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

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

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The day had been rather oppressive for a May morning; and we were getting
far into the afternoon, when clouds began to gather, and the sun became
occasionally obscured. We seated ourselves upon a grassy hillock, and began
to prepare for dinner. To the left of us lay a huge pile of fragments of
pillars and groinings of arches--the effects of recent havoc: to the right,
within three yards, was the very spot in which the celebrated AGNES SOREL,
Mistress of Charles VII, lay entombed:[82]--not a relic of mausoleum now
marking the place where, formerly, the sculptor had exhibited the choicest
efforts of his art, and the devotee had repaired to

Breathe a prayer for her soul--and pass on!

What a contrast to the present aspect of things!--to the mixed rubbish and
wild flowers with which every spot is now well nigh covered! The mistress
of the inn having furnished us with napkins and tumblers, we partook of our
dinner, surrounded by the objects just described, with no ordinary
sensations. The air now became oppressive; when, looking through the few
remaining unglazed mullions of the windows, I observed that the clouds grew
blacker and blacker, while a faint rumbling of thunder reached our ears.
The sun however yet shone gaily, although partially; and as the storm
neared us, it floated as it were round the abbey, affording--by means of
its purple, dark colour, contrasted with the pale tint of the walls,--one
of the most beautiful painter-like effects imaginable. In an instant
almost--and as if touched by the wand of a mighty necromancer--the whole
scene became metamorphosed. The thunder growled, but only growled; and the
threatening phalanx of sulphur-charged clouds rolled away, and melted into
the quiet uniform tint which usually precedes sun-set. Dinner being
dispatched, I rose to make a thorough examination of the ruins which had
survived ... not only the Revolution, but the cupidity of the present owner
of the soil--who is a _rich_ man, living at Rouen--and who loves to dispose
of any portion of the stone, whether standing or prostrate, for the sake of
the lucre, however trifling, which arises from the sale. Surely the whole
corporation of the city of Rouen, with the mayor at their head, ought to
stand between this ruthless, rich man, and the abbey--the victim of his
brutal avarice and want of taste.[83]

The situation of the abbey is delightful. It lies at the bottom of some
gently undulating hills, within two or three hundred yards of the Seine.
The river here runs gently, in a serpentine direction, at the foot of
wood-covered hills--and all seemed, from our elevated station, indicative
of fruitfulness, of gaiety, and of prosperity,--all--save the mournful and
magnificent remains of the venerable abbey whereon we gazed! In fact, this
abbey exists only as a shell. I descended, strolled about the village, and
mingled in the conversation of the villagers. It was a lovely approach of
evening--and men, women, and children were seated, or sauntering, in the
open air. Perceiving that I was anxious to gain information, they flocked
around me--and from one man, in particular, I obtained exact intelligence
about the havoc which had been committed during the Revolution upon the
abbey, The roof had been battered down for the sake of the _lead_--to make
bullets; the pews, altars, and iron-work, had been converted into other
destructive purposes of warfare; and the great bell had been sold to some
speculators in a cannon-foundery at Rouen.[84] The revolutionary mania had
even brutalized the Abbot. This man, who must be considered as

....damned to everlasting fame,

had been a monk of the monastery; and as soon as he had attained the
headship of it, he disposed of every movable piece of furniture, to gratify
the revolutionary pack which were daily howling at the gates of the abbey
for entrance! Nor could he plead _compulsion_ as an excuse. He seemed
to enjoy the work of destruction, of which he had the uncontrouled
direction. But enough of this wretch.

The next resting-place was CAUDEBEC: a very considerable village, or rather
a small town. You go down a steep descent, on entering it by the route we
came. As you look about, there are singular appearances on all sides--of
houses, and hanging gardens, and elaborately cut avenues--upon summits,
declivities, and on the plain. But the charm of the view, at least to my
old-fashioned feelings, was a fine old gothic church, and a very fine spire
of what _appeared_ to belong to another. As the evening had completely
set in, I resolved to reserve my admiration of the place till the morrow.

[78] [I am ignorant of his present destination; but learn that he has
quitted the above situation a long time.]

[79] [Mr. COTMAN has published views of the West Front, the South East, the
West Entrance, and the South Transept, with sculptured capitals and
basso-relievos, &c. In the whole, seven plates.]

[80] [Mr. Cotman has published etchings of the West Front: the Towers,
somewhat fore-shortened; the Elevation of the Nave--and doorway of the
Abbey: the latter an extremely interesting specimen of art. A somewhat
particular and animated description of it will be found in _Lieut.
Hall's Travels in France_, 8vo. p. 57, 1819. [In the first edition,
I had called the west end towers of the Abbey--"small." Mons. Licquet
has suggested that I must have meant "_comparatively_" small;--in
contradistinction to the centre-tower, which would have been larger.
We learn also from M. Licquet that the spire of this central tower was
demolished in 1573, by the Abbe le Veneur, Bishop of Evreux. What
earthly motive could have led to such a brutal act of demolition?]

[81] ["I know perfectly well, says M. Licquet, the little Inn of which the
author here speaks. I can assure him that it never formed any portion
of the "chapter house." It was nevertheless une _dependance
exterieure_ (I will not attempt a version of this phrase) of the
abbey. Dare I venture to say it was the _cowhouse_? (etable aux
vaches). Thank you, good Mons. Licquet; but what is a cow-house but
"an _outer building_ attached to the Abbey?" Vide supra.]

[82] [The heart and entrails only of this once celebrated woman were,
according to M. Licquet, buried in the above spot. The body was
carried to Loches: and BELLEFOREST _(Cosmog._ vol. i. Part ii.
col. 31-32. edit. 1575, folio) gives a description of the mausoleum
where it was there entombed: a description, adds M. Licquet, which may
well serve for the mausoleum that was at Jumieges.]

[83] [Not the smallest portion or particle of a sigh escapes us, on being
told, as my translator has told us, that the "soil" in question has
become the property of another Owner. "Laius EST MORT"--are the
emphatic words of M. Licquet.]

[84] [One of the bells of the Abbey of Jumieges is now in the Tower of that
of St. Ouen, at Rouen. LICQUET.]

LETTER X.

CAUDEBEC. LILLEBONNE. BOLBEC. TANKARVILLE. MONTMORENCI CASTLE. HAVRE DE
GRACE.

My last concluded with our entrance into Caudebec. The present opens with a
morning scene at the same place. For a miracle I was stirring before nine.
The church was the first object of attraction. For the size of the place,
it is really a noble structure: perhaps of the early part of the sixteenth,
or latter part of the fifteenth century.[85] I speak of the exterior
generally, and of a great portion of the interior. A little shabby
green-baise covered door (as usual) was half open, and I entered with no
ordinary expectations of gratification. The painted glass seemed absolutely
to warm the place--so rich and varied were its colours. There is a great
abundance of it, and especially of figures of family-groups
kneeling--rather small, but with great appearance of portrait-like
fidelity. They are chiefly of the first half of the sixteenth century: and
I own that, upon gazing at these charming specimens of ancient painting
upon glass, I longed to fix an artist before every window, to bear away
triumphantly, in a portfolio of elephantine dimensions, a faithful copy of
almost every thing I saw. In some of the countenances, I fancied I traced
the pencil of LUCAS CRANACH--and even of HANS HOLBEIN.

This church has numerous side chapels, and figures of patron-saints. The
entombment of Christ in white marble, (at the end of the chapel of the
Virgin,) is rather singular; inasmuch as the figure of Christ itself is
ancient, and exceedingly fine in anatomical expression; but the usual
surrounding figures are modern, and proportionably clumsy and inexpressive.
I noted one mural monument, to the memory of _Guillaume Tellier_, which was
dated 1484.[86] Few churches have more highly interested me than this at
Caudebec.[87] From the church I strolled to the _Place_, where stood the
caffe, by the banks of the Seine. The morning view of this scene perfectly
delighted me. Nothing can be more picturesque. The river cannot be much
less than a mile in width, and it makes a perfect bend in the form of a
crescent. On one side, that on which the village stands, are walks and
gardens through which peep numerous white villas--and on the other are
meadows, terminating in lofty rising grounds--feathered with coppice-wood
down to the very water's edge. This may be considered, in fact, only a
portion of the vast _Forest de Brotonne_, which rises in wooded majesty on
the opposite heights. The spirit and the wealth of our countrymen would
make Caudebec one of the most enchanting summer-residences in the world.
The population of the town is estimated at about five thousand.

Judge of my astonishment, when, on going out of doors, I saw the river in a
state of extreme agitation: the whole mass of water rising perpendicularly,
as it were, and broad rippling waves rolling over each other. It was the
_coming in of the tide_.... and within a quarter of an hour it appeared to
have risen upwards of three feet. You may remember that, in our own
country, the Severn-tides exhibit the same phenomenon; and I have seen the
river at Glocester rise _at once_ to the height of eight or ten feet,
throwing up a shower of foam from the gradually narrowing bed of the river,
and causing all the craft, great and small, to rise up as if by magic, and
to appear upon a level with the meadows. The tide at Caudebec, although
similar in kind, was not so in degree; for it rose gradually yet most
visibly--and within half an hour, the elevation could not have been less
than _seven_ or _eight_ feet.

Having walked for some time on the heights of the town, with which I was
much gratified, I returned to my humble auberge, ordered the cabriolet to
be got ready, and demanded the reckoning:--which, considering that I was
not quite at an hotel-royale, struck me as being far from moderate. Two old
women, of similar features and age, presented themselves as I was getting
into the carriage: one was the mistress, and the other the fille de
chambre. "Mais, Monsieur (observed one of them) n'oubliez pas, je vous
prie, la fille-de-chambre--rappellez-vous que vos souliers ont ete
superieurement decrottes." I took out a franc to remunerate the supposed
fille-de-chambre--but was told it was the _mistress_. "N'importe, Monsieur,
c'est a ce moment que je suis fille-de-chambre--quand vous serez parti, je
serai la maitresse." The postilion seemed to enjoy this repartee as much as
ourselves.

I was scarcely out of the town half a mile, when I began to ascend. I found
myself quickly in the middle of those rising grounds which are seen from
the promenade or _Place du Caffe_, and could not look without extraordinary
gratification upon the beautiful character of spring in its advanced state.
The larch was even yet picturesque: the hazel and nut trees were perfectly
clothed with foliage, of a tender yet joyous tint: the chestnut was
gorgeously in bloom; the lime and beech were beginning to give abundant
promise of their future luxuriance--while the lowlier tribes of laburnum
and box, with their richly clad branches, covered the ground beneath
entirely from view. The apple and pear blossoms still continued to
variegate the wide sweep of foliage, and to fill the air with their
delicious perfume. It might be Switzerland in miniature--or it might not.
Only this I know--that it seemed as though one could live embosomed and
enchanted in such a wilderness of sweets--reading the _fabliaux_ of the old
Norman bards till the close of human existence!

I found myself on a hard, strait, chalky old road--evidently Roman: and in
due time perceived and entered the town of LILLEBONNE. But the sky had
become overcast: soft and small rain was descending, and an unusual gloom
prevailed ... when I halted, agreeably to my instructions, immediately
before the gate of the ancient _Castle_. Venerable indeed is this Norman
castle, and extensive are the ruins which have survived. I have a perfect
recollection how it peeped out upon me--through the light leaf of the
poplar, and the pink blossom of the apple. It lies close to the road, on
the left. An old round tower, apparently of the time of William the
Conqueror, very soon attracts your attention. The stones are large, and the
interstices are also very considerable. It was here, says a yet current
report, that William assembled the Barons of Normandy, and the invasion of
England was determined upon. Such a spot therefore strikes an English
beholder with no ordinary emotions. I alighted; sent the cabriolet to the
inn, and wished both postilion and horses to get their dinners without
delay. For myself, I had resolved to reserve my appetite till I reached
_Bolbec_; and there was food enough before me of a different description,
to exercise my intellectual digestion for at least the next hour. Knocking
at the massive portals, I readily obtained admittance.

The area, entirely a grass-plat, was occupied by several cows. In front,
were evidently the ruins of a large chapel or church--perhaps of the XIVth
century. The outer face of the walls went deeply and perpendicularly down
to the bottom of a dry fosse; and the right angle portion of the building
was covered with garden ground, where the owner showed us some peas which
he boasted he should have at his table within five days. I own I thought he
was very likely to carry his boast into execution; for finer vegetables, or
a finer bed of earth, I had scarcely ever beheld. How things, my dear
friend, are changed from their original character and destination! "But the
old round tower," say you!--To "the old round tower" then let us go. The
stair-case is narrow, dark, and decayed. I reached the first floor, or
circular room, and noticed the construction of the window seats--all of
rough, solid, and massive stone. I ascended to the second floor; which, if
I remember rightly, was strewn with a portion of the third floor--that had
fallen in from sheer decay. Great must have been the crash--as the
fragments were huge, and widely scattered. On gaining a firm footing upon
the outer wall; through a loop-hole window, I gazed around with equal
wonder and delight. The wall of this castle could not be less than ten feet
in thickness. A young woman, the shepherdess of the spot, attended as
guide.

"What is that irregular rude mound, or wall of earth, in the centre of
which children are playing?" "It is the _old Roman Theatre_, Sir." I
immediately called to mind M. Le Prevost's instructions--and if I could
have borrowed the wings of a spirit, I should have instantly alighted upon
the spot--but it was situated without the precincts of the old castle and
its appurtenances, and a mortal leap would have been attended with a mortal
result. "Have you many English who visit this spot?" said I to my
guide.--"Scarcely _any_, Sir--it is a frightful place--full of desolation
and sadness.." replied she. Again I gazed around, and in the distance,
through an aperture in the orchard trees, saw the little fishing village of
_Quillebeuf_,[88] quite buried, as it were, in the waters of the Seine. An
arm of the river meanders towards Lillebonne. Having gratified my
picturesque and antiquarian propensities, from this elevated situation, I
retrod, with more difficulty than toil, my steps down the stair-case. A
second stroll about the area, and along the skirts of the wall, was
sufficient to convince me only--how slight and imperfect had been my
survey!

On quitting the portal through which I entered, and bidding adieu to my
Shepherdess and guide, I immediately hastened towards the Roman
Theatre.[89] The town of Lillebonne has a very picturesque appearance from
the old mound, or raised terrace, along the outer walls of the castle. In
five minutes I mingled with the school boys who were amusing themselves
within the ruins of all that is left of this probably once vast and
magnificent old theatre. It is only by clearing away a great quantity of
earth, with which these ruins are covered, that you can correctly ascertain
their character and state of preservation. M. Le Prevost bade me remark
that the walls had much swerved from their original perpendicularity,--and
that there was much irregularity in the laying of the bricks among the
stones. But time, design, and accident, have each in turn (in all
probability) so contributed to decompose, deface, and alter the original
aspect of the building, that there is no forming a correct conjecture as to
its ancient form. Earth, grass, trees, flowers, and weeds, have taken
almost entire possession of some low and massive outer walls; so that the
imagination has full play to supply all deficiencies which appear to the
eye.

From the whole of this interesting spot I retreated--with mixed sensations
of melancholy and surprise--to the little auberge of the _Three Moors_, in
the centre of the town. It had begun to rain smartly as we took shelter in
the kitchen; where, for the first time since leaving England, I saw a
display of utensils which might have vied with our own, or even with a
Dutch interior, for neatness and order of disposition. Some of the dishes
might have been as ancient as--not the old round Tower--but as the last
English Duke of Normandy who might have banquetted there. The whole was in
high polish and full display. On my complimenting the good _Aubergiste_
upon so creditable a sight, she laughed, and replied briskly--"Ce n'est
rien, ceci: Pentecote est tout pres, et donc vous verrez, Monsieur!"--It
should seem that Whitsuntide was the season for a general household
purification. Some of her furniture had once belonged to the Castle: but
she had bought it, in the scramble which took place at the dispersion and
destruction of the movables there, during the Revolution. I recommend all
travellers to take a lunch, and enjoy a bottle of vin ordinaire, at _Les
Trois-Negres._ I was obliged to summon up all my stock of knowledge in
polite phraseology, in order to decline a plate of soup. "It was delicious
above every thing"--"but I had postponed taking dinner till we got to
Bolbec." "Bon--vous y trouverez un hotel superbe." The French are easily
pleased; and civility is so cheap and current a coin abroad, that I wish
our countrymen would make use of it a little more frequently than they
appear to do. I started about two for Bolbec.

The rain continued during the whole of my route thither; but it did not
prevent me from witnessing a land of plenty and of picturesque beauty on
all sides. Indeed it is scarcely possible to conceive a more rich and
luxuriant state of culture. To the left, about half a league from
Lillebonne, I passed the domain of a once wealthy, and extremely extensive
abbey. They call it the _Abbey of Valasse._ A long rambling bare stone
wall, and portions of a deserted ruin, kept in sight for full half an
English mile. The immediate approach to BOLBEC is that of the entrance to a
modern and flourishing trading town, which seems to be beginning to recover
from the effects of the Revolution. After Rouen, and even Caudebec, it has
a stiff modernized air. I drove to the principal inn, opposite the church,
and bespoke dinner and a bed. The church is perfectly, modern, and equally
heavy and large. Crowds of people were issuing from _Vespers_, when,
ascending a flight of steps, (for it is built on ground considerably above
the ground-floor of the inn) I resolved to wait for the final departure of
the congregation, and to take a leisurely survey of the interior, while
dinner was getting ready.

The sexton was a perfect character in his way; old, shrewd, communicative,
and civil. There were several confessionals. "What--you confess here pretty
much?" "Yes, Sir; but chiefly females, and among them many widows." I had
said nothing to provoke this ungallant reply. "In respect to the
_sacrament_, what is the proportion between the communicants, as to sex?"
"Sir, there are one hundred women to twelve men." I wish I could say that
this disproportion were confined to _France_.

Quitting this heavy and ugly, but large and commodious fabric, I sought the
inn and dinner. The cook was in every respect a learned professor in his
art, and the produce of his skill was equally excellent and acceptable. I
had scarcely finished my repast, and the _Gruyere_ cheese and nuts yet
lingered upon the table, when the soft sounds of an organ, accompanied by a
youthful voice, saluted my ears in a very pleasing manner. "C'est LE
PAUVRE PETIT SAVOYARD, Monsieur"--exclaimed the waiter--"Vous allez
entendre un air touchant! Ah, le pauvre petit!"--"Comment ca?" "Monsieur,
il n'a ni pere ni mere; mais pour le chant--oh Dieu, il n'y a personne qui
chante comme le pauvre petit Savoyard!" I was well disposed to hear the
song, and to admit the truth of the waiter's observation. The little
itinerant stopped opposite the door, and sung the following air:--

_Bon jour, Bon soir_.

Je peindrai sans detour
Tout l'emploi de ma vie:
C'est de dire _bon jour_
Et _bon soir_ tour-a-tour.
_Bon Jour_ a mon amie,
Lorsque je vais la voir.
Mais au fat qui m'ennuie,
_Bon soir_.

_Bon jour_ franc troubadour,
Qui chantez la bombance;
La paix et les beaux jours;
Bacchus et les amours.
Qu'un rimeur en demence
Vienne avec vous s'asseoir,
Pour chanter la Romance,
_Bon soir_.

_Bon jour_, mon cher voisin,
Chez vous la soif m'entraine:
_Bonjour_--si votre vin
Est de Beaune ou du Rhin;
Mon gosier va sans peine
Lui servir d'entonnoir;
Mais s'il est de Surene,
_Bon soir_.

I know not how it was, but had the "petit Savoyard" possessed the
cultivated voice of a chorister, I could not have listened to his notes
with half the satisfaction with which I dwelt upon his history, as stated
by the waiter. He had no sooner concluded and made his bow, than I bought
the slender volume from which his songs had been chanted, and had a long
gossip with him. He slung his organ upon his back, and "ever and anon"
touching his hat, expressed his thankfulness, as much for the interest I
had taken in his welfare, as for the trifling piece of silver which I slipt
into his hand at parting. Meanwhile all the benches, placed on the outsides
of the houses, were occupied--chiefly by females--to witness, it should
seem, so novel and interesting a sight as an Englishman holding familiar
discourse with a poor wandering Savoyard! My friend the sexton was among
the spectators, and from his voice and action, appeared especially
interested. "Que le bon Dieu vous benisse!" exclaimed the Savoyard, as I
bade him farewell. On pursuing my route for a stroll upon the heights near
the town, I had occasion to pass these benches of spectators. The women,
almost without any exception, inclined their heads by way of a gracious
salute; and Monsieur _le Sacristain_ pulled off his enormous cock'd hat
with the consequence of a drum-major. He appeared not to have forgotten the
donation which he had received in the church. Continuing my pursuit, I
gained an elevated situation: whence, looking down upon the spot where I
had left the Savoyard, I observed him surrounded by the females--each and
every one of them apparently convulsed with laughter! Even the little
musician appeared to have forgotten his "orphan state."

The environs of _Bolbec_, especially in the upper part, are sufficiently
picturesque. At least they are sufficiently fruitful: orchards, corn and
pasture land--intermixed with meadows, upon which cotton was spread for
bleaching--produced altogether a very interesting effect. The little
hanging gardens, attached to labourer's huts, contributed to the beauty of
the scene. A warm crimson sun-set seemed to envelope the coppice wood in a
flame of gold. The road was yet reeking with moisture--and I retraced my
steps, through devious and slippery paths, to the hotel. Evening had set
in: the sound of the Savoyard's voice was no longer heard: I ordered tea
and candles, and added considerably to my journal before I went to bed. I
rose at five; and before six the horses were harnessed to the cabriolet.
Having obtained the necessary instructions for reaching _Tancarville_, (the
ancient and proud seat of the MONTMORENCIS) I paid my reckoning, and left
Bolbec. As I ascended a long and rather steep hill, and, looking to the
right and left, saw every thing in a state of verdure and promise, I did
all I could to persuade myself that the journey would be agreeable, and
that the castle of Montmorenci could not fail to command admiration. I was
now in the high and broad "_route royale_" to Havre le Grace; but had
scarcely been a league upon it, when, looking at my instructions, we struck
out of the high road, to the left, and followed a private one through flat
and uninteresting arable land. I cannot tell how many turns were taken, or
how many pretty little villages were passed--till, after a long and gradual
ascent, we came upon a height, flanked the greater part by coppice wood,
through one portion of which--purposely kept open for the view--was seen at
a distance a marvellously fine group of perpendicular rocks (whose grey and
battered sides were lighted up with a pink colour from the morning sun) in
the middle, as it were, of the _Seine_--which now really assumed an
ocean-like appearance. In fact, these rocks were at a considerable
distance, and appeared to be in the broadest part of the embouchure of that
river. I halted the cabriolet; and gazed with unfeigned delight on this
truly magnificent and fascinating scene!... for the larks were now mounting
all around, and their notes, added to those of the "songsters of the
grove," produced an effect which I even preferred to that from the organ
and voice of the "pauvre petit Savoyard." The postboy partook of my
rapture. "Voila, Monsieur, des rochers terriblement perpendiculiers--eh,
quelle belle vue de la riviere, et du paysage!"

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