The history of Grasse is modest and unemotional. It has always been a shy town, glad to be left alone and to keep itself untroubled by the world. It does not pretend to be very old. It is said that Roman coins have been discovered in Grasse, but this means little, for that imperious but careless people appear to have dropped money here and there all over the country. One wonders whether, when England is dug up by arch?ologists two thousand years hence, half-crowns and coppers6 will be found among the ruins of its towns in anything like the profusion7 with which the currency of Rome was scattered8.
Grasse appears to emerge into the light of history some time in the twelfth century in association with Raymond Berenger and his famous seneschal Romée de Villeneuve. Its reputation has been largely commercial. Terrin in the “Précis de l’Histoire de Provence”[15] says that “this town in the twelfth century supplied the whole of France, Italy and Spain with its famous leather, soap and oil skilfully9 purified”; while another author goes further and affirms “that the whole of Europe obtained its soap from Grasse.”
Grasse began its career in the twelfth century as a little republic in alliance—for purposes of mutual11 protection—with Pisa. This form of government was maintained until 1226. When wars were raging in the country around and towns were being besieged12, looted or burnt, Grasse remained unmoved. It looked on from a distance, lifted its hands in horror and went on with its soap-making. It was never a quarrelsome town and never ambitious of power. It was more keenly concerned with the purity of its oils and the sweetness of its scents14. It took a motherly interest in its unfortunate neighbours and became a place of refuge for troubled people along the ever-troubled coast.
GRASSE: THE DE CABRIS HOUSE.
It was fortified15, but not in too serious or too aggressive a way. It was besieged, but always in a comparatively gentle manner, without unnecessary noise and battering16 of walls and doors and with casualties that may almost be called complimentary17. One siege in November, 1589, is very fully10 described in the diary of a besieged resident, a certain Monsieur Rocomare. Mr. Kaye quotes this record at some length. The attacking general appears to have been wounded early in the fray18 and to have “fallen into convulsions.” “Whereby,” says M. Rocomare, “the whole camp was thrown into confusion.” The siege proceeded in spite of the general’s fit. When things were not going well with the town the people of Grasse proposed—as they always did—a treaty. It was accepted. By this agreement the men-at-arms of Grasse and as many townsfolk as wished were allowed to leave the city with the honours of war and with all their baggage. Unfortunately the attacking army, demoralised, it may be, by the sight of their general in convulsions, broke their compact, seized all the baggage and horses and killed no fewer than seventeen persons. The besiegers occupied the town and M. Rocomare had billeted upon him a cornet, six soldiers, ten serving men, some horses and a mule19. This forced entertainment cost him 260 golden crowns; but, worst of all, the ungrateful cornet, on taking leave of his host, robbed him of his cattle and of “other things.”
In the bitter religious wars of the time which rent and racked the whole adjacent country, Grasse took but little part. It was appropriately shocked at the spectacle of Christians20 fighting and then went on with its soap-making. The people of Grasse, however, had their local religious quarrels which seem to have been concerned not with matters of doctrine21, but rather with questions of fees and emoluments22 and especially with burial fees. In these disputes over money “the clergy,” as Mr. Kaye remarks, “seemed strangely to have forgotten their high calling,” for they actually fought for the possession of coffins24 containing the dead, and there must have been regrettable scenes in the graveyard25 when the clerics and their subordinates were engaged in what was practically a tug-of-war over a coffin23.
The more direct afflictions of Grasse arose from the passage through the town of foreign troops. Over and over again the Cours or the Place Neuve was occupied by bodies of armed men, who, although they had no especial reason for hostile action against Grasse, yet behaved in a very trying and unseemly manner. They would march up to the town and, without adequate explanation, would demand a war bonus of as much as 36,000 livres or more. They would billet themselves in the town, would smash windows, break tiles and carry off doors. For what purpose an army on the march should need doors is not made clear; but that the intruders should cause a rise in the cost of living is intelligible26. A writer who was in the town on the occasion of one of these visits says, with disgust, that wine cost 40 centimes a pint27, brown bread 25 centimes a pound, and eggs actually 15 centimes each. He adds a remark which shows how, even in little things, history may be anticipated, for he says: “All our fruit trees have been burned save a few olive trees which have been saved from the violence of the Germans.”
The old town of Grasse is very picturesque28 and abounding29 in interest. Being placed upon a slope, it comes to pass that its ways are steep. The houses are tall and the lanes are narrow, so the place is full of shadows. The streets ramble30 and wind about in that leisurely31 manner which is characteristic of Grasse, until they become a veritable tangle32. The stranger wandering through Grasse is apt, after traversing many streets, to find himself in the exact spot whence he started. It is not wise to ask one’s way in Grasse, but merely to drift about, from lane to lane, until the object sought is stumbled on. It will be met with in time. There are various old houses to be seen which appertain to many periods. Some of them are disguised by modern plaster and paint, some have been “restored” to the point of extinction33, while not a few are represented only by fragments. They illustrate34 the effect of putting new wine into old bottles: “the bottles break and the wine runneth out and the bottles perish.”
Of the old ramparts which surrounded the town in the fourteenth century but a trace or two remain, although the line they pursued can still be followed. The Boulevard du Jeu de Ballon represents the western side of the enceinte, and the Passage Mirabeau its southern part. Where the two met was the Porte du Cours. The eastern flank is indicated by the Place Neuve and La Roque and the rounded northern end by the Rue35 des Cordeliers and the Avenue Maximin Isnard. Of the seven original gates two only survive—the Porte Neuve (rebuilt in 1793) and the Porte de la Roque.
The chief feature of Grasse is the Cours, a charming promenade36 just outside the confines of the old town. It is here that the band plays and here that the idler can enjoy the superb view which opens out to the sea and admire—if he will—the statue to Fragonard which adorns37 the spot. Leading down from the Cours into the old town is the Rue du Cours, a narrow lane of little shops. The first house in this street—a corner house, No. 2—was the town mansion38 of the Marquis de Cabris and his startling wife Louise. Some account of this mercurial39 lady is given in the chapter which follows. The de Cabris came from the delightful40 village of Cabris, five miles from Grasse. There stands what remains41 of their castle, which was reduced to a heap of ruins at the time of the Revolution.
The house in the Rue du Cours is a plain building of four stories, rising from a base of stone. It is of considerable size and the back of it forms a large block in the Passage Mirabeau. Its portal is prim42 and severe and in a strict classical style. So dull is this entry that it is hard to picture the frivolous43 and beautiful Louise standing44 on the door step, buttoning up her gloves and meditating45 some fresh devilment. It is a house that no one could associate with the thrilling scandal which buzzed about it when the mocking laughter of the little marquise could be heard ringing from the solemn windows. The house is now occupied by offices and flats of the gravest respectability. As if some odour of old days still clung to it, the walls, I noticed, were blazing with red and yellow posters vaunting the attractions of a play dealing46 with the allurement47 of women.
GRASSE: THE CATHEDRAL.
Almost opposite to the de Cabris mansion, and at the extreme end of the Boulevard du Jeu de Ballon, is the ancient house of the de Pontevès family. It is a huge, square building, severely48 plain and free from any pretence49 at decoration. It has on one side a little walled garden which abuts50 on the Cours. The house has had a gloomy history. It was at one time the headquarters of the executive council of Var. During the time of the Terror (1793-4) it became the seat of the Revolutionary Tribunal. It has sheltered Fréron—he who had the audacity51 to seek the hand of Pauline Bonaparte—as well as Robespierre, who was himself guillotined in 1794. In its salon52 the wretched victims denounced by the Revolution were tried, cursed at, and condemned53, and through its gate they were marched to their death by the guillotine. The guillotine stood in the Cours on the spot now occupied by the statue to Fragonard. The prisoners who looked out of the west windows of the house would see this fearful instrument only a few yards distant and would see also the howling, savage54 mob that surged around it. Yet between the condemned and their place of death was the comfort of the little quiet garden shut in with its high wall. Thirty people in all were guillotined at Grasse during the Terror, and among them a poor nun55 over seventy years of age, whose name, by a strange coincidence, was de Pontevès.
When peace was restored to France the H?tel de Pontevès became the municipal library and later on (in 1811) it was swept and garnished56 and made ready to receive the Princess Pauline Bonaparte, the sister of Napoleon I. This beautiful woman, the “Venus victrix” of Canova, was at the moment forlorn and unhappy. She had been deserted57 by her second husband, the Prince Borghese, and banished58 from the Court by her brother on account of her disrespectful bearing towards the Empress. She was, moreover, ill and weary both in body and mind, and yet she was only thirty-one. “Out of consideration for the distinguished59 invalid60 the silence of the early morning was disturbed neither by the ringing of bells nor by the cries of milk-sellers in the streets; even the mules61 went without their tinkling62 sonnailles.”[16] One may imagine that Pauline sat often in the little garden with the high wall, and that her sedan chair would now and then be carried to the Cours so that she might by chance get a glimpse of the beloved island of Corsica where she was born.
Near the Cours is the Boulevard Fragonard. In the house (No. 4) of the Marquis de Villeneuve-Bargemon will be seen the beautiful carved door that came from the old hotel of the Marquis de Gourdon. It was by the removal of the Gourdon mansion in 1858 that the present Place du Marché was made. No. 15 Boulevard Fragonard—with its curious iron window cages—was the residence of the famous painter after whom the Boulevard is named. The place of his birth was No. 2 Rue de la Font Neuve.
Turning out of the Rue du Cours is the Rue Tracastel with its vaulted63 arch beneath an old tower. It is by way of this lane that the cathedral square may be reached. The church, which is the most beautiful building in Grasse, was completed in the twelfth century. It is small and low and its western fa?ade, which looks upon the square, is very simple. The large pointed64 doorway65 is approached by an exquisite66 double flight of steps with a white balustrade. The doors themselves are finely carved and bear the date 1722. There are two lancet windows on this front and traces of two doors of the same date as the principal one. The walls are of light yellow-grey stone. The church within is as gracious as its western front. The nave67 is surmounted68 by a handsome groined roof with square ribs69, supported by heavy pillars without capitals. The arches of the nave are occupied by galleries with marble railings which are quite modern and painfully out of keeping with the rest of the building. The south transept is occupied by the chapel70 of the Holy Sacrament, which is said to have existed since 1448. It is a beautiful chapel, but a little marred71 by the too elaborate ornament72 of a later date. There are many pictures of interest in the church, the most notable being Fragonard’s “Washing of the Disciples’ Feet,” painted in 1754.
The church contains numerous treasures among which is a reliquary of St. Honorat, shaped like a house and carved out of a solid block of walnut73 some three feet in length. It dates from the middle of the fifteenth century.[17]
The belfry of the church is in the form of a tall, white tower, square and severely simple. It is one of the landmarks74 of Grasse. It dates from 1368, but was shattered by lightning in 1742 and rebuilt at that period.
Close to the cathedral is the tower of Grasse, the Tour du Puy, an ancient watch tower raised on Roman foundations. It too is square and plain, but almost black in colour and very menacing by reason of its great height and its massive strength. It is a veritable bully75 of a tower and forms a harsh contrast with the pale, delicately moulded and fragile-looking little church. It has certain modern windows, made still more incongruous by sun-shutters and by the ancient Romanesque windows which find a place by the side of them.
There is a marble tablet on the Tour du Puy which is of some interest. It is to the immortal76 memory of Bellaud de la Bellaudière. The holder77 of this most sonorous78 name was a poet. He was born in 1532. He appears to have played in Grasse the parts of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; for when he was not engaged in writing emotional ballads79 he occupied himself with thieving. He did well in both of these pursuits. As a poet he was honoured by this tablet on the tower; as a robber he came to the gallows80 and was hanged by the neck.
The Rue Droite, the main highway of old Grasse, is a narrow lane of small shops that continues the Rue du Cours. It is not so straight as its name suggests, being, indeed, a little unsteady. It contains many old houses of interest with fine stone doorways81, some with a rounded and others with a pointed arch. Over one entry is the date 1527. At No. 24 lived Doria de Roberti who in 1580 had the distinction of being both physician to the king and perfumer to the queen, a position which, at the present day, would be one of great professional perplexity. The house is not worthy82 of one who is described as “the earliest known perfumer”; for it is quite modern in aspect and is given up jointly83 to a café and to a shop where ready-made clothes for women are sold. No. 28 is a fine house, with an ancient doorway which is said to have borne the date 1622; while the portal of No. 32 has a dignity which—as is often the case—the rest of the building does not maintain.
From the Rue Droite the interesting Rue de l’Oratoire leads, after some vacillation84, to the Place aux Aires. This is a very charming little square, occupied in the centre by a double row of trees and, at the far extremity85, by a fountain. The end of the tiny Place which faces the fountain has an interest which is not apparent to the eye. It is occupied by three quite modest houses, numbered 37, 39 and 41. No. 37 is a ladies’ hat shop, No. 39 is a draper’s with the inviting86 name “Au grand Paris” and No. 41 is tenanted by a butcher. These three humble87 shops represent the spot upon which stood no less a building than the palace of Queen Jeanne and, indeed, in the house No. 41 can be seen her kitchen stairs—a poor relic88 but the only one. In the chapter which follows some account is given of this remarkable89 and alarming woman and of certain things that she did.
GRASSE: THE PLACE AUX AIRES.
Of the many other interesting streets of Grasse it is impossible to speak in detail, except to draw attention to the fine Romanesque windows in the Rue Mougins-Roquefort and to those picturesque streets Rue sans Peur and Rue Rêve Vieille which are more curious even than their unusual names.
Most fascinating of all is the Rue de l’Evêché. It is a street of the Middle Ages, little changed and little spoiled. It is a mystery street full of romance and suggestion. It makes one draw one’s breath. It recalls so vividly90 a score of tales of medi?val days; for it is just that narrow, winding91, dim and haunting lane where thrilling things always happened—stabbings in the dark, pursuits with torches and the clang of arms, whisperings of cloaked conspirators92, the beckoning93 hand and the lover with the panting lady in the hood94.
The business of Grasse, as is well known, is the making of scent13, soap and refined oil. It is an ancient, famous and most prosperous industry. The quantity of flowers consumed in the perfumeries is so vast as to be hard to realise.
Mr. Kaye states, in a quiet way and without concern, that four million pounds of orange blossoms and three million pounds of roses—to name no others—are swept into the iron maw of the factory every year. Weight is a little misleading when it deals with rose leaves and mimosa blossoms so Mr. Kaye explains that, as regards jasmine alone, nine billions six hundred millions of jasmine flowers are picked by hand every year to provide the world with the jasmin perfume.
“The flower harvest,” he writes, “lasts nearly the whole year round. It begins in February with the violet which lasts till April. In March and April also hyacinths and jonquils are plucked. May marks the greatest activity in the harvest of roses and orange flowers, which harvest terminates usually in June. Mignonette and carnations95 are also gathered in this month. The jasmine is gathered in July, and the harvest lasts generally till October 10th. The tuberose is also picked during August and September.”
As the country for miles around Grasse is given up to the cultivation96 of flowers it may be assumed that the town lies in a Garden of Eden, dazzling with colour and laden97 with the perfumes of Araby. But it realises no such vision; since flowers grown for commerce, drilled into unfeeling lines and treated like the turnip98 of the field, are very different from those grown for pleasure and those that blossom, by their own sweet will, in the wilds. They differ as a crate99 of violets knocked down to the auctioneer’s hammer at Covent Garden differs from the shy, purple flowers that fringe a scented100 passage through a wood.
Those who have any regard for flowers should avoid a perfume factory as they would a slaughter-house; for it is not pleasant to see a white company of soft orange blossoms lying dead at the bottom of a pit, sodden101 and macerated, nor to watch roses being slowly boiled alive, nor jasmine flowers crushed to death upon the rack.
Many hundreds of day-tourists pour through Grasse during the months of the winter. They come by char-à-bancs and motor-brakes. Their stay in the town is very brief, for the “excursion to Grasse” embraces much in its breathless flight. They are deposited at a scent factory by a not disinterested102 driver, and there they purchase soap with eagerness, as if it were the bread of life. Ninety-nine per cent. of these soap-questing pilgrims do not go beyond the factory which they appear to regard as a sort of shrine103, even though its odour is not that of sanctity. To just one out of the hundred the idea may occur that soap of quite fair quality may be obtained in many places—even in Brixton in England—but that in few places can there be found an old French city so full of picturesque memories and possessed104 of so exquisite a cathedral as Grasse provides. From a hygienic point of view the triumph of soap over sentiment is commendable105, but the hygienic attitude of mind is one of rigour and offensive superiority. The one tourist out of the hundred wanders into the ancient town, loses his way, loses his char-à-banc and returns by the tramcar, with his mind full of charming recollections but his pocket empty of soap. While he glories over the romance of medi?val by-ways his fellow-tourists gloat over a wash-hand basin or a pungent106 handkerchief.
[15]
Quoted by Mr. W. J. Kaye in his excellent work on “Grasse and Its Vicinity,” published in 1912, a work which provides a good summary of the history of the town.
[16]
“Grasse and Its Vicinity,” by W. J. Kaye, 1912, p. 17.
[17]
A photograph and description of this remarkable relic will be found in Mr. Kaye’s book.
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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emoluments
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| n.报酬，薪水( emolument的名词复数 ) | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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graveyard
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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pint
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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extinction
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illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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promenade
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adorns
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| 装饰，佩带( adorn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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mansion
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mercurial
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| adj.善变的，活泼的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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allurement
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| n.诱惑物 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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abuts
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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garnished
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| v.给（上餐桌的食物）加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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60
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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74
landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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75
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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80
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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81
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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82
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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jointly
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| ad.联合地，共同地 | |
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84
vacillation
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| n.动摇；忧柔寡断 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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87
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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92
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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93
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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96
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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97
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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98
turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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99
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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100
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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101
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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102
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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103
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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104
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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105
commendable
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| adj.值得称赞的 | |
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106
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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