The "Cheval Blanc"--the name of the hotel at which I reside-- should be rather called the "Cheval Noir;" for a more dark, dingy, and even dirty residence, for a traveller of any nasal or ocular sensibility, can be rarely visited. My bed room is hung with tapestry; which, for aught I know to the contrary, may represent the daring exploits of MONTGOMERY and MATIGNON: but which is so begrimed with filth that there is no decyphering the subjects worked upon it.
On leaving the inn--and making your way to the top of the street--you turn to the left; but on looking down, again to the left, you observe, below you, the great high road leading to Caen, which has a noble appearance. Indeed, the manner in which this part of Normandy is intersected with the "routes royales" cannot fail to strike a stranger; especially as these roads run over hill and dale, amidst meadows, and orchards, equally abundant in their respective harvests. The immediate vicinity of the town is as remarkable for its picturesque objects of scenery as for its high state of cultivation; and a stroll upon the heights, in whatever part visited, will not fail to repay you for the certain disappointment to be experienced within the streets of the town. Portions of the scenery, from these heights, are not unlike those in Derbyshire, about Matlock. There is plenty of rock, of shrubs, and of fern; while another Derwent, less turbid and muddy, meanders below. Thus much for a general, but hasty sketch of the town of Vire. My next shall give you some detail of the interior of a few of the houses, of which I may be said to have hitherto only contemplated the roofs.
And yet I must not close my despatch without performing my promise about the CASTLE; of which indeed (as you will see by the subjoined miniature view) only a sort of ruinous shell remains. Its age may be a little towards the end of the thirteenth century. The stone is of a deep reddish tint: and although what remains is only a portion of the keep, yet I can never suppose it, even in its state of original integrity, to have been of very capacious dimensions. Its site is most commanding.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. MONSIEUR ADAM. MONSIEUR DE LARENAUDIERE. OLIVIER BASSELIN. M. SÉGUIN. THE PUBLIC LIBRARY.
It is a sad rainy day; and having no temptation to stir abroad, I have shut myself up by the side of a huge wood fire--(surrounded by the dingy tapestry, of which my last letter did not make very honourable mention) in a thoroughly communicative mood--to make you acquainted with all that has passed since my previous despatch. Books and the Bibliomania be the chief "burden of my present song!" You may remember, in my account of the public library at Caen, that some mention was made of a certain OLIVIER BASSELIN-- whom I designated as the DRUNKEN BARNABY of Normandy. Well, my friend--I have been at length made happy, and comforted in the extreme, by the possession of a copy of the Vaudevires of that said Olivier Basselin--and from the hands, too, of one of his principal editors ... Monsieur Lanon de Larenaudiere, Avocat, et Maire, de Tallevende-le-Petit. This copy I intend (as indeed I told the donor) for the beloved library at Althorp. But let me tell my tale my own way.
Hard by the hotel of the Cheval Blanc, (the best, bad as it is-- and indeed the only one in the town) lives a printer of the name of ADAM. He is the principal, and the most respectable of his brethren in the same craft. After discoursing upon sundry desultory topics--and particularly examining the books of Education, among which I was both surprised and pleased to find the Distichs of Muretus160--I expressed my regret at having travelled through so many towns of Normandy without meeting with one single copy of the Vaudevires of Olivier Basselin for sale. "It is not very surprising, Sir, since it is a privately printed book, and was never intended for sale. The impression too is very limited. You know, Sir, that the book was published here--and--" "Then I begin to be confident about obtaining it"--replied I. "Gently, Sir;--" resumed Monsieur Adam--"it is not to be bought, even here. But do you know no one...?" "Not a creature." "Well, Sir, take courage. You are an Englishman. One of its principal editors--a very gallant Bibliomaniac--who is a great collector and lover of the literature of your country--(here I picked up courage and gaiety of heart) lives in this town. He is President of the Tribunal. Go to him." Seeing me hesitate, in consequence of not having a letter of introduction--"Ce n'est rien (said he) allez tout-droit. Il aime vos compatriotes; et soyez persuadé de l'accueil le plus favorable." Methought Monsieur Adam spake more eloquently than I had yet heard a Norman speak.161
In two seconds I quitted his shop, (promising to return with an account of my reception) and five minutes brought me into the presence of Monsieur Lanon de Larenaudiere, Président du Tribunal, &c. It is not possible for me to convey to you a notion of the warmth, cordiality, and joyousness of heart, that marked the reception which this gentleman instantly gave me: and I will frankly own that I was as much "abashed" as ever our ancient friend Caxton had been--in the presence of his patroness the Duchess of Burgundy. I followed my new bibliomaniacal acquaintance rapidly up stairs; and witnessed, with extreme pleasure, a few bundles of books (some of them English) lying upon the window seats of the first landing-place; much after the fashion followed in a certain long, rambling, and antique residence, not quite three quarters of a mile from the towers of Westminster Abbey.
On gaining the first floor, mine host turned the keys of the doors of two contiguous rooms, and exclaimed, "VOILA MA BIBLIOTHEQUE!" The air of conscious triumph with which these words were uttered, delighted me infinitely; but my delight was much increased on a leisurely survey of one of the prettiest, most useful, and commendable collections of books, chiefly in the department of the Belles-Lettres, which I had ever witnessed. Monsieur de Larenaudiere has a library of about 9000 volumes, of which eight hundred are English. But the owner is especially fond of poetical archaeology; in other words, of collecting every work which displays the progress of French and English poetry in the middle and immediately following ages; and talks of Trouveurs and Troubadours with an enthusiasm approaching to extacy. Meanwhile he points his finger to our Warton, Ellis, Ritson, and Southey; tells you how dearly he loves them; but yet leads you to conclude that he rather prefers Le Grand, Ginguené, Sismondi, and Raynouard. Of the venerable living oracle in these matters, the Abbé de la Rue, he said he considered him as "un peu trop systématique." In short, M. de Larenaudiere has almost a complete critical collection, in our tongue, upon the subject of old poetry; and was most anxious and inquisitive about the present state of cultivation of that branch of literature in England: adding, that he himself meditated a work upon the French poetry of the XIIth and XIIIth centuries. He said he thought his library might be worth about 25,000 francs: nor did I consider such a valuation overcharged. He talks rapidly, earnestly, and incessantly; but he talks well: and spoke of the renown of a certain library in St. James's Place, in a manner which could not fail to quicken the pulse and warm the blood of its Librarian. I concluded an interview of nearly two hours, by his compliance with my wish to dine with me on the following day: although he was quite urgent in bargaining for the previous measure of my tasting his pôtage and vol au vent. But the shortness and constant occupation of my time would not allow me to accede to it. M. de Larenaudiere then went to a cabinet-like cupboard, drew forth an uncut copy, stitched in blue spotted paper, of his beloved Vaudevires of OLIVIER BASSELIN:162 and presenting it to me, added "Conservez le, pour l'amour de moi." You may be assured that I received such a present in the most gracious manner I was capable of--but instantly and honestly added--"permettez qu'il soit déposé dans la bibliothèque de Milord S...? "C'est la même chose"--rejoined he; and giving me the address of the public librarian, we separated in the most cordial manner till the morrow.
I posted back to Monsieur Adam, the printer and bookseller, and held aloft my blue-covered copy of the Vaudevires as an unquestionable proof of the successful result of my visit to Monsieur La Renaudiere. Leaving the precious cargo with him, and telling him that I purposed immediately visiting the public library, he seemed astonished at my eagerness about books--and asked me if I had ever published any thing bibliographical? "Car enfin, Monsieur, la pluspart des Virois ne savent rien de la litérature angloise"--concluded he ... But I had just witnessed a splendid exception to this sweeping clause of censure. I then sought the residence of the Abbé Du MORTUEUX, the public librarian. That gentleman was from home, at a dinner party. I obtained information of the place where he might be found; and considering two o'clock to be rather too early an hour (even in France) to disturb a gentleman during the exercise of so important a function, I strolled in the neighbourhood of the street, where he was regaling, for a full hour and half: when, at the expiration of that time, I ventured to knock at the door of a very respectable mansion, and to enquire for the bibliographical Abbé. "He is here, Sir, and has just done dinner. May I give him your name?" "I am a stranger: an Englishman; who, on the recommendation of Monsieur Larenaudiere, wishes to see the public library. But I will call again in about an hour." "By no means: by no means: the Abbé will see you immediately." And forthwith appeared a very comely, tall, and respectable- looking gentleman, with his hair en plein costume, both as to form and powder. Indeed I had rarely before witnessed so prepossessing a figure. His salutation and address were most gracious and winning; and he told me that I had nothing to do but to accompany him to the place which I wished to visit. Without even returning to his friends, he took his hat--and in one minute, to my surprise, I found myself in the street with the Abbé de Mortueux, in the high way to the PUBLIC LIBRARY. In our way thither our discourse was constant and unrestrained. "You appear here; Monsieur l'Abbé, to be partial to literature;... but allow me first to congratulate you on the beautiful environs of your town." "For literature in general, we are pretty well disposed. In regard to the beauties of the immediate neighbourhood of Vire, we should be unworthy inhabitants indeed, if we were not sensible of them." In five minutes we reached the Library.
The shutters of the room were fastened, but the worthy Abbé opened them in a trice; when I saw, for the first time in Normandy, what appeared to be a genuine, old, unmutilated, unpillaged library. The room could be scarcely more than twenty-two feet square. I went instantly to work, with eyes and hands, in the ardent hope, and almost full persuasion, of finding something in the shape of a good old Greek or Roman Classic, or French Chronicle, or Romance. But, alas, I looked, and handled the tomes in vain! The history of the library is this:--The founder was a Monsieur PICHON; who, on being taken prisoner by the English, at the capture of Louisburg in 1758, resided a long time in England under the name of TYRREL, and lived in circumstances of respectability and even of opulence. There--whether on the dispersion of the libraries of our Meads, Foulkes', and Rawlinsons, I know not--he made his collection; took his books over with him to Jersey, where he died in 1780: and bequeathed them, about 3000 in number, to his native town of Vire. M. du Mortueux, who gave me these particulars, has drawn up a little memorial about Pichon. His portrait, executed by an English artist, (whilst he lived among us) adorns the library; with which I hope it will go down to a distant and grateful posterity. The colouring of this portrait is faded: but it is evident that Monsieur Pichon had an expressive and sensible physiognomy.
Wonderful to relate, this collection of books was untouched during the Revolution; while the neighbouring library of the Cordeliers was ransacked without mercy. But I regret to say that the books in the cupboards are getting sadly damp. Do not expect any thing very marvellous in the details of this collection; The old-fashioned library doors, of wood, are quite in character with what they protect. Among the earlier printed books, I saw a very bad copy of Sweynheym and Pannartz's edition of the De Civitate Dei of St. Austin, of the date of 1470; and a large folio of Gering's impression of the Sermons of Leonard de Utino printed about the year 1478. This latter was rather a fine book. A little black-letter Latin Bible by Froben, of the date of 1495, somewhat tempted me; but I could not resist asking, in a manner half serious and half jocose, whether a napoleon would not secure me the possession of a piquant little volume of black-letter tracts, printed by my old friend Guido Mercator?163 The Abbé smiled: observing--"mon ami, on fait voir les livres ici; on les lit même: mais on ne les vend pas." I felt the force of this pointed reply: and was resolved never again to ask an Ecclesiastic to part with a black-letter volume, even though it should be printed by "my old friend Guido Mercator."
Seeing there was very little more deserving of investigation, I enquired of my amiable guide about the "LIBRARY OF THE CORDELIERS," of which he had just made mention. He told me that it consisted chiefly of canon and civil law, and had been literally almost destroyed: that he had contrived however to secure a great number of "rubbishing theological books," (so he called them!) which he sold for three sous a piece--and with the produce of which he bought many excellent works for the library. I should like to have had the sifting of this "theological rubbish!" It remained only to thank the Abbé most heartily for his patient endurance of my questions and searches, and particularly to apologise for bringing him from his surrounding friends. He told me, beginning with a "soyez tranquille," that the matter was not worth either a thought or a syllable; and ere we quitted the library, he bade me observe the written entries of the numbers of students who came daily thither to read. There were generally (he told me) from fifteen to twenty "hard at it"--and I saw the names of not fewer than ninety-two who aspired to the honour and privilege of having access to the BIBLIOTHECA PICHONIANA.
For the third time, in the same day, I visited Monsieur Adam; to carry away, like a bibliomaniacal Jason, the fleece I had secured. I saw there a grave, stout gentleman--who saluted me on my entrance, and who was introduced to me by Monsieur A. by the name of SÉGUIN. He had been waiting (he said) full three quarters of an hour to see me, and concluded by observing, that, although a man in business, he had aspired to the honour of authorship. He had written, in fact, two rather interesting--but wretchedly, and incorrectly printed--duodecimo volumes, relating to the BOCAGE,164 in the immediate vicinity of Vire; and was himself the sole vender and distributer of his publications. On my expressing a wish to possess these books, he quitted the premises, and begged I would wait his return with a copy or two of them. While he was gone, M. Adam took the opportunity of telling me that he was a rich, respectable tradesman; but that, having said some severe things of the manufactures of Vire in his first publication,165 relating to the civil history of the Bocains, his townsmen sharply resented what they considered as reflections thrown out against them; and M. Séguin was told that perhaps his personal safety was endangered ... He wanted not a second hint--but fled from home with precipitancy: and in his absence the populace suspended his effigy, and burnt it before the door of his house. This, however, did not cool the ardour of authorship in M. Séguin. He set about publishing his military history of the Bocains; and in the introductory part took occasion to retort upon the violence of his persecutors. To return to M. Séguin. In about ten minutes he appeared, with two copies in his hand-- which I purchased, I thought dearly, at five francs each volume; or a napoleon for the four books. After the adventures of this day, I need hardly tell you that I relished a substantial dinner at a late hour, and that I was well satisfied with Vire.
Yesterday M. de Larenaudiere made good his engagement, and dined with me at five, in the salle à manger. This is a large inn; and if good fare depended upon the number and even elegance of female cooks, the traveller ought to expect the very best at the Cheval Blanc. The afternoon was so inviting--and my guest having volunteered his services to conduct me to the most beautiful points of view in the immediate neighbourhood--that we each seemed to vie with the other in quickly dispatching what was placed before us; and within thirty-five minutes, from the moment of sitting down, we were in the outskirts of Vire. Never shall I forget that afternoon's ramble. The sun seemed to become more of a golden hue, and the atmosphere to increase in clearness and serenity. A thousand little songsters were warbling in the full-leaved branches of the trees; while the mingled notes of the blanchisseuses and the milk-maids, near the banks of the rippling stream below, reached us in a sort of wild and joyous harmony--as we gazed down from the overhanging heights. The meadows were spotted with sheep, and the orchards teemed with the coming fruit. You may form some notion of the value of this rich and picturesque scenery, when I tell you that M. de Larenaudiere possesses land, in the immediate vicinity of Vire, which lets per acre at the rate of 6l. 6s. English. My guide was all gaiety of heart, and activity of step. I followed him through winding paths and devious tracks, amidst coppice-wood and fern--not however till I had viewed, from one particular spot upon the heights, a most commanding and interesting panorama of the town of Vire.
In our perambulation, we discoursed of English poetry; and I found that THOMSON was as great a favourite with my guide as with the rest of his countrymen. Indeed he frankly told me that he had translated him into French verse, and intended to publish his translation. I urged him to quote specimens; which he did with a readiness and force, and felicity of version, that quite delighted me. He thoroughly understands the original; and in the description of a cataract, or mountain torrent, from the Summer, he appeared to me almost to surpass it. My guide then proceeded to quote Young and Pope, and delivered his opinion of our two great Whig and Tory Reviews. He said he preferred the politics and vivacity of the Edinburgh, but thought the Quarterly more instructive and more carefully written. "Enfin (he concluded) j'aime infiniment votre gouvernement, et vos écrivains; mais j'aime moins le peuple Anglois." I replied that he had at least very recently shewn an exception to this opinion, in his treatment of one among this very people. "C'est une autre chose"--replied he briskly, and laughingly--"vous allez voir deux de vos compatriotes, qui sont mes intimes, et vous en serez bien content!" So saying, we continued our route through a delightful avenue of beech-trees, upon the most elevated part within the vicinity of the town; and my companion bade me view from thence the surrounding country. It was rich and beautiful in the extreme; and with perfect truth, I must say, resembled much more strongly the generality of our own scenery than what I had hitherto witnessed in Normandy. But the sun was beginning to cast his shadows broader and broader, and where was the residence of Monsieur and Madame S----?
It was almost close at hand. We reached it in a quarter of an hour-- but the inmates were unluckily from home. The house is low and long, but respectable in appearance both within and without. The approach to it is through a pretty copse, terminated by a garden; and the surrounding grounds are rather tastefully laid out. A portion of it indeed had been trained into something in the shape of a labyrinth; in the centre of which was a rocky seat, embedded as it were in moss--and from which some fine glimpses were caught of the surrounding country. The fragrance from the orchard trees, which had not yet quite shed their blossoms, was perfectly delicious; while the stillness of evening added to the peculiar harmony of the whole. We had scarcely sauntered ten minutes before Madame arrived. She had been twelve years in France, and spoke her own language so imperfectly, or rather so unintelligibly, that I begged of her to resume the French. Her reception of us was most hospitable: but we declined cakes and wine, on account of the lateness of the hour. She told us that her husband was in possession of from fourscore to a hundred acres of the most productive land; and regretted that he was from home, on a visit to a neighbouring gentleman; assuring us, if we could stay, that he would be heartily glad to see us--"especially any of his countrymen, when introduced by Monsieur de Larenaudiere." It was difficult to say who smiled and bowed with the greater complacency, at this double-shotted compliment. I now pressed our retreat homewards. We bade this agreeable lady farewell, and returned down the heights, and through the devious paths by which we had ascended,
While talk of various kind deceived the road.
A more active and profitable day has not yet been devoted to Norman objects, whether of art or of nature. Tomorrow I breakfast with my friend and guide, and immediately afterwards push on for FALAISE. A cabriolet is hired, but doubts are entertained respecting the practicability of the route. My next epistle will be therefore from Falaise--where the renowned William the Conqueror was born, whose body we left entombed at Caen. The day is clearing up; and I yet hope for a stroll upon the site of the castle.
DEPARTURE FROM VIRE. CONDÉ. PONT OUILLY. ARRIVAL AT FALAISE. HOTEL OF THE GRAND TURC. THE CASTLE OF FALAISE. BIBLIOMANIACAL INTERVIEW.
Falaise.
Here I am--or rather, here I have been--my most excellent friend, for the last four days--and from hence you will receive probably the last despatch from NORMANDY--from the "land (as I told you in my first epistle) of "castles, churches, and ancient chivalry." An old, well-situated, respectably-inhabited, and even flourishing, town--the birth-place too of our renowned FIRST WILLIAM:--weather, the most serene and inviting--and hospitality, thoroughly hearty, and after the English fashion:--these have all conspired to put me in tolerably good spirits. My health, too, thank God, has been of late a little improved. You wish me to continue the thread of my narrative unbroken; and I take it up therefore from the preparation for my departure from Vire.
I breakfasted, as I told you I was about to do, with my friend and guide Mons. de Larenaudiere; who had prepared quite a sumptuous repast for our participation. Coffee, eggs, sweetmeats, cakes, and all the comfortable paraphernalia of an inviting breakfast-table, convinced us that we were in well-furnished and respectable quarters. Madame did the honours of the meal in perfectly good taste; and one of the loveliest children I ever saw--a lad, of about five or six years of age--with a profusion of hair of the most delicate quality and colour, gave a sort of joyous character to our last meal at Vire. The worthy host told me to forget him, when I reached my own country;166 and that, if ever business or pleasure brought me again into Normandy, to remember that the Maire de Tallevende-le-Petit would-be always happy to renew his assurances of hospitality. At the same time, he entreated me to pay attention to a list of English books which he put into my hands; and of which he stood considerably in need. We bade farewell in the true English fashion, by a hearty shake of the hands; and, mounting our voiture, gave the signal for departure. "Au plaisir de vous revoir!"--'till a turning of the carriage deprived us of the sight of each other. It is not easy--and I trust it is not natural--for me to forget the last forty-eight hours spent in the interesting town of VIRE!
Our route to this place was equally grand and experimental; grand, as to the width of the road, and beauty of the surrounding country--but experimental, inasmuch as a part of the route royale had been broken up, and rendered wholly impassable for carriages of any weight. Our own, of its kind, was sufficiently light; with a covering of close wicker-work, painted after the fashion of some of our bettermost tilted carts. One Norman horse, in full condition of flesh, with an equal portion of bone and muscle, was to convey us to this place, which cannot be less than twenty- two good long English miles from Vire. The carriage had no springs; and our seat was merely suspended by pieces of leather fastened at each end. At Condé, about one-third of the distance, we baited, to let both man and horse breathe over their dinners; while, strolling about that prettily situated little town, we mingled with the inhabitants, and contemplated the various faces (it being market-day) with no ordinary degree of gratification. Amidst the bustle and variety of the scene, our ears were greeted by the air of an itinerant ballad-singer: nor will you be displeased if I send you a copy of it:--since it is gratifying to find any thing like a return to the good old times of the sixteenth century.
VIVE LE ROI, VIVE L'AMOUR.
François Premier, nous dit l'histoire,
Etoit la fleur des Chevaliers,
Près d'Etampes aux champs de gloire
Il recueillit myrtes et lauriers;
Sa maîtresse toujours fidèle,
Le payant d'un tendre retour,
Lui chantant cette ritournelle;
Vive le Roi, vive l'Amour.
Henri, des princes le modèle,
Ton souvenir est dans nos coeurs,
Par la charmante Gabrielle
Ton front fut couronné de fleurs;
De la Ligue domptant la rage,
Tu sus triompher tour-à-tour,v Par la clémence et ton courage:
Vive le Roi, vive l'Amour.
Amant chéri de la Vallière,
Des ennemis noble vainqueur,
LOUIS savoit combattre et plaire,
Guidé par l'Amour et l'honneur;
A son retour de la Victoire,
Entouré d'une aimable cour,
Il entendoit ce cri de gloire:
Vive le Roi, vive l'Amour.
&c.
There was a freshness of tint, and a comeliness of appearance, among the bourgeoises and common people, which were not to be eclipsed even by the belles of Coutances. Our garçon de poste and his able-bodied quadruped having each properly recruited themselves, we set forward--by preference-- to walk up the very long and somewhat steep hill which rises on the other side of Conde towards Pont Ouilly--in the route hither. Perhaps this was the most considerable ascent we had mounted on foot, since we had left Rouen. The view from the summit richly repaid the toil of using our legs. It was extensive, fruitful, and variegated; but neither rock nor mountain scenery; nor castles, nor country seats; nor cattle, nor the passing traveller--served to mark or to animate it. It was still, pure nature, upon a vast and rich scale: and as the day was fine, and my spirits good, I was resolved to view and to admire.
Pont Ouilly lies in a hollow; with a pretty winding river, which seems to run through its centre. The surrounding hills are gently undulating; and as we descended to the Inn, we observed, over the opposite side of the town, upon the summit of one of the hills, a long procession of men and women--headed by an ecclesiastic, elevating a cross--who were about to celebrate, at some little distance, one of their annual festivals. The effect--as the procession came in contact with a bright blue sky, softened by distance--was uncommonly picturesque ... but the day was getting on fast, and there was yet a considerable distance to perform,--while, in addition, we had to encounter the most impassable part of the road. Besides, I had not yet eaten a morsel since I had left Vire. Upon holding a consultation, therefore, it was resolved to make for the inn, and to dine there. A more sheltered, rural, spot cannot be conceived. It resembled very many of the snug scenes in South Wales. Indeed the whole country was of a character similar to many parts of Monmouthshire; although with a miserable draw-back in respect to the important feature of wood. Through the whole of Normandy, you miss those grand and overshadowing masses of oak, which give to Monmouthshire, and its neighbouring county of Glocester, that rich and majestic appearance which so decidedly marks the character of those counties. However, we are now at the inn at Pont Ouilly. A dish of river fish, gudgeons, dace, and perch, was speedily put in requisition. Good wine, "than which France could boast no better!" and a roast fowl, which the daughter of the hostess "knew how to dress to admiration" ... was all that this humble abode could afford us." "But we were welcome:"--that is, upon condition that we paid our reckoning....
The dinner would be ready in a "short half hour." Mr. Lewis, went to the bridge, to look around, for the purpose of exercising his pencil: while I sauntered more immediately about the house. Within five minutes a well- looking, and even handsome, young woman--of an extremely fair complexion-- her hair cut close behind--her face almost smothered in a white cap which seemed of crape--and habited in a deep black--passed quickly by me, and ascended a flight of steps, leading to the door of a very humble mansion. She smiled graciously at the aubergiste as she passed her, and quickly disappeared. On enquiry, I was told that she was a nun, who, since the suppression of the convent to which she had belonged, earned her livelihood by teaching some of the more respectable children in the village. She had just completed her twentieth year. I was now addressed by a tall, bluff, shabby-looking man--who soon led me to understand that he was master of the inn where my "suite" was putting up;--that I had been egregiously deceived about the nature of the road--for that it was totally impossible for one horse:--even the very best in Normandy--(and where will you find better? added he, parenthetically--as I here give it to you) to perform the journey with such a voiture and such a weight of luggage behind." I was struck equally with amazement and woe at this intelligence. The unpitying landlord saw my consternation. "Hark you, sir ... (rejoined he) if you must reach Falaise this evening, there is only one method of doing it. You must have another horse." "Willingly," I replied. "Yes, sir--but you can have it only upon one condition." "What is that?" "I have some little business at Falaise myself. Allow me to strap about one hundred weight of loaf-sugar at the back of your conveyance, and I myself will be your garçon de poste thither." I own I thought him about the most impudent fellow I had yet seen in Normandy: but there was no time for resistance. Necessity compelled acquiescence. Accordingly, the dinner being dispatched--which, though good, was charged at six francs a-head--we prepared for our departure.
But judge of my surprise and increased consternation, when the fellow ordered forth a little runt of a quadruped--in the shape of a horse--which was hardly higher than the lower part of the chest of the animal which brought us from Vire! I remonstrated. The landlord expostulated. I resisted--but the fellow said it was a bargain; and proceeded quietly to deposit at least two hundred weight of his refined sugar at the back of the carriage. This Lilliputian horse was made the leader. The landlord mounted on the front seat, with our Vire post-boy by the side of him; and sounding his whip, with a most ear-piercing whoop and hollow, we sprung forward for Falaise--which we were told we should reach before sunset. You can hardly conceive the miseries of this cross-road journey. The route royale was, in fact, completely impassable; because they were repairing it. Alarmed at the ruggedness of the cross-road, where one wheel was in a rut of upwards of a foot deep, and the other elevated in proportion--we got out, and resolved to push on a-foot. We walked for nearly two leagues, before our conveyance overtook us--so harassing and so apparently insurmountable seemed to be the road. But the cunning aubergiste had now got rid of his leader. He said that it was only necessary to use it for the first two or three leagues--which was the most difficult part of the route- -and that, for the remainder, about five English miles, our "fine Norman horse" was perfectly sufficient. This fine Norman horse was treated most unmercifully by him. He flogged, he hallooed, he swore ... the animal tript, stumbled, and fell upon his knees--more than once--from sheer fatigue. The charioteer hallooed and flogged again: and I thought we must have taken up our night quarters in the high-way;--when suddenly, to the left, I saw the fine warm glow of the sun, which had set about twenty minutes, lighting up one of the most perfect round towers, of an old castle, that I had yet seen in Normandy. Voilà FALAISE!--exclaimed the ruthless charioteer; ... and in a quarter of an hour we trotted hard down a hill (after the horse had been twice again upon his knees) which terminated in this most interesting place.
It will be difficult for me to forget--after such a long, wearisome, and in part desperate journey--our approach to Falaise:--and more especially the appearance of the castle just mentioned. The stone seemed as fresh, and as perfectly cemented, as if it had been the work of the preceding year. Moreover, the contiguous parts were so fine and so thoroughly picturesque-- and the superadded tradition of its being, according to some, the birth place--and according to others, the usual residence--of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR ... altogether threw a charm about the first glimpse of this venerable pile, which cannot be easily described. I had received instructions to put up at the "Grand Turc"--as the only hotel worthy an Englishman's notice. At the door of the Grand Turk, therefore, we were safely deposited: after having got rid of our incumbrances of two postilions, and two hundred weight of refined sugar. Our reception was gracious in the extreme. The inn appeared "tout-à-fait à la mode Anglaise"--and no marvel ... for Madame the hostess was an Englishwoman. Her husband's name was David.
Bespeaking a late cup of tea, I strolled through the principal streets,-- delighted with the remarkably clear current of the water, which ran on each side from the numerous overcharged fountains. Day-light had wholly declined; when, sitting down to my souchong, I saw, with astonishment--a pair of sugar-tongs and a salt-spoon--the first of the kind I had beheld since I left England! Madame David enjoyed my surprise; adding, in a very droll phraseology, that she had "not forgotten good English customs." Our beds and bed rooms were perfectly comfortable, and even elegant.
The moat which encircles, not only the castle, but the town--and which must have been once formidable from its depth and breadth, when filled with water--is now most pleasingly metamorphosed. Pasture lands, kitchen gardens, and orchards, occupy it entirely. Here the cattle quietly stray, and luxuriously feed. But the metamorphosis of the castle has been, in an equal degree, unfortunate. The cannon balls, during the wars of the League--and the fury of the populace, with the cupidity or caprice of some individuals, during the late revolution--helped to produce this change. After breakfast, I felt a strong desire to survey carefully the scite and structure of the castle. It was a lovely day; and in five minutes I obtained admission at a temporary outer gate. The first near view within the ramparts perfectly enchanted me. The situation is at once bold, commanding, and picturesque. But as the opposite, and immediately contiguous ground, is perhaps yet a little higher, it should follow that a force, placed upon such eminence--as indeed was that of Henry the Fourth, during the wars of the League--would in the end subdue the garrison, or demolish the castle. I walked here and there amidst briars and brushwood, diversified with lilacs and laburnums; and by the aid of the guide soon got within an old room--of which the outer walls only remained--and which is distinguished by being called the birth-place of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
Between ourselves, the castle appears to be at least a century later than the time of William the Conqueror; and certainly the fine round tower, of which such frequent mention has been made, is rather of the fourteenth, if not of the beginning of the fifteenth century;167 but it is a noble piece of masonry. The stone is of a close grain and beautiful colour, and the component parts are put together with a hard cement, and with the smallest possible interstices. At the top of it, on the left side, facing the high road from Vire,--and constructed within the very walls themselves, is a well--which goes from the top apparently to the very bottom of the foundation, quite to the bed of the moat. It is about three feet in diameter, measuring with the eye; perhaps four: but it is doubtless a very curious piece of workmanship. We viewed with an inquisitive eye what remained of the Donjon: sighed, as we surveyed the ruins of the chapel--a very interesting little piece of ecclesiastical antiquity: and shuddered as we contemplated the enormous and ponderous portcullis-- which had a drop of full twenty feet ... to keep out the invading foe. I was in truth delighted with this first reconnoissance of FALAISE--beneath one of the brightest and bluest skies of Normandy! and--within walls, which were justly considered to be among the most perfect as well as the most ancient of those in Normandy.
Leaving my companion to take a view of the upper part of this venerable building, I retreated towards the town--resolved to leave no church and no street unexplored. On descending, and quitting the gate by which I had entered, a fine, robust, and respectable figure, habited as an Ecclesiastic, met and accosted me. I was most prompt to return the salutation. "We are proud, Sir, of our castle, and I observe you have been visiting it. The English ought to take an interest in it, since it was the birth-place of William the Conqueror." I readily admitted it was well worth a minute examination: but as readily turned the conversation to the subject of LIBRARIES. The amiable stranger (for he was gaining upon me fast, by his unaffected manners and sensible remarks) answered, that "their own public library existed no longer--having been made subservient to the inquisitorial visit of M. Moysant of Caen168: that he had himself procured for the Bishop of Bayeux the Mentz Bible of 1462--and that the Chapter-Library of Bayeux, before the Revolution, could not have contained fewer than 40,000 volumes. "But you are doubtless acquainted, Sir, with the COMTE DE LA FRESNAYE, who resides in yonder large mansion?"-- pointing to a house upon an elevated spot on the other side of the town. I replied that I had not that honour; and was indeed an utter stranger to every inhabitant of Falaise. I then stated, in as few and precise words as possible, the particular object of my visit to the Continent. "Cela suffit"--resumed the unknown--"nous irons faire visite à Monsieur le Comte après le diné; à ce moment il s'occupe avec le pôtage--car c'est un jour maigre. Il sera charmé de vous recevoir. Il aime infiniment les Anglois, et il a resté long-temps chez vous. C'est un brave homme--et même un grand antiquaire."
My pulse and colour increased sensibly as the stranger uttered these latter words: and he concluded by telling me that he was himself the Curé of Ste. Trinité one of the two principal churches of the town--and that his name was MOUTON. Be assured that I shall not lose sight of the Comte de la Fresnaye, and Monsieur Mouton.
MONS. MOUTON. CHURCH OF STE. TRINITÉ. COMTE DE LA FRESNAYE. GUIBRAY CHURCH. SUPPOSED HEAD OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. M. LANGEVIN, HISTORIAN OF FALAISE. PRINTING OFFICES.
I lose no time in the fulfilment of my promise. The church of SAINTE TRINITÉ, of which Monsieur Mouton is the Curé, is the second place of worship in rank in the town. During the Revolution, Mons. Mouton was compelled, with too many of his professional brethren, to fly from the general persecution of his order. One solitary and most amiable creature only remained; of the name of LANGEVIN--of whom, by and by, Monsieur Mouton did me the honour of shewing me the interior of his church. His stipend (as he told me) did not exceed 1500 francs per annum; and it is really surprising to observe to what apparent acts of generosity towards his flock, this income is made subservient. You shall hear. The altar consists of two angels of the size of life, kneeling very gracefully, in white glazed plaister: in the centre, somewhat raised above, is a figure of the Virgin, of the same materials; above which again, is a representation of the TRINITY--in a blaze of gilt. The massive circular columns surrounding the choir--probably of the fourteenth century--were just fresh painted, at the expense of the worthy Curé, in alternate colours of blue and yellow-- imitative of marble;--that is to say, each column, alternately, was blue and yellow. It was impossible to behold any thing more glaring and more tasteless. I paid my little tribute of admiration at the simplicity and grace of the kneeling figure of the Virgin--but was stubbornly silent about every thing else. Monsieur Mouton replied that "he intended to grace the brows of the angels by putting a garland round each." I felt a sort of twinge upon receiving this intelligence; but there is no persuading the French to reject, or to qualify, their excessive fondness for flower ornaments.
Projecting from the wall, behind the circular part of the choir, I observed a figure of St. Sebastian--precisely of that character which we remark in the printed missals of the fifteenth century,--and from which the engravers of that period copied them: namely, with the head large, the body meagre, and the limbs loose and muscular. It was plentifully covered, as was the whole surface of the wall, with recent white wash. On observing this, my guide added: "oui, et je veux le faire couvrir d'une teinte encore plus blanche!" Here I felt a second twinge yet more powerful than the first. I noticed, towards the south-side door, a very fine crucifix, cut in wood, about three feet high; and apparently of the time of Goujon. It was by much the finest piece of sculpture, of its kind, which I had seen in Normandy; but it was rather in a decaying state. I wished to know whether such an object of art--apparently of no earthly importance, where it was situated--might be obtained for some honourable and adequate compensation. Monsieur Mouton replied that he desired to part with it--but that it must be replaced by another "full six feet high!" There was no meeting this proposition, and I ceased to say another word upon the subject.
Upon the whole, the church of the Holy Trinity is rather a fine and capacious, than a venerable edifice; and although I cannot conscientiously approve of the beautifying and repairing which are going on therein, yet I will do the planner the justice to say, that a more gentlemanly, liberally-minded, and truly amiable clergyman is perhaps no where to be found,--within or without the diocese to which he belongs. Attached to the north transept or side door, parallel with the street, is a long pole. "What might this mean?" "Sir, this pole was crowned at the top by a garland, and by the white flag of St. Louis,169--which were hoisted to receive me on my return from my long expatriation"--and the eyes of the narrator were suffused with tears, as he made the answer! It is of no consequence how small the income of an unmarried minister, may be, when he thus lives so entirely in the HEARTS OF HIS FLOCK. This church bears abundant evidence, within and without, of what is called the restoration of the Gothic order during the reign of Francis I.: although the most essential and the greater portion is evidently of the latter part of the fourteenth century.170 Having expressed my admiration of the manufacture of wax candles (for religious purposes) which I had frequently observed in the town, Monsieur Mouton, upon taking me into the sacristy (similar to our vestry-room) begged I would do him the honour to accept of any which might be lying upon the table. These candles are made of the purest white wax: of a spiral, or twisted, or square, or circular form; of considerable length and width. They are also decorated with fillagree work, and tinsel of various colours. Upon that which I chose, there were little rosettes made of wax. The moderate sum for which they are obtained, startles an Englishman who thinks of the high price of this article of trade in his own country. You see frequently, against the walls and pillars of the choir, fragments of these larger wax candles, guttering down and begrimed from the uses made of them in time of worship. In this sacristy there were two little boys swinging wooden censers, by way of practice for the more perfect use of them, when charged with frankincense, at the altar. To manage these adroitly--as the traveller is in the constant habit of observing during divine worship--is a matter of no very quick or easy attainment.
From the Curé we proceed to the Comte DE LA FRESNAYE; whose pleasantly situated mansion had been pointed out to me, as you may remember, by the former. Passing over one of the bridges, leading towards Guibray, and ascending a gentle eminence to the left, I approached the outer lodge of this large and respectable-looking mansion. The Count and family were at dinner: but at three they would rise from table. "Meanwhile," said the porter, it might give me pleasure to walk in the garden." It was one of the loveliest days imaginable. Such a sky--blue, bright, and cloudless--I had scarcely before seen. The garden was almost suffocated with lilacs and laburnums, glittering in their respective liveries of white, purple, and yellow. I stepped into a berceau--and sitting upon a bench, bethought me of the strange visit I was about to make--as well as of all the pleasing pastoral poetry and painting which I had read in the pages of De Lille, or viewed upon the canvas of Watteau. The clock of the church of St. Gervais struck three; when, starting from my reverie, I knocked at the hall-door, and was announced to the family, (who had just risen from dinner) above stairs. A circle of five gentlemen would have alarmed a very nervous visitor; but the Count, addressing me in a semi-British and semi- Gallic phraseology, immediately dissipated my fears. In five minutes he was made acquainted with the cause of this apparent intrusion.
Nothing could exceed his amiable frankness. The very choicest wine was circulated at his table; of which I partook in a more decided manner on the following day--when he was so good as to invite me to dine. When I touched upon his favourite theme of Norman Antiquities, he almost shouted aloud the name of INGULPH,--that "cher ami de Guillaume le Conquérant!" I was unwilling to trespass long; but I soon found the advantage of making use of the name of "Monsieur Mouton--l'estimable Curé de la Sainte Trinité."
In a stroll to Guibray, towards sunset the next day, I passed through a considerable portion of the Count's property, about 300 acres, chiefly of pasture land. The evening was really enchanting; and through the branches of the coppice wood the sun seemed to be setting in a bed of molten gold. Our conversation was animated and incessant. In the old and curious church of Guibray, the Count shewed us his family pew with the care and particularity of an old country squire. Meanwhile Mr. Lewis was making a hasty copy of one of the very singular ornaments--representing Christ bearing his cross--which was suspended against the walls of the altar of a side chapel.