On the 1st of July we went for our summer trip, as July and August in Trieste are almost insupportable. We went first to Gorizia before described. The next day we made the usual interesting pilgrimage of Monte-Santo on a peak, which is a small Maria-Zell, the local Lourdes, which occupies about six hours to go and see everything and return. We dined out of doors in the evening at Gorizia, and next morning went on to Tarvis. It was a long day, and Richard was very tired. Tarvis is very beautiful, but we could not enjoy it, because we were none of us well; so we only stopped for a day or two, and then we went on to Villach and to Lienz, where we had always been longing to stay.
The Post Hotel is a charming, comfortable, old-fashioned inn. There we used to sit out under the eaves, feed the pigeons, make the boys scramble for pennies, and buy things from passing pedlars, and Richard decided, that though it is an old village, it is not "dry rot," and that the mountain air was beautiful. We had an uncomfortable train to Franzensfeste, but there we got a delightful aussichts-wagen to run over the Brenner, which, though it was our fourth time, we enjoyed immensely. The Tyrol Hof in Innsbrück where we stopped was good, but very dear. There we met Mrs. Crawford, the widow of the M.P. who had been kind to us years ago. We were just in time to catch our old friends the Von Puthons, who were transferred to Linz. There was a delightful zither-player in the evening. No one knows what sounds, what soft passionate music, can be got out of those instruments till one hears them in their native land. Here people should buy rough but picturesque parures of black garnets, which is a specialty.
From Innsbrück we made a four hours' run to Feldkirch over the Arlberg, which was really dangerous, as Richard had before foretold. There had been landslips, and some places were planked over so that you could see the precipices under the carriage, the train going very slow. There were several bad places, and one unpleasant bridge. The next train to ours could not come over. I heard a gentleman, who I was told was one of the engineers of the line, say in German to some other gentlemen, "We thought it would last for ever when we put it up, but now I would not let my own family cross in spring after the rains." We stopped to see my nephew Bertie Pigott, who was in college here. The Jesuits have a large college, which is the principal thing in the town, very much on the same principle as that of Sliema Malta, and have their playground, athletic exercises, museum, library, good church, etc. In the Cathedral there is an Holbein's altar to see.
We left after two days, and arrived at Zurich in time for the great Schiefs-Stätte fête, or Federal Rifle Association, which takes place every other year. It dates from the sixteenth century, assumed its present rifle form in 1830, and consequently was the first known to Europe. It used to be the great political event that drew all the Cantons together. It is the focus which cements that simplicity, equality, and independence which go to make up the sturdy Swiss character, and is the secret of the union which makes their strength. It always takes place in a different town, and numbers 220,000 members out of two millions and a quarter—more than the regular army. This year it was at Frauenfeld, and the great people assembled at the Hôtel Baur au Lac where we were staying. One hundred and fifty Minnesingers were singing their national songs on the lawn, some hidden in boats on the canal by the side. There was a sort of illumination, and fireworks, not only on shore, but on the lake, which you might have mistaken for Venice.
The next day we were all away to Frauenfeld. Seven thousand pounds are given in prizes. The number of people on the ground, besides shooters, was 40,000. There was a huge wooden marquee for dining 6000 people, and 3000 sat down at a time. Every Swiss is ambitious to be a good marksman, and it is thought to be a disgrace to be a bad shot. The Roman Catholic priest gave us hospitality. He had passed the last sixteen years of his life in making an exquisite collection of enamels on copper, silver, and gold—religious subjects, selected with great care and judgment. Two-thirds are early seventeenth century, and he wanted to sell them.
Mr. Angst, the English Consul, is a very great man, and it was a fine thing to be a friend of his in Switzerland. He and his wife showed us a great deal of hospitality, and we passed many pleasant days enjoying his collection of curios, swords, and china, which are all Swiss, for he is a patriot. A delightful excursion is by boat to Rapperswyl, calling at fifteen or sixteen stations down the lake on the left. There is a little hotel Der See, one of eight fronting the little quay. We had a delightful breakfast, after which we re-embarked and came up on the other bank. Next day there was a great Consular dinner, which lasted from twelve to six, at which Richard and Dr. Baker attended. Here we met a very nice Mr. and Mrs. Chippendale. We had a charming excursion to Uetliberg, and another to Einsiedeln up in the mountains; it is the Swiss Lourdes. The scenery was lovely, the air beautiful. We had a good dinner of blue mountain trout at the Pfau. We went all over the Cathedral, and the circle of pious shops, and drank from the fountain of fourteen spouts. We bought pious things, and the monks came in at three o'clock and sang the "Ave Maria." Our return was on a beautiful summer evening; the lake glowed in colours, there was a gentle mist and a full moon, but we arrived very, very tired.
During this Swiss trip, Richard always brought Catullus to table d'hôte, and whenever he was bored he used to pull it out and write his notes upon his Latin copy.
I did all I could to persuade him to go from Zurich to Bâle, from Bâle to England, to leave the Service and to stay in England till he was thoroughly rested and well; then we would go back and pick up our things, or let them be sent after us; but he would not hear of it. I tried this twice during this Swiss journey when we were halfway, for I saw that the frequent attacks of indigestion and nervousness and gases round the heart were on the increase, and it did not seem that any climate, or any staying still, nor yet travelling, improved them. Still he persevered in saying that he would keep on till next March, when he would be free, and be home the following September.
During the last six months of his life (to show how tired he was getting of everything), he used frequently to say to me, "Do you know, I am in a very bad way; I have got to hate everybody except you and myself, and it frightens me, because I know perfectly well that next year I shall get to hate you, and the year after that I shall get to hate myself, and then I don't know what will become of me. We are always wandering, and the places that delight you I say to myself, 'Dry rot,' and the next place I say, 'Dry rotter,' and the third place I say, 'Dry rottest,' and then da capo."