234 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



From Montreux to Chillon is about half-an 

 hour's walk. The scenery, however, is so severe, 

 and grand, that those who have had the oppor- 

 tunity of making this promenade will never forget 

 it. The road is rather on the descent. But I 

 must not forget the old church at Montreux — 

 on the summit of a quiet little mountain — the 

 views from which I really will not attempt to 

 describe ; for, (although a dog, I am not going to 

 make a fool of myself) — satisfied as I am that 

 no description or painting that any honest dog 

 can give, or make, would convey even an idea of 

 it. Whether you take your station on this spot, 

 in the early mom, just as old Sol has gladdened 

 the tips of the Chaux de Nave and the Tours 

 d'AV. — or late in the evening, when his departing 

 rays are gilding the summits of the Dent de Boree, 

 the AutaD, and the Lavenel, the scene is in- 

 describably grand. 



I may also remark, en passant, that Montreux 

 is famous for its cherries; producing decidedly the 

 very finest in the canton. You may think it 

 strange, Mr. Editor, that a dog should have a 

 fancy for ripe cherries ; but I must confess, 

 honestly, th it I have a great penchant for ripe 

 fruit. I wish much that gooseberries did not 

 grow on such disagreeable, awkward bushes. Full 

 many a tim3, tempted by a ripe berry, have I got 

 such a scratch of the nose ! Bombyx, my master, 

 scarcely ever touches fruit, so he escapes getting 

 his nose pricked ; and many a joke does he crack 

 in the fruit season at my expense ! 



Along this bit of road, some good caterpillars 

 have been taken. Here Sphinx, Nicoea, and Galii, 

 have occasionally been picked up. Hylas, ^gon, 

 Sybilla, and Populi, are abundant on the wing, 

 as well as Scabiosce, Minos, etc. Swarms of the 

 caterpillars of Scrophularice ; many of Smerinthus 

 Popidi, but no such good luck as Smerinthus 

 Quercus. No ! He's not to be got so easily. 

 Here also Hera is not uncommon ; and against 

 the walls of Chillon, Fraxini and Sponsa are 

 sometimes found. Well, we arrived just before 

 the drawbridge of Chillon, when an immense 

 tortoiseshell cat appeared before my eyes. Didn't 

 I hunt her half way to Yilleneuve ! It was im- 

 possible to resist it, although I kept old Bombyx 

 waiting. The beast, however, escaped up an oak 

 tree, and I came back expecting to be well scolded. 

 The old boy, however, took it very well, — thanks 

 to the beautiful scenery which occupied him. 



We now crossed the singular drawbridge which 

 leads to the entrance of the castle. Here are a 

 couple of sentinels, who do not appear particularly 

 pleased with their monotonous duty. Not having 

 an inexhaustible love for the beauties and grandeur 

 of nature, they look as if they would much rather 

 be in a snug cafe, with a pipe and a quartetta, 

 than measuring their paces up and down this tiny 

 promenade, with every stone and nail of which 

 they must be quite familiar. Occasionally a 

 " royons voir " escapes their sulky tongue, just 

 when a large brochet is seen gliding along the 

 surface of the Lake, close to the walls of the 

 castle ; or when the rumbling Diligence is heard 

 approaching from Montreux. Now and then, 

 too, a very amiable grin lights up their rude faces, 

 if a good-tempered looking person arrives at the 

 chateau. This grin is. of course, to be rewarded 

 on his exit ! 



Once inside the castle, you are introduced to 

 Madame la Gardienne, who most obligingly 

 shows you over every pari of the interior, — in- 

 cluding the antique chamber of the old ducal pro- 

 prietor, the Salle de Justice, and the Cuisine Seig- 

 neuriale. By Jove ! this is a kitchen ; with a 

 fire-place where entire oxen might readily be 

 roasted ; and in this singularly curious apartment, 

 Mr. Editor, in olden times, the great lords used to 

 dine ; yes, in this very kitchen. Full many a 

 jovial carousal has doubtless there been held ; and 

 to judge by the size of the cellars, there was no 

 lack of good wine. I was, however, most interested 

 to see the dreadful dungeons, and especially that 

 of the unfortunate Bonnivard. First, we passed 

 through a low, long, dreary, damp, vaulted 

 chamber, called the Guard Chamber. The very 

 place struck a thrill of horror through tis. No 

 guard is now there. Nothing, save the damp, 

 naked walls ; with large black spiders crawling 

 about here and there, in solemn mockery of the 

 ancient guard. 



At the end of this chamber, Madame la Gar- 

 dienne unlocked alow, ponderous, arched door; 

 and here, let me observe that her husband or her 

 son generally made their appearance. I could 

 plainly see that the good lady did not half like 

 this lugubrious place, nor did I either ; and if I had 

 known my way oat, I think I should have made 

 a bolt of it. This introduced us into the outer 

 prison, — a long, narrow, dreadfully clammy place, 

 with dark round arches, and heavy, half-worn-out 

 pillars. This was lighted (or rather a few rays of 

 light were let in) from above, through little, narrow, 

 barred windows, half smothered with venerable 

 cobwebs. A more dreadful dungeon one cannot 

 well picture to oneself. In the further corner of 

 this dreary place, another low arched door was 

 unlocked and unbarred ; and you were in the 

 prison of poor Bonnivard. It was much like the 

 other ; but not so long, and scarcely a ray of light 

 — gloomy beyond expression. I saw and felt the 

 very stones worn away, by the pacing to and fro 

 of poor Bonnivard. Yes, and I placed my paw 

 on the very iron ring to which he was chained. 

 There it now remains, a memento of the horrid 

 tortures of Bonnivard. Bombyx registered his 

 name on the pillar. I, of course, did the 

 same ! 



Next to this dreadful prison was a small chamber, 

 dignified by the name of the " Confessional." It 

 is of the same depth as the prison, and about eight 

 feet across. It is entered by a low arch from the 

 prison, and has a kind of stone bench, called an 

 altar, at the back. Here, it is said, the priest used 

 to " confess " the poor creatures condemned to 

 execution. From the ' : Confessional " the poor 

 wretch was conducted through another little arch 

 to the place of execution, — a little chamber, same 

 depth as the " Confessional," across the top 

 part of which you may still see the " Potence," 

 actually worn away by the continued friction of 

 the cursed rope — a piece of which is still to be seen 

 by means of a glimmer of light let in at the top. 

 Low down, and just opposite the fatal "Potence," 

 there formerly was (though now it is stopped up) 

 a low trap door, through which the body of the 

 poor wretch (after execution) was ejected into the 

 deep waters beneath. Singularly enough, near 

 this door, on the outer walls of the chateau, are 



