quoted before, written before the Revolution) on monte par un escalier,
car les appartemens sont tous au premier. Il y a quatre beaux salons,
qui s'appellent la salle du roi, la salle de la reine, la salle des
eveques, et la galerie: le reste de la maison, qui est vaste, est
distribuee en divers appartemens, dont chacun est compose d'une chambre
a coucher, un grand cabinet, et un cabinet a toilette.]
[Footnote 22: Vide Cooke's Views.]
It is as needless to apologize for devoting a whole chapter to local
circumstances connected with Madame de Sevigne's life, as it would be to
detail the well-known social virtues which have erected this amiable and
unpretending woman into a sort of household deity in the eyes of so
large a class of persons, while the Lauzuns, the Montespans, and other
gay and brilliant favourites of that period, are only recollected with
disgust.
CHAP. VI.
ORANGE--AVIGNON.
OUR road to La Palud lay along the rocky vale first discovered from the
heights above Chateau Grignan, which in fact is not so much a vale as a
high plateau of ground enclosed between hills, like many parts of
Castille. To the latter country, indeed, the Comtat Grignan bears a
striking resemblance in the characteristic features which prevail
through the greater part of it. The insulated grey rocks have forced
themselves through the starved soil, like projecting bones; the parched
fields are more full of pebbles than corn; and the stunted evergreen
oaks, with their diminutive tough leaves of a dingy grey, though well
enough adapted to the inhospitable ground in which they grow, present an
appearance quite repugnant to our English ideas of verdure and
vegetation. The immediate neighbourhood of Chateau Grignan, indeed,
seems tolerably fertile, but it is difficult nevertheless to conceive
from whence the adequate supplies for the Count's immense table were
procured, or how the feudal contributions of such a country could have
supported in earlier days the number of castles and towers, whose ruins
we saw on the summits of every detached rock. These, from their
resemblance to the "antiguas obras de Moros," which the muleteers used
to point out, presented another feature strongly reviving my Spanish
recollections. In the days of romance, this country must have been the
Utopia of Troubadours, where each might in the compass of a short walk
have taken morning draught, breakfast, nooning, dinner, and supper, at
the strong holds of different barons. The first of these fortalices,
called Chamaret le Maigre, presents a striking landmark from the town of
Grignan; but, on a nearer approach, consists of little more than a tall
slender tower upon an insulated rock; the rest is in ruins. At a short
distance beyond this spot stands Montsegur, a little old fortified town
upon a hill, which, from its name and appearance, may have been one of
those cradles of civil liberty, where the "bon homme Jacques" first
found refuge from his haughty feudal oppressors. A ruin of a more lordly
description close to it, is called, as we understood, the Chateau
Beaume: but the number of less important ruins, which occurred in this
day's journey, is too great to admit of a particular description. A turn
to the right between a couple of commanding heights, brought us out of
this barren country into the wide and fertile plain of the Rhone, and
under the walls of St. Paul de Trois Chateaux, the ancient Augusta
Tricastinorum. From the respectable appearance of this town, we
conceived ourselves in the high road to La Palud, and likely to be soon
indemnified by dinner and rest, for the joltings of the day; but our
driver, instead of taking the proper direction, lost himself in a series
of inextricable cross roads, which terminated in a quagmire. In this
slough of despond the unfortunate patache, from which we had descended,
might have stuck for ever, but for the assistance of two shepherds, as
wild in their attire, and as civil, as Don Quixote's friendly goatherds.
By dint of their exertions and those of the floundering and groaning
horse, the vehicle, which was too deeply imbedded in the muddy ruts to
dread an overturn, was dragged out by main force; the driver sometimes
wringing his hands in King Cambysses' vein, and sometimes strenuously
applying his shoulder to the wheel. A franc or two dismissed our
bare-legged friends grinning to their very earrings, and we pursued our
road without further interruption, quite satisfied with this specimen of
the loamy fatness of the soil. From the experience of this day, I
certainly should recommend no one to make the detour to Grignan in a
wheeled carriage of any sort. An active person might accomplish on foot,
before breakfast, the whole distance from Montelimart to Grignan, and
might reach St. Paul de Trois Chateaux, or perhaps La Palud, by night;
but even lady travellers would find less fatigue in hiring
saddle-horses and mules from Montelimart, than in being bumped at the
rate of two miles and a half per hour, over roads which frequently seem
a jumble of unhewn paving-stones. We afterwards understood that there
was a direct road from Grignan to Orange, which would have saved us some
distance, and could not have been worse than that which we travelled
this evening.
At La Palud we found the servants and voiture established in the second
inn, the name of which I forget. The accommodations, however, were
decent and comfortable, and the charges moderate: and, on the whole, the
appearance of this inn was nearly, or quite as good as that of the Hotel
d'Angouleme. The people of the latter house, to which the servants were
originally directed, concluding that they had positive orders to await
us there, persisted in demanding a price for every thing which more than
doubled any charge yet attempted; an instance of pertinacious rascality
which it is not amiss to mention, and which would have diverted us by
its very absurdity, had we not been too tired to find amusement in any
thing but supper and beds. In the course of this day and the next, we
heard, for the first time, the Provencal patois, which seems a bad
compound of French, Spanish, and Italian, with an original gibberish of
their own. As far, indeed, as a slight and partial observation enables
me to judge, I have been much struck by a similarity which the
inhabitants of the Mediterranean coast bear to each other in language
and character, a similarity so great, as to lead one to suppose them
descended from the same original stock. The same savage originality of
manner, (accompanied frequently by much good-humour and civility), the
same extravagance of gesture, which seems the overflow of bodily vigour
and animal spirits, the same red cap, and lastly, the same villainous
compound of languages, mixed up in discordant cadences and terminations,
appear to distinguish the inhabitants of Provence, Languedoc, Naples,
and Genoa, and last and noblest of all, the Catalans.
May 11.--To Orange eighteen miles, through the same rich and extensive
plain, from which the barrier of hills that accompanied us before,
receded to a considerable distance; but which is still interrupted and
broken occasionally by rocks of the wildest and most abrupt shape
possible, with the addition in general of a frowning castle in ruins.
The little towns of Montdragon[23] and Mornas, which we passed this
morning, are each situated under heights of this description. The castle
of the former, of which a plate is given in Mr. Cooke's work, I think
even superior to that of Caerphilly, in South Wales, in the "awsome
eyriness," as a Scotsman would express it, with which its detached
masses are grouped. The castle of Mornas is not so remarkable, but the
rocks on which it stands are very striking; for if they have any
inclination out of the perpendicular, it is rather towards than from the
road. It is indeed impossible, when you stand under the shade of this
lofty barrier, and look up to the clouds drifting over it, to fancy that
it is not in the act of toppling down upon your head. We had not as yet
emerged from the land of castles, for, as in yesterday's route, almost
every little town possessed some vestige of ancient fortification, a
silent testimony to the peaceful virtues of "the good old days." The
heat of the weather at this comparatively early season of the year,
induced us to congratulate ourselves that we had not chosen a month, or
even a fortnight later, for our excursion, particularly as the
mulberry-trees, which in this thrifty country form almost the only
shade, were beginning to lose their covering of leaves. Every where we
met women and children carrying ladders, shaped exactly like those used
by cocks and hens in roosting, or perched high in trees, stripping them
for the food of the silk-worms. The natural gracefulness of the mulberry
foliage is entirely destroyed by the unmerciful pruning and pollarding
which it undergoes in this country, in order to concentrate it for
gathering. Very little fruit, and that small and tasteless, is produced
from these cabbage-cut trees; a circumstance which I mention to prevent
disappointment, since, no doubt, many a gentle traveller may indulge, as
I confess to have done, the luxurious hope of feasting on this fruit in
perfection under every hedge-row in Provence. Another month would have
rendered the heat of the country insufferable, and stript it of much of
its beauty, by reducing to bunches of bare poles those trees which still
continued to afford verdure and finish to the prospect.
[Footnote 23: Vide Cooke's Views.]
Within a few miles of Orange we crossed the river Aigues by a handsome
stone bridge, commanding a magnificent view of Mont Ventou. This
mountain seems the most conspicuous landmark in the part of France which
we were traversing, continuing visible as it does for two or three days
journey with very little alteration of outline. To judge from its
situation on the map, it could not be less than twenty-five or thirty
miles from the place where we stood, though from the deception caused by
its enormous length and height, and not uncommon in mountain scenery, it
appeared accessible in a walk of two or three hours. I well remember, as
an instance illustrative of this deception, the surprise of a Berkshire
servant at Capel Curig, when informed that he really could not take an
evening's walk to the top of Snowdon after littering up his horses, and
return to supper. The effect in question is increased, and rather to the
detriment of picturesque beauty, by the less hazy atmosphere of southern
countries; but I never recollect so strong an instance of it, as in the
view of Mont Ventou of which I am speaking. I was struck also by its
great similarity to drawings which I had seen of AEtna from the Catanian
coast, as well its outline, as the manner in which it rises from a
cluster of satellite hills into the borders of the snowy region. Several
scattered snow-ridges were visible near its top, contrasting curiously
with the effect of the sun's rays reflected from its sides, which,
instead of Campbell's picturesque "cliffs of shadowy tint" appeared a
red-hot stony mass, and might be fancied by a slight effort of
imagination, into AEtna covered with an eruption of burning cinders.
The approach to the celebrated arch of Orange, commemorating Marius's
victory over the Cimbri, is marked by an avenue of Lombardy poplars
which line the high road. The classical and sombre stone pine, which
gives so striking an effect to the tomb of the Scipios (as it is styled)
near Tarragona, would have been more in character as an accompaniment to
this proud monument also; but since the days of [24] Alpheus and his red
silk stockings, the taste for _quelque chose de gentil_ has constantly
poisoned those classical associations of which the French are so fond.
The grave Patavinian is still designated by the tom-tit appellation of
Tite Live; and the majestic arch, whose history would have been so well
illustrated by his lost annals, is tricked out with a poplar avenue,
like a summer-house on Clapham-common.
[Footnote 24: See the Spectator.]
The townsmen of Orange, however, deserve credit for the substantial
style in which they have repaired one end of it, to prevent farther
dilapidation, and for the manner in which the road is diverted from it
on both sides in a handsome sweep, leaving a green space in the middle,
in which the arch stands. We returned to it immediately after breakfast,
and our second impressions were fully equal to the first. As[25] a work
of art, it is certainly worthy of one of the proudest places in the
Campo Vaccino, though of course its effect is more striking in the
neighbourhood[26] of the victory which it commemorates. The bas relief
on the side facing Orange, would not be unworthy of a place between the
well-known statues of Dacian captives, which ornament the arch of
Constantine. Different as were their respective aeras, the stern
thoughtful dignity of the barbarian chiefs, and the spirit which
animates
"The fiery mass
Of living valour, rolling on the foe,"
as represented in the battle of Marius, appear to have been conceived by
the same powerful mind, and embodied by the same master hand. The same
chastened energy and unaffected greatness of design which characterizes
the poetry of Milton, the painting of Michael Angelo, and the music of
Handel, is conspicuous in both. The bas relief which I have mentioned
forms the principal ornament of the arch; but the trophies, the rostra,
&c. which appear in other parts, are in a style of simple and
soldier-like grandeur corresponding with its character and the
achievement which it commemorates. I do not pretend to consider this
monument as comparable on the whole to the arch of Constantine; but
still it is of a very different school of art from that which produced
the arch of Severus. On the bas relief representing Marius's victory,
one might fancy the most high born and athletic of Achilles's Myrmidons
in the full "tug of war;" whereas the swarms of crawling pigmies which
burlesque the triumph of Severus might be supposed the original Myrmidon
rabble, just hatched, as the fable reports, from their native ant-hills,
and basking in the sun like so many tadpoles.
[Footnote 25: Vide Cooke's Views.]
[Footnote 26: Marius's victory is said to have been gained near Aix
(Aquae Seaetiae).]
The Roman colony of Orange, to judge from the relative positions of the
arch and circus, must have been very considerable, and have occupied a
far larger space than the present town. The arch stands detached from
its entrance, as I mentioned, on the Lyons' side, and the circus at the
extreme end, in the direction of Avignon; yet the former we may suppose
to have joined on to the ancient town, and the latter to have stood in
the same central position which the Colosseum occupied in Rome. Of the
circus nothing now remains but the chord of the semicircle, or, to
express it more familiarly, the straight line of the D figure, in which
it was built. As far as I could guess, from pacing the length of this
enormous wall, encumbered and buttressed as it was by dirty shops, it is
in length nearly or quite a hundred yards, and of a height
proportionate. The point of view from which it appears to the most
advantage, is on the road to Avignon, about two or three furlongs out of
the town. When viewed in this direction, it stands with a commanding air
of a grim old Roman ghost among a group of men of the present day;
forming, by its blackness and colossal scale of proportions, a striking
contrast to every thing around it, and overtopping houses, church-tower,
and every thing near, excepting a circular hill at the foot of which it
stands. The latter is marked as the position of the ancient Roman
citadel by the remains of tower and wall, half imbedded in turf, which
surround it: and one veteran bastion still stands firm and unbroken, in
a position facing the Circus, its companion through the silent and
ruinous lapse of so many centuries. Without the affectation of decrying
well-known and celebrated monuments of antiquity, or the wish to put any
thing really in comparison with the ruins of ancient Rome, I must still
own, that the unexpected view which I caught of the citadel and Circus
from this position, realized more strongly to my mind the august
conceptions so well expressed in Childe Harold, than any view in Rome
itself, hardly excepting the Colosseum.
O'er each mouldering tower
Dim with the mist of years, grey flits the shade of power.
The stanza concluding with these lines involuntarily occurs to the mind,
while viewing Orange in the direction of which I now speak; and the
lofty visions of the noble author, which are, perhaps, too over-wrought
and ideal to harmonize with the sober contemplations of the closet, seem
in this spot to assume "a local habitation and a name." Undoubtedly they
ought to do so more particularly at Rome, and would so in every
instance, but that much of the effect of the "Eternal City" is lost from
the deserved eminence in which we know it to stand, and the consequent
familiarity which we have acquired with it through the works of Piranesi
and innumerable other artists. Thus its very celebrity lessens its
effect, as the commendations bestowed on a celebrated beauty frequently
occasion disappointment. The _on admire ici_ of the well-bound
Itineraire, the elaborate descriptions of Vasi, and the _Ecco Signore_
of your obliging cicerone, produce the same effect upon the mind, which
the mistaken attentions of Koah, the South Sea priest, did on the
stomach of Captain Cook. The meat was good, but honest Koah spoiled its
relish by proffering it ready chewed; and in the same manner, the effect
of what is really most admirable in nature and art is weakened by the
impertinent obtrusion of ready-made ecstasies. It is no reflection on
human perverseness to say, that every one has his own way of admiring,
and loves to feel and observe for himself; as well as to chew with his
own teeth. For my own part, I never could appreciate the stupendous
beauties of Rome as I wished, until I managed to abstract myself from
the notion that I was come to admire as thousands had done before, and
from the recollection of the unclassical comforts of the excellent inn
in the Piazza di Spagna. An English letter, or newspaper, is an
excellent preparative for this purpose; and when once absorbed in the
train of thought which it creates, the sudden transition to the mighty
scenes before you, produces by contrast the effect which it ought to do.
I have been led into these observations, to account for the reason why
Orange struck me so much; a place of which I had heard and read little
or nothing. No attentive and intelligent cicerone anticipated our
reflections in this place; nor did the creature-comforts of a good inn
debase our Roman reveries, though we could well have pardoned their so
doing. Madame Ran, of the Croix Blanche, was as mean and dirty as the
hole in which she lived; and looked as malevolent as Canidia, Erichtho,
or any other classical witch; and as to the inhabitants of Orange,
though the revolutionary anecdotes which we have heard of them at
Grignan might create some prejudice to their disadvantage, I think, in
truth, that I never beheld a more squalid, uncivilized,
ferocious-looking people. A grin of savage curiosity, or a cannibal
scowl, seems almost universally to disfigure features which are none of
the best or cleanest; and their whole appearance is as direct a contrast
as can well be imagined, to the hale, honest Norman, or le franc Picard,
as he is proverbially styled. We turned our backs upon them with
pleasure, after casting back one lingering look at the noble old Circus;
and soon found ourselves in the centre of the extensive plain in which
Avignon stands. The forwardness of the climate, and the skilful system
of irrigation pursued here, afforded us, at this early time of the year,
the spectacle of hay-making in many places. An English farmer might be
shocked by the rudeness of the method here pursued, the hay being mostly
carried in sail-cloth sheets, and turned with large wooden forks. With
respect to the former practice, I have nothing to say; but, having
attentively observed their method of using these forks, I am confident
that they are better adapted to the purpose of turning the hay than our
heavy prongs of ash and iron. They are at once lighter in hand, and,
from the length of their teeth, they take up a larger portion of hay at
once; and must therefore be well calculated for making the most of the
fine weather, which, in our climate, cannot always be calculated upon,
and occasions a scarcity of working hands.
At three or four miles from Avignon, and before any other part of the
town becomes visible,[27] the legate's palace appears conspicuously
Rising with its tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion;
and a more splendid Gothic building, both as to outline and dimensions,
cannot be imagined. On a nearer approach, a long and wide reach of the
Rhone, winding round the base of this noble pile, and reflecting its
figure in a deep mirror, adds greatly to its effect. In Mr. Cooke's
work, the palace is represented nearly in this direction, from a point
somewhat diverging to the right of the road, so as to introduce a broken
Gothic bridge, and a part of the Roche Don, or Roche Notre Dame (for I
believe it bears both names). The rest of the town of Avignon, placed as
it is on a low level, affords no striking coup d'oeil, from the
direction in which we approached it: the ancient walls, however, which
inclose its whole circumference, unbroken and perfect, and beautifully
crenated in every part, are a very remarkable feature. I know but of one
other instance of this continuity of Gothic wall, which occurs at
Valencia; but the fortifications of the Spanish town, though they far
exceed those of Avignon in dimensions and strength, fall as short of
them in beauty. We had a full opportunity of examining the merits of
the latter, as the police had unaccountably thought fit to shut up all
the entrances to the town but one or two; which obliged us, on arriving
at the foot of the walls, to add two miles more to our day's journey
before we could reach their interior. We found the Hotel de l'Europe,
kept by the widow Pierron, a superior inn in every respect, both in the
comfort and liberality of the establishment, and the cleanliness of the
servants.
[Footnote 27: Vide Cooke's Views.]
CHAP. VII.
AVIGNON--MURDER OF BRUNE--HOSPITAL DES FOUS--MISSION OF 1819.