After climbing a tortuous winding path one comes suddenly upon a great walled barrier through which opens a door on which is to be read:
ON EST PRIE
DE FERMER LES
PORTES
(J’exige).
The last line is delicious. Of course one would close the doors after the mere intimation that it was desired that they should be closed. The proprietor says that he demands it, but he takes no measures to see that his demands are carried out. What pretence! All the same the pilgrimage is worth the making, but it’s not an easy jaunt.
CHAPTER XVII
IN THE SHADOW OF LA GRANDE CHARTREUSE
ONE may leave Rousseau’s smiling valley above Chambéry and journey to Grenoble via La Grande Chartreuse, or by the valley of the Isère, as fancy dictates. In either case one should double back and cover the other route or much will otherwise be missed that will be regretted.
Grenoble is militant from heel to toe. Its garrison is of vast numbers, soldiers of all ranks and all arms are everywhere, and every hill round-about bristles with a fortification or a battery of masked guns.
Every foot of the region is historic ground, and whether one crosses from Savoy to Dauphiny or from Dauphiny to Savoy the borderland is at all times reminiscent of the historic past.
The cradle of the Dauphin princes of France is not only a region of mountains and valleys, but it is a land where a numerous and warlike nobility was able to withstand invaders and oppressors to the last. Like Scotland, Dauphiny was never conquered; at least it lost no measure of its original independence by its alliances until it was cut up into the present-day departments of modern France.
Dauphiny is possessed of multiple aspects. It has the sun-burnt character of Provence in the south, with Montelimar and Grignan as its chief centres; it has its coteaux and falaises, like those of Normandy, around Crest and Die; and its “Petite Hollande” neighbouring upon Tour-de-Pin where the Dauphins once had a gem of a little rest-house which still exists to-day. The mountains of Dauphiny rival the Alps of Switzerland—the famous Barre des Écrins is only a shade less dominant than Mont Blanc itself.
The chief singer of the praises of Dauphiny has ever been Lamartine. No one has pictured its varied aspects better.