The Diary of an Ennuyée | Page 5

for those who have too much money, and those
who have too little; for those who only wish, like the Irishman "to live
all the days of their life,"--_prendre en légère monnaie la somme des
plaisirs_: but to the thinking, the feeling, the domestic man, who only
exists, enjoys, suffers through his affections--
"Who is retired as noontide dew, Or fountain in a noonday grove--"
to such a one, Paris must be nothing better than a vast frippery shop, an
ever-varying galantee show, an eternal vanity fair, a vortex of folly, a
pandemonium of vice.
September 18.--Our imperials are packed, our passports signed, and we

set off to-morrow for Geneva by Dijon and the Jura. I leave nothing
behind me to regret, I see nothing before me to fear, and have no hope
but in change; and now all that remains to be said of Paris, and all its
wonders and all its vanities, all its glories and all its gaieties, are they
not recorded in the ponderous chronicles of most veracious tourists,
and what can I add thereto?
Geneva, Saturday Night, 11 o'clock.--Can it be the "blue rushing of the
arrowy Rhone" I hear from my window? Shall I hear it to-morrow,
when I wake? Have I seen, have I felt the reality of what I have so often
imagined? and much, much more? How little do I feel the contretemps
and privations which affect others--and feel them only because they
affect others! To me they are nothing: I have in a few hours stored my
mind with images of beauty and grandeur which will last through my
whole existence.
* * * * *
Yet I know I am not singular; others have felt the same: others, who,
capable of "drinking in the soul of things," have viewed nature less
with their eyes than their hearts. Now I feel the value of my own
enthusiasm; now am I repaid in part for many pains and sorrows and
errors it has cost me. Though the natural expression of that enthusiasm
be now repressed and restrained, and my spirits subdued by long illness,
what but enthusiasm could elevate my mind to a level with the sublime
objects round me, and excite me to pour out my whole heart in
admiration as I do now! How deeply they have penetrated into my
imagination!--Beautiful nature! If I could but infuse into you a portion
of my own existence as you have become a part of mine--If I could but
bid you reflect back my soul, as it reflects back all your magnificence, I
would make you my only friend, and wish no other; content "to love
earth only for its earthly sake."
I am so tired to-night, I can say nothing of the Jura, nor of the superb
ascent of the mountain, to me so novel, so astonishing a scene; nor of
the cheerful brilliance of the morning sun, illuminating the high cliffs,
and throwing the deep woody vallies into the darkest shadow; nor of
the far distant plains of France seen between the hills, and melting

away into a soft vapoury light; nor of Morey, and its delicious
strawberries and honey-comb; nor of that never-to-be-forgotten
moment, when turning the corner of the road, as it wound round a cliff
near the summit, we beheld the lake and city of Geneva spread at our
feet, with its magnificent back-ground of the Italian Alps, peak beyond
peak, snow-crowned! and Mont Blanc towering over all! No
description had prepared me for this prospect; and the first impression
was rapturous surprise; but by degrees the vastness and the huge
gigantic features of the scene pressed like a weight upon "my amazed
sprite," and the feeling of its immense extent fatigued my imagination
till my spirits gave way in tears. Then came remembrances of those I
ought to forget, blending with all I saw a deeper power--raising up
emotions, long buried though not dead, to fright me with their
resurrection. I was so glad to arrive here, and shall be so glad to
sleep--even the dull sleep which laudanum brings me.
Oct. 1.--When next I submit (having the power to avoid it) to be
crammed into a carriage and carried from place to place, whether I
would or not, and be set down at the stated points de vue, while a
detestable laquais points out what I am to admire, I shall deserve to
endure again what I endured to-day. As there was no possibility of
relief, I resigned myself to my fate, and was even amused by the
absurdity of my own situation. We went to see the junction of the Arve
and the Rhone: or rather to see the Arve pollute the rich, blue
transparent Rhone, with its turbid waters. The day was heavy, and the