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 150 and gout, and 169 diseases of the skin, these two heads including more than half of the ills which these baths endeavour to cure. In addition to the public baths which are paid for, there is an hospital for the poor, which was mainly endowed by an English gentleman residing at Lausanne, well known for his munificent charities. The hospital went by his name, till the recent visit of the Emperor, when the Mayor of the town, with over-much zeal, changed the name to that of the Emperor’s mother, who was formerly a frequent visitor, and who had contributed a few pounds to the charity. If this was known to the Emperor, no doubt but that he would order the right name to be restored.

The town is in the season, as before stated, one large lodging-house or inn, the prices in most cases are fixed, and a very comfortable bed-room, breakfast, and dinner at a table d’hôte may be had for about 4s. a day, or even less; whereas three very good rooms on the first-floor, and the use of a saloon for dinner and breakfast, were only charged 12s. This includes the use of a garden, which is attached to most of the houses. In addition, for the “upper ten thousand” there is a magnificent hotel just opened; its extent almost rivals its giant brother the Louvre at Paris: it was said to be dear. There is a tariff for boats, carriages with one or two horses, and donkeys either by the day, half-day, or hour. Hitherto, as before stated, the place has not been much frequented by the English, though of course the railway, the two posts a day from England, and electric telegraph, coupled with the sanitary baths, the reasonable living, and the beautiful scenery and climate, not forgetting that there is now no custom-house, will soon greatly attract our countrymen; and it is to be hoped this will give the French a better opportunity of knowing us. It is wonderful what rubbish is taken for fine writing, and what notions even now the French have of the English people. In the fine volume before referred to, which I am told is nearly out of print, called “The Season at Aix,” after a page of the wildest rhodomontade, describing “how, often at midnight, at this charming hour when the plaintive waters gently caress the solitary Grotto of Raphael, when the moon,” &c, &c, we are further informed, “this is the hour when the young English girls abandon to the caresses of night their flowing tresses and drink tea, in which a tear of milk is dropped—this is the propitious hour for sweet reveries, and slices of bread-and-butter. They eat roast beef, and think on the mysterious Childe Harold, which every child of Albion knows by heart.” Then comes the like about Romeo and Juliet, and supping at the Casino. I dare say that we do not understand the French, especially as regards their private society; but I don’t think even the most rubbishing of our writers pen such stuff as this. The English who visit the baths are described as a collection of eccentric originals, members of the House of Lords, with seven or eight millions of rent-roll (thirty or forty thousand sterling) which they do not know how to get rid of,—country gentlemen (squires), retired nabobs, city bankers, sportmen, and tourists.

Beyond the scenery and climate there is plenty of amusement: there is a fine building used as a casino, with garden and large balcony, from which there is a near view of the range of mountains bordering the western side of the lake. There are endless balls and concerts, to which respectable persons find no difficulty in obtaining admission, and in the Avenue Marie there is a building, formerly a riding-school, which is occasionally devoted to dramatic performances. It is not intended, of course, to write a guide to Aix; one is found in every shop; but the beautiful excursions are endless. There is especially one picturesque waterfall made interesting by the melancholy fate of a lady of honour of Queen Hortense, who, in passing a plank, fell into the boiling whirlpool and was lost. A plain monument put up by the late Queen marks the spot.

The virtues of the waters were known to the Romans, and there are ancient baths and Roman buildings in the town, with the usual accompaniments of small bronzes, lamps, &c., enough to amuse the antiquary for two or three days.

In addition to the shorter excursions, there is the Grande Chartreuse within a day’s journey: Annecy, Chamounix, and Geneva, and all the beautiful intermediate country, as well as the wilder valleys of Savoy, are well worth the trouble of visiting.

But the beauties of the lake, and the facility and cheapness of boating excursions, make this one of the popular amusements of Aix. One expedition is to the small town of Bourget at the head of the lake, which may be approached either by a beautiful carriage-road bordering the shore, or by a boat; here the bon-vivant eats matelotes of the lake fish, the reputation of which—the matelotes, not the fish—however, surpasses the reality, as in other matters of life is not seldom the case: but without reference to the matelotes, the scenery of the drive or the sail will well repay the excursionist, who cannot but be interested by the groups of simple fishermen in their rush cloaks.

The principal lake excursion, however, is to Haute Couche, founded in 1128 by one of the Counts of Savoy, and here is the principal burial-place of the House of Savoy. The chapel has been restored lately by the present family. I say nothing of the taste of the Gothic style employed, though it is much praised, nor of the very middling monuments lately erected or restored. As regards this Gothic building, what with twisted pillars, grotesque capitals, and overloaded coarse mouldings, it is as fine within as stone and gaudy coloured modern glass and “richly painted” ceilings in the worst style can make it; but from its situation and history it is interesting. What was done at the annexation? Did the King give up the graves of his ancestors to be the perpetual monuments of his having sold his birthright? or is there an enclave, and does the chapel still remain Savoy? There is something melancholy in the thought of its being otherwise. The love of the graves of one’s ancestors is a deep-rooted feeling pervading the most savage and the most refined people alike.

The lake by all accounts is safe, but there is a