BAYEUX. CATHEDRAL. ORDINATION OF PRIESTS AND DEACONS. CRYPT OF THE
CATHEDRAL.
_Bayeux, May 16_, 1818.
Two of the most gratifying days of my Tour have been spent at this place.
The Cathedral (one of the most ancient religious places of worship in
Normandy)[135] has been paced with a reverential step, and surveyed with a
careful eye. That which scarcely warmed the blood of Ducarel has made my
heart beat with an increased action; and although this town be even dreary,
as well as thinly peopled, there is that about it which, from associations
of ideas, can never fail to afford a lively interest to a British
antiquary.
The Diligence brought me here from Caen in about two hours and a half. The
country, during the whole route, is open, well cultivated, occasionally
gently undulating, but generally denuded of trees. Many pretty little
churches, with delicate spires, peeped out to the right and left during the
journey; but the first view of the CATHEDRAL of BAYEUX put all the others
out of my recollection. I was conveyed to the _Hôtel de Luxembourg_, the
best inn in the town, and for a wonder rather pleasantly situated. Mine
hostess is a smart, lively, and shrewd woman; perfectly mistress of the art
and craft of innkeeping, and seems to have never known sorrow or
disappointment. Knowing that Mr. Stothard, Jun. had, the preceding year,
been occupied in making a fac-simile of the "famous tapestry" for our
Society of Antiquaries, I enquired if mine hostess had been acquainted with
that gentleman: "Monsieur," "je le connois bien; c'est un brave homme: il
demeura tout près: aussi travailla-t-il comme quatre diables!" I will not
disguise that this eulogy of our amiable countryman[136] pleased me "right
well"--though I was pretty sure that such language was the current (and to
me somewhat _coarse_) coin of compliment upon all occasions: and instead of
"vin ordinaire" I ordered, rather in a gay and triumphant manner, "une
bouteille du vin de Beaune"--"Ah! ça," (replied the lively landlady,) "vous
le trouverez excellent, Monsieur, il n'y a pas du vin comme le vin de
Beaune." Bespeaking my dinner, I strolled towards the cathedral.
There is, in fact, no proper approach to this interesting edifice. The
western end is suffocated with houses. Here stands the post-office; and
with the most unsuspecting frankness, on the part of the owner, I had
permission to examine, with my own hands, within doors, every letter--under
the expectation that there were some for myself. Nor was I disappointed.
But you must come with me to the cathedral: and of course we must enter
together at the western front. There are five porticos: the central one
being rather large, and the two, on either side, comparatively small.
Formerly, these were covered with sculptured figures and ornaments; but the
Calvinists in the sixteenth, and the Revolutionists in the eighteenth
century, have contrived to render their present aspect mutilated and
repulsive in the extreme. On entering, I was struck with the two large
transverse Norman arches which bestride the area, or square, for the bases
of the two towers. It is the boldest and finest piece of masonry in the
whole building. The interior disappointed me. It is plain, solid, and
divested of ornament. A very large wooden crucifix is placed over the
screen of the choir, which has an effect--of its kind: but the monuments,
and mural ornaments, scarcely deserve mention. The richly ornamented
arches, on each side of the nave, springing from massive single pillars,
have rather an imposing effect: above them are Gothic ornaments of a later
period, but too thickly and injudiciously applied. Let me now suppose that
the dinner is over, and the "vin de Beaune" approved of--and that on a
second visit, immediately afterwards, there is both time and inclination
for a leisurely survey. On looking up, upon entering, within the side aisle
to the left, you observe, with infinite regret, a dark and filthy green
tint indicative of premature decay--arising from the lead (of that part of
the roof,) having been stript for the purpose of making bullets during the
Revolution. The extreme length of the interior is about 320 English feet,
by 76 high, and the same number of feet in width. The transepts are about
125 feet long, by 36 wide. The western towers, to the very top of the
spires, are about 250 English feet in height.
One of the most curious objects in the Cathedral, is the CRYPT; of which,
singularly enough, all knowledge had been long lost till the year 1412. The
circumstance of its discovery is told in the following inscription, cut in
the Gothic letter, upon a brass plate, and placed just above the southern
entrance:
_En lan mil quatre cens et douze
Tiers iour d'Auril que pluye arrouse
Les biens de la terre, la journee
Que la Pasques fut celebree
Noble homme et Reverend Pere
Jehan de Boissey, de'la Mere
Eglise de Bayeux Pasteur
Rendi l'ame a son Createur
Et lors enfoissant la place
Devant la grand Autel de grace
Trova l'on la basse Chapelle
Dont il n'avoit ete nouvelle
Ou il est mis en sepulture
Dieu ueuille avoir son ame en cure. Amen_.
It was my good fortune to visit this crypt at a very particular juncture.
The day after my arrival at Bayeux, there was a grand _Ordination_. Before
I had quitted my bed, I heard the mellow and measured notes of human
voices; and starting up, I saw an almost interminable procession of
priests, deacons, &c., walking singly behind each other, in two lines,
leaving a considerable space between them. They walked bareheaded,
chanting, with a book in their hands; and bent their course towards the
cathedral. I dressed quickly; and, dispatching my breakfast with equal
promptitude, pursued the same route. On entering the western doors, thrown
wide open, I shall never forget the effect produced by the crimson and blue
draperies of the Norman women:--a great number of whom were clustered, in
groups, upon the top of the screen, about the huge wooden
crucifix;--witnessing the office of ordination going on below, in the
choir. They seemed to be suspended in the air; and considering the piece of
sculpture around which they appeared to gather themselves--with the
elevation of the screen itself--it was a combination of objects upon which
the pencil might have been exercised with the happiest possible result. An
ordination in a foreign country, and especially one upon such an apparently
extensive scale, was, to a professional man, not to be slighted; and
accordingly I determined upon making the most of the spectacle before me.
Looking accidentally down my favourite crypt, I observed that some
religious ceremony was going on there. The northern grate, or entrance,
being open, I descended a flight of steps, and quickly became an inmate of
this subterraneous abode. The first object that struck me was, the warm
glow of day light which darted upon the broad pink cross of the surplice of
an officiating priest: a candle was burning upon the altar, on each side of
him: another priest, in a black vesture, officiated as an assistant; and
each, in turn, knelt, and bowed, and prayed ... to the admiration of some
few half dozen casual yet attentive visitors--while the full sonorous
chant, from the voices of upwards of one hundred and fifty priests and
deacons, from the choir above, gave a peculiar sort of solemnity to the
mysterious gloom below.
I now ascended; and by the help of a chair, took a peep at the ceremony
through the intercolumniations of the choir: my diffidence, or rather
apprehension of refusal, having withheld me from striving to gain
admittance within the body. But my situation was a singularly good one:
opposite the altar. I looked, and beheld this vast clerical congregation at
times kneeling, or standing, or sitting: partially, or wholly: while the
swell of their voices, accompanied by the full intonations of the organ,
and the yet more penetrating notes of the _serpent_, seemed to breathe more
than earthly solemnity around. The ceremony had now continued full two
hours; when, in the midst of the most impressive part of it, and while the
young candidates for ordination were prostrate before the high altar (the
diapason stop of the organ, as at Dieppe,[137] sending forth the softest
notes) the venerable Bishop placed the glittering mitre (apparently covered
with gold gauze) upon his head, and with a large gilt crosier in his right
hand, descended, with a measured and majestic step, from the floor of the
altar, and proceeded to the execution of the more mysterious part of his
office. The candidates, with closed eyes, and outstretched hands, were
touched with the holy oil--and thus became consecrated. On rising, each
received a small piece of bread between the thumb and forefinger, and the
middle and third fingers; their hands being pressed together--and, still
with closed eyes, they retired behind the high altar, where an officiating
priest made use of the bread to rub off the holy oil. The Bishop is an
elderly man, about three score and ten; he has the usual sallow tint of his
countrymen, but his eye, somewhat sunk or retired, beneath black and
overhanging eyebrows, is sharp and expressive. His whole mien has the
indication of a well-bred and well-educated gentleman. When he descended
with his full robes, crosier, and mitre, from the high altar, me-thought I
saw some of the venerable forms of our WYKEHAMS and WAYNEFLETES of
old--commanding the respect, and receiving the homage, of a grateful
congregation! At the very moment my mind was deeply occupied by the effects
produced from this magnificent spectacle, I strolled into _Our Lady's
Chapel_, behind the choir, and beheld a sight which converted seriousness
into surprise--bordering upon mirth. Above the altar of this remotely
situated chapel, stands the IMAGE OF THE VIRGIN with the infant Jesus in
her arms. This is the usual chief ornament of Our Lady's Chapel. But what
drapery for the mother of the sacred child!--stiff, starch,
rectangularly-folded, white muslin, stuck about with diverse artificial
flowers--like unto a shew figure in Brook Green Fair! This ridiculous and
most disgusting costume began more particularly at Caudebec. Why is it
persevered in? Why is it endured? The French have a quick sensibility, and
a lively apprehension of what is beautiful and brilliant in the arts of
sculpture and painting ... but the terms "joli," "gentil," and "propre,"
are made use of, like charity, to "cover a multitude of sins" ... or
aberrations from true taste. I scarcely stopped a minute in this chapel,
but proceeded to a side one, to the right, which yet affords proof of its
pristine splendour. It is covered with gold and colours. Two or three
supplicants were kneeling before the crucifix, and appeared to be so
absorbed in their devotions as to be insensible of every surrounding
object. To them, the particular saint (I have forgotten the name) to whom
the little chapel was dedicated, seemed to be dearer and more interesting
than the general voice of "praise and thanksgiving" with which the choir of
the cathedral resounded. Before we quit the place you must know that
fourscore candidates were ordained: that there are sixty clergy attached to
the cathedral;[138] and that upwards of four hundred thousand souls are
under the spiritual cognizance of the BISHOP OF BAYEUX. The treasures of
the Cathedral were once excessive,[139] and the episcopal stipend
proportionably large: but, of late years, things are sadly changed. The
Calvinists, in the sixteenth century, began the work of havoc and
destruction; and the Revolutionists in the eighteenth, as usual, put the
finish to these devastations. At present, from a very respectable source of
information, I learn that the revenues of the Bishop scarcely exceed
700_l_. per annum of our own money. I cannot take leave of the cathedral
without commending, in strong terms of admiration, the lofty flying
buttresses of the exterior of the nave. The perpendicular portions are
crowned with a sculptured whole length figure, from which the semi-arch
takes its spring; and are in much more elegant taste than any other part of
the building.
Hard by the cathedral stood formerly a magnificent EPISCOPAL PALACE. Upon
this palace the old writers dearly loved to expatiate. There is now however
nothing but a good large comfortable family mansion; sufficient for the
purposes of such hospitality and entertainment as the episcopal revenues
will afford. I have not only seen, but visited, this episcopal residence.
In other words, my friend Pierre-Aimé Lair having promised to take his last
adieu of me at Bayeux, as he had business with the Bishop, I met him
agreeably to appointment at the palace; but his host, with a strong corps
of visitors, having just sate down to dinner--it was only one o'clock--I
bade him adieu, with the hope of seeing the Bishop on the morrow--to whom
he had indeed mentioned my name. Our farewell was undoubtedly warm and
sincere. He had volunteered a thousand acts of kindness towards me without
any possible motive of self interest; and as he lifted up his right hand,
exclaiming "adieu, pour toujours!" I will not dissemble that I was sensibly
affected by the touching manner in which it was uttered ... and PIERRE AIMÉ
LAIR shall always claim from me the warmest wishes for his prosperity and
happiness.[140] I hurried back through the court-yard--at the risk of
losing a limb from the ferocious spring of a tremendous (chained)
mastiff--and without returning the salute of the porter, shut the gate
violently, and departed. For five minutes, pacing the south side of the
cathedral, I was lost in a variety of painful sensations. How was I to see
the LIBRARY?--where could I obtain a glimpse of the TAPESTRY?--and now,
that Pierre Aimé Lair was to be no more seen, (for he told me he should
quit the place on that same evening) who was to stand my friend, and smooth
my access to the more curious and coveted objects of antiquity?
Thus absorbed in a variety of contending reflections, a tall figure, clad
in a loose long great coat, in a very gracious manner approached and
addressed me. "Your name, Sir, is D----?" "At your service, Sir, that is my
name." "You were yesterday evening at Monsieur Pluquet's, purchasing
books?" "I was, Sir." "It seems you are very fond of old books, and
especially of those in the French and Latin languages?" "I am fond of old
books generally; but I now seek more particularly those in your
language--and have been delighted with an illuminated, and apparently
coeval, MS. of the poetry of your famous OLIVIER BASSELIN, which..." "You
saw it, Sir, at Monsieur Pluquet's. It belonged to a common friend of us
both. He thinks it worth..." "He asks _ten louis d'or_ for it, and he shall
have them with all my heart." "Sir, I know he will never part with it even
for that large sum." I smiled, as he pronounced the word "large." "Do me
the honour, Sir, of visiting my obscure dwelling, in the country--a short
league from hence. My abode is humble: in the midst of an orchard, which my
father planted: but I possess a few books, some of them curious, and should
like to _read_ double the number I _possess_." I thanked the stranger for
his polite attention and gracious offer, which I accepted readily.... "This
evening, Sir, if you please." "With all my heart, this very evening. But
tell me, Sir, how can I obtain a sight of the CHAPTER LIBRARY, and of the
famous TAPESTRY?" "Speak softly, (resumed the unknown) for I am watched in
this place. You shall see both--but must not say that Monsieur ---- was
your adviser or friend. For the present, farewell. I shall expect you in
the evening." We took leave; and I returned hastily to the inn, to tell my
adventures to my companion.
There is something so charmingly mysterious in this little anecdote, that I
would not for the world add a syllable of explanation. Leaving you,
therefore, in full possession of it, to turn and twist it as you please,
consider me as usual, Yours.
[135] [Mons. Licquet supposes the crypt and the arcades of the nave to be
of the latter end of the eleventh century,--built by Odo, Bishop of
Bayeux, and Brother of William the Conqueror; and that the other
portions were of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries. I
have very great doubts indeed of any portion being of a date even so
early as 1170.]
[136] [Another demonstration of the fickleness and changeableness of all
mundane affairs. Mr. Stothard, after a successful execution of his
great task, has ceased to be among us. His widow published his life,
with an account of his labours, in a quarto volume in 1823. Mr.
Stothard's _Monumental Effigies_, now on the eve of completion,
is a work which will carry his name down to the latest posterity, as
one of the most interesting, tasteful, and accurate of antiquarian
productions. See a subsequent note.]
[137] See page 12, ante.
[138] ["That was true, when M. Dibdin wrote his account; now, the number
must be reduced one half." LICQUET, vol. ii. p. 121.]
[139] Cette église ... étoit sans contredit une des plus riches de France
en
vases d'or, d'argent, et de pierreries; en reliques et en ornemens. Le
procès-verbal qui avoit été dressé de toutes ses richesses, en 1476,
contient un détail qui va presque à l'infini." Bezières, _Hist.
Sommaire_, p. 51.
[140] [But ONE letter has passed between us since this separation. That
letter, however, only served to cement the friendliness of our
feelings towards each other. M. Pierre Aimé Lair had heard of the
manner in which his name had been introduced into these pages, and
wished a copy of the work to be deposited in the public library at
Caen. Whether it be so deposited, I have never learnt. In 1827, this
amiable man visited England; and I saw him only during the time of an
ordinary morning visit. His stay was necessarily short, and his
residence was remote. I returned his visit--but he was away. There are
few things in life more gratifying than the conviction of living in
the grateful remembrance of the wise and the good; and THAT
gratification it is doubtless my happiness to enjoy--as far as relates
to Mons. PIERRE AIMÉ LAIR!]