Few of the inhabitants of Lausanne are rich, but many are in easy circumstances, and life is simple. They meet at little tea-suppers, without luxury or pretension; they converse on the terraces, amongst flowers, with the Alps before them as their horizon, and the lovely lake at their feet. The more wealthy occupy themselves much with improving the condition of the poor, and especially with the education of the children. With these magnificent surroundings, it seems to me that human beings become more simple, true, and earnest. Life is calm, occupied, and full of kindly influences.
The grand time of Lausanne, the time when Voltaire—monarch of wits—held his court there, is past; but its good time seems to me to be the present. And especially the condition of the country, with its daily work, its conflict of parties, its institutions for the public advancement, its gay popular festivals, which unite all classes—the great Helvetian musical festival which attracts annually to Geneva persons from every Canton, not only for its enjoyment, but to take part in it—in one word, life here, in its rich and fresh manifold character, seems to me no poor continuation of the good time “when Queen Bertha spun.”
There is yet another feature in Lausanne life which I must not overlook. More than once, on Sunday afternoons, and even on week-days, the melodious tones of choral singing have reached my terrace. These tones proceed from homes where parents and children celebrate together family worship. They testify to the work of the Spirit in the reform, which has taken the life of the Church into the innermost of
