outskirts of the range of mountains which we had first seen from Tain,
and reminded us, in its general features, of some of the most
sequestered parts of South Wales. The soil is generally poor, but
derives an appearance of verdure and cheerfulness from the large walnut
and mulberry-trees which shade the road, and the stunted oak copses
through which it occasionally winds. We passed an extensive pile of
building, of a character which we had not before observed, consisting of
a number of small awkwardly-contrived rooms, without any uniformity,
piled like so many inhabited buttresses against the outside and inside
of a circular wall. This, it seems, is the property and habitation of
one person, a M. Dilateau; but it certainly has more the appearance of
the residence of a whole Birkbeck colony, each back-settler established
in his own nook, amid the contents of his travelling waggon. A little
farther, on the summit of a bare rocky ridge to the left, stands a
castle of a more Gothic character, but equally uncouth and comfortless.
It was demolished, as we understood, at the time of the Revolution; but
in its best days must have been but a wretched residence, as no trace
remains within many hundred yards of it, of any soil where tree or
garden could have stood. To the genuine admirers of Mad. de Sevigne,
however, even these cheerless mountain holds present an interesting
object, as having been peopled by the honest country families whose
ceremonious visits to Grignan afforded her many a good-natured
laugh.[15] Or to treat the Chateau Race-du-fort (for such we understood
to be the name of this last castle) with more respect, we may fancy its
proprietor sallying forth, like old Hardyknute, at the head of his armed
sons and servants, to join the seven hundred country gentlemen who
volunteered their services, with the Count de Grignan at their head, in
besieging the rebellious town of Orange.
[Footnote 15: "See Mad. de S.'s Letters."]
We found it necessary, both from common consideration for the
patache-horse, and our own necks, to walk up the two miles of steep
ascent, which occur after passing this last castle. On the top of the
hill all vegetation appears to cease, excepting a few shrubby dwarf
firs, and a profusion of aromatic plants, such as juniper, lavender,
southernwood, and wild thyme, which delight in the stony hot-bed
afforded by the interstices of disjointed rocks. The view from the high
table of ground to which we climbed at length fully repaid our
exertions, and may be almost compared, for extent and beauty, to those
from the church of Fourvieres, and the Montagne de Rochepot. Towards the
north we surveyed not only the valleys of Montelimart and the Drome, but
nearly the whole of the route of the three preceding days, bordered on
the one side by the abrupt and lofty mountains, from which the latter
river takes its source, and on the other by the steep banks of the
Rhone. On proceeding a little farther, over a road which consisted of
the native rock in all its native inequality, we caught sight of the
Comtat Grignan, and the great plain of Avignon, into which that district
opens in a south-western direction, flanked on the east by a colossal
Alp, called Mont Ventou, on whose long ridge traces of snow were still
visible. In the centre of the Comtat, [16]Chateau Grignan is easily
distinguished by the grandeur of its outline and proportions, and the
tall insulated rock on which it stands, somewhat resembling that on
which Windsor Castle is situated, though inferior in size. Its effect is
somewhat heightened by several other smaller crags at different
distances, which thrust themselves through the scanty stratum of soil,
each crowned with a solitary tower, or little fortalice. In the feudal
days of the Adhemars, ancestors of the Grignan family, who possessed the
whole of the Comtat, these were probably the peel-houses, or outposts,
of the old Chateau, in the quarter from which it would have been most
exposed to attack. The Chateau Race-du-fort was, in all likelihood, also
the key of the mountain glen leading to the hill which we were
descending, and formed the line of communication with Montelimart, which
was formerly included in the family territory. The records on this
subject trace the foundation of the lordship of Grignan up to the days
of Charlemagne, who is said to have created Adhemar,[17] one of his
paladins, Duke of Genoa, as a reward for having re-conquered Corsica
from the Saracens. Adhemar having fallen in a second expedition against
the same enemy, his children divided his possessions: the elder
remaining Duke of Genoa, another possessing the towns of St. Paul de
Trois Chateau et Mondragon; and a third, the sovereignty of Orange. A
fourth possessed the town of Monteil, called after him Monteil Adhemar,
or Montelimart; and in 1160, the emperor Frederic I. granted to Gerard
Adhemar de Monteil, his descendant and heir, the investiture of Grignan,
with many sovereign rights, such as that of coining money. It was to
this noble family that the Count de Grignan, whose third wife was the
daughter of Madame de Sevigne, traced his blood and inheritance in a
direct line.
[Footnote 16: Vide Cooke's Views.]
[Footnote 17: "Je me rejouis, avec M. de Grignan, de la beaute de sa
terrasse; s'il en est content, les ducs de Genes, ses grands peres,
l'auraient ete; son gout est meilleur que celui de ce temps-la;
* * * * * ces vieux lits sont dignes des Adhemars."--_Mad. de Sevigne_.]
As we reached the level of the plain, and approached the castle, its
commanding height and structure seemed completely to justify Mad. de
S.'s expression to her daughter, "Votre chateau vraiment royal." Few
subjects certainly ever had such a residence as this; which, though
reduced to a mere shell by the ravages of the Revolution, still seems to
bespeak the hospitable and chivalrous character of its former possessor.
It rises from a terrace of more than a hundred feet in height, partly
composed of masonry, and partly of the solid rock. The town of Grignan,
piled tier above tier, occupies a considerable declivity at the foot of
this terrace, and communicates with the castle by a road which winds
round the ascent, and terminates in a massy gateway.
On entering the town, we were directed to the Bons Enfans, kept by a man
of the name of Peyrol; which, contrary to the expectations we had
naturally formed of an inn not much frequented, provided us with a
breakfast, which even the editor of honest Blackwood would delight to
describe in all its minutiae, for it was quite Scotch in variety and
excellence, and served up with great cleanliness. It may be well to
remark, that as far as I could judge from the appearance of the rooms, a
family might spend two or three days here without sacrificing their
comfort to their curiosity, and would be as well off as at the Quatre
Nations at Massa, or the Tre Maschere at Caffagiolo, the models of
little country inns. Our host, we found, was entrusted with the
privilege of showing the castle by the Count de Muy, in whose family he
had been a servant; and he accordingly accompanied us in our visit
thither. On gaining the level of the terrace, we found the wind, which
had been imperceptible in the town, blowing with such force, as to
account for[18] Mad. de Sevigne's fears lest her daughter should be
carried away from her "belle terrasse" by the force of the Bise. Persons
travelling to the south of France for the sake of health, should be
particularly on their guard against this violent and piercing wind, as
well as that called the Mistral; both of which are occasionally
prevalent in this country at most seasons of the year, and render warm
clothing adviseable. I shall quote, as illustrative of the power with
which the Bise blows, an extract from a letter by an intelligent
traveller, written previous to the destruction of Chateau Grignan: "En
faisant le tour du Chateau, je remarquais avec surprise que les vitres
du cote du nord etaient presque toutes brisees, tandis que celles des
autres faces etaient entieres. On me dit, que c'etait la Bise qui les
cassait; cela me parut incroyable; je parlai a d'autres personnes, qui
me firent la meme reponse: et je fus enfin force de le croire. La Bise y
souffle avec une telle violence, qu'elle enleve le gravier de la
terrasse, et le lance jusqu'au second etage, avec assez de force pour
casser les vitres." From the violence of the Bise wind this morning, and
my subsequent experience of its force at Beaucaire, I have but little
difficulty in believing this account; and conceive that the danger of
yielding to the occasional temptation of heat, and wearing light
clothing, cannot be too strongly insisted on in this country. Persons,
indeed, who have not visited the south of France, connect its very name
with the idea of uniform mildness; but in reality, its caprices render
it, without proper caution, a more dangerous climate than our own.
[Footnote 18: "L'air de Grignan me fait peur pour vous; me fait
trembler; je crains qu'il n'emporte, ma chere enfant, qu'il ne l'epuise,
qu'il ne la desseche--."
"Voila le vent, le tourbillon, l'ouragan, les diables dechaines qui
veulent emporter votre chateau; quel ebranlement universel! quelle
furie! quelle frayeur repandue partout!"--_Mad. de Sevigne_.]
On advancing to the balustrades of what appeared a projecting part of
the terrace, we were surprised to find that it formed one of the towers
of the lofty church of Grignan, on the top of which, as on a massy
buttress, we were standing. A trap-door, formed by a moveable paving
stone, admitted us upon the leads of the church, which are secured from
the effects of weather by the additional casing which the terrace
affords. Its interior communicates with the lower rooms of the castle by
a passage, terminating in a stone gallery, where from its height above
the body of the church, the family could hear mass unperceived, as in a
private oratory. The establishment of this church, founded entirely at
the private expense of the Count de Grignan's ancestors, was very rich,
and consisted of a deanery, twenty-one canonries, and a numerous and
well-appointed choir. From its lofty proportions, I should suppose that
the internal decorations had also been costly; but much mischief, we
were informed, had been done to it during the time of the Revolution by
the same troop of brigands which burnt the castle, and which consisted
of the refuse of the neighbouring towns, countenanced by the
revolutionary committee of Orange. With a natural aversion to every
thing noble, these ragamuffins directed their outrages particularly
against the statue of the founder of the church, whose grim black trunk
stands in the vestibule, deprived of its head. One almost regrets that
the figure did not possess the miraculous power of revenge which the
corpse of Campeador[19] exerted when the Jew plucked his beard, and fall
headlong of its own accord into the thick of its assailants. The remains
of Mad. de Sevigne, and of the Grignan family, however, were safe from
their violence, as the adherents of the castle had taken the precaution
of changing the position of the flat black stone inscribed with the name
of the former, which marked the entrance of the family vault; and which
has since been restored to its original place. The inscription on this
stone, which stands, a little to the right of the communion-table, is
simply, "Cy git Marie de Rabutin Chautal, Marquise de Sevigne;" the date
of her death, April 14, 1696, annexed. Such a name, in truth, does not
need the assistance of owl-winged cherubs, brawny Fames, and blubbering
Cupids, those frequent appendages of departed vanity and selfishness;
which would have been probably as repugnant to the wishes of the good
marchioness, as inconsistent with her simple and unassuming character.
[Footnote 19: See Southey's translation of the Cid.]
To return to the subject of the revolution, as it affected Chateau
Grignan. Miss Plumptre, a writer of much research and general accuracy,
and whose book would furnish twenty gentlemen-tourists with good
materials, has, I believe, been misled as to one circumstance, the
disinterment of Mad. de Sevigne, which, as far we could ascertain by
inquiry, never took place from causes to which I have just alluded. The
silk wrapping-gown, the expression of the features, and the respect with
which the brigands beheld the corpse, are circumstances which Miss
Plumptre's French informant appears to have accumulated, "pour faire une
sensation;" and, had they taken place, our communicative guide, who was
rather given to the melting mood, would have dwelt on them for the same
purpose. They appear, however, to know nothing about the matter at
Grignan, a place which Miss P. acknowledges herself never to have
visited.
The work of destruction was more complete in the castle than in the
church. The Count de Muy, whose family had become possessed by purchase
of this splendid pile of building, inhabited it for half the year, doing
extensive good, if one may trust the partial account of his old servant,
and maintaining a mode of living which would have done honour to a
legitimate descendant of the Adhemars. Eighty-four lits de maitre, and
servants' beds in proportion, were made up, we understood, during a
visit paid to the count by the present king, then Count of Provence.
These hospitable doings, however, were not to last long. The
revolutionists broke into the castle, and having pillaged it of whatever
they could turn to any use, burnt the remainder of the furniture,
pictures, &c., in the market-place, to the amount of 20,000 francs. One
fellow, now residing at Montelimart, had the good taste to select for
his share the dressing-glass and writing-table known as those of Mad. de
Sevigne. The castle, which they set on fire, continued burning for two
or three days: yet such was the solidity and goodness of the masonry,
that an imposing mass still remains, sufficient to give an idea of what
it must have once been.
"Qualem te dicam bonam
Antehac fuisse, tales cum sint reliquiae!"
As the terrace remains uninjured, and many of the walls are still
perfect, the castle might be rendered again habitable at a comparatively
reasonable expense. But the Count de Muy is seventy, has no children,
and has lost 25,000 pounds per annum by the revolution; a combination of
circumstances not very favourable to the spirit of improvement. "C'est
la," said Peyrol, pointing out a small house at the foot of the terrace,
"c'est la que demeure l'homme d'affaires de M. le Comte; il y vient tous
les ans pour peu de jours; moi je lui fais son petit morceau; et souvent
je le vois se promener sur cette belle terrasse, les larmes aux yeux;
c'est que Monsieur aimait passionnement ce beau chateau. Ah, mon Dieu!
ca me fait pleurer; moi qui ai tout perdu; ma place, mon bon maitre, et
puis je gagne le pain ici avec beaucoup de peine: cette pauvre ville est
abimee; nous avons perdu tous nos droits, notre bailliage, notre cour de
justice, tout, tout--" &c. Our host had apparently imbibed all his
master's enthusiastic respect for the house of Grignan; for, finding
that we had purposely deviated from our route to behold the residence of
Mad. de Sevigne, his delight and loquacity appeared to know no bounds.
The space of years, and the succession of owners from the time of the
good Marquise and her son-in-law, to that of his own master, seemed to
have no place in his mind. He had her letters by heart, I believe, for
he quoted them with great volubility and correctness, a-propos to almost
every question which we asked; and seemed fairly to have worked himself,
by their perusal, into the idea that he had seen and waited on her.
"C'est ici qu'elle dormait; voila le cabinet ou elle ecrivait ses
lettres; c'est ici qu'elle prisait ses belles idees." Nothing indeed
could be more delightful, or more calculated to inspire fine ideas, than
the situation of the ruined boudoir into which he conducted us at these
words. It occupies one floor of a turret, about fifteen feet in
diameter, and opens into the shell of a large bedchamber. Its large
croisees, which look out in three directions, command an extensive
bird's eye view of the Comtat Grignan, surmounted by the long Alpine
ridge of Mont Ventou, and an amphitheatre of other smaller mountains:
and enough remained of both apartments to give a full idea of the
lightness and airiness of their situation, and of their former
magnificence.
The walls, on which some gilding still remained, the stone
window-frames, and the chimney-pieces, were still entire. From the door,
we looked out into the long gallery[20] built by the Count de Grignan,
and communicating with different suites of handsome rooms, or at least
their remains. We explored them as far as was consistent with safety,
and descended to the "belle terrasse," now over-run with weeds and
lizards, in order to take[21] another survey of the castle, and form a
general idea of the parts which we had separately visited. Though built
at different periods of time, each part is in itself regular and
handsome. The two grand fronts are the north and west, the former of
which is represented in Mr. Cooke's first engraving of Grignan. The
eastern part, facing Mont Ventou, is in a more ornamental style of
architecture, somewhat resembling that of the inside square of the
Louvre.[22] The southern part, affording a view of Mad. de Sevigne's
window, and of the collegiate church founded by the family, is
represented in the second engraving, the subject of which was sketched
on the road to La Palud, whither we were bound for the night. In our way
thither, we made a short detour, accompanied by our host, to the Roche
Courbiere, a natural excavation on the rock, within sight of the
terrace, and to the left of the road. This cool retreat, it may be
recollected, was discovered and chosen by Mad. de Sevigne, as a sort of
summer pavilion; and was embellished by the Count de Grignan with a
marble table, benches of stone, and a stone bason, which collected the
filterings of a spring that took its source from this cavern. I have
since seen a drawing made previous to the Revolution, which confirms
Peyrol's account. Even this modest hermitage, however, was not spared by
the systematic spite of the brigands who destroyed the castle. Only one
stone bench remains; the table and bason are demolished, and the spring
now oozes over the damp floor as it did in a state of nature. On
returning from this spot to the road, we crossed an open common field on
the south side of the castle, planted with corn, and apparently of a
better quality than the land in its vicinity. "Voila le jardin," said
our guide; "c'etoit la ou il y avoit de ces belles figues, ces beaux
melons, ce delicieux. Muscat dont Madame parle." The fine trees, which
marked the limits of the garden, have all been cut down and burnt, with
the exception of a row of old elms on the western side, forming part of
the avenue which flanked the mail, or ball-alley, a constant appendage
in days of old to the seats of French noblemen. The turf of the mail is
even and soft still, and the wall on both sides tolerably perfect--"And
now, Messieurs," said mine host, "you may tell your countrymen, that you
have walked in the actual steps of the Marquise. C'est ici qu'elle
jouoit au mail avec cette parfaite grace--et M. le Comte aussi--ah!
c'etoit un plaisir de les voir." We hardly knew whether to laugh at, or
be interested by the comical Quixotism of this man, who I verily believe
had, by dint of residence on the spot, and thumbing constantly a dirty
old edition of Madame's letters, worked himself up to the notion that he
had witnessed the scenes which he described. We were induced, in the
course of our walk, to inquire somewhat into his own history, which
appeared rather a melancholy one, though common enough in the times
through which he had lived. About a week after the pillage and
destruction of Chateau Grignan, he was denounced as a royalist, and
immured in the prison of Orange, in company with several gentlemen of
the neighbourhood, acquaintances of his master. By means of a friend in
the town, (for they were not all devils at Orange, as he emphatically
assured us), he was enabled to procure a few common necessaries, to
improve the scanty prison allowance of some of the more infirm; but his
charitable labour soon ceased, for all were successively dispatched by
the guillotine in a short space of time. In the course of three months,
378 persons perished by decree of the miscreants composing the
Revolutionary tribunal at Orange, whose names were Fauvette, Fonrosac,
Meilleraye, Boisjavelle, Viotte, and Benoit Carat, the greffier. One of
their first victims was an aged nun of the Simiane family, canoness of
the convent of Bollene, accused of being a counter-revolutionist; so
lame and infirm, that her executioners were forced to carry her to the
scaffold. Madame d'Ozanne, Marquise de Torignan, aged ninety-one, and
her grand-daughter, a lovely young woman of twenty-two, perished in the
same massacre. The personal beauty of the latter, which was much
celebrated in the neighbourhood, had interested one of the brigands of
Orange in her fate, who promised to exert his influence with the council
of five, to save the life of the grandmother, on condition of receiving
the hand of Mademoiselle d'Ozanne. The poor girl overcame her horror and
reluctance for the sake of her aged relative, and promised to marry this
man on condition of his success in the promised application. The life,
however, of so formidable a conspirator as a superannuated and dying
woman, was too great a favour to be granted even to a friend; and the
only boon which he could obtain was the promise of Mademoiselle
d'Ozanne's life, in consideration of her becoming his wife. "Eh bien! il
faut mourir ensemble;" was her answer without a moment's deliberation,
and next day, accordingly, both the relatives perished on the same
scaffold. Poor Peyrol himself, after expecting the fatal _Allons_ for
many a morning, was at length relieved from his apprehensions by the
fall of Robespierre, and obtained his release, on condition of serving
in the army. After fighting for four years, with a cordial detestation
of the cause in which he was engaged, he was disabled for the time by a
severe wound, and obtained leave to return to Grignan, where he settled
in the little inn; but the most severe blow of all was yet in store for
him; for his wife died not long after, leaving him with five children.
"Ainsi vous voyez, Monsieur, que j'ai connu le malheur. Au reste, Mons.
de Muy m'a donne la clef de ce chateau, et cela me vaut quelque chose;
car il y a du monde qui viennent quelquefois le voir." Then, relapsing
into his habitual strain of complaint, he ended with, "Oh mon pauvre
cher maitre! ce beau, ce grand chateau! ah, j'ai tout perdu!" One bright
moment, however, as he exultingly remarked, occurred during his
compulsory service in the army; for it so chanced that he was one of the
guard on duty during the execution of his former oppressor, Fauvette.
"Moi a mon tour je l'accompagnois a cet echafaud ou il m'auroit envoye;
il avoit la mine triste, un fleur de jasmin a la bouche; ma foi, ca ne
sentoit pas bon pour lui."
Such is an exact transcript of our communicative host's conversation,
which, notwithstanding the suspicion with which I regard the prattle of
foreign guides, seemed to me not so much a well-conned lesson, as the
genuine overflowing of such a disposition as honest Thady M'Quirk's. His
interest in the persons and events of which he spoke, appeared as warm
and genuine as his _naivete_ was amusing and we took leave of him with a
strong feeling of good will towards himself and his little clean inn.
[Footnote 20: Eighty feet by twenty-four, according to a measurement
made previous to the burning of the castle.]