Ap upon us suddenly, and with a charming face. proached through meadows of the liveliest green, it appears as a broad silvery line, backed by a villagesprinkled coast of gentle slope, and by loftier high-lands, whose light-blue tints indicate their extreme distance.As we advance, the bright tranquil bosom of the lake expands. The morning breeze scarcely curls its pure translucent wave, as we touch upon the lovely borders. From a bridge at the entrance of the fishing town of Villeneuve, we see, close by, a little isle with a small house and a clump of poplars on it, and catch a first glimpse of the Castle of Chillon. It is by a road, whose serpentine direction occasionally reveals itself afar off, through over-arching plantations, that we reach a spot which perhaps owes more of its associative interest to the finely wrought web of sentimental fiction, than to the too briefly recorded facts of the historic page. We pass along the raised causeway—“ la digue"-whence the heroine of the Nouvelle Heloise is represented to have sprung after her child, who had fallen into the water, and whose life she saves at the eventual sacrifice of her own. At this point we gain a highly picturesque view of those Gothic towers, whose pyramidal roofs once served to mark "the horrid cages of despair." The white battlemented walls of this little fortress form a bright contrast to the azure waters that profoundly lave its peninsular foundation of rock,* and that distinctly reflect its architectural peculiarities. *“ Autour du quel (says Rousseau) j'ai vu sonder à plus de cent cinquante brasses, qui font près de huit cens pieds, sans trouver le fond." The castle is situated close to the shore, completely in a recess of the eastern bay, at the foot of hills whose sombre tints are in some measure relieved by the vivid contrast of white-walled cottages peeping from their densely foliaged and lofty sides.-We entered the dungeon, formed below the level of the lake. The rough hewn ceiling is supported by a row of equally rude pillars, in some of which the rings still remain, to which the victims of oppression in days of yore were fettered. Near these damp and dismal cells, through which our conductor, as if to increase the effect, allowed us to grope our way in utter darkness, we were shewn the place where they tortured the yet unsentenced, and the beam on which they executed the condemned. It was here that the learned, patriotic, intrepid, and enlightened Prior of S. Victor, François Bonnivard, was confined six years and a half by the Duke of Savoy and the Bishop of Geneva, to whom he was an object of jealousy and hatred, on account of his invincible attachment to freedom and to christian charity; but from whose tyranny he was delivered in 1536 by the Bernese Reformers. On one of the columns, pointed out to us as that to which this dignified citizen of Geneva was chained during a portion of his imprisonment, some one has written in pencil the following couplet :— "Sans être emu qui pourroit voir CHILLON, “Qu'ont illustré ROUSSEAU, le Malheur, & BYRON." Lord Byron's pleasing Poem of "the Prisoner of Chillon" will, on account of its descriptive traits, be read with a double share of interest by every one who has visited the spot. But the language of his captive might be put into the mouth of any one detained equally long within its dark and chilly caves. This total absence of historical incident, this entire want of personal identity, (which his Lordship himself, in a note, acknowledges) are the more to be regretted, because Bonnivard, according to the united testimony of his contemporaries, was, as Rousseau emphatically characterises him-" homme d'un merite rare, d'une droiture et d'une fermeté à toute epreuve, ami de la liberté quoique Savoyard, et tolérant quoique Prêtre." His chief associates too-the men whose fate was most closely connected in public proceedings with his own, were in point of courage, merit, and misfortune,* almost as worthy as himself to have been celebrated by the genius of our late distinguished countryman. On quitting the vaults, we were led through some of the upper apartments of the castle, which is at present used solely as a powder magazine and a depôt of arms.— The roof of the kitchen is sustained by thick wooden pillars, curious in their form, and dark with the smoke of antiquity. Mounting the staircase of one of the western turrets, from its loop-holes we surveyed the wide illumined surface of crystal waters, and marked the entrance of the cloudy Rhone, issuing by three mouths from a wide level of marshy forests, into the purifying bosom of the lake. From Chillon the road proceeds close beside Leman's lovely borders; and we pass just below the advantageously situated and respectable-looking village of Montreux, at the entrance of a defile that leads to the Dent-de In a subsequent chapter relating to GENEVA, occasion will be taken to shew by reference to an ancient historian, whose writings are not generally known, that this remark is not hazarded without foundation. Jaman.* It appears to be the very seat of rural industry, and competency; of rich vegetation and florid abundance. Clarens next offers itself. On a neighbouring mound we see the Chateau-du-Chatelar, delineated by the flattering pen of Rousseau, but apparently more fit for a prison than the delices of the Heloise. Nor does present reality at all bear out the picture of horticultural beauties so delightfully dwelt upon in his fascinating descriptions. Yet is it still "sweet Clarens," and as a point of view merits especial notice. From its terraces, not far from the road side, the eye embraces nearly two thirds of the length of the lake. Savoy on one side rears its frowning rocks and displays its Alpine snows: on the other, the Pays-de-Vaud smiles with fertility and sparkles with habitations. It was infinitely striking, as we turned from the unattainable heights and impending precipices above Boveret, St. Gingough, and Meillerie, cold, rugged, and barren, to trace the smoothly bending shores of Montreux, Clarens, and Vevay, where the vine-covered uplands gradually rise, and the mountains begin to lower their crests and recede into a remoter horizon. At eight o'clock we arrived at Vevay; and after breakfasting at Les-Trois-Couronnes, proceeded to enjoy the superlative and unique prospect afforded from the rising grounds behind this agreeable little town. Our guide led us by a winding path up to a point from ☐ “Vous voyez (says Julia to St. Preux) deja blanchi la pointe de la Dent-de-Jaman." This high mountain of the Pays-de-Vaud was not "deja blanchi," at the period we saw it; but presented openly to our view its thickly wooded sides and tops of shattered rock. It is 4572 feet above the level of the sea. which we beheld its environs clothed in sylvan graces and in cultured loveliness; the lake adorned with all the beautiful reflections of mingled light and shadow, and the mountains arrayed in all the glory of their sublimest combinations. Before us and extending equally on either hand, vine-yards spread themselves out in uninterrupted succssion: these are intersected by white stone walls, and studded with chalets. Towns, villages, castles, and country seats, opening to view in every direc tion and at all distances, enhanced the amphitheatric pride of the scene: some of these diversifying objects rise as it were out of the waters-others appear embosomed in foliage, or shew themselves on the levels of verdant terraces, and amidst hilly pasturages. To the extreme left we see the woody Jaman, over-topped by the Tour-Mayen and the Tour-d'Ai; below them Chillon shines, a spot of brightness on the dark verge of the lake; not far from which, and at the bottom of the same noble ridge, Villeneuve is distinctly visible. In the centre of the splendid landscape, casting our eyes over the town of Vevay, we see on the opposite side of the lake, the mouth of the Rhone, and the valley through which we had been travelling. On the right, Meillerie appears as a speck beneath vast torrent-worn and sterile masses of reddish rock, beyond which rise the indented summits of the D'Oche,* covered with snow; the beautiful cone called Le-pain-du-Sucre, and some of the glaciers of St. Bernard, present themselves as the finish of a vista, which the Savoyard and Valaisan chains contribute each their full share to render the acme of picturesque magnificence. 6800 feet. |