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.