seen favourable mention made of them in the Göttingen Journal.

Schlegel talked to me of Greek geography, torronically,271 I thought.  He gave me a treatise of his on the Venetian horses,272 which I read, and which decides nothing except that those who attribute them to the Roman founders273 of Nero’s time are wrong, and that they were probably cast by some of the disciples of Lyssipus.274  He also lent me the Defence of the Greek Clergy by Ignatius, Bishop of Bucharest,275 part of which I read, and which contains some curious accounts of the present recovery of the Greek church, and a fair attack on Doukas,276 who has abused the whole body of ancient and modern clergy.  The ancient history shows no great depth, and what he says of the democracy of the church is certainly not true.  Madame de Staël asked us to dine the next Thursday, and we went away.

Took boat to Genthod and got to Diodati.

Wednesday October 2nd 1816

Went to Geneva, to Hentsch, got a draft on Milan for £150 value at forty-seven something the pound – returned to Diodati.  Sent letter today to Sophia – read Schlegel.  Lake crossed and back this fine night.

Thursday October 3rd 1816

Dined today at Coppet.  Nobody there but Schlegel, Bonstetten, Rocca, the Duchess,277 Miss Randall, and ourselves.  Schlegel showed me a translation in German of the Ghulistan,278 made in 16––.  He and Madame de Staël sparred at dinner, and afterwards Schlegel showed himself dreadfully national, and would not permit her to tell a story even of Neipperg being the Empress Maria Louisa’s lover.279  Madame de Staël mentioned that Maria Louisa was angry with the Bolognese for crying out, “Viva l’infelice sposa!” and said that the time she spent with Napoleon was the most miserable of her life.  We had a deal of smart talking after dinner.  I told Madame de Staël that her phrases in Adolphe were “Comme les vers luisans sur des feuilles mortes: dont la lumière ne sert qu’a montrer la sécheresse des alentours.”280  She turned to Bonstetten – “Charmant, n’est-ce pas?” She was in high good humour – begged us to stay for her in Italy, and she would go to Greece with us.  Told me my Letters had affected her very much.  She wrote [a] recommendatory letter for Byron, and added my name, to Monsignor Breme281 at Milan.

Rocca told me that Bernadotte282 had been foretold that he should have a crown, and that he knew a French marshal283 who believed in the omens of ravens, &c., although equally incredulous as to God and the devil.  Rocca is to write memoirs of the war since the revolution.  He told me that the French so completely expected the enemy under Moore to retreat to Lisbon284 that every preparation was made in that quarter.  The Spanish commissionaries had also provided for the English on that side.

We took an affectionate leave of Madame de Staël, who lent me Chateaubriand’s mad book,285 and carried Bonstetten with us to Genthod.  In the way he told us anecdotes of Gray and Voltaire.  Of Gray, he said he had met him by accident in London – Gray said, “You can do better than be a man of fashion – come to Cambridge with me.”286  They went together next day.  Gray was extremely respected, but his poetical reputation was higher now than then.  He had the ésprit genie and the humeur triste.  He was plotting lectures on the English history.  When asked why he did not do something more, he answered by a sigh.

Voltaire, he said, was unlike any human being – he never spoke without saying something quite in his own way, if it were only “Give me my slippers.”  He kept the whole country in a tremor, yet he was so kind his secretary never had an unkind word from him, and never was requested to do anything extraordinary, such as getting up in the night, without some handsome regret being expressed.  This he287 told to Bonstetten.  The play at Ferney was most exquisite – they played Molière sometimes, with additions from Voltaire relative to Frèron288 and others, which made the audience die of laughing.  A pretty girl from a convent was playing or rehearsing in one of his tragedies.  She trembled, and spoke so low that Voltaire jumped on the stage; swore then, “Mademoiselle! imaginez que les hussards viennent violer votre couvent – haussez la voix!” Miss was so frightened she could not contain herself, and actually watered the stage and the heads of the fiddlers.

Bonstetten told us that Bürgher the poet289 fell in love with his wife’s sister, killed his wife with regret, and married the other, which turned out a very triste marriage.

We took leave of this merry, aimiable old man – crossed the lake and got to Diodati late.

Friday October 4th 1816

Spent the day in reading Chateaubriand, and writing to Madame de Staël about his book.  Went to Geneva, called on Rossi.290  Saw Madame de Staël, who shook hands and said, “God bless you, stay for me in Italy!” Schlegel gave me before a note for her.

Dined at home.  Sat up late, writing a letter to Madame de Staël on Chateaubriand’s book,291 which is the most malicious, violent, mischievous and cunning ever read – the first half preaching liberty, the second advising persecution, and the whole ending with a miserable propos de prêtre – to give bishops seats in the Chamber of Peers and priests in the House of Deputies.292  The one he says is done in England, but he makes nothing of the other not being done.  He says in one place that Catholicism is not anti-liberal, for Schweineen and Underwald were Catholic!!!293

Saturday October 5th 1816

Received a letter from Henry which told me that my sister Sophy has been unwell and out of spirits – this has put me into great distress, and made me set out to cross the Alps without any delight at a prospect which would formerly have filled me with joy.  I wrote to Henry and Sophy, begging the former to bring his wife and Sophy out to Italy.

Set off with Lord Byron, he having his two carriages and seven horses, one mare and two from Dijouin at twenty-four francs a day, coachman not comprised, at three a day.  Left Diodati, after taking a farewell view of the lake, at half-past eleven.

We went through a desolate, bushy, unpeopled country on a fine road to Dovaine, where we were searched, or rather not searched, on entering the dominions of the King of Sardinia,294 then went on to Thonon, near which place the country becomes more precipitous and picturesque.  The mountains approaching on the right showed us a fine old castle in ruins, on a ledge of rocks running up the valley.  Arriving at Thonon, five-and-a-half hours from Geneva, which is a miserable dirty town,295 we put up at a wretched inn near the terrace, which, however, looks over the Lake, and has a good prospect of the woody bank on which the town stands.

Before dinner we took a charaban and went to La Ripaille,296 passing between vineyards which yield a good red wine, not far from the lake – half an hour’s ride.  We entered, malgré some savage pointer dogs into the courtyard, where we saw General Dupas297 and another standing, and were permitted to see the outside of this old building, which has nothing remarkable about it.  The monks were turned out by the French, and the property has been thrice sold, General Dupas being the third purchaser.  The church is become a barn – the old towers, all but two, are razed, and a garden is formed on the buttresses over the front gateway, where are seen the arms of the Prince of Savoy surmounted by the Papal Arms, which he resigned,298 to make good cheer in this mansion.299  The French have changed the tiara to a cap of liberty.  There is profusion of game here – the mansion seems very extensive.  Returning from our inspection, we saw a lady killing fowls, and were told she was the mistress of the house.  Afterwards we spoke with the General, a fine tall fellow in a white farmer’s hat, who told us, “Autrefois je commandais de divisions – à present je ne commande que ma femme.”  He added that he had no steward under him, but did everything himself.  He had lost 75,000 livres of rent by French affairs, and now they were going to take away 4,000 livres more from him, because he would not be naturalised a Frenchman.  He was gay, and said something of roast beef in return to a facile pleasantry of mine about his commanding his wife.  He said he had served under Louis XVI, omitting to tell us he had also under Bonaparte, which I fancy he did a long time.300

Coming back, we went another way by the high road – the moon rose over the Dent de Jaman, and seemed rolling slowly, or climbing as the song says, the side of the mountain, till it rested for a minute upon the top.  Before it had ascended into the sky it was near the full, and most beautiful.

We returned to our sordid inn, dined on ombre cheralis,301 which I think had a bad fish in or out of season, and went to bed early.

Sunday October 6th 1816

Up very early, but not off until eight.  Went over a long bridge over the torrent of the Dransse.  Two hours to Evian, a small narrow-streeted town, better far than Thoun.  There we went by the water’s edge on Napoleon’s noble road, which is the beginning of what he called the department of the Simplon.302  Approaching the hamlet of Meillerie, the rocks and woods and all the magnificence of that scenery which Rousseau found so savage in winter,303 but which seemed to us any thing but savage, then came down close upon us.  The souvenirs304 did not appear to us at all destroyed by the road, or if it did, we agreed with Rocca, that “La route vaut bien les souvenirs.”

Onwards to St Gingough, the scenery appeared more glorious, the rocks higher and more impending.  St Preux evidently took this part of the shore whence he might see Clarens, and chose Meillerie as a well-sounding name.305  Here the precipices were bolder and more woody, with vast dells or rude ravines running up towards the bleak summit of the Dent d’Oche.  The road was cut through rocks.

Arrived at St Gingough by twelve, and stopped here for Byron to eat.  I wrote the pencil original of this306 from the window of the inn, under a woody ravine crowned with noble rocks – there was not a cloud to be seen.  Clarens, Vevey, Chillon, the Dent de Jaman, and all the hills of the other side of the lake in the repose before me.

Set off to St Maurice,307 six hours.  Arrived there by eight.  The road was rather stoney, the scenery most beautiful, of the same woody, rocky kind, through [a] grove of noble horse-chestnuts, up to the bottom of the lake; hills rising above hills from the waters’ edge.  At Boverst, and after entering the Porte Sex close to the Rhone, through a gate which shuts up the valley of the Rhone.  The road was still through wild and high scenes, but was not so rich.  We were in the Valais now, and had before us a view of glacier mountains and the Dent de Midi.  As we advanced, the valley became narrower, passing one or two dirty villages.  It opened again at a green plain one hour from St Maurice, where a river flows from the Val de Lie.

We went through Monthey, a better sort of town, and proceeded into the bowels of the mountain, as it were.  The evening having closed, and the valley narrowing every step till we came to the gate of St Maurice, which we passed by a one-arched bridge, said to be a Roman work, but looking modern enough.  At this spot the Rhone is the road, or makes all the valley.  The gate shuts up the [  ] of the Valais on this side every night – there is scarcely room for the little town of St Maurice, which we thought must be let into the perpendicular rocks here running down to the bank of the river.

Springhetti (or Springenetti)308 took us to a very decent inn, where they gave me a very good dinner, and Byron some tea.309

After I had gone to my room Byron called me out to the gallery to look at the rocks and the church and the snowy top of the Dent du Midi, sleeping in the moonlight and apparently close to us, like a scene in the theatre.  The little church is in a rocky nook above the town.

Slept well.

Monday October 7th 1816

Rose early, but not off before nine, going along the Valais – very narrow, the Rhone bank on the other side.  Huge rocks furrowed by torrents, now dry.  On our side, fine rocks partially woody, with a poor, bushy country beneath.  Fine views of the very conical peak of the Dent de Midi, rising above its ledge of snow on our right.  In two hours we came to the famous waterfall of the Pissevache, whose name the delicate Matthieson310 will not pronounce.  A few cottages are the habitations of the little children who offer you crystal and pears and flowers here, and guide you up the loose stones at the foot of the fall.  It is certainly the finest fall I have seen – the body of water greater than the Staubbach,311 the spray falling air, such as, Fletcher said, like old Mr Becher’s312 wig in the air above us, and the whole stream flowing into a pool of rocks at our feet and forming a rainbow which in the morning stretches across the whole valley of the Rhone.  There are large trout in this pool, one of which Joseph saw jump at his bait (Duner’s313 artifical fish).314

In an hour we came to the little town of Martigny, at the point where the valley turns abruptly to the eastward, and where the Val de Dranze joins the Valais from the side of Mont Blanc.  The snowy summits of parts of the St Bernard are seen from this point.  On a little hill above the town stand the ruins of the castle of Martigny – la Bathia – which present a fine, dark object from the Valais higher up the Rhone.  Martigny is supposed the site of Octodurus, where – – .315

I set off, fishing rod in hand, to try the river which falls into the Rhone and the Rhone itself.  Caught nothing, but lost my way in a burning sun opposite the village of Fouly, which is reckoned the hottest of the hot bas valais.  Here are rocks on both sides, with a plain of brush wood and interspersed meadows, where I saw a few cows – a desolate, hard country.  Wandered, about running to join the main road, got into it, and a cart, the owner of which told me marvellous stories about wolves – how they follow men, but will not leap upon them unless they fall, how they killed all the dogs of a whole village last year, how one leapt upon a man’s shoulder as he was sitting down to his occasions under his cottage one night, and was carried by the man into his room and caught alive, how a bear had been killed in the opposite mountains, how there was much game, chamois,316 marmots.  I asked him how they liked being made a canton317 – he said they knew nothing about it yet, except they were obliged to furnish 1,000 men to the King of France and 1,200 to the guard of the canton.

We saw some villages on the ledges of the rocks.  I took out my rod again at the bridge over the Rhone at Riddes, and was overtaken by the carriages, which I mounted and arrived with them by eight o’clock at Sion, where was a good large inn in an open large street.  Three families besides ourselves were there.  We had good beds, and one decent dinner.  The waiter told us a story of a bear and man who met in the mountains – fairly wrestled – fell over a precipice.  The bear was undermost and killed, the man above and saved.  He is alive yet.  They estimate wealth in the Valais by cattle.  The cart man said the clergyman of Riddes was rich – he had forty cows.  Fine day.

Tuesday October 8th 1816

We were off at eight, and saw little of Sion but its old castle on the hill, which looked well rising above the mists of the morning.  There are, I see by Ebel, several Roman antiquities here.  The town was taken by assault by the French in 1795 – the Germans of the Haut Valais valiantly resisted the French, who were assisted by the French-talking people of the bas318 Valais – the consequence is a mutual hate – my cartman319 told me that the Haut Valaisans would willingly burn the bas Valais, and often threatened them.  Sion is the capital of the Valais.

From this town we went on to Forestmagne, six hours.  The valley here up to Sierre, three hours, is much richer in cultivation and scenery than on the other sides, either up or down the Rhone – it is swelled into montiailles of calcarious stone, some quite woode