“Il est un coin de terre, au pied d’une montagne
Que baigne le lac du Bourget
. . . . . . . . . .
Hautecombe! port calme! O royal monastere!
Abri des fils de Saint Bernard.”
At the extreme northerly end of the Lac du Bourget is the ancient Manoir de Châtillon, sitting high on an isolated and wooded hillside above the gently lapping waters, and in full view of the snow-capped mountains of the Alpine chain to the eastward.
Here was born, towards the end of the twelfth century, Geoffroi de Châtillon, son of Jean de Châtillon and Cassandra Cribelli, sister of Pope Urban III. In every way the edifice is an ideally picturesque one, as much so because of its site and its historical foundation. As an architectural glory it is a mélange of many sorts, with scarce a definite æsthetic attribute. It is as an historical guide-post that it appears in its best light. Its chief deity, Geoffroi, became a canon and chancellor of the chapter at Milan; later he entered the religious retreat of Hautecombe, from which Gregory IX finally drew him forth to make him a cardinal-bishop. He ultimately succeeded to the pontifical robes and tiara himself as Celestin IV (1241). He died eighteen days later, poisoned, it is said, so his reign at the head of Christendom was perhaps the briefest on record.
Bordeau, another ruined memory of mediævalism, also overlooks the Lac du Bourget from near-by.
Aix-les-Bains is of course the lode-stone which draws the majority of travellers to this corner of the world. It is but a city of pleasure, a modern “Spa,” the outgrowth of another of Roman times when they took “cures” more seriously. It has the reputation to-day, among those who are really in the whirl of things, as being the gayest, if not the most profligate—and there is some suspicion of that—watering place in Europe. Judging from prices alone, and admitting the disposition or willingness of those who would be gay to pay high prices without a murmur, this is probably so.
The site of Aix-les-Bains is lovely, and its waters really beneficial—so the doctors say, and probably with truth. Its Casino is only second to that of Monte Carlo.
The chief charm of Aix-les-Bains after all is, or ought to be, its accessibility to the historic masterpieces roundabout, and its delightful situation by the shores of the “lac bleu” whose praises were so loudly sung by Lamartine in “Raphael.”
North from Chambéry and east from Aix-les-Bains, is a mountain region known as Les Bauges, a little known and less exploited region. It is a charming isolated corner of Savoy, where once roamed the gorgeous equipages of the Ducs de Savoie, who here hunted the wild boar, the deer and the bears and foxes to their hearts’ content. To-day pretty much all game of this nature has disappeared, save an occasional sanglier, or wild boar, which, when met with, usually turns tail and runs.
Midway in this mountain land between Aix-les-Bains and Albertville is Le Chatelard, a tiny townlet on the banks of a mountain torrent, the Chéran. On a hill above the town, at a height of nearly three thousand feet above the sea level, are the insignificant remains of the chateau of Thomas de Savoie. Scant remains they are to be sure, endowed with a history as scant, since little written word is to be met with concerning them.
Otherwise the chateau is a very satisfactory historical monument.