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.
CHAPTER X.
Early history of Geneva—Constitution—Duke Amedée the Eighth—Attempt to become master of Geneva—The Bishop inclined to cede his rights—The opposition of the citizens—Charles the Third—Berthelier—Alliance with Fribourg—His courage—Geneva taken—His refusal to fly—His arrest—A tooth-drawer named his judge—His execution—The news of his death causing the impression he had hoped for—Treaty—The Mamelukes—The Confrères de la Cuiller—Advance of Berne and Fribourg—Charles the Third’s forced concessions—Want of generosity in the Bernese—Noble conduct of Geneva—Protestant religion gaining strength—Bonnivard—Seized on the Jura—Cast into the dungeons of Chillon—Disputes in Geneva—The Grand Council decides that mass be abolished—Francis the First—Berne declares war against Savoy—Her alliance with Francis—The Duke of Savoy’s losses—Berne’s renewed misconduct—Proud reply of the Genevese—Bonnivard delivered—Calvin—His early life—His flight from Paris—His reception by Marguerite of Navarre—Persecution of Francis—Calvin’s reception by Louis the Twelfth’s Daughter—Geneva—His over severity—His expulsion—His return—His iron rule—Michael Servet—His irritating conduct towards Calvin—Calvin’s vow to be revenged—Servet’s arrest—His escape—Tracked by Calvin—Taken prisoner on his passage through Geneva—He is accused—Calvin’s valet—Burned at the stake outside the walls of Geneva.
The early history of Geneva; its foundation by the Allobroges; its increase under the Romans, Burgundians, and Franks, till it obtained privileges from Charlemagne, and held fairs; formed part of the second kingdom of Burgundy, and passed, along with its other relics, into the feeble power of the German emperors, is too long and uninteresting in its details for me to call it to your mind now. During the confused changes of these long revolutions, the clergy had found means at Geneva as well as at Sion, Lausanne, Constance, and other towns of the empire, to join to its spiritual jurisdiction a large portion of temporal authority; and the bishops obtained from the emperor the title of prince and sovereign of the town, and a part of the land surrounding it.
The inhabitants generally preferred his rule to that of the warlike and turbulent princes who owned the territories adjoining theirs; not only because they expected it would be mildly held, but because their own voices, joined to those of the chapter of his church, elected him, and having no military force under his command, he found moderation a necessary virtue. Besides this restraint, the bishop acknowledged others. He could not exercise authority alone; he was the emperor’s vassal, and the administration of justice was disputed with him by the counts of Geneva, who, from being merely imperial officers, had become the bishop’s first vassals. The people, profiting by their frequent discords, established their own power, and held fast the privileges granted by divers emperors. They elected four syndics and a treasurer, who chose in turn their principal assessors. They deliberated on taxes to be levied, alliances to be formed; on all important affairs interesting the general welfare—so that Geneva, being an imperial town, shared the exercise of sovereign power between her bishop and her citizens.