but has nothing in its structure to recommend it to particular notice.
It consists of two streets and a chateau. Before the Revolution it was
very singularly divided into two parishes and two churches: all
gentlemen, all military officers, all landed proprietors who possessed
honorary fiefs, and all strangers who were temporary residents, were
considered as belonging to one parish, and the people and the bourgeois
were attached to the other. The Revolution has annihilated these absurd
distinctions, and every one now belongs to the parish in which he
resides, or has property.
We visited the chateau, or castle, which is indeed well worthy of the
particular attention of travellers. It is built upon a lofty and craggy
rock, and overhangs the Loire, which flows at the bottom; the side on
the Loire is perpendicular, and of great height, so as to render it
almost inaccessible. This vast structure was not all the work of one
time, or of one author. The present castle was built upon the ruins of
one which was destroyed by the Normans in the year 882, but having gone
into decay, was repaired and enlarged by Francis the First and Charles
the Eighth. The latter prince was born in this castle, and during his
whole reign it was the constant summer residence of the court. The most
remarkable part of this structure is what is called the oratory of Louis
the Wicked; it is at a great depth beneath the foundation of the castle,
and the descent to it is by spiral or well-stairs. It is literally
nothing more than a dungeon, on a platform, in which is a prostrate
statue representing the dead body of our Lord, as taken from the Cross,
covered with streaks of blood, and the skin in welts, as if fresh from
the scourge. According to the tradition of the neighbourhood, this was
the daily scene of the private devotions of Louis the Eleventh; and the
character of the place and of the images around, have certainly some
symphony with the known disposition of that monarch. No one, even in the
horrible Revolution, has disturbed these relics; it is still exhibited
as the tyrant's dungeon, and no one enters or leaves it without feeling
a renewed idea of the character of that execrable monster.
The conspiracy of Amboise having originated in this city, the walls and
dungeons of the castle still retain some relics of the ferocious
cruelties exercised by the triumphant party of the Guises. Spikes,
nails, and short iron gibbets and chains, are still shewn on the walls,
on which were suspended the bodies of the prisoners who fell into their
hands. How difficult is it to reconcile such ferocity to the known
greatness of the Duke of Guise; but religious fury has no limits, and a
true enthusiast comforts himself that he tortures the body to save the
soul. Thank Heaven, that the days of such infuriate zeal are over: but
Heaven forbid that we should pass to the other extreme. Great as may be
the evils of bigotry, the mischief of religious indifference, or in
other words, of no religion at all, would be infinitely greater. The
one may affect the world as a storm, the other is a perpetual
pestilence, beneath the influence of which every thing that is generous
and noble, morals, and even private honor, must fall to the ground.
CHAP. XIV.
_Lovely Country between Amboise and Blois--Ecures--Beautiful
Village--French Harvesters--Chousi--Village Inn--Blois--
Situation--Church--Market--Price of Provisions._
ON the following morning we resumed our journey for Blois, a distance of
thirty miles, which we proposed to reach the same day.
The country for some leagues very nearly resembled that through which we
had passed on the preceding day, except that it was more thickly spread
with houses, and better cultivated. Windmills are very frequent along
the whole line of the Loire, the wheat of the country being ground in
the vicinity of the river, so as to be more convenient for
transportation. These mills are beautifully situated on the hills and
rising grounds, and add much to the cheerfulness of the scenery. The
road, moreover, was as various as it was beautiful. Sometimes it passed
through open fields, in which the peasantry were at work to get in their
harvest. Upon sight of our horses, the labourers, male and female,
ceased from their work, and ran up to the carriage: some of the younger
women would then present us with some wheat, barley, or whatever was
the subject of their labour, accompanying it with rustic salutations,
and more frequently declining than accepting any pecuniary return. This
conduct of the French peasantry is a perfect contrast to what a
traveller must frequently meet in America, and still more frequently in
England. Amongst the inferior classes in England and America, to be a
stranger is to be a subject for insult. So much I must say in justice
for the French of the very lowest condition, that I never received any
thing like an insult, and that they no sooner understood me to be a
stranger, than they were officious in their attentions and information.
I enquired of Mr. Younge what were the wages of the labourers in this
part of France. "Their wages," said he, "are very different according to
the season. In harvest-time, they have as much as 36 sols, about 1_s._
6_d._ English money. The average daily wages of the year may amount to
24 sols, or a shilling English; they are allowed moreover, three pints
of the wine of the country. Their condition is upon the whole very
comfortable: the greater part of them have a cow, and a small slip of
land. There is a great deal of common land along the whole course of the
Loire, and the farmers have a practice of exchanging with the poor. The
poor, for example, in many districts, have a right of commonage, during
a certain number of days, over all the common fields; the farmers having
possession of these lands, and finding it inconvenient to be subject to
this participation, frequently buy it off, and in exchange assign an
acre or more to every collage in the parish. These cottages are let to
the labourers for life at a mere nominal rent, and are continued to
their families, as long as they remain honest and industrious. There is
indeed no such thing as parochial taxes for the relief of the poor, as
in England, but distress seldom happens without being immediately
relieved."
"In what manner," said I, "do the French poor live?"
"Very cheaply, and yet all things considered, very sufficiently. You,
who have lived almost the whole of your life in northern climates, can
scarcely form any idea, what a very different kind of sustenance is
required in a southern one. In Ireland, however, how many robust bodies
are solely nourished on milk and potatoes: now chesnuts and grapes, and
turnips and onions in France, are what potatoes are in Ireland. The
breakfast of our labourers usually consists of bread and fruit, his
dinner of bread and an onion, his supper of bread, milk, and chesnuts.
Sometimes a pound of meat may be boiled with the onion, and a bouille is
thus made, which with management will go through the week. The climate
is such as to require no expence in fuel, and very little in clothes."
In this conversation we reached Ecures, a village situated on a plain,
which in its verdure, and in the fanciful disposition of some trees and
groves, reminded me very strongly of an English park. This similitude
was increased by a house on the further extremity of the village: it was
situated in a lawn, and entirely girt around by walnut trees except
where it fronted the road, upon which it opened by a neat palisadoed
gate. I have no doubt, though I had no means of verifying my opinion,
that the possessor of this estate had been in England. The lawn was
freshly mown, and the flowers, the fresh-painted seats, the windows
extending from the ceiling to the ground, and even the circumstance of
the poultry being kept on the common, and prevented by a net-work from
getting on the lawn--all these were so perfectly in the English taste,
that I offered Mr. Younge any wager that the possessor had travelled.
"He is most probably a returned emigrant," said Mr. Younge; "it is
inconceivable how much this description of men have done for France. The
government, indeed, begins to understand their value, and the list of
the proscribed is daily diminishing."
From Ecures to Chousi the country varies very considerably. The road is
very good, but occasionally sandy. To make up for this heaviness, it is
picturesque to a degree. The fields on each side are so small as to give
them a peculiar air of snugness, and to suggest the idea to a traveller,
how delightful would be a fancy-cottage in such a situation. For my own
part, I was continually building in my imagination. These fields were
well enclosed with thick high hedges, and ornamented with hedge-rows of
chesnut and walnut trees. There were scarcely any of them but what had a
foot-path on the side of the road; in others there were bye-paths which
led from the road into the country, sometimes to a village, the chimnies
only of which were visible; at other times to a chateau, the gilded
pinnacle of which shone afar from some distant hill. I observed several
fields of flax and hemp, and we passed several cottages, in the gardens
of which the flax flourished in great perfection, Mr. Younge informed
me, that every peasant grew a sufficient quantity for his own use, and
the females of his family worked them up into a strong, but decent
looking linen. "This is another circumstance," said he, "which you must
not forget in your comparison between the poor of France and other
kingdoms. The French peasantry, and particularly the women, have more
ingenuity than the English or American poor; they universally make every
thing that is connected with their own clothes. Their beds, blankets,
coats, and linen of all kind, are of the manufacture of their own
families. The produce of the man's labour goes clear to the purchase of
food: the labour of his wife and daughters, and even a small portion of
their labour, is sufficient to clothe him and to provide him with his
bed."
We passed several groups of villagers reposing themselves under the
shade: I should not indeed say reposing, for they were romping,
running, and conversing with all the characteristic merriment of the
country. They saluted us respectfully as we passed them. In one of these
groups was a flageolet-player; he was piping merrily, his comrades
accompanying the tune with motions of their hands and neck. "Confess,"
said Mademoiselle St. Sillery, "that we are a happy people: these poor
creatures have been at their labour since sunrise, and yet this is the
way they repose themselves." "Are they never wearied?" said I. "Never so
much so, but what they can sing and dance: their good-humour seems to
hold them in the stead of the more robust nerves of the north. Even
labour itself is not felt where the mind takes its share of the weight."
"You are a philosopher," said Mr. Younge to her, smiling.
"I am a Frenchwoman," replied she, "and would not change my cheerful
flow of spirits for all the philosophy and wisdom in the universe.
Nothing can make me unhappy whilst the sun shines."
I know not whether I have before mentioned, that a great quantity of
maize is cultivated in this part of the kingdom. The roofs of the
cottages were covered with it drying in the sun; the ears are of a
bright golden yellow, and in the cottage gardens it had a beautiful
effect. I observed moreover a very striking difference between the
system of cultivating the flax in England and in France. In England the
richest land only is chosen, in France every soil indiscriminately. The
result of this difference is, that the flax in France is infinitely
finer than in England, a circumstance which may account for the
superiority of their lawns and cambrics.
We reached Chousi to an early dinner. The woman of the house apologised
that she had no suitable room for so large a company, "but her husband
and sons were gathering apples in the orchard, and if we would dine
there, we should find it cheerful enough." We readily adopted this
proposal, and had a very pleasant dinner under an apple tree.
Mademoiselle and myself had agreed to divide between us the office of
purveyor to the party. It was my part to see that the meat or poultry
was not over-boiled, over-hashed, or over-roasted, and it was her's to
arrange the table with the linen and plate which we brought with us. It
is inconceivable how much comfort, and even elegance, resulted from this
arrangement.
Mr. Younge and myself being engaged in an argument of some warmth, in
which Mrs. Younge had taken part, Mademoiselle St. Sillery had given us
the slip, and the carriage being ready, I had to seek her. After much
trouble I found her engaged in a childish sport with some boys and
girls, the children of the landlord: the game answered to what is known
in America by the name of hide and seek, and Mademoiselle St. Sillery,
when I found her, was concealed in a _saw-pit_. I have mentioned, I
believe, that this young lady was about twenty years of age; an elegant,
fashionable girl, and as far removed from a romp and a hoyden as it is
possible to conceive; yet was this young lady of fashion now engaged in
the most puerile play, and even seemed disappointed when she was called
from it. Such is the French levity, that sooner than not be in motion,
the gravest and most dignified of them would join in an hunt after a
butterfly. I have frequently been walking, with all possible gravity,
with Mademoiselle St. Sillery, when she has suddenly challenged me to
run a race, and before I could recover my astonishment, or give her an
answer, has taken to her heels.
We reached Blois rather late; we had intended to have staid there only
the night, but as it was too late to see the town, and the following
morning was showery, we remained there the whole day, and very
pleasantly passed the afternoon in walking over the town, and informing
ourselves of its curiosities. The situation of Blois is as agreeable as
that of all the other principal towns on the Loire. The main part of it
is built upon an hill which descends by a gentle declivity to the Loire;
the remaining part of it is a suburb on the opposite side of the river,
to which it is joined by a bridge resembling that at Kew, in England.
From the hill on which the town stands is a beautiful view of a rich
and lovely country, and there is certainly not a town in France or in
Europe, with the exception of Tours and Toulouse, which can command such
a delightful landscape. It appeared, perhaps, more agreeable to us as we
saw it after it had been freshened by the morning rain. The structure of
the town does not correspond with the beauty of its site. The streets
are narrow, and the houses low. There are some of the houses, however,
which are very respectable, and evidently the habitation of a superior
class of inhabitants. They reminded me much of what are common in the
county towns of England.
But the boast and ornament of Blois is its chateau, or castle. We
employed some hours in going over it, and I shall therefore describe it
with some fullness.
The situation of it is extremely commanding, and therefore very
beautiful. It is built upon a rock which overhangs the Loire, all the
castles upon this river being built with the evident purpose of
controuling and commanding the navigation. What first struck us very
forcibly was the variety and evident dissimilarity of the several parts.
This circumstance was explained to us by our guide, who informed us that
the castle was the work of several princes. The eastern and southern
fronts were built by Louis the Twelfth about the year 1520, the northern
front was the work of Francis the First, and the western side of
Gaston, duke of Orleans. Every part accordingly has a different
character. What is built by Louis the Twelfth is heavy, dark, and
gothic, with small rooms, and pointed arches. The work of Francis the
First is a curious specimen of the Gothic architecture in its progress,
perhaps in its very act of transit, into the Greek and Roman orders; and
what has been done by Gaston, bears the character of the magnificent
mind and bold genius of that great prince. This comparison of three
different styles, on the same spot, gave me much satisfaction.
The rooms, as I have said, such as were built by Louis the Twelfth, are
small, and those by Francis spacious, lofty, and boldly vaulted. Nothing
astonished me more than the minor ornaments on the points of the arches;
they were so grossly, so vulgarly indecent, that I was fearful the
ladies might observe me as I looked at them: but such was the taste of
the age. Others of the ornaments were less objectionable: they consisted
of the devices of the several princes who had resided there.
We were shewn the chamber in which the celebrated Duke of Guise was
assassinated, and the guide pointed out the spot on which he fell. A
small chamber, or rather anti-chamber, leads to a larger apartment: the
Duke had passed through the door of this anti-chamber, and was opening
the further door which leads into the larger apartment, when he was
assassinated by order of Henry the Third. His body was immediately
dragged into the larger apartment, and the king came to view it. "How
great a man was that!" said he, pointing to his prostrate body.
Historians are still divided on the quality of this act, whether it is
to be considered as a just execution, or as a cowardly assassination.
Considering the necessary falsehood, and breach of faith, under which it
must have been perpetrated, the moralist can have no hesitation to
execrate it as a murder.
We passed from this part of the castle to the tower at the western
extremity, called La Tour de chateau Regnaud, and so called, because a
seigniory of that name, though distant twenty-one miles, is visible from
its summit. The Cardinal of Guise, being seized on the same day in which
his brother was assassinated, was imprisoned in this castle, and after
passing a night in the dungeons, was executed on the day following. The
dungeons are the most horrible holes which it is possible to conceive:
the descent to them entirely indisposed us from going down. Imagine a
dark gloomy room, itself a horrible dungeon, and in the centre of the
floor a round hole of the size and shape of those on the paved footpaths
in the streets in London for shooting coals into the cellars. Such is
the descent to these dungeons: and in such a place did the great and
proud Cardinal of Guise terminate a life of turmoil and ambition.
We next visited the Salle des Etats, or the States-hall, so called
because the States General were there assembled by Henry the Third: it
is a large and lofty room, but the part of it which chiefly attracts the
attention of travellers is the fire-place, where the bodies of the
Guises were reduced to ashes on the day following their murder. It is
not however easy to conceive, why vengeance should be carried so far.
The western front of the castle, which was built by Gaston, Duke of
Orleans, is in every respect worthy of that great prince, and of the
architect employed by him, the illustrious Mansard. This architect
laboured three years upon this front, and having already spent three
hundred and thirty thousand livres, informed the prince, that it would
require one hundred thousand more to render it habitable. The prince,
however eager both to encourage the artist and to have the work
finished, could not muster up the money, which in that age was an
immense sum: the front, therefore, was left in the state in which it now
remains. It is as much to the credit of the Duke as to that of the
architect, that this noble front constituted his pride, and that he felt
the value of this work of Mansard.
The gardens of the castle are worthy of the structure to which they are
attached: Henry the Fourth divided them by a gallery into the upper and
lower gardens, but nothing now remains of this gallery but the ruins.
The garden itself is now sold or let to private persons.
Blois has several other buildings which are worthy of the attention of a
leisurely traveller: amongst these is the college, which formerly
belonged to the Jesuits, and which is at present a national school. The
church attached to the college combines every order of architecture:
there are two splendid monuments, moreover, the one to Gaston Duke of
Orleans, the other to a daughter of this prince. The courts, likewise,
in which the police is administered, are not unworthy of a cursory
attention; they are very ancient, having been built by the former Counts
of Blois.
We were shewn likewise the aqueducts: the waters rise from a deep
subterraneous spring, and are conveyed in a channel cut in a rock. This
channel is said to be of Roman construction, and from its characteristic
boldness, and even greatness, it most probably is so. Whence is it, that
this people communicated their characteristic energy even to trifles.
The channel of the aqueduct empties itself into a reservoir adjoining
the city walls, whence they are distributed in pipes through all
quarters of the city.
CHAP. XV.
_Houses in Chalk Hills--Magnificent Castle at Chambord--Return
from Chambord by Moon-light--St. Laurence on the
Waters._
ON the following morning we resumed our journey. The country continued
very similar to that through which we had previously past, except that
it was more populous, and there were a greater number of chateaus. On
some parts of the road, the chalk hills on the side of the river
presented a very curious spectacle: smoke issued out of an hundred vents
on the sides and summits, and gave them the appearance of so many
volcanoes. The fact was, that the descent fronting the river was scooped
into houses or rather caves for the peasantry, and the roof was cut
upwards for the chimney. I was informed by Mr. Younge, that the other
circumstances of these houses and their inhabitants did not correspond
with the implied poverty in their construction. "The fronts of these
cottages," said he, "are very picturesque; they have casements, and the
walls are deeply shaded and embossed with vines. These caverns are in
some places in rows one above another. They are not all of them the
property of those who live in them: some of them are constructed at the
expence of the farmers, and are let out at a yearly hire of four or
five livres. The fronts are masonry: the small gardens which you see
above, belong to these cottagers; many of them have moreover a cow,
which they feed in the lanes and woods. Altogether, their condition is
more comfortable than you would imagine."
As the distance between Blois and Orleans was too much for one day, we
had divided it into two, and arranged it so as to comprehend Chambord in
the first. This route indeed was considerably out of our direct way, but
Mr. and Mrs. Younge resolved that I should see Chambord, and would hear
of no excuses.
In pursuance of this plan we turned out of the main road, and entered a
narrow one, which by its recluseness and solitude seemed to lead us into
the recesses of the country. Nothing can be more beautiful than these
bye-roads both in France and England. On the highways, and in the
vicinity or route of central and populous towns, the spirit of
improvement, and the caprice of wealth, too frequently destroy the
scenes of nature: the artist in fashion is set at work, and the field
and the meadow is supplanted by the park, the lawn, and the measured
avenue. In the bye-lanes, on the contrary, the country is generally left
in its natural rudeness, and therefore in its natural beauty: no one
thinks of improving the house, orchard, and fields of his tenant; no one
cares whether his gates are painted, or his hedges are trim and even.
The bye-road, therefore, has always been my favourite haunt; and if
ever I should make a pedestrian tour through Europe, I should go in a
track very different from any who have gone before.