BAYEUX TO COUTANCES. ST. LO. THE CATHEDRAL OF COUTANCES. ENVIRONS.
AQUEDUCT. MARKET-DAY. PUBLIC LIBRARY. ESTABLISHMENT FOR THE CLERGY.
I send you this despatch close to the very Cathedral, whose spires, while
yet at Bayeux, were already glimmering in the horizon of my imagination.
The journey hither has been in every respect the most beautiful and
interesting that I have experienced on _this_ side the Seine. I have seen
something like undulating pasture-lands, wooded hills, meandering streams,
and well-peopled villages; and an air of gaiety and cheerfulness, as well
as the charm of picturesque beauty, has accompanied me from one cathedral
to the other.
I left the _Hôtel de Luxembourg_, at Bayeux, in a hired cabriolet with a
pair of horses, about five in the afternoon, pushing on, at a smart trot,
for ST. LO: which latter place I entered by moon-light. The road, as usual,
was broad and bold, and at times undulating; flanked by beech, elm, and
fir. As I just observed to you, I entered St. Lo by moon-light: the double
towers of the great cathedral-like looking church having a grand and even
romantic effect on approaching the town. An old castle, or rather a mere
round-tower relic of one, appeared to the left, upon entering it. Passing
the porch, or west end of the church, sometimes descending, at others
ascending--midst close streets and overhanging roofs of houses, which cast
a deep and solemn shadow, so as to shut out the moon beams for several
hundred yards--and pursuing a winding route, I at length stopped at the
door of the principal hôtel--_au Grand Coq!_ I laughed heartily when I
heard its name; for with the strictest adherence to truth the adjective
ought to have been _petit!_
However, the beds seemed to be in good order, and the coffee, with which I
was quickly served, proved to be excellent. I strolled out, on a
_reconnoissance_, about half-past nine; but owing to the deep shadows from
the moon, arising from the narrowness of the streets, I could make out
nothing satisfactory of the locale. The church, however, promised a rich
treat on the morrow. As soon as the morrow came, I betook myself to the
church. It was Sunday morning. The square, before the west front of the
church, was the rendezvous both of townsmen and countryfolks: but what was
my astonishment on observing in one corner of it, a quack doctor vending
powder for the effectual _polishing of metals_. He had just beaten his
drum, in order to collect his audience; and having got a good assemblage,
was full of the virtues of his wares--which were pronounced to be also
"equally efficacious for _complaints in the stomach!_"
This man had been preceded, in the situation which he occupied, by a rival
charlatan, on horseback, with _powders to kill rats_. The latter stood upon
the same eminence, wearing a hat, jacket, and trowsers, all white--upon
which were painted _black rats_ of every size and description; and in his
harangue to the populace he took care to tell them that the rats, painted
upon his dress, were _exact portraits_ of those which had been destroyed by
means of his powders! This, too, on a Sunday morning. But remember
Dieppe.[152]
Having despatched my breakfast, I proceeded to survey the church, from
which the town takes its name. First, for the exterior. The _attached_
towers demand attention and admiration. They are so slightly attached as to
be almost separated from the body or nave; forming something of that
particular character which obtains more decidedly at the cathedral of
Coutances. I am not sure whether this portion of the church at St. Lo be
not preferable, on the score of regularity and delicacy, to the similar
portion at this latter place. The west front is indeed its chief beauty of
exterior attraction; and it was once rendered doubly interesting by a
profusion of alto-rilievo statues, which _disappeared_ during the
commotions of the revolution. You ascend rather a lofty flight of steps to
this entrance; and into which the whole town seemed to be pouring the full
tide of its population. I suffered myself to be carried away along, with
the rest, and almost startled as I entered the nave.[153] To the left, is a
horribly-painted statue of the Virgin, with the child in her arms. The
countenance is even as ugly, old, and repulsive, as the colouring is most
despicable. I never saw such a daub: and what emotions, connected with
tenderness of feeling, or ardour of devotion, can the contemplation of such
an object excite? Surely the parish must have lost its wits, as well as its
taste, to endure such a monstrous exhibition of art.
As I advanced towards the choir, I took especial notice of the very
singular, and in my opinion very ugly, formation both of the pillars and
arches which sustain the roof. These pillars have _no capitals_, and the
arch springs from them in the most abrupt manner. The arch itself is also
very short and sharp pointed; like the tops of lancet windows. This mode
obtains pretty generally here; but it should be noted that, in the right
side aisle, the pillars have capitals. There is something unusual also in
the row of pillars which spring up, flanking the choir, half way between
the walls of the choir and the outward wall of the church. Nor am I sure
that, destitute of a graceful, superadded arch, such massive perpendicular
lines have either meaning or effect. Whether St. Lo were the _first_ church
upon which the architect, who built both _that_ and the cathedral at
_Coutances_, tried his talents--or whether, indeed, both churches be the
effort of the same hand--I cannot pretend to determine; but, both outwardly
and inwardly, these two churches have a strong resemblance to each other.
Like many other similar buildings in France, the church of St. Lo is
closely blocked up by surrounding houses.
I prepared to leave St. Lo about mid-day, after agreeing for a large heavy
machine, with a stout pair of horses, to conduct me to this place. There
are some curious old houses near the inn, with exterior ornaments like
those of the XVIth century, in our own country. But on quitting the town,
in the road to Coutances,--after you come to what are called the old castle
walls, on passing the outer gate--your eye is struck by rather an
extraordinary combination of objects. The town itself seems to be built
upon a rock. Above, below, every thing appears like huge scales of iron;
while, at the bottom, in a serpentine direction, runs the peaceful and
fruitful river _Aure_.[154] The country immediately around abounds in
verdant pasture, and luxuriantly wooded heights. Upon the whole, our sortie
from St. Lo, beneath a bright blue sky and a meridian sun, was extremely
cheerful and gratifying.
A hard road (but bold and broad, as usual) soon convinced me of the
uncomfortableness of the conveyance; which, though roomy, and of rather
respectable appearance, wanted springs: but the increasing beauty of the
country, kept my attention perfectly occupied, till the beautiful
cathedral, of COUTANCES caught my notice, on an elevated ground, to the
left. The situation is truly striking, gaze from what quarter you will.
From that of St. Lo, the immediate approach to the town is rendered very
interesting from the broad _route royale_, lined with birch, hazel, and
beech. The delicacy, or perhaps the peculiarity of the western towers of
the cathedral, struck me as singularly picturesque; while the whole
landscape was warmed by the full effulgence of an unclouded sun, and
animated by the increasing numbers and activity of the _paysannes_ and
_bourgeoises_ mingling in their sabbath-walks. Their bright dark _blues_
and _crimsons_ were put on upon the occasion; and nought but peace,
tranquillity, and fruitfulness seemed to prevail on all sides. It was a
scene wherein you might have placed Arcadian shepherds--worthy of being
copied-by the pencil of Claude.
We entered the town at a sharp trot. The postilion, flourishing his whip,
and causing its sound to re-echo through the principal street, upon an
ascent, drove to the chief inn, the _Hôtel d'Angleterre_, within about one
hundred yards of the cathedral. Vespers were just over; and I shall not
readily forget the rush and swarm of the clergy who were pouring out, from
the north door, and covering the street with one extensive black mass.
There could not have been fewer than two hundred young Ecclesiastics--thus
returning from vespers to their respective homes; or rather to the College,
or great clerical establishment, in the neighbourhood. This College, which
has suffered from violence and neglect, through the revolution and
Bonaparte's dynasty, is now beginning to raise its head in a very
distinguished and commanding manner. It was a singular sight--to see such a
crowd of young men, wearing cocked hats, black robes, and black bands with
white edging! The women were all out in the streets; sitting before their
doors, or quietly lounging or walking. The afternoon was indeed unusually
serene.
I ordered a late dinner, and set out for the cathedral. It was impossible
to visit it at a more favorable moment. The congregation had departed; and
a fine warm sun darted its rays in every surrounding direction. As I looked
around, I could not fail to be struck with the singular arrangement of the
columns round the choir: or rather of the double aisle between the choir
and the walls, as at St. Lo; but here yet more distinctly marked. For a
wonder, an _unpainted_ Virgin and child in Our Lady's chapel, behind the
choir! There is nothing, I think, in the interior of this church that
merits particular notice and commendation, except it be some
beautifully-stained glass windows; with the arms, however, of certain noble
families, and the regal arms (as at Bayeux) obliterated. There is a deep
well in the north transept, to supply the town with water in case of fire.
The pulpit is large and handsome; but not so magnificent as that at Bayeux.
The organ is comparatively small. Perhaps the thirteenth century is a
period sufficiently remote to assign for the completion of the interior of
this church, for I cannot subscribe to the hypothesis of the Abbé de la
Rue, that this edifice was probably erected by Tancred King of Sicily at
the end of the eleventh, or at the beginning of the twelfth century.
The exterior of this Church is indeed its chief attraction.[155]
Unquestionably the style of architecture is very peculiar, and does not, as
far as I know, extend beyond St. Lo, in Normandy. My great object was to
mount upon the roof of the central tower, which is octagonal, containing
fine lofty lancet windows, and commanding from its summit a magnificent
panorama. Another story, one half the height of the present erection from
the roof of the nave, would put a glorious finish to the central tower of
NOTRE DAME at COUTANCES. As I ascended this central tower, I digressed
occasionally into the lateral galleries along the aisles. To look down, was
somewhat terrific; but who could help bewailing the wretched, rotten,
green-tinted appearance of the roof of the north aisle?--which arose here,
as at Bayeux, from its being stripped of the lead (during the Revolution)
to make _bullets_--and from the rain's penetrating the interior in
consequence. As I continued to ascend, I looked through the apertures to
notice the fine formation and almost magical erection of the lancet windows
of the western towers: and the higher I mounted, the more beautiful and
magical seemed to be that portion of the building. At length I reached the
summit; and concentrating myself a little, gazed around.
The view was lovely beyond measure. Coutances lies within four miles of the
sea, so that to the west and south there appeared an immense expanse of
ocean. On the opposite points was an extensive landscape, well-wooded,
undulating, rich, and thickly studded with farm-houses. _Jersey_ appeared
to the north-west, quite encircled by the sea; and nearly to the south,
stood out the bold insulated little rock of _Granville_, defying the
eternal washing of the wave. Such a view is perhaps no where else to be
seen in Normandy; certainly not from any ecclesiastical edifice with which
I am acquainted. The sun was now declining apace, which gave a wanner glow
to the ocean, and a richer hue to the landscape. It is impossible to
particularize. All was exquisitely refreshing and joyous. The heart beats
with a fuller pulsation as the eye darts over such an expansive and
exhilarating scene! Spring was now clad in her deepest-coloured vesture:
and a prospect of a fine summer and an abundant harvest infused additional
delight into the beholder. Immediately below, stood the insulated and
respectable mansion or Palace of _the Bishop_; in the midst of a formal
garden--begirt with yet more formally clipt hedges. As the Prelate bore a
good character, I took a pleasure in gazing upon the roof which contained
an inhabitant capable of administering so much good to the community. In
short, I shall always remember the view from the top of the central tower
of the cathedral of Coutances!
I quitted such a spot with reluctance; but time was flying away, and the
patience of the cuisinier at the Hôtel d'Angleterre had already been put
somewhat to the test. In twenty minutes I sat down to my dinner, in a
bed-room, of which the furniture was chiefly of green silk. The females,
even in the humblest walks, have generally fine names; and _Victorina_ was
that of the fille de chambre at the Hôtel d'Angleterre. After dinner I
walked upon what may be called the heights of Coutances; and a more
delightful evening's walk I never enjoyed. The women of every
description--ladies, housekeepers, and servant maids--were all abroad;
either sitting upon benches, or standing in gossiping groups, or straying
in friendly pairs. The comeliness of the women was remarkable; a certain
freshness of tint, and prevalence of the embonpoint, reminded me of those
of our own country; and among the latter, I startled--as I gazed upon a
countenance which afforded but too vivid a resemblance to that of a
deceased relation! Certainly the Norman women are no where more comely and
interesting than they are at Coutances.
The immediate environs of this place are beautiful and interesting: visit
them in what direction you please. But there is nothing which so
immediately strikes you as the remains of an _ancient Aqueduct_; gothicised
at the hither end, but with three or four circular arches at the further
extremity, where it springs from the opposite banks. Fine as was yesterday,
this day has not been inferior to it. I was of course glad of an
opportunity of visiting the market, and of mingling with the country
people. The boulevards afforded an opportunity of accomplishing both these
objects. Corn is a great article of trade; and they have noble granaries
for depositing it. Apparently there is a great conflux of people, and much
business stirring. I quickly perceived, in the midst of this ever-moving
throng, my old friend the vender of rat-destroying powders--busied in the
exercise of his calling, and covered with his usual vestment of white,
spotted or painted with black rats. He found plenty of hearers and plenty
of purchasers. All was animation and bustle. In the midst of it, a man came
forward to the edge of a bank--below which a great concourse was assembled.
He beat a drum, to announce that a packet boat, would sail to Jersey in the
course of the afternoon; but the people seemed too intent upon their
occupations and gambols to attend to him. I sat upon a bench and read one
of the little chap books--_Richard sans peur_--which I had purchased the
same morning.
While absorbed in reflections upon the heterogeneous scene before me--and
wishing, for some of my dearest friends in England to be also spectators of
it--the notes of an hand-organ more and more distinctly stole upon my ear.
They were soft; and even pleasing notes. On looking round, I observed that
the musician preceded a person, who carried aloft a Virgin, with the infant
Jesus, in wax; and who, under such a sign, exhorted the multitude to
approach and buy his book-wares. I trust I was too thorough-bred a
_Roxburgher_ to remain quiet on the bench: and accordingly starting up, and
extending two sous, I became the fortunate purchaser of a little _chap_
article--of which my friend BERNARDO will for ever, I fear, envy me the
possession! The vender of the tome sang through his nose, as the organ
warbled the following
_Cantique Spirituelle_.