[66] The N.E. pavilion of the Tuileries.--ED.

CHAPTER VII

Journey from Paris to Lausanne--Besancon--French refugees in
Lausanne--Francois Lamarque--General Espinassy--Bordas--Gautier--Michau--
M. de Laharpe--Mlle Michaud--Levade, a Protestant minister--Chambery--Aix--
Details about M. de Boigne's career in India--English Toryism and
intolerance--Valley of Maurienne--Passage across Mont Cenis and arrival at
Suza--Turin.

LAUSANNE, July 8th.

Departing from Paris on the 24th June, 1816, I varied my journey into
Switzerland this time, for instead of travelling thro' Lyons or Dole, I
took the route of Besangon, Pontarlier, Jougne and Orbe. The country
between Dijon and Besancon is a rich and fertile plain. At Besancon the
mountainous country begins; it is a strong fortress, and the last
considerable town of the French frontier. It lies in a very picturesque
situation, being nearly environed by the Doubs, which meanders under its
walls, and by very lofty mountains; on the other side of the Doubs stands
the citadel, its chief strength. The town of Besangon is exceedingly
handsome and well built, and there are several agreeable promenades, two of
which I must particularize, viz., the promenade de Chamarre and the garden
of the Palace of Granvelle. There are besides several Roman antiquities and
the remains of a large amphitheatre. I amused myself very well for a couple
of days at Besancon, and met with some agreeable society at the _Hotel de
France_ where I lodged. I left Besancon at eight in the morning of the 30th
June, and arrived at Pontarlier at six the same evening. Pontarlier is a
dreary, melancholy looking place, consisting of a very long street and
several offsets of streets, situated in the midst of mountains, eternally
covered with snow. Winter reigns here during nine months of the year. At
Pontarlier the whole garrison were under arms, when I arrived, to pay the
last duties to a most respectable and respected officer, whose death was
occasioned by falling into the river, while at the _necessary_, by the
under board giving way. This officer had served in almost all the campaigns
of Napoleon and had greatly distinguished himself. What a cruel death for a
warrior who had been in fifty battles! That death should have shunned him
in the field of battle, to make him fall in a manner at once inglorious and
ridiculous! yet such is destiny. Pyrrhus fell by a tile flung from a house
by an old woman, and I am