CHAPTER IX.
Well merited attentions to St. Anthony—The young Countess de S—.—Leeches paying postilions better than the English—General de Boigne—Lemenc and its antiquities—Droit de dépouille of the Bénédictines—Their agreement with the nobles of Chambéry—Ancient vaults beneath the church—Colossal statues feared by the good people of Chambéry—Tomb of an Irish Primate—Calvary—Monument of General de Boigne—His low birth—His struggles—His success in India—The death of his benefactor Sindiah—His gratitude shown towards his heir—The story of his betrayal of Tippoo Saib unfounded—His arrival in England—His marriage with the Marquis of Osmond’s daughter an unhappy one—His return to Chambéry—His benefactions—Created Count—His death—Aix—Its antiquities—Tower and Cascade of Grésy—The friend of Queen Hortense—Her fate—Her monument—Rumilly—Its convent—Siege by Louis the Thirteenth—The courage of a nun—The three privileged houses and discipline of a French soldiery—Frangy, an impertinent innkeeper—Fanny’s wisdom—L’Éluiset—A sweet evening—A bad night—A welcome dawning—Geneva—The fusillades of 94—The Secheron.
Another procession in honour of St. Anthony, a tribute of gratitude he would merit were all tales true. I said we had ridden to the cascade du Bout du Monde, which lies on the left of the Montmeillan road, green lanes and crooked paths leading thither along the bank of the river. Once on a time the rapid melting of the snows caused the cascade’s sudden increase, and the river overflowing, threatened destruction to the faubourg Montmeillan. In their fear the inhabitants besought St. Anthony, who was no sooner invoked than the waters stopped at the entrance of the faubourg. This day was the anniversary of the miracle. The street was lined with green boughs, and hangings depended from its windows; one of them, opposite our inn, was a hearth rug on a curtain pole—grenadiers and military music preceded long ranks of young girls in white veils carrying lilies in token of the saint’s purity; but as white lilies are scarce, those only of the priests, which are artificial, bore the virgin hue, all the rest being orange-coloured! A priest carried in the palm of his hand a small gilded St. Anthony. Instead of the white-robed men and women, we had the whole contents of the monastery of begging friars in their gowns and cowls of unwholesome-looking brown serge, with half shaven heads and dirty beards and soiled feet sandalled—mostly fat, notwithstanding their condition of mendicants. After the procession followed breakfasts, their expense defrayed by collections made by and for the faithful who eat them in the saint’s honour.
Those who make Chambéry a residence find it cheap and agreeable, as its society is good and not difficult of access. It is surrounded with chateaux, many of which are let on reasonable terms, while furnished apartments in the town itself are to be had from 600 to 1000 francs yearly. Meat is 7 sous a-pound. Forage extremely low, fruit and milk to be had almost for the asking, good wine 8 sous a bottle. We had a proof of their being a kindly, unceremonious people. In our rides we have sometimes met a young lady on horseback, the Comtesse de S——, with her brothers. We were told she was anxious to make our acquaintance, and that it was the easiest thing in the world, as we need only ride up to her chateau, where we should be well received; but as we are to remain but some days longer, we are unwilling to do what would merely be a source of regret, particularly as we know her history. She is a sweet looking, fair girl; her family one of the most ancient and richest here: her father is a very old man; her mother died in her infancy, and she was almost brought up by a sister ten years older than herself, who was, I am told, a beautiful and amiable young woman. They had three brothers, all in the army, and were a very united family. The youngest daughter was eight or ten years old, when her sister, who had always been remarkably pious, one morning went to mass as usual, but when it was over did not return. The terrified father, for her brothers were each with his regiment, sought for her in vain; she had not been seen in her usual place at church, nor was she to be heard of elsewhere. The next day a letter arrived, dated from the convent at Annecy: “she had,” she said, “accomplished a project formed many years before,” and was never again to return to the home she had quitted, or the child to whom she had been as a mother.
She merely told her resolution, and desired that such necessaries as she had not with her should be sent without delay. The convent to which she had gone was a branch of that of Lemenc, and her arrangements had probably been made beforehand. The nuns, who should have refused to receive the mistaken girl, encouraged her resolution, persuaded her of the truth of her vocation, and rendered vain the prayers and remonstrances of her heart-broken parent. He remembered that, when a child, she often expressed her intention of becoming a nun, and his sorrow was increased by the despair of his remaining daughter, who also determined on leaving a world in which she felt forsaken. The brothers were summoned home and opposed her resolution as they had vainly done that of the novice. The latter had taken the veil, and her family one day visiting her, she received them standing behind her convent grate, while a nun remained to repress by her presence any emotions which might seem hurtful to the weal of the order. Its heartless laws forbade her touching the offered hands of her father and brothers, and they quitted her with a still stronger determination to save their young sister from a like sacrifice. One of her affectionate brothers for her sake abandoned his profession, fearing the loneliness of her home; a second has obtained a prolongation of leave to aid in watching over her till she is settled in life. She is not fond of general society, but mild and timid; and of all the amusements she has been induced to share in, likes only riding, and passes almost every evening on her small chestnut horse in her brothers’ company. As she is rich and sovereign in her father’s house, her joy and occupation lie in providing for a multitude of poor people who depend on her for all—she appears to be almost worshipped in Chambéry.
More leeches arrived to-night, post. This hot weather renders travelling mortal to many, and as lingering on the road is fatal to them, we hear that they pay postilions even better than the English!!!
Passing the General de Boigne’s monumental fountain and the boulevard, and crossing the bridge which leads to the Geneva road, we ascended the hill instead of following it, and walked to the church of Lemenc, one of the first raised to Christianity. The antiquities found here prove that the village was very anciently inhabited. When Hannibal had led his army across the Mont du Chat, he arrived hither and went hence to Montmeillan, passing up the valley of the Isère and entering Italy by the Little St. Bernard. There are two monasteries, one adjoining the church which belongs to it, another at a short distance. I believe the latter to be the Benedictine, of whose prior and chaplain the Knights Templar, who established themselves here in 1199, were obliged to ask or buy permission ere they erected an oratory. The Bénédictines formerly exercised an extraordinary right, called by a fit name, “Droit de dépouille.” When in Chambéry or its environs the head of a family died, the monks received his best suit of clothes, with which his survivors were bound to present them; the custom awoke murmurs, particularly when, in addition, they claimed the bed on which the deceased expired. Early in 1400, the Bénédictines of Lemenc came to an agreement with the Syndics of Chambéry, contenting themselves with receiving the suit of clothes or its price. A noble might redeem it with eight florins of Savoy; a burgess paid five; an artisan two, and a poor man one!
We had been told that beneath the church were vaults of great age, probably those in which the Christians of early times assembled. A flight of steps on each side the choir leads below. A few rude pillars sustain the roof; on a tomb lies a colossal figure of the Saviour sculptured in stone by some unskilful artist of gone by centuries; it is surrounded by nine others of like size, which stand in various attitudes about the tomb. All have been more or less mutilated, but bear traces of having been painted long ago. This giant group has a startling effect on entering the dimly lighted chapel, and the good people of Chambéry hold the figures in fear and reverence. The priest, our acquaintance, told me he too had visited Lemenc, and not knowing his way thither, took a guide, a fine tall fellow. Arrived in the subterranean chapel, Pierre, who above had manifested no extraordinary devotion, prostrated himself in sudden fervour, and recited a De Profundis fast, and tremulously. The Abbé inquired “What ailed him?” “Don’t you see them, Sir,” said Pierre in a whisper, pointing to the enormous effigies, “and don’t you know that you and I are here alone?”
In one of the chapels of the upper church are the bones of one St. Concord, whose real name was Couchouars, archbishop of Armagh and primate of Ireland; his figure is exhibited within a glass case or shrine, dressed in pontificals, and with a waxen face and hands!
Walking higher up the hill, we passed several stations leading to a Calvary, supposed to be very ancient also. An inscription assures, that whoever shall visit them with due devotion, gains the same indulgences as are attached to the holy places at Jerusalem, an advantage which would save trouble. Beyond, the ground is covered with blocks of flat stone, which leave between them no room for vegetation, and you must beware of breaking your legs by slipping into their holes and crevices.
We went on till we arrived at a giddy height, hanging over the road to Geneva, and the view repaid us for our climbing. I forgot to mention, that opposite the Irish Saint’s chapel in the church of Lemenc is a monument to General de Boigne. When I arrived in Chambéry, where he is naturally and properly remembered with respect and affection, I yet had some trouble in learning his true history, so that I will save you the like.
He was born in this town in 1741; his father was a hide-merchant, who could bequeath him no fortune, but bestowed on him a good education in his native college, and destined him for a lawyer. Young Benoit chose, notwithstanding, the career of arms, first entering the Irish regiment in the service of France and accompanying it to the Mauritius. He was generally liked, as well for the physical advantages he possessed, for he was tall and handsome, as for his character, whose extreme gentleness contrasted with its fire and unwearied activity, and firmness of purpose not to be shaken.
Having obtained little promotion during the five years passed in the French service, he offered his resignation, and obtained letters from the Sardinian minister to Admiral Orloff, who then commanded in the Archipelago the land and naval force of Russia. Orloff at once, with the promptitude of perception belonging to an old officer, appreciated the new comer at his true value, and placed him as captain in one of Catherine’s Greek regiments. During a sortie of the garrison, at the siege of Tenedos, in 1780, the company he commanded was cut to pieces, and himself taken prisoner. Conducted to Constantinople he suffered the hardships of a cruel captivity during seven months, and the peace which freed him, also destroyed all hopes of further promotion; and having received the rank of major in reward of his gallant conduct, he threw up his commission once more, and departed for Smyrna, where he made acquaintance with the French consul, and also with many foreigners lately returned from India; and listening to the recitals of the latter, he felt all the dreams of his youth and its love of adventure revive within him. He returned to Constantinople, journeyed thence to Alexandria and Aleppo, to join a caravan starting for Balsora, and the caravan being unable to proceed by reason of the war between the Turks and Persians, again repaired to Alexandria and embarked, but fortune being unfavourable still, he was shipwrecked at the mouth of the Nile, and cast on the Arabs’ mercy. Instead of being, as he expected, stripped and murdered, they received him with the most generous hospitality, and conducted him under their protection to Cairo. Thence through the kindness of Mr. Baldwin, the English consul, he was enabled to reach India by the isthmus of Suez, and went to Bombay first, and then to Madras, where, being a foreigner, he obtained no employment, and to earn his bread gave lessons in fencing, an art in which he excelled. At last he received an ensign’s commission in a native regiment in the Company’s service. In a skirmish which took place soon after, between some of Hyder Aly’s troops and of those of the India Company, De Boigne’s corps was almost wholly destroyed, and himself only escaped, because he had been detached with orders a few moments before.
Discouraged by this last event, which rendered his chances of promotion more distant, he gave in his resignation, and resolved on returning to Europe, and doing so by land, trusting to his intimate knowledge of the geography of the country, and of its various dialects. His superior officers, who liked and esteemed him, furnished him with recommendations to Lord Hastings, then Governor of India, and from the sudden change in his projects and alteration of his fortunes, as well as from other circumstances, it was presumed that he had offered his services as envoy or mediator to the different princes, enemies or allies, and that Lord Hastings furnished him with instructions, and also with means of accomplishing a mission, for which his intelligence and courage, and also his speaking their various languages with facility, rendered him so well fitted.
He went first to Lucknow, where the English ambassador presented him to the Nabob, Assefed-Daulah; then to Delhi, and at last determined on offering his services to one of the native princes, and selected in the first instance the Ranah of Gohed, who was about to make war with Sindiah, the most powerful of the twelve princes who formed the Mahratta confederation. Lord Hastings opposed at first his determination of taking service, and he was recalled to Calcutta, and employed by the English once more. He then went to Delhi, where by the counsel of the English ambassador, Brown, who himself made the proposals necessary, he offered himself to the same Sindiah, whose foe he had almost been so shortly before. Boigne was to raise and discipline, after the European manner, a portion of Sindiah’s army. In providing soldiers there was little difficulty; much in bowing the Indian character to military discipline; yet in the space of five months he had accomplished the task, and the superiority of his troops was proved at the siege of Callindjer.
From this moment date the successes of De Boigne, and the commencement of his colossal fortune. But Sindiah, who had gratified his officer with riches and honours, yielding to the insinuations of his courtiers, soon evinced suspicion and jealousy, with which he was unable to bear, and sent in his resignation, which being accepted, he retired to Lucknow. Sindiah soon felt his loss, for his preponderance in the scale startled the remainder of the Mahratta confederation, and Holkar, one of its chief members, raised an army to dethrone him.
It was then that, aware of his folly and injustice, he despatched a message to De Boigne, requesting him to return, on whatever conditions he might please to make, consenting beforehand to them all. Boigne started without hesitation, and had no sooner appeared before the troops, than his old officers and all the soldiers came crowding round him. He obtained the most complete success. Good administrator as well as warrior, he introduced regularity and economy into the army; repressed the depredations of tax-collectors, and enforcing military discipline, punished pillage severely.
This same year brought him other triumphs. The Rahjad of Djaipour having revolted, he marched against and defeated him, then besieged him in his capital. The frightened rebel submitted; paid the arrears of his tribute, and an indemnity of twenty millions. The General himself signed the treaty, and made his triumphal entry into Djaipour, mounted on an elephant covered with gold and embroidery, and followed by a brilliant staff. Sindiah believed he could not better reward such signal services than by making him governor over these conquered provinces, with share of the tribute. India was pacified; from the confines of Lahore to the sea of Cambaye, all had submitted to Sindiah.
While the power of the house of Savoy ebbed from the encroaching arms of the Republic, and King Charles Emmanuel could only in the island of Sardinia unrol his standard, its white cross gleamed victoriously along the banks of the Indus. The fortunate Savoyard possessed unlimited power over the Mahratta states to the north of Cumbul, but a blow was struck in the midst of his prosperity, for Sindiah died, leaving the crown to his great nephew, on the twelfth of February, 1794. With him expired all hopes of further conquest; the soul of his thoughts, the motive of his actions had departed: his “occupation was gone,” and with a heart almost broken with the loss of his friend and benefactor, he resolved on returning to Europe. The greater part of the conquered or tributary sovereigns burned to recover their independence. The Great Mogul and the King of Caboul first felt of what importance might be De Boigne’s support, and sent him an embassy, offering the place of prime minister. Far from accepting these terms, or seeking to dismember the states left by Sindiah, he gave his successor all advice and instructions necessary to their preservation, and, to consolidate his work, deferred his departure for two years. These past, and his health permitting no further delay, he bade adieu to his brothers in arms, and started for Calcutta with the regiment of Persian cavalry belonging to himself, and which Sindiah’s nephew would have bought, but refused to pay for till he should return. Not accepting these conditions, the General offered it to the India Company, by whom it was purchased for nine hundred thousand francs.
It has been foolishly asserted that De Boigne’s betraying Tippoo Saib to the English had caused the former’s downfall; but the Sultan of Maissour’s ruin took place in 1799, when the General de Boigne had been three years returned to Europe; and during his long stay in India, he never held communication with this prince, who resided at a distance of five hundred leagues from the country where himself acquired glory and fortune.
He went to settle in England, where he was well received in the first society, and married the daughter of the Marquis of Osmond, who had formerly been ambassador from France to London; but this ill-assorted union did not afford the General a day of happiness. Abandoning the noisy pleasures of cities, he sought repose in his own country. Large fortunes are rare there; and in his delicious residence of Buisson at the gates of Chambéry, he lived like a man of moderate means; and thus, without diminishing his capital, he was enabled to make public and private benefactions.
His native town owes to him her theatre, her new streets, scientific foundations, donations to sapeur pompiers, the enlargement of its hospitals, and of the Jesuits’ College. Commiserating the indigent old age of such as had been born to better fortunes, he founded a house of refuge, and gifted it with a dotation of 900,000 francs. Forty persons past the age of sixty, of either sex, are received within, and not only provided for, but treated with respect and care, to which their earlier days have been accustomed.
He bestowed 650,000 francs on an establishment for the reception of the poor wanting work, to put a stop to mendicity and its consequences; and 400,000 more on an hospital for the insane.
His marble bust, executed during his life, was placed by the king of Sardinia’s order in the public library. He was at the same time created count, lieutenant-general, and grand cross of the military orders of St. Maurice and St. Lazare. He left one son; the fortune bequeathed to him was computed at 37,678,000 francs. De Boigne died June, 1830.
June 18th. Geneva, Hôtel du Secheron.
We took leave the evening of the 15th of the abbé, who departed for Aix, and the old officer who is gone to Geneva; and ourselves left very early the next morning, while the mist still hung heavily over the town and along the base of the Dent de Nivolet, at whose foot the road winds, and a great part of the road to Aix forms a wall of cliff like, as I said, a mighty fortification, with vineyards and châteaux in its shadow. The grande route, which is broad and handsome, is mostly shaded by old trees, walnut and sweet chestnut. When we arrived at Aix, which is the fashion and extolled by guide-books, I was disappointed, as the mountains had lost their boldness, and the lake was not visible; nor did I see anything remarkable, as we rode through it, but the magnificent trees of its promenades. It is famous for its warm sulphureous waters, and for the splendid remains of Roman baths; a temple of the Ionic order, thought to be dedicated to Diana; and a Doric arch, raised, according to its inscription, by Pompeius Campanus. At a short distance from Aix the country again becomes beautiful, and there is a grey ruined tower on the right hand perched high among the woods, and commanding a ravine and its narrow mountain stream. Some villagers ran out from their cottages to tell us that this was Grésy, and to hold our horses while we visited the cascade, which is near the road but not visible from it: with it is connected a melancholy story.
Queen Hortense, when sovereign of Holland, visited it in company of several of her ladies, among whom was one she particularly loved, the Baroness de Broc, a very young and beautiful woman. Too curious and too bold, her foot slipped as, placing it on the wet plank, she refused the hand of the guide, and she fell into the torrent below. Her scream of terror was the last sound from her lips her royal friend heard. At this spot are deep cavities hollowed by the waters in their violent fall. All endeavours to raise the poor victim proved vain for half an hour: life had long departed. A stone bearing the following inscription has been raised to record her death:—
“To the memory of the Baroness de Broc, aged twenty-five years, who perished before her friends’ eyes, June the 19th, 1813. Oh you who come to view these spots, and hang over their abysses, beware how you venture your lives. Think of those who love you!”
From Grésy to Rumilly the road continues interesting, though less so than that from the Échelles to Chambéry. Rumilly is a dirty town: we met at its entrance a postilion looking for prey, who conducted us to the hôtel de la Poste, which has just now no innkeeper; as he who kept it is ruined, and has lately run away; and the two servants left in charge, an elegant mannered young “chef” and a woman, have too much to do, therefore we got little attendance. The house will soon follow the master, for a beam in the room where we slept was so awfully cracked across its centre, that I commenced speculating on the weight it would bring down with it; and D—— consoled me by saying it would probably last till morning! Entering the town, we passed some traces of former fortifications, and an old convent, the only one in the town, stood (the servant said) just behind the tumbling house. So knowing the localities, I will tell you a part of their history. In 1630 Louis the Thirteenth’s forces had entered Savoy: Chambéry and Annecy opened their gates; Rumilly, more brave than strong, resisted: the French forces were commanded by the Marshal du Hallier. The troops forced their way, and not until the extermination of the town had been commanded, did the officer who gave the order recollect that there resided three young relatives of Du Hallier, the demoiselles de Pessieux de Salagine, one of whom was a Bernardine nun. He sent to warn them of their danger, inviting them to take refuge in the camp; but they replied, “they chose to share the fate of their fellow-citizens, and would not abandon them in their extremity.” At this time the principal inhabitants, who had hastily assembled, decided on deputing the nun, guarded by some of their own body, to their besiegers’ head-quarters. She was beautiful and young, as well as high-spirited and full of talent. Arrived at the camp, her loveliness, her eloquence, and firmness, aroused the officer’s pity: he retracted his sentence as the noble woman knelt before him, and she returned to her town to inform those who waited her in hope and fear, that it would be plundered for the space of one hour only, and that the soldiers were enjoined to respect the houses containing the three sisters, confided to the safeguard of French honour.
The demoiselles de Pessieux employed the time which was yet to intervene in assembling all the young of their own sex, and all portable property of value in their three several houses. The soldiery, accustomed to severe discipline, forbore to approach the privileged mansions containing the sisters, who were called in truth the guardian angels of their native place.
We slept in a thorough draught on account of the bad air, and rose long before sunrise to travel on; but to very little purpose, as no one followed our example. The garçon d’écurie after a long search was discovered under the manger, too sound asleep to be wakened by ordinary means. After an hour’s riding, when the heat was becoming painful, and the flies beginning their persecution, which both do before nine o’clock, we missed the second valise, which I had packed and D—— carried down, and both of us forgotten. We began by considering which of us was most in fault, then we decided the lazy people of the house were alone to blame, and then we wondered how we were to get it again; which was embarrassing, for we preferred losing its contents to travelling back; but not impossible, for there is an extraordinary honesty along the road, and nothing is stolen, though there is often neither gate to the yard nor fastening to the stable. As we arrived at the old castle with two grey towers, which, standing at the road side, is now converted into a post-house, we met a postilion who was going back for something forgotten by the diligence, and promised for two francs to bring it that night to Frangy, where we intended to sleep. Frangy is only three posts distant from Rumilly, yet, when we commenced descending the hill, which commands a beautiful wild view of mountains of all shapes and forms, with the town nestled beside the river in the Valley of the Usses, we were completely exhausted by the heat, which was intense. The steep, unshaded road seems unending, as it is cut in zigzags on the mountain side, and the shining steeple at the bottom appeared to grow more distant as we went on.
Arrived at the hotel, and D—— with his horses gone to the stable, I found myself opposite an impertinent-looking personage with his hat on, who gave a list of prices which certainly could be justified by nothing to be procured at Frangy. As he would hear of no others, I said “very well,” and ordered breakfast; which was bad: and we and the horses being fed, the latter, to the surprise of the innkeeper, who believed the hot sun would reconcile us to his dirty rooms, reappeared at the door.
“Monsieur and Madame,” said he, looking doleful, “you shall stay at your own prices.” “Monsieur,” said we, “you should have thought of that before: good morning!”
The heat, till we got out of the valley, was tremendous; but as the road is next carried over the ridge of Mont Sion, where we had air once more, and numbers of fine trees, we did not suffer. Little Fanny, who daily increases in wisdom, having been stopped beneath them once or twice, while we mustered courage to brave the sun again, the remainder of her journey of her own accord trotted towards shade, and arrived in it, regularly stopped a few seconds to refresh herself. L’Éluiset, to which we were bound, is a pretty looking hamlet, of a few detached houses, but the post-house is not, as we had been told, an inn; and the two auberges, which stand opposite one another, merely receive rouliers. We examined their exterior ere we decided, and fixed on the Balance, of which beware. The little room, to which we ascended by a species of ladder, looked clean, and might, we thought, for one night, be bearable, though the jutting roof of the broad balcony prevented the air from entering at the open windows. There was no room in which we could dine; but behind the house was a just-mown hay-field, with noble walnut-trees, and a mountain view; and there we sent the dinner table, and agreed we had not yet had a saloon we liked as well. We passed the afternoon pleasantly; and when the moon got up, there would have been nothing to prevent our going on to Geneva, but for the custom-house, which was closed then, and not to re-open till seven in the morning. The valise arrived in safety, it had not even been opened,—a poor fellow having brought it all the way on foot in expectation of only a two-franc piece; and his hot face shone with pleasure when D—— gave him something more for his five-and-twenty miles. You might have envied us our evening, with the wind in the trees and the moon in the sky, and the glow-worms shining in the corn, and the pretty laugh of the children, who gathered in the hay-field to watch us and to play; but you would not have envied the night which was to follow. We went to bed, and I had been asleep five minutes, when a start at the other end of the room roused me, and there I saw D—— sitting upright, the pallid image of inquisitive horror. “What is the matter?” exclaimed I. “The devil,” said he; and glancing at my own sheets, which I praised as I lay down, because they smelt of wild thyme, there were the demons, in companies, regiments, armies. We made a bed on the floor, and surrounded it by a flood; but the very floor was alive; and dressing in despair, we recollected the balcony down to which we could jump from the window, and there we transported our baggage and ourselves, and sat longing for day, and to get into the hay-field; but the great house-dog lay across the threshold, and at every movement we made looked up, and growled ominously. The dawn came at last, shining on the lake of Geneva, only two leagues and a half distant, but we were not disposed to admire. I have seldom felt happier than when the sleepers were roused at last, and I found myself in my wished-for field, and could lie down on the grass, though it was wet with dew like rain. The dog came to inspect me carefully, a ceremony I could have dispensed with; but having satisfied himself I was no thief, and licked my hand to tell me so, he sat down opposite as a guard, gravely gazing at me from four to seven. At seven the custom-house opened, and we rode away. Beyond L’Éluiset you pass over neutral ground, which, lying between Switzerland and Savoy, and subject to neither, is the contrebandier’s paradise. Exhausted by the heat, we got some milk at a cottage, for it was impossible to take anything at L’Éluiset. Arrived at St. Julien, where passports are examined, we hoped to pass through without being noticed; but were hailed by a red-nosed employé, and kept broiling in the heat while it was visé. Of the road from St. Julien to Geneva I know very little, being at last so weary, that I absolutely fell asleep on Fanny’s back, and was wakened by knocking my head against D——’s shoulder.
We passed through Carouge, which has become a town, and has nothing picturesque; but houses with green shutters and verandas, and neat gardens, like an English watering-place. Entering Geneva by the Porte Neuve, we rode before its strong fortifications, now perfectly repaired, (in consequence of the threats of France last year, when Switzerland sheltered Louis Bonaparte,) and the ramparts, which form beautiful and shady promenades. Near the Porte Neuve is the botanic garden, terribly celebrated; as the spot that it occupied was that where in 1794 took place the fusillades and executions which decimated the respectable citizens of Geneva under the direction of a member of the Comité du Salut Public, from Paris. We crossed the Rhone, which is here so deep and bright a blue, that I at first looked to see whether any dyeing establishment were near, and then smiled at my folly in supposing it could act on the rapid river for a further space than a few feet. As we took the steep streets pointed out to us as the shortest way to the Porte de Cornavin, and the road to Lausanne, our first impression of Geneva was less favourable than it would have been choosing the longer and better way by the quays and new bridge, which affords a view of the lake. The hôtel du Secheron is about a quarter of a mile from the gate on the Lausanne road. The heat when we arrived was already excessive, though it was hardly nine o’clock, and we felt the luxuries of its quiet and cleanliness. These windows command a splendid view of the lake, framed by the fine trees of the park which stretches down to its shore, of the mild green hill on the other side, dotted by villas, among which is Lord Byron’s; and the mountains of the Salève, near Geneva;—those of the Voiron, and the blue pointed Mole farther away; and between them, and though far beyond, seeming to stand forth before in its brightness and purity, Mont Blanc. The Secheron is a better inn than any I have met with even in England, and, notwithstanding its expensive reputation, is more reasonable, as well as more comfortable, than the Bergues, according to the account of an acquaintance we met in Geneva. I do not comprehend how any stranger can prefer the stifling streets and their noise to the shade and quiet here, particularly as we find every facility for making excursions. Monsieur Dejean supplies the town with carriages, and keeps thirty horses in his stables, and the hôtel having its own boat and boatmen, we are landed on the quay in five minutes.
Notwithstanding these advantages, the Secheron, from being accused of high charges, and from its nickname of Hôtel des Têtes Couronnées, has made little money of late. The old proprietor, in whose family it has been many years, for his great-grandfather planted most of its trees, resigns himself, saying, that if not an inn it will be a country house. We wish him success, for, unlike his brethren, he refuses to turn out his servants at the approach of winter: he never sells an old horse, and has latterly fed and lodged for some days, and for nothing, a traveller who had no means of payment.