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
caffé, 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 hôtel-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 été
supérieurement décrottés." I took out a franc to remunerate the supposed
fille-de-chambre--but was told it was the _mistress_. "N'importe, Monsieur,
c'est à 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 Caffé_, 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: Pentecôte est tout près, 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-Nègres._ 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 hôtel 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 ça?" "Monsieur,
il n'a ni père ni mère; 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 détour
Tout l'emploi de ma vie:
C'est de dire _bon jour_
Et _bon soir_ tour-à-tour.
_Bon Jour_ à 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 démence
Vienne avec vous s'asseoir,
Pour chanter la Romance,
_Bon soir_.
_Bon jour_, mon cher voisin,
Chez vous la soif m'entraîne:
_Bonjour_--si votre vin
Est de Beaune ou du Rhin;
Mon gosier va sans peine
Lui servir d'entonnoir;
Mais s'il est de Surêne,
_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 bénisse!" 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 hôtel. 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 "_roúte 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. "Voilà, Monsieur, des rochers terriblement perpendiculiers--eh,
quelle belle vue de la rivière, et du paysage!"
Leaving this brilliant picture, we turned rather to the left, and then
found our descent proportionably gradual with the ascent. The Seine was now
right before us, as hasty glimpses of it, through partial vistos, had
enabled us to ascertain. Still _Tancarville_ was deemed a terrible way off.
First we were to go up, and then we were to go down--now to turn to the
right, and afterwards to the left--a sort of [Greek: polla d'ananta
katanta] route--when a prepossessing young paysanne told the postilion,
that, after passing through such a wood, we should reach an avenue, from
the further end of which the castle of _Montmorenci_ would be visible..
"une petite lieue de distance." Every thing is "une petite lieue!" It is
the answer to every question relating to distance. Though the league be
double a German one, still it is "une petite!" Here however the paysanne
happened to be right. We passed through the wood, gained the avenue, and
from the further end saw--even yet towering in imposing magnitude--the
far-famed _Chateau de Montmorenci_. It might be a small league off. I
gained spirits and even strength at the sight: told the postilion to mend
his pace--of which he gave immediate and satisfactory demonstration, while
the echoes of his whip resounded along the avenue. A closer road now
received us. Knolls of grass interwoven with moss, on the summits of which
the beech and lime threw up their sturdy stems, now enclosed the road,
which began to widen and to improve in condition. At length, turning a
corner, a group of country people appeared--"Est-ce ici la route de
Tancarville?"--"Tancarville est tout près: c'est là, où on voit la fumée
des cheminées." Joyful intelligence! The post-boy increased his speed: The
wheels seemed to move with a readier play: and in one minute and a half I
was upon the beach of the river Seine, and alighted at the door of the only
auberge in the village.
I know you to be both a lover of and connoisseur in Rembrandt's pictures:
and especially of those of his _old_ characters. I wish you could have seen
the old woman, of the name of _Bucan_, who came out of this same auberge to
receive us. She had a sharp, quick, constantly moving black eye; keen
features, projecting from a surface of flesh of a subdued mahogany tint;
about her temples, and the lower part of her cheeks, were all those
harmonizing wrinkles which become old age--_upon canvas_--while, below her
chin, communicating with a small and shrunken neck, was that sort of
concavity, or dewlap, which painters delight to express with a minuteness
of touch, and mellowness of tint, that contribute largely to picturesque
effect! This good old woman received us with perfect elasticity of spirits
and of action. It should seem that we were the first Englishmen who had
visited her solitude this year. Her husband approached, but she soon
ordered him "to the right about"--to prepare fuel, coffee, and eggs. I was
promised the best breakfast that could be got in Normandy, in twenty
minutes. The inn being sufficiently miserable, I was anxious for a ramble.
The tide was now coming up, as at Caudebec; but the sweep and breadth of
the river being, upon a considerably larger scale, its increase was not yet
so obvious--although I am quite sure that all the flats, which I saw on my
arrival as a bed of mud, were, within a quarter of an hour, wholly covered
with the tide: and, looking up to the right, I perceived the perpendicular
walls of _Montmorenci Castle_ to be washed by the refluent wave. It was a
sort of ocean in miniature before me. A few miserable fishing boats were
moored upon the beach; while a small number of ill-clad and straggling
villagers lingered about the same spot, and seemed to look upon the postboy
and myself as beings dropt from the sky!
On ascending a considerable elevation, I had the gratification of viewing
_Quillebeuf_ a little more nearly. It was almost immediately opposite:
while, to the right, contemplating the wide sweep of the river towards its
embouchure, I fancied that I could see _Havre_. The group of rocks, which
had so charmed us on our journey, now assumed a different character. On
descending, I could discover, although at a considerable distance, the old
woman standing at the door of the auberge--apparently straining her eyes to
catch a glimpse of us; and she was almost disposed to scold for having put
her reputation of giving good breakfasts to so hazardous a trial. The wood
was blazing, and the room was almost filled by smoke--but a prolonged fast,
and a stage of sixteen or eighteen miles, in a keen morning air, made Mr.
Lewis and myself only think of allaying our hunger. In every public house,
however mean, you see the white metal fork, and the napkin covering the
plate. A dozen boiled eggs, and a coffee pot and cups of perfectly
Brobdignagdian dimensions, with tolerable bread and indifferent butter,
formed the _materiél_ of our breakfast. The postboy, having stabled and
refreshed his horses, was regaling himself in the kitchen--but-how do you
think he was regaling himself?--Truly, in stretching himself upon a bench,
and reading, as old Ascham expresses it, "a merry tale in Boccace." In
other words, he was reading a French version of the Decameron of that
celebrated author. Indeed, I had already received sufficient proof of the
general propensity of the common people to _read_--whether good or bad
books ... but let us hope and believe the former. I left the bibliomaniacal
postboy to his Boccaccio, and prepared to visit the CASTLE... the once
proud and yet commanding residence of the family of MONTMORENCI.
I ascended--with fresh energies imparted from my breakfast. The day grew
soft, and bright, and exhilarating ... but alas! for the changes and
chances of every thing in this transitory world. Where was the warder? He
had ceased to blow his horn for many a long year. Where was the harp of the
minstrel? It had perished two centuries ago, with the hand that had struck
its chords. Where was the attendant guard?--or pursuivants--or men at arms?
They had been swept from human existence, like the leaves of the old limes
and beech trees by which the lower part of the building was surrounded. The
moat was dry; the rampart was a ruin:--the rank grass grew within the
area... nor can I tell you how many relics of halls, banqueting rooms, and
bed-rooms, with all the magnificent appurtenances of old castellated
architecture, struck the eager eye with mixed melancholy and surprise! The
singular half-circular, and half square, corner towers, hanging over the
ever-restless wave, interested me exceedingly. The guide shewed me where
the prisoners used to be kept--in a dungeon, apparently impervious to every
glimmer of day-light, and every breath of air. I cannot pretend to say at
what period even the oldest part of the Castle of Montmorenci was built:
but I saw nothing that seemed to be more ancient than the latter end of the
fifteenth century.[90] Perhaps the greater portion may be of the beginning
of the sixteenth; but, amidst the unroofed rooms, I could not help admiring
the painted borders, chiefly of a red colour, which run along the upper
part of the walls, or wainscoats--giving indication not only of a good, but
of a splendid, taste. Did I tell you that this sort of ornament was to be
seen in some parts of the eastern end of the Abbey of Jumieges? _Here_,
indeed, they afforded evidence--an evidence, mingled with melancholy
sensations on reflection--of the probable state of magnificence which once
reigned throughout the castle. Between the corner towers, upon that part
which runs immediately parallel with the Seine, there is a noble terrace,
now converted into garden ground--which commands an immediate and extensive
view of the embouchure of the river. It is the property of a speculator,
residing at Havre.
The cabriolet meeting me at the bottom of the mound upon which the castle
is built, (having paid the reckoning before I left the inn), I had nothing
to do but to step in, and push forward for _Havre_. Retracing the road
through which we came, we darted into the _Route Royale_, and got upon one
of the noblest high roads in France. Between _Tancarville_ and _Havre_ lie
_Hocher_ and _Harfleur_; each almost at the water's edge. I regretted I
could not see the former; but on our approach to Harfleur I observed, to
the right, some delightfully situated, and not inelegantly built, country
villas or modern chateaux. The immediate run down to Harfleur is
exceedingly pleasing; and though we trotted sharply through the town, the
exquisite little porch of the church was not lost upon me. Few places, I
believe, for its dimensions, have been more celebrated in the middle ages
than Harfleur. The Seine to the left becomes broader and bolder; and,
before you, beneath some wooded heights, lies HAVRE. Every thing gives
indication of commerce and prosperity as you gain upon the town. The houses
increase in number and respectability of appearance--"Voyez-vous là,
Monsieur, à droite, ces belles maisons de plaisance?--(exclaimed the
charioteer)--"C'est la où demeurent Messieurs vos compatriotes: ma foi, ils
ont un joli gout." The first glance upon these stone houses confirmed the
sagacity of the postilion. They are gloriously situated--facing the ocean;
while the surrounding country teems with fish and game of every species.
Isaac Walton might have contrived to interweave a pretty ballad in his
description of such trout-streams as were those before us.
But we approach the town. The hulls of hundreds of vessels are seen in the
commodious docks; and the flags of merchantmen, from all quarters of the
globe, appear to stream from the mast-heads. It is a scene of bustle, of
business, and variety; and perfectly English. What a contrast to the gloomy
solitude of Montmorenci! The outer and inner gates are passed. _Diligences_
issue from every quarter. The centinels relieve guard. The sound of horns,
from various packet-boats immediately about to sail, echoes on all
sides.... Driving up the high street, we approached the hôtel of the _Aigle
d'Or,_[91] kept by Justin, and considered to be the best. We were just in
time for the table d'hôte, and to bespeak excellent beds. Travellers were
continually arriving and departing. What life and animation!... We sat down
upwards of forty to dinner: and a good dinner it was. Afterwards, I settled
for the cabriolet, and bade the postboy adieu!--nor can I suppress my
feelings in saying that, in wishing him farewell, I felt ten times more
than I had ever felt upon taking leave of a postilion.
[85] The nave was begun in 1416. LICQUET.
[86] Corrected by Mons. Licquet: with thanks from the Author. It was,
before, 1184.
[87] Lieutenant Hall has well described it. I did not see his description
till more than a twelvemonth after my own had been written. A part may
be worth extracting.... "The principal object of attraction is the
CHURCH, the gothic spire of which is encircled by fillets of roses,
beautifully carved in stone, and continued to the very summit of the
steeple. The principal portal too is sculptured with no less richness
and delicacy than that of St. Maclou at Rouen. Its interior length is
about 250 feet by 72 of width. The central aisle [nave] is flanked on
either side by ten massive circular columns, the capitals of which
represent vine leaves and other decorations, more fanciful, and not
less rich, than the Corinthian acanthus.... In one of the chapels
there is a rude monumental effigy of the original architect of this
church. It consists of a small skeleton, drawn in black lines, against
a tablet in the wall: a mason's level and trowel, with the plan of a
building, are beside it, and an inscription in gothic characters,
relating that the architect endowed the church he had built with
certain lands, and died Anno 1484." _Travels in France_, p. 47,
1819, 8vo. I take this to be GUILLAUME TELLIER--mentioned above: but
in regard to the lands with which Tellier endowed the church, the
inscription says nothing. LICQUET.
[88] Small as may be this village, and insignificant as may be its aspect,
it is one of the most important places, with respect to navigation, in
the whole course of the river Seine. Seven years ago there were not
fewer than _four-score_ pilots settled here, by order of government,
for the purpose of guarding against accidents which arise from a want
of knowledge of the navigation of the river. In time of peace this
number would necessarily be increased. In the year 1789 there were
upwards of 250 English vessels which passed it--averaging, in the
whole, 19,000 tons. It is from _Quillebeuf_ to _Havre_ that the
accidents arise. The author of a pompous, but very instructive memoir,
"_sur la Topographie et la Statistique de la Ville de Quillebeuf et de
l'embouchure de la Seine, ayant pour objet-principal la navigation et
la pêché_," (published in the Transactions of the Rouen Society for
the year 1812, and from which the foregoing information has been
obtained) mentions three or four _wrecks_ which have taken place in
the immediate vicinity of Quillebeuf: and it should seem that a _calm_
is, of all things, the most fatal. The currents are strong, and the
vessel is left to the mercy of the tides in consequence. There are
also rocks and sand banks in abundance. Among the wrecks, was one, in
which a young girl of eighteen years of age fell a victim to the
ignorance of the pilot. The vessel made a false tack between _Hode_
and _Tancarville_, and running upon a bank, was upset in an instant.
An English vessel once shared the same calamity. A thick fog suddenly
came on, when the sloop ran upon a bank near the _Nez de Tancarville_,
and the crew had just time to throw themselves into the boat and
escape destruction. The next morning, so sudden and so decisive was
the change wrought by the sand and current, that, of the sloop, there
remained, at ebb-tide, only ten feet of her mast visible! It appears
that the _Quillebois_, owing to their detached situation, and their
peculiar occupations, speak a very barbarous French. They have a sort
of sing-song method of pronunciation; and the _g_ and _j_ are
strangely perverted by them. Consult the memoir here referred to;
which occupies forty octavo pages: and which forms a sequel to a
previous communication (in 1810) "upon the Topography and Medical
properties of Quillebeuf and its adjacent parts." The author is M.
Boismare. His exordium is a specimen of the very worst possible taste
in composition. One would suppose it to be a prelude to an account of
the discovery of another America!
[89] ["The Roman Circus (says M. Licquet) is now departmental property.
Many excavations have already taken place under the directions of
Mons. Le Baron de Vanssay, the present Prefect of the Department. The
most happy results may be anticipated. It was in a neighbouring
property that an ANTIQUE BRONZE GILT STATUE, of the size of life, was
lately found," vol. i. 194. Of this statue, Mr. Samuel Woodburn, (with
that spirit of liberality and love of art which have uniformly
characterised his purchases) became the Owner. The sum advanced for it
was very considerable; but, in one sense, Mr. W. may be said to have
stood as the Representative of his country; for the French Government
declining to give the Proprietor the sum which he asked, Mr. Woodburn
purchased it--solely with the view of depositing it, on the same terms
of purchase, in a NATIONAL GALLERY OF ART, of which the bequest of Mr.
Payne Knight's ancient bronzes and coins, and the purchase of Mr.
Angerstein's pictures, might be supposed to lay the foundation.
This statue was accordingly brought over to England, and freely
exhibited to the curious admirers of ancient art. It is the figure of
an APOLLO--the left arm, extended to hold the lyre, being mutilated. A
portion of the limbs is also mutilated; but the torso, head and legs,
are entire: and are, of their kind, of the highest class of art.
Overtures were made for its purchase by government. The Trustees of
the British Museum were unanimous both in their admiration and
recommendation of it: it was indeed "strongly recommended" by them to
the Treasury. Several months however elapsed before an answer could be
obtained; and that answer, when it _did_ come, was returned in
THE NEGATIVE. The disappointment of reasonably indulged hopes of
success, was the least thing felt by its owner. It was the necessity
of transporting it, in consequence, to enrich a _rival
capital_--which, were its means equal to its wishes and good taste, it
must be confessed, makes us frequently blush for the comparative want
of energy and liberality, at home, in matters relating to ANCIENT
ART.]
[90] Mr. Cotman has a view of the gateway of Tancarville, or Montmorenci
Castle.
[91] I am not sure whether this inn be called the _Armes de France_,
or as above.