Our Dinner at the Chateau of the Duke of Brissac

We were planning a trip to the Loire Valley of France, and as I had never been there I bought a Michelin Guide to the area. I was researching what chateaux we wanted to see and what there was to see at each stop when I ran across an entry that caught my eye immediately.

The guidebook said that the Chateau Brissac had been in the Cosse family since 1502 when it was bought by Rene de Cosse. It also told me that Rene’s grandson, Charles de Cosse, was the governor of Paris during the Wars of Religion and it was he who opened the gates of the city to Henry IV in 1594.

For that act the king made him a duke. The guidebook went on to say that the chateau was still lived in by the Cosse family headed by the present 12th Duke of Brissac.

I was intrigued that our family names were spelled the same and that both carried the accent I was taught to use since I was a child. My father was adamant about the accent and often told me that our name could not be pronounced without it. I felt that there must be some connection between us and decided to write the duke.

Naturally, my wife and daughter thought this to be a waste of time, but after calling the French National Tourist Office and learning that a duke was addressed as “Monsigneur,” I sent a letter. The letter explained that I could only trace my ancestry to my great-grandfather, that our names were spelled the same, complete with accent, and that we were coming to France and would like to visit the chateau if that was possible.

Several weeks went by before a cable from the duke arrived. It said, “Your letter received. Happy to welcome you. Letter follows. Brissac.”

We were completely floored and thoroughly surprised. Another week passed and a letter was received from the Marquise de Brissac, the duke’s daughter-in-law. She asked when we would be in the neighborhood and if we would like to come to the “castle,” as she called it, for dinner. She also enclosed a history of the Cosse family written by the present duke.

I began to read the book immediately and learned that four Cosse’s had served as marshals of France, that one of the earlier dukes was one of Du Barry’s lovers, that the castle was one of the few in Europe continually occupied by the same family and that some consider the Cosses descendants of Charlemagne.

By this time we were beside ourselves with anticipation. I wrote the marquise the approximate dates we expected to be near Brissac and she wrote back confirming a date and time for the dinner. I bought three bottles of the best California wine I could find as my bread-and-butter gift, packed them carefully, and off we flew to Europe.

We stayed with friends in London whose daughter would be joining us for the trip to France. While there I realized that the date we had agreed on for the dinner would keep us in the western portion of the Loire Valley longer than we wanted to be there.

Summer at the Shore

Paris was beckoning. The marquise had told me that their family usually spent the summer at the shore and had given me their telephone number there. I wrestled with my conscience but finally decided to call to see if we could change to an earlier day. I was hoping she wouldn’t consider me impolite and cancel the whole affair.

She didn’t, and even asked what day would be most convenient. I said Sunday. She said, “Bien.”

Not being sure about hotels in the small town of Brissac, we decided to arrive early in case we had to find accommodations in another town. That was not necessary, as there was a beautiful small inn in the center of the village.

When I signed the register, the lady innkeeper looked at my name and inquired what I was doing in Brissac. I said we were going to have dinner with the marquis and the marquise at the castle.

She asked what time we thought we would be returning to the hotel as she locked the door at 10. I replied that I didn’t know and she said she’d make an exception in this case and provided us with a key. It was the first time in my life I ever had a key to an entire hotel.

The castle was a short walk, five minutes, from the hotel. On the way there I reminded the teen-age girls that they were to eat whatever was placed in front of them whether they enjoyed it or not. They asked if this included snails and frogs, and I replied it did.

We were met at the door by a maid in a black-and-white uniform and escorted across a floor paved with huge stones to a sitting room where the marquis and marquise were waiting. We introduced ourselves and they introduced their son and an architect who was supervising some restoration.

We were asked if we preferred a cocktail or some champagne and we naturally chose the more festive drink. I noticed that two smaller glasses had been set out for the girls and were already on the serving table. This thoughtfulness would continue throughout the evening.

After becoming acquainted, the marquise took us on a tour of the house. As we went from room to room she continued a recitation of the historic events that had occured in the castle’s 500-year history.

Another Historic Site

We saw the room in which Louis XIII was reconciled with his mother, Marie de Medicis, in 1620, the 18th-Century Gobelin tapestries, the knights on horseback in the great hall and the theater in which the duke’s grandmother sang arias from great operas. We did not visit all of the castle’s 200 rooms on this tour.

It was time for dinner and we were shown to the dining room, which was about as large as most hotel lobbies. The table was set for eight but it could have easily accommodated 20, without extra leaves. It was so wide that I wondered if we’d need bullhorns to talk with those across from us, but as it turned out, we didn’t.

There were tapestries on the walls and a small balcony about 15 feet from the floor that was used by musicians during fancy parties. The meal wasn’t frogs and snails but memorable because of where we were and how it was served.

My wife was seated in the place of honor at the right hand of the marquis, so she was served first. Because of the distance between us I could not determine exactly what was being offered but it looked like creamed corn. Creamed corn as the first course?

A Family Tradition

When the silver platter was offered to me I could see that the dish contained scrambled eggs. It was about this time that the marquis mentioned that it was a family tradition to start company dinners with eggs.

When the serving person passed the dish for second helpings, I noticed that it was not the same dish that was passed the first time but an altogether new one. The same was true of the chateaubriand and the chocolate mousse with whipped cream. No leftovers from the first passing but freshly assembled new platters each time.

Dinner conversation centered on the history of the family and the castle, some politics, and for the young people, what rock bands were the most popular in the United States and in Europe.

We also discussed the upkeep of the castle and the surrounding park and learned that it took a great deal of money to maintain them. To offset some of this expense, the family runs the castle in the “English fashion,” that is, they are host to selected paying guests who use the rooms and the theater for meetings and the bedrooms for sleeping.

A meal, such as the one I was enjoying, could be provided for about $65 per person, I was told. The most frequent guests are boards of directors, hunting groups and people from the area who wish to entertain in lavish style.

After dinner we returned to the sitting room and I noticed, on a small table, a photograph of the marquise with the Queen Mother of England. I remarked on it and was told that a few years before they had given a party for her, had become friendly and she had visited several times since.

The evening was a great success, and we walked back to the hotel with memories that would live with us for a very long time.

Although we did not get to meet the duke, who now lives in Paris, the meeting with his son and his family was more than I ever expected. To be invited, sight unseen, into an honest-to-God castle was an unforgettable experience.

We were never able to trace where I fit in with this ancient family but I will always also remember the marquise putting her finger on my nose and pointing with the other hand to the portraits on the wall of former dukes.

There just might be something there.