Berne, which I reached by way of the Immersthal, a pleasant valley covered with the most beautiful vegetation and ornamented with charming villages, has the aspect of a great city, thanks to its numerous fine streets and buildings. It is a melancholy place, however, and even in summer one feels how cold it must be in winter. The terrace, which is planted with trees and hangs high above the Aar, opposite to the mountains and the glaciers of the Oberland, is a splendid promenade, to which the Hôtel de la Monnaie on one side and the Cathedral on the other make a fine finish.
The road from Berne to this place has no remarkable features. The first view of Fribourg is striking and uncommon. The site is rough and wild; the towers thrown on the surrounding heights, the depth at which the river, or rather the torrent, flows at the foot of the rock on which the town is placed, and the hanging bridge above the houses, all make the scene exceedingly picturesque. The interior of the town, with its numerous convents and its population of Jesuits in long black robes and broad hats, is like a vast monastery, in which there is not wanting, on occasion, a faint flavour of the Inquisition. It is not in this mysterious and cloistered place that one feels oneself drinking in the classic atmosphere of Helvetian liberty. The new Jesuit College is so placed as to dominate the town, and the influence due to its importance is very great. To judge by the little which the traveller is permitted to see, this establishment is on the vastest scale and perfectly managed. There are three hundred and fifty children being educated there, most of them French; the buildings appear to me to be intended for an even larger number. Besides this great boarding-school the Jesuits have their own house adjoining, and in addition a country place about a league from the town.
I went to see the Cathedral, which would be quite unworthy of notice were it not for the organ which was playing as I entered and which seemed to me the most harmonious and the least harsh of any I have heard.
I am very glad to have seen Fribourg. I passed through eleven years ago without examining it. I now understand better the kind of part which this town plays in the religious history of the present time.
Lausanne, August 21, 1835.—The broad and easy road from Fribourg crosses a country partly wooded, partly cultivated, smiling and varied but not exactly picturesque, except at Lussan. The scenery does not become grand until the mountain chain which surrounds Lake Leman appears at the end of a pine wood, which for a long time conceals both the lake and the town of Lausanne.
Like all Swiss towns Lausanne is ugly inside. Its situation is picturesque; the variations of level are inconvenient for the inhabitants, but they provide several terraces from which the view is very fine. Those at the Cathedral and the Castle are the most thought of. I prefer the Montbadon promenade which is not so high, but from which one can see the country better. There are too many roofs in the other views.
Bex, August 23, 1835.—Less of wall and vineyard and a few more trees would make the road from Lausanne to Vevey charming. The country does not quite take my fancy until Vevey is reached. Chillon above all impressed me by its situation and its associations. I should like to have re-read Lord Byron's verses while I was going over the famous dungeons. His name alone which is scrawled in charcoal on one of the pillars of the prison (the same to which François de Bonnivard was chained for six years), is enough to make this dungeon poetic.
At Villeneuve the road leaves Lake Leman and plunges into a wild and narrow gorge. The sharp and curious indentations of the rocks which flank the road supply the only beauty which adorns the four long leagues to Bex. Quite near, on a spur of rock veined with many colours, and half hidden in a clump of trees, you can see the Castle of St. Triphon, which seemed to me very fine.
Bex itself is a village which bears no resemblance to the pretty villages of the Canton of Berne. Everything already suggests the neighbourhood of Piedmont. We are all at the Auberge de l'Union which is the only one in the place and is neither good nor bad. The sulphur baths established here did not succeed; neither did the goat's milk cure. In fact the place is bare of resources and very sombre and dull, though for me it is lighted up by the rosy cheeks of Pauline and the brightness of her blue eyes. I was delighted to get here.
I got a letter on my arrival which had been left for me by Admiral de Rigny on his way to Naples. He tells me that he has found everywhere on his way a definite belief that the Duchesse de Berry was at Chambéry on the 24th, and that on the 30th, Berryer who was going to take the waters at Aix-en-Savoie disappeared a few hours after the attempt on the King's life in Paris, and afterwards reappeared at Aix much upset. Like M. de Rigny I have found this version of the story current everywhere. The Swiss papers also describe Madame la Duchesse de Berry, but nothing is certain.