LETTER XXI.

Geneva.

Although this republic has long continued in a profound peace, and there is no great probability of its being soon engaged in bloody conflict, yet the citizens of Geneva are not the less fond of the pomp of war.

This appears in what they call their military feasts, which are their most favourite amusements, and which they take every opportunity of enjoying.

I was present lately at a very grand entertainment of this kind, which was given by the King of the Arquebusiers upon his accession to the royal dignity.

This envied rank is neither transmitted by hereditary right, nor obtained by election; but gained by skill and real merit.

A war with this state, like the war of Troy, must necessarily consist of a siege. The skilful use of the cannon and arquebuse is therefore thought to be of the greatest importance. During several months every year, a considerable number of the citizens are almost constantly employed in firing at a mark, which is placed at a proper distance.

Any citizen has a right, at a small expence, to make trial of his skill in this way; and after a due number of trials, the most expert marksman is declared King.

There has not been a coronation of this kind these ten years, his late Majesty having kept peaceable possession of the throne during that period. But this summer, Mr. Moses Maudrier was found to excel in skill every competitor; and was raised to the throne by the unanimous voice of the judges.

He was attended to his own house from the field of contest by the Syndics, amidst the acclamations of the people. Some time after this, on the day of his feast, a camp was formed on a plain, without the gates of the city.

Here the whole forces of the republic, both horse and foot, were assembled, and divided into two distinct armies. They were to perform a battle in honour of his Majesty, all the combatants having previously studied their parts.

This very ingenious, warlike drama had been composed by one of the reverend ministers, who is said to possess a very extensive military genius.

That the ladies and people of distinction, who were not to be actually engaged, might view the action with the greater ease and safety, a large amphitheatre of seats was prepared for them, at a convenient distance from the field of battle.

Every thing being in readiness, the Syndics, the Council, strangers of distinction, and the relations and favourites of the King, assembled at his Majesty’s palace, which is a little snug house, situated in a narrow lane in the lower part of the city. From the palace, the procession set out in the following order:

His Majesty walked first, supported by the two eldest Syndics.

In the next rank was the Duke of H——, with the youngest.

After these, walked Lord St——pe, the Prince Gallitzen,—Mr. Cl——ve, son to Lord Cl——ve; Mr. Gr——lle, son to the late Minister; Mr. St. L——, and many other English gentlemen, who had been invited to the feast.

Next to them came the Council of twenty-five; and the procession was closed by the King’s particular friends and relations.

In this order they marched through the city, preceded by a band of music, who played, as you may believe, the most martial tunes they possibly could think of.

When this company came to the field where the troops were drawn up, they were saluted by the officers; and having made a complete circuit of both armies, the King and all his attendants took their seats at the amphitheatre, which had been prepared for that purpose.

The impatience of the troops had been very visible for some time. When the King was seated, their ardour could be no longer restrained. They called loudly to their officers to lead them to glory.—The signal was given.—They advanced to the attack in the most undaunted manner.—Conscious that they fought under the eyes of their King, the Syndics, of their wives, children, mothers and grandmothers, they disdained the thoughts of retreat.—They stood undisturbed by the thickest fire. They smiled at the roaring of the cannon, and like the horse in Job, they cried among the trumpets, ha, ha!

The ingenious author of the battle had taken care to diversify it with several entertaining incidents.

An ambuscade was placed by one of the armies, behind some trees, to surprise the enemy.—This succeeded to a miracle, although the ambuscade was posted in the sight of both armies, and all the spectators.

A convoy with provisions, advancing towards one of the armies, was attacked by a detachment from the other; and after a smart skirmish, one half of the waggons were carried away by the assailants:—The other remained with the troops for whom they seemed to have been originally intended.

A wooden bridge was briskly attacked, and as resolutely defended; but at length was trod to pieces by both armies; for, in the fury of the fight, the combatants forgot whether this poor bridge was their friend or their foe. By what means it got into the midst of the battle, I never could conceive; for there was neither river, brook, nor ditch in the whole field.

The cavalry on both sides performed wonders.—It was difficult to determine which of the generals distinguished himself most. They were both dressed in clothes exuberantly covered with lace; for the sumptuary laws were suspended for this day, that the battle might be as magnificent as possible.

As neither of these gallant commanders would consent to the being defeated, the reverend author of the engagement could not make the catastrophe so decisive and affecting as he intended.

While Victory, with equipoised wings, hovered over both armies, a messenger arrived from the town-hall with intelligence that dinner was ready. This news quickly spread among the combatants, and had an effect similar to that which the Sabine women produced when they rushed between their ravishers and their relations.—The warriors of Geneva relented at once; and both armies suspended their animosity, in the contemplation of that which they both loved.—They threw down their arms, shook hands, and were friends.

Thus ended the battle.—I don’t know how it will affect you; but it has fatigued me so completely, that I have lost all appetite for the feast, which must therefore be delayed till another post.