_My Dear Jane:_--
What a silly creature you are to be sure!--to have preferred the shades
of Morren Lodge, and the company of good aunt Margaret, (not to say
that of somebody else, for fear of a blush,) to accompanying us in our
present tour! I am more and more enchanted as we proceed, and cannot
help bewailing your decision, whenever we are partaking of any pleasure
or amusement. 'Tis true, you tell us that after your marriage next
spring, Albert intends visiting the continent; but dear me! how many
things may occur in the meanwhile to alter your plans. Nay, the knot
may never be tied--for its no "wonder of wonders" now-a-days for lads
and lasses to change their minds. And should you prove a "constant
couple," and the wedding take place, I doubt that Albert will be able
to tear himself from his books and musty parchments. You know I've
often told you, that he never would have fallen in love with your
ladyship, I'm convinced, had he not surprised you that eventful morning
in papa's study, reading the life of the American President Thomas
Jefferson, while the rest of us were playing at battledore on the lawn;
and this you may tell him if you choose. "Well, enough of rattle,
Leontine, (I hear you say,) and do let's have something interesting."
So you shall, sister Jane; and I hasten to give you an account of our
voyage from Havre to this ancient capital. It was delightful! We were
favored with clear skies and propitious breezes, and remained on deck
the whole day to enjoy the scenery, for the banks of the Seine are
highly cultivated, and at every turn present beautiful points of view.
We glided by many villages, and several monasteries and castles. Among
the former I will only mention Quillebeuf and Candebeck. Quillebeuf is
famous for its ninety-nine pilots; and as the navigation there is
extremely dangerous for vessels, they have full employment. It is
remarkable that their number has always been ninety-nine from time
immemorial. Candebeck is situated immediately on the bank of the river,
and Vernet, the celebrated marine painter, pronounced the view from its
quay one of the most beautiful water prospects in France. An old lady
on board the steamboat, told mamma and myself, as we were passing
Candebeck, that a few miles from it there is a village called St.
Arnold, which contains a pool of stagnant water, that many credulous
people believe efficacious in healing cutaneous diseases, and that at a
certain period of the year, numbers who are afflicted with such
disorders go to bathe in the pool. First, however, a particular
ceremony must be performed, or the water will have no effect. Each
applicant for health, must _steal_ from the neighboring woods a stick,
and cast it down to assist in forming a pile. In the evening this is
set on fire by the curate of the village, who comes forth dressed in
his sacerdotal robes, and accompanied by priests chanting a hymn. When
the smoke begins to darken the air, a white pigeon is let loose from
the spire of the church, and the poor deluded sufferers firmly believe
it to be the holy ghost descending from heaven to cure them! Quillebeuf
and Candebeck are both associated with historical recollections. The
former was fortified by Henry the Fourth, who considered it an
important point, and wished to have it called Henry'sville, after
himself. This was not done however, and since his death the
fortifications have been destroyed. It was at Candebeck that William
the Conqueror crossed the Seine in 1047, on his way to Arques, to quell
a sedition among the people there, under the Count of Arques. It was
governed by the famous Talbot during the reign of Henry the Fifth of
England, and the inhabitants distinguished themselves by their bravery
in a combat with the English. At one period it was noted for its
manufactures of hats and gloves; and at that time no one of _bon ton_
would wear a hat that was not made at Candebeck. The revocation of the
edict of Nantz proved a death blow to the industry of this town. Soon
after leaving it, we passed the Chateau of La Mailleraie, once the
residence of Mademoiselle De la Vallière, during her youth. The mansion
is spacious, and its gardens and thickets looked very inviting. In 1824
the Duchess of Berri visited this retreat, and breakfasted in the
garden; and to commemorate this circumstance, a white marble column has
been erected there. I wonder they did not surmount it with a
_coffee-pot_. Beyond La Mailleraie the scenery is rather monotonous,
but at length you approach the Abbey of Jamièges, (founded by Saint
Philibert,) and the landscape becomes lovely. This noble ruin, with its
numerous Gothic windows, was a majestic spectacle. Being situated on a
peninsula, round which our course extended, we had a view of it for a
considerable time; at last, to my regret, it faded from our sight.
Charles the Seventh built a fine villa in the neighborhood of Jamièges,
and here the beautiful, but sinful and unhappy Agnes Sorrel, resided.
At her death her heart was deposited in the Abbey, and her body carried
to Loches, where it was interred with great ceremony in the choir of
the collegiate church, for Agnes had been extremely munificent to the
canons of Loches, giving them two thousand crowns and quantities of
jewels, tapestry and pictures; and these crafty ecclesiastics paid her
remains all due respect during the life of Charles the Seventh, her
royal lover; but after his demise, while Louis the Eleventh was
visiting their church, knowing that he detested Agnes, and designing to
flatter him, they pointed out her tomb and requested permission to have
it removed. "I consent," replied the monarch, (indignant at their
duplicity and ingratitude,) "but you must first restore the riches she
lavished upon you." The last object I will now describe to you is the
Chateau of "Robert le Diable," a wicked wretch, whose crimes sullied
the earth, and whose spirit is believed by the superstitious still to
haunt the places that witnessed them. The scanty remains of his
fortress are just visible on a rocky height on the southern bank of the
Seine. Beneath the steep you behold La Vacherie, a neat little country
seat that is worthy of notice, as being the residence of Madame Bocage
when she composed her "Colombiade." We landed at Rouen about six
o'clock, and are located in a comfortable hotel, where papa says we
will remain until we have seen all the curiosities of this interesting
old city. You will therefore hear from me again ere our departure.
Yours truly,