Thomas Frognall Dibdin - A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two

T >> Thomas Frognall Dibdin >> A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26

We now gained fast upon NANCY, the capital of Lorraine. It is doubtless
among the handsomest provincial towns in Europe; and is chiefly indebted
for its magnificence to Stanislaus, King of Poland, who spent the latter
part of his life there, and whose daughter was married to Louis XV. The
annexation of Lorraine to France has been considered the masterpiece of
Louis's policy. Nancy may well boast of her broad and long streets: running
chiefly at right angles with each other: well paved, and tolerably clean.
The houses are built chiefly of stone. Here are churches, a theatre, a
college, a public library--palace-like buildings--public gardens--
hospitals, coffee houses, and barracks. In short, Nancy is another Caen;
but more magnificent, although less fruitful in antiquities. The _Place de
la Liberte_ et _d'alliance_ et _de la Carriere_ may vie with the public
buildings of Bath; but some of the sculptured ornaments of the _former_,
exhibit miserable proofs of the fury of the Revolutionists. Indeed Nancy
was particularly distinguished by a visit of the Marseillois gentry, who
chose to leave behind pretty strong proofs of their detestation of what was
at once elegant and harmless. The headless busts of men and women, round
the house of the governor, yet prove the excesses of the mob; and the
destruction of two places of worship was the close of their devastating
labours.

Nancy is divided into the _Old_ and the _New Town_. The four principal
streets, dividing the latter nearly at right angles, are terminated by
handsome arches, in the character of _gateways_. They have a noble
appearance.

On the first evening of our arrival at Nancy, we walked, after a late cup
of tea, into the public garden--at the extremity of the town. It was broad
moon light; and the appearance of the _Caffes_, and several _Places_, had
quite a new and imposing effect; they being somewhat after the Parisian
fashion. After a day of dust, heat, and rapid motion, a seat upon one of
the stone-benches of the garden--surrounded by dark green trees, of which
the tops were tipt with silver by the moon beam--could not fail to refresh
and delight me: especially as the tranquillity of the place was only
disturbed by the sounds of two or three groups of _bourgeoises_, strolling
arm in arm, and singing what seemed to be a popular, national air--of which
the tune was somewhat psalm-like. The broad walks abounded with bowers, and
open seats; and the general effect was at once singular and pleasing. The
Hotel-Royal is an excellent inn; and the owners of it are very civil
people.

My first visits were paid to churches and to bookseller's shops. Of
churches, the _Cathedral_ is necessarily the principal. It is large, lofty,
and of an elegant construction, of the Grecian order: finished during the
time of Stanislaus. The ornamental parts are too flaunting; too profuse,
and in bad taste. This excess of decoration pervades also the house of the
Governor; which, were it not so, might vie with that of Lord Burlington;
which it is not unlike in its general appearance. In the Cathedral, the
monument of Stanislaus, by Girardon, is _considered_ to be a chef-d'ouvre.
There was a Girardet--chief painter to Stanislaus, who is here called "the
rival of Apelles:" a rival with a vengeance! From thence I went to an old
church--perhaps of the thirteenth, but certainly of the fourteenth century.
They call it, I think, _St. Epreuve._ In this church I was much struck with
a curious old painting, executed in distemper, upon the walls of a side
aisle, which seemed to be at least three hundred years old. It displayed
the perils and afflictions of various Saints, on various emergencies, and
how they were all eventually saved by the interposition of the Virgin. A
fine swaggering figure, in the foreground, dressed out in black and
yellow-striped hose, much delighted me. Parts of this curious old picture
were worth copying. Near to this curiosity seemed to be a fine, genuine
painting, by Vandyke, of the Virgin and Child--the first exhibition of the
kind which I had seen since leaving Paris. It formed a singular contrast to
the picture before described. On quitting this old church, I could not help
smiling to observe a bunch of flowers, in an old mustard pot--on which was
inscribed "_Moutarde Fine de Nageon, a Dijon_--" placed at the feet of a
statue of the Virgin as a sacred deposit!

On leaving the church, I visited two booksellers: one of them rather
distinguished for his collection of _Alduses_--as I was informed. I found
him very chatty, very civil, but not very reasonable in his prices. He told
me that he had plenty of old books--_Alduses_ and _Elzevirs, &c_.--with
lapping-over vellum-bindings. I desired nothing better; and followed him up
stairs. Drawer after drawer was pulled out. These M. Renouard had seen:
those the Comte d'Ourches had wished to purchase; and a third pile was
destined for some nobleman in the neighbourhood. There was absolutely
nothing in the shape of temptation--except a _Greek Herodian_, by Theodore
Martin of Louvain, and a droll and rather rare little duodecimo volume,
printed at Amsterdam in 1658, entitled _La Comedie de Proverbes_. The next
bookseller I visited, was a printer. "Had he any thing old and curious?" He
replied, with a sort of triumphant chuckle, that he "once had _such_ a
treasure of this kind!" "What might it have been?" "A superb missal--for
which a goldsmith had offered him twelve sous for each initial letter upon
a gold ground--but which he had parted with, for 100 francs, to the library
of a Benedictin monastery--now destroyed. It had cost him twelve sous."
"But see, Sir, (continued he) is not this curious?" "It is a mere reprint,
(replied I) of what was first published three hundred years ago." "No
matter--buy it, and read it--it will amuse you--and it costs only five
sous." I purchased two copies, and I send you here the title and the
frontispiece. "_Le Dragon Rouge, ou l'art de commander les Esprits
Celestes, Aeriens, Terrestres, Infernaux. Avec le vrai Secret de faire
parler les Morts; de gagner toutes les fois qu'on met aux Lotteries; de
decouvrir les Tresors," &c_.

[Illustration]

The bookseller told me that he regularly sold hundreds of copies of this
work, and that the country people yet believed in the efficacy of its
contents! I had been told that it was in this very town that a copy of _the
Mazarine Bible_ had been picked up for some _half_ _dozen francs!_--and
conveyed to the public library at Munich.

Towards the evening, I visited the public library by appointment. Indeed I
had casually met the public librarian at the first Bouquiniste's: and he
fixed the hour of half-past six. I was punctual almost to the minute; and
on entering the library, found a sort of BODLEY in miniature: except that
there was a great mass of books in the middle of the room--placed in a
parallelogram form--which I thought must have a prodigiously heavy pressure
upon the floor. I quickly began to look about for _Editiones Principes_;
but, at starting, my guide placed before me two copies of the celebrated
_Liber Nanceidos_:[200] of which _one_ might be fairly said to be _large
paper_. On continuing my examination, I found civil and canon law--
pandects, glosses, decretals, and commentaries--out of number: together
with no small sprinkling of medical works. Among the latter was a curious,
and _Mentelin_-like looking, edition of _Avicenna_. But _Ludolphus's Life
of Christ_, in Latin, printed in the smallest type of _Eggesteyn_, in 1474,
a folio, was a volume really worth opening and worth coveting. It was in
its original monastic binding--large, white, unsullied, and abounding with
rough marginal edges.

It is supposed that the library contains 25,000 volumes. Attached to it is
a Museum of Natural History. But alas! since the revolution it exhibits a
frightful picture of decay, devastation, and confusion. To my eye, it was
little better than the apothecary's shop described by Romeo. It contained a
number of portraits in oil, of eminent Naturalists; which are palpable
copies, by the same hand, of originals ... that have probably perished. The
museum had been gutted of almost every thing that was curious or precious.
Indeed they want funds, both for the museum and the library. It was near
night-fall when I quitted the library, and walked with the librarian in a
pleasant, open space, near one of the chief gates or entrances before
mentioned. The evening was uncommonly sweet and serene: and the moon, now
nearly full, rose with more than her usual lustre ... in a sky of the
deepest blue which I had yet witnessed. I shall not readily forget the
conversation of that walk. My companion spoke of his own country with the
sincerity of a patriot, but with the good sense of an honest, observing,
reflecting man. I had never listened to observations better founded, or
which seemed calculated to produce more beneficial results. Of _our_
country, he spoke with an animation approaching to rapture. It is only the
exercise of a grateful feeling to record this--of a man--whose name I have
forgotten, and whose person I may never see again. On quitting each other,
I proceeded somewhat thoughtfully, to an avenue of shady trees, where
groups of men and women were sitting or strolling--beneath the broad moon
beam--and chanting the popular airs of their country.

The next morning I quitted Nancy. The first place of halting was _St.
Nicholas_--of which the elegant towers had struck us on the other side of
Nancy. It was no post town: but we could not pass such an ecclesiastical
edifice without examining it with attention. The village itself is most
miserable; yet it could once boast of a _press_ which gave birth to the
_Liber Nanceidos_.[201] The space before the west front of the church is
absolutely choked by houses of the most squalid appearance--so that there
is hardly getting a good general view of the towers. The interior struck us
as exceedingly interesting. There are handsome transepts; in one of which
is a large, circular, central pillar; in the other, an equally large one,
but twisted. One is astonished at finding such a large and beautiful
building in such a situation; but formerly the place might have been large
and flourishing. The west front of this church may rival two-thirds of
similar edifices in France.

_Domballe_ was the next post: the drive thither being somewhat picturesque.
_Luneville_ is the immediately following post town. It is a large and
considerable place; looking however more picturesque at a distance than on
its near approach: owing to the red tiles of which the roofs are composed.
Here are handsome public buildings; a fountain, with eight jets d'eau--
barracks, a theatre, and the castle of Prince Charles, of Lorraine. A good
deal of business is carried on in the earthenware and cotton trade--of both
which there is a manufactory--together with that of porcelaine. This place
is known in modern history from the _Treaty of Luneville_ between the
Austrians and French in 1801. From hence we went to _Benamenil_, the next
stage; and in our way thither, we saw, for the first time since leaving
Paris, a _flock of geese!_ Dined at _Blamont_--the succeeding post town.
While our cutlets were preparing we strolled to the old castle, now in a
state of dilapidation. It is not spacious, but is a picturesque relic.
Within the exterior walls is a fine kitchen garden. From the top of what
might have been the donjon, we surveyed the surrounding country--at that
moment rendered hazy by an atmosphere of dense, heated, vapour. Indeed it
was uncommonly hot. Upon the whole, both the village and _Castle of
Blamont_ merit at least the leisurely survey of an entire day.

On starting for _Heming_, the next post, we were much pleased by the sight
of a rich, verdant valley, fertilized by a meandering rivulet. The village
of _Richeval_ had particular attractions; and the sight of alternate woods
and meadows seemed to mitigate the severity of the heat of the day. At
Heming we changed horses, opposite a large fountain where cattle were
coming to drink. The effect was very picturesque; but there was no time for
the pencil of Mr. Lewis to be exercised. In less than five minutes we were
off for _Sarrebourg_. Evening came on as we approached it. Here I saw
_hops_ growing, for the first time; and here, for the first time, I heard
the _German language_ spoken--and observed much of the German character in
the countenances of the inhabitants. The postilion was a German, and could
not speak one word of French. However, he knew the art of driving--for we
seemed to fly like the wind towards _Hommarting_--which we reached in half
an hour. It was just two leagues from Sarrebourg. We stopped to change
horses close to what seemed to be a farm house; and as the animals were
being "yoked to the car," for another German Phaeton, I walked into a very
large room, which appeared to be a kitchen. Two long tables were covered
with supper; at each of which sat--as closely wedged as well could be--a
great number of work-people of both sexes, and of all ages. Huge dogs were
moving backwards and forwards, in the hope of receiving some charitable
morsel;, and before the fire, on a littered hearth, lay stretched out two
tremendous mastiffs. I walked with fear and trembling. The cooks were
carrying the evening meal; and the whole place afforded such an
_interior_--as Jan Steen would have viewed with rapture, and Wilkie have
been delighted to copy. Meanwhile the postilion's whip was sounded: the
fresh horses were neighing: and I was told that every thing was ready. I
mounted with alacrity. It was getting dark; and I requested the good people
of the house to tell the postilion that I did not wish him to _sleep_ upon
the road.

The hint was sufficient. This second German postilion seemed to have taken
a leaf out of the book of his predecessor: for we exchanged a sharp trot
for a full swing canter--terminating in a gallop; and found ourselves
unexpectedly before the gates of _Phalsbourg_. Did you ever, my dear
friend, approach a fortified town by the doubtful light of a clouded moon,
towards eleven of the clock? A mysterious gloom envelopes every thing. The
drawbridge is up. The solitary centinel gives the pass-word upon the
ramparts; and every footstep, however slight, has its particular echo.
Judge then of the noise made by our heavy-hoofed coursers, as we neared the
drawbridge. "What want you there?" said a thundering voice, in the French
language, from within. "A night's lodging," replied I. "We are English
travellers, bound for Strasbourg." "You must wait till I speak with the
sub-mayor." "Be it so." We waited patiently; but heard a great deal of
parleying within the gates. I began to think we should be doomed to retrace
our course--when, after a delay of full twenty minutes, we heard ... to our
extreme satisfaction ... the creaking of the hinges (but not as "harsh
thunder") of the ponderous portals--which opened slowly and stubbornly--and
which was succeeded by the clanking of the huge chain, and the letting down
of the drawbridge. This latter rebounded slightly as it reached its level:
and I think I hear, at this moment, the hollow rumbling noise of our
horses' feet, as we passed over the deep yawning fosse below. Our passports
were now demanded. We surrendered them willingly, on the assurance given of
receiving them the following morning. The gates were now closed behind us,
and we entered the town in high glee. "You are a good fellow," said I to
the gatesman: come to me at the inn, to-morrow morning, and you shall be
thanked in the way you like best."

The landlord of the inn was not yet a-bed. As he heard our approach, he
called all his myrmidons about him--and bade us heartily welcome. He was a
good-looking, sleek, jolly-faced man: civilly spoken, with a ready
utterance, which seemed prepared to touch upon all kinds of topics. After I
had bespoken tea and beds, and as the boiling water was getting ready, he
began after the following fashion: "He bien Mons. Le Comte ... comment vont
les affaires en Angleterre? Et votre grand capitaine, le DUC DE VELLINGTON,
comment se porte il? Ma foi, a ce moment, il joue un beau role." I answered
that "matters were going on very well in England, and that our great
Captain was in perfectly good health." "Vous le connoissez parfaitement
bien, sans doute?"--was his next remark. I told him I could not boast of
that honour. "Neanmoins, (added he) il est connu par-tout." I readily
admitted the truth of this observation. Our dialogue concluded by an
assurance on his part, that we should find our beds excellent, our
breakfast on the morrow delicious--and he would order such a pair of horses
(although he strongly recommended _four_,) to be put to our carriage, as
should set all competition at defiance.

His prediction was verified in every particular. The beds were excellent;
the breakfast, consisting of coffee, eggs, fruit, and bread and butter,
(very superior to what is usually obtained in France) was delicious; and
the horses appeared to be perfect of their kind. The reckoning was, to be
sure, a little severe: but I considered this as the payment or punishment
of having received the title of _Count_ ... without contradiction. It fell
on my ears as mere words of course; but it shall not deceive me a second
time. We started a little time after nine; and on leaving the place I felt
more than usual anxiety and curiosity to catch the first glimpse of the top
of _Strasbourg Cathedral_,--a building, of which I had so long cherished
even the most extravagant notions. The next post town was _Saverne_; and
our route thither was in every respect the most delightful and gratifying
of any, and even of all the routes, collectively, which we had yet
experienced. As you approach it, you cross over a part of the famous chain
of mountains which divide OLD FRANCE from Germany, and which we thought we
had seen from the high ground on the other side of Nancy. The country so
divided, was, and is yet, called ALSACE: and the mountains, just mentioned,
are called the _Vosges_. They run almost due north and south: and form a
commanding feature of the landscape in every point of view. But for
Saverne. It lies, with its fine old castle, at the foot of the pass of
these mountains; but the descent to it--is glorious beyond all
anticipation!

It has been comparatively only of late years that this road, or pass, has
been completed. In former times, it was almost impassable. As the descent
is rapid and very considerable, the danger attending it is obviated by the
high road having been cut into a cork-screw-shape;[202] which presents, at
every spiral turn (if I may so speak) something new, beautiful, and
interesting. You continue, descending, gazing on all sides. To the right,
suspended almost in the air--over a beetling, perpendicular, rocky cliff--
feathered half way up with nut and beech--stands, or rather nods, an old
castle in ruins. It seems to shake with every breeze that blows: but there
it stands--and has stood--for some four centuries: once the terror of the
vassal, and now ... the admiration of the traveller! The castle was, to my
eye, of all castles which I had seen, the most elevated in its situation,
and the most difficult of access. The clouds of heaven seemed to be resting
upon its battlements. But what do I see yonder? "Is it the top of the spire
of Strasbourg Cathedral?" "It _is,_ Sir," replied the postilion. I pulled
off my travelling cap, by way of doing homage; and as I looked at my watch,
to know the precise time, found it was just ten o'clock. It was worth
making a minute of. Yet, owing to the hills before--or rather to those
beyond, on the other side of the Rhine, which are very much loftier--the
first impression gives no idea of the extraordinary height of the spire. We
continued to descend, slowly and cautiously, with _Saverne_ before us in
the bottom. To the left, close to the road side, stands an obelisk: on
which is fixed, hi gilt letters, this emphatic inscription:

_ALSATIA._

Every thing, on reaching the level road, bespoke a distinct national
character. It was clear that we had forsaken French costume, as well as the
French language, among the common people: so obvious is it, as has been
remarked to me by a Strasbourgeois, that "mountains, and not rivers, are
the natural boundaries of countries." The women wore large, flat, straw
hats, with a small rose at the bottom of a shallow crown; while their
throats were covered, sometimes up to the mouth, with black, silk cravats.
Their hair was platted, hanging down in two equal divisions. The face
appeared to be flat. The men wore shovel hats, of which the front part
projected to a considerable distance; and the perpetually recurring
response of "_yaw yaw_"--left it beyond all doubt that we had taken leave
of the language of "the polite nation." At length we reached Saverne, and
changed horses. This town is large and bustling, and is said to contain
upwards of four thousand inhabitants. We did not stop to examine any of its
wonders or its beauties; for we were becoming impatient for Strasbourg. The
next two intermediate post towns were _Wasselonne_ and _Ittenheim_--and
thence to Strasbourg: the three posts united being about ten leagues. From
Ittenheim we darted along yet more swiftly than before. The postilion,
speaking in a germanised French accent, told us, that "we were about to
visit one of the most famous cities in the world--and _such_ a CATHEDRAL!"
The immediate approach to Strasbourg is flat and uninteresting; nor could
I, in every possible view of the tower of the cathedral, bring myself to
suppose it--what it is admitted to be--the _loftiest ecclesiastical edifice
in the world_!

The fortifications about Strasbourg are said to afford one of the finest
specimens of the skill of Vauban. They may do so; but they are very flat,
tame, and unpicturesque. We now neared the barriers: delivered our
passports; and darted under the first large brick arched way. A devious
paved route brought us to the second gate;--and thus we entered the town;
desiring the post-boy to drive to the _Hotel de l'Esprit_. "You judge
wisely, Sir, (replied he) for there is no Hotel, either in France or
Germany, like it." So saying, he continued, without the least intermission,
to make circular flourishes with his whip--accompanied by such ear-piercing
sounds, as caused every inhabitant to gaze at us. I entreated him to
desist; but in vain. "The English always enter in this manner," said he--
and having reached the hotel, he gave _one_ super-eminent flourish--which
threw him off his balance, and nearly brought him to the ground. When I
paid him, he pleaded hard for an _extra five sous_ for this concluding
flourish!

I am now therefore safely and comfortably lodged in this spacious hotel, by
the side of the river _Ill_--of which it is pleasing to catch the lingering
breezes as they stray into my chamber. God bless you.

* * * * *

P.S. One thing I cannot help adding--perhaps hardly deserving of a
postscript. All the way from Paris to Strasbourg, I am persuaded that we
did not meet _six_ travelling equipages. The lumbering diligence and steady
Poste Royale were almost the only vehicles in action besides our own. Nor
were _villas_ or _chateaux_ visible; such as, in our own country, enliven
the scene and put the traveller in spirits.

[200] A folio volume, printed at St. Nicolas, a neighbouring village, in
1518. It is a poem, written in Latin hexameter verse by P. Blaru [P.
de Blarrovivo]--descriptive of the memorable siege of Nancy in 1476,
by CHARLES THE RASH, Duke of Burgundy: who perished before the walls.
His death is described in the sixth book, _sign_. t. iiij: the
passage relating to it, beginning

"Est in Nanceijs aratro locus utilis aruis:"

A wood cut portrait of the commanding French general, Renet, is in the
frontispiece. A good copy of this interesting work should always grace
the shelves of an historical collector. Brunet notices a copy of it
UPON VELLUM, in some monastic library in Lorraine. [Three days have
not elapsed, since I saw a similar copy in the possession of Messrs.
Payne and Foss, destined for the Royal Library at Paris. A pretty,
rather than a magnificent, book.]

[201] See page 362.

[202] When this 'chaussee,' or route royale, was completed, it was so
admired, that the ladies imitated its cork-screw shape, by pearls
arranged spirally in their hair; and this head dress was called
_Coiffure a la Saverne_.

_LETTER XIII._

STRASBOURG. ESTABLISHMENT OF THE PROTESTANT RELIGION. THE CATHEDRAL. THE
PUBLIC LIBRARY.

_Hotel de l'Esprit, July 26, 1818_.

MY DEAR FRIEND;

It is Sunday; and scarcely half an hour ago, I heard, from a Lutheran
church on the other side of the water, what I call good, hearty, rational
psalm-singing: without fiddles or trombones or serpents. Thus, although
considerably further from home, I almost fancied myself in old England.
This letter will touch chiefly upon topics of an antiquarian cast, but of
which I venture to anticipate your approbation; because I have long known
your attachment to the history of ALSACE--and that you have Schoepflin's
admirable work[203] upon that country almost at your finger's ends. The
city of Strasbourg encloses within its walls a population of about fifty
thousand souls. I suspect, however, that in former times its population was
more numerous. At this present moment there are about two hundred-and fifty
streets, great and small; including squares and alleys. The main streets,
upon the whole, are neither wide nor narrow; but to a stranger they have a
very singular appearance, from the windows being occasionally covered, on
the outside, with _iron bars_, arranged after divers fashions. This gives
them a very prison-like effect, and is far from being ornamental. The
glazing of the windows is also frequently very curious. In general, the
panes of glass are small, and circular, confined in leaden casements. The
number of houses in Strasbourg is estimated at three thousand five hundred.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26