492 LETTERS FROM A CONTINENTAL 



refreshing 1 and delightful. Two leagues further on in a gorge of 

 the mountains is the town of St. Maurice, through which the Rhone 

 passes, separating the Canton de Vaud at this point from the Vallais. 

 Having crossed the bridge and submitted my passport for examina- 

 tion to the guardian of the frontier, I pursued my route to Bex. 

 Shortly after I had left this place I encountered a thunder-storm. 

 Clouds rolled down the lofty Alps, and darkening the air, completely 

 concealed the gigantic mountains from my view. The thunder re- 

 verberated among the hills, and the lightning shone the brighter for 

 the deep gloom which hung around. All this no doubt was very 

 magnificent, not 'so the rain, which pouring down more in a mass 

 than in drops, wetted me to the skin in a twinkling, except in so far 

 as I was protected by a Macintosh cape. The thunder-storm was 

 succeeded by a continuing rain, which soaked the road into mud, and 

 drenched me over and over again till I reached Villeneuve. 



August '30th. 



I LEFT this last place at eight in the morning i in the steam-boaU 

 and skirting along the northern shore of the beautiful lake, passed 

 the castle of Chillon, Vevey, Lausanne, and other villages, arriving 

 at Geneva about four o'clock. The castle of Chillon has been ren- 

 dered celebrated by Byron, and clouds of tourists visit it. The ex- 

 terior, however, is the reverse of inviting, and looks as damp, dark 

 and dingy as can very well be conceived. The form is such as 

 every one is familiar with through the medium of prints and draw- 

 ings. The appearance is such as I describe it. The banks of the 

 lake are planted with vineyards, and a considerable quantity of white 

 wine is made in the neighbourhood, of the strength of small beer 

 and the flavour of vinegar. But habit is every thing ; the natives 

 think their wine super-excellent; I thought it detestable. 



September 1st. 



VISITED the Musee of Geneva. The building- is pretty, though 

 small. In pictures they are deficient; I saw nothing worthy of 

 notice. They have, however, a very fine collection of plaster casts 

 from the antique, and some from Canova. I had here a fine oppor- 

 tunity of comparing the ancient and modern sculpture. In both 

 cases the casts were taken from statues themselves, so that, however 

 inferior to the originals, one was as well off as the other on that 

 score. Not to mention the Apollo Belvidere, the Torso, the Laocoon, 

 and Diana with the fawn, there was a cast of the Venus de Medici's 

 and one of the Venus of Canova. Each is considered the master- 

 piece of its school, but without comparing them one could scarcely 

 conceive the difference to be so great. The Venus de Medicis is 

 assuredly only the statue of a beautiful woman, without any attempt 

 at the more than human dignity of the Apollo or Diana, but so per- 

 fect is the form, so exquisite the proportions, so full of grace and 

 softness, that the attention is rivetted till you almost think the inani- 

 mate form is quickened by a living soul. I turned to the other 

 statue, and sighed to think that so inferior a production should be the 

 acknowledged chef d'ouvre of the great Canova. 



