THE MUSEUM OF LE MANS--VENUS--MUMMY--GEOFFREY LE BEL--HIS
COSTUME--MATILDA--SCARRON--HÉLIE DE LA FLÈCHE--RUFUS--THE WHITE
KNIGHT.
THE Museum of Le Mans is in the Hôtel de la Prefecture, and as we heard
that the famous enamel of Geoffrey Plantagenet, formerly on his tomb in
the cathedral, was preserved there, we hastened to behold so interesting
a remain of early art. A remarkably obtuse female was the exhibitor on
the occasion, and, on my asking her to point out the treasure, she took
me to a collection of Roman coins and medals, assuring me they were very
old and very curious. It was impossible not to agree with her, and to
regard these coins with interest, particularly as they were all found in
the immediate neighbourhood of Le Mans; however, as a glance at them was
sufficient, we proceeded to examine all the cases, hoping to discover
the object of our search.
We were arrested before a case filled with objects of art found
principally at the ruins of Alonnes, near Le Mans, which commune is a
perfect emporium of Roman curiosities, where no labourer directs his
plough across a field, or digs a foot deep in his garden, without
finding statues, pillars, baths, medals, &c., in heaps. All these things
are of fine workmanship, and thence, lately, two little wonders have
been rescued from oblivion, which are really gems. One is a small female
bust of white marble, perfect, and of singular grace; the other the
entire figure, having only one arm wanting, of a Venus twenty-one inches
high, and of exquisite proportion; she sits on the trunk of a tree; her
beauty is incomparable, and she must owe her birth to an artist of very
superior genius.
As if to prove how worthless is that beauty which attracts and rivets
the attention, even in stone, close by is one of the finest and most
perfectly-preserved female mummies I ever beheld,--hideous in its
uninjured state, grinning fearfully with its rows of fine ivory teeth a
little broken, glaring with its still prominent eyes, and appalling with
its blackened skin drawn over the high cheekbones. Why might not this
carefully-attended and richly-adorned queen be the beautiful and fatal
"serpent of old Nile"--the fascinating Cleopatra herself?
The features are fine and delicate in spite of the horrible hue of the
skin, and though it revolts the mind at first, one can even fancy that
mass of horror might, in life, have been beautiful. This valuable
specimen was brought from Egypt by M. Edouard de Montulé, a zealous and
enterprising young traveller, too early snatched from science and the
world at the age of thirty-six.
A gentleman, drawing in the museum, who had arrived after us, hearing
our questions to our guide, very politely stepped forward and offered to
show us the objects of interest which he saw we might otherwise miss. He
led us at once to the enamel we so much desired to see, and we had ample
time to contemplate one of the most remarkable curiosities of art which
perhaps exists anywhere.
Geoffrey le Bel, surnamed Plantagenet, the second husband of the haughty
Empress Matilda, who considered her dignity compromised in being obliged
to marry a simple Count of Anjou, was, nevertheless, the handsomest man
of his day, and apparently one of the most distinguished _dandies_.
Jean, the monk of Marmontier, in his description of the fêtes given by
the count at Rouen, speaks of the splendid habiliments of this
prince--of his _Spanish barb_, his helmet, his buckler, his lance of
_Poitou steel_, and his celebrated sword taken from the treasury of his
father, and renowned as the work of "the great _Galannus_, the most
expert of armourers." Even in this very guise does Geoffrey appear.
He holds the sword, considered as magical, unsheathed in his right hand;
his shield or target covers his shoulders, and descends in a point to
his feet. It is charged azure, with four rampant golden leopards; only
the half of the shield appears, consequently all its blazonry is not
visible. He wears a sort of Phrygian cap ornamented with a golden
leopard; he has a dalmatic robe, and a capacious mantle edged with
ermine, his scarf and waistband are of the same form, and all are of
rich colours--red, green, and purple--such as appear in stained glass.
It is painted with great detail, and the features are very distinct;
they convey very little idea of beauty, but have sufficient character to
indicate likeness. The copy, which Stothard made with great care, is
extremely correct, much more so than the drawing he gave of Bérangère,
whose beauty he entirely failed to represent: none but an accomplished
artist, indeed, could do so, and the indefatigable antiquarian, who lost
his life in his zeal for his pursuit, was more accustomed to the quaint
forms exhibited on windows and brasses. The inscription formerly to be
read beneath the effigy of Geoffrey, on the tomb, was as follows:--
"Thy sword, oh! Prince, has delivered our country from the hordes of
brigands who infested it, and given to the Church entire security under
the shadow of peace."
There is something of melancholy and quiet about this portrait, which
accord with the character given of the prince by historians, who
represent him mild and good, generous, brave, and magnanimous; an
encourager of the arts and poetry, and a lover of order; but forced into
wars by the haughty temper of his wife, and obliged to distress his
subjects for supplies in consequence. His marriage with Matilda took
place in 1127, with great pomp, at Le Mans, in the palace of the Counts
of Anjou; and the solemnities attending it lasted for three weeks. All
the vassals of Henry I. of England, father of the bride, and of
Foulques, father of Geoffrey, were summoned to attend under pain of
being considered enemies of the public good. As Henry delayed putting
his son-in-law in possession of Normandy, as had been agreed on, Matilda
excited her husband to go to war with him, and a series of conflicts
ensued which entailed much misery on the country.
Geoffrey le Bel died in 1151, of pleurisy, in consequence of bathing
imprudently in the Loire. His body was brought to Le Mans and buried in
the cathedral, and his son, the illustrious Henry II. of England,
succeeded him; a prince superior to his time, but destined to continued
vexations from his family and his friends. The proud Matilda, too,--so
like the haughty heiress of Aquitaine,--need not have murmured at the
lot which made her mother and grandmother of such kings as Henry and
Coeur de Lion.
The pictures in the museum of Le Mans possess no sort of merit: there is
a series of paintings coarsely done from the "Roman Comique" of Scarron,
representing the principal scenes in his strange work; but they have no
other value than that of having been painted at the period when he was
popular, and being placed there in consequence of his having resided at
Le Mans, though I believe it was not the place of his birth. It was
here, at all events, that his imprudence caused his own misfortune; for
in the exuberance of his gaiety, he resolved, on occasion of a fête,
which annually takes place on the route of Pontlieue, to amuse himself
and the Manceaux, by a childish exhibition of himself _as a bird_. To
this end, he actually smeared himself with honey, and then having rolled
in feathers, and assumed as much as possible the plumed character he
wished to represent, he sallied forth and joined the procession
astonishing all beholders; but he had not reckoned on the effect his
appearance would produce on the boys of the parish, ever ready for
mischief. Delighted at such an opportunity, they pursued the unfortunate
wit without mercy, pelting and chasing him. His fear of being
recognised, and his anxiety to escape them, caused him to fly for
refuge, heated as he was with his extraordinary exertions, under an arch
of the old bridge, where he was exposed to a severe draught. The cold
struck to his limbs, and the consequence was that he became paralysed
for the rest of his life, an affliction which he names at the beginning
of his famous romance.
The commune of Alonnes, from whence so many antique treasures are
derived, is about a league from Le Mans, and is looked upon with much
superstitious veneration by the inhabitants of the neighbouring
villages. Not only are fine Roman remains discovered there, but, by the
rude pottery continually turned up, it appears to have been a
considerable city of the Gauls; for the singular forms exhibited on
their vases and stones are altogether different from those of a more
refined people. To neither of these nations, however, was Alonnes
supposed to belong, but to one more powerful and mysterious still: no
other than the fairies, who may, even now, on moon-light nights, be seen
hovering round their _Tour aux fées_, of which a few stones alone
remain. A subterranean way (aqueduct) is supposed to have communicated
with the ancient castle; and no doubt its recesses are the scene of many
a midnight revel carried on by those unseen visitants of ruins.
Numerous baths of Roman construction have been found, and more yet
remains to be discovered. About fifty years since, some workmen making
excavations observed the opening of a covered way which they followed
for some distance, expecting to find treasure. They had not gone far,
when they were surprised by suddenly entering vast chambers, covered
with the remains of columns, vases, and ornamental architecture: instead
of continuing their search, they were seized with a panic, and fled from
the spot without attempting to penetrate further. If more valorous
seekers were to prosecute the adventure, at the spot where they left it,
no doubt very interesting discoveries might be made, which would repay
the attempt.
One of the chief heroes of Le Mans and Maine, and he who is the most
continually spoken of in its history, is Hélie de la Flèche. He was one
of the most generous and valiant knights of his time, and to him his
supine and cowardly cousin, Hugues, tired of the frequent struggles
which he found it necessary to sustain in order to keep in possession of
his rights, resigned the dominion of Maine, much to the delight of the
Manceaux, who received their young lord with open arms. Hélie showed
himself a friend to his new people, and entered into an alliance with
Geoffrey IV. Count of Anjou. After which, being ready to set out for the
crusades, according to the fashion of the times, and finding that Robert
of Normandy had already departed, he went to Rouen, to William Rufus,
in the hope of obtaining his acknowledgment of his rights to the county
of Maine. He, however, failed in this expectation, and put himself in
array to contend with this formidable adversary, in whose alliance was a
very unpleasant and dangerous neighbour, the perfidious Count of Belesme
and Baron du Saosnois, Robert II., called Talvas, generally known as
_Robert le Diable_. This treacherous prince laid a snare for Hélie, into
which he fell, and he delivered him up to William Rufus.
Kept prisoner at Rouen, and fearing that the Count of Anjou would enter
into an accommodation with William Rufus, which would compromise the
interests of his patrimony of La Flèche, which he knew had long been
coveted by those of Anjou, Hélie made up his mind to treat for his
ransom, by which he consented to give up the province of Maine to the
King of England, and to do him homage for his lordship of La Flèche, as
his father had done before. He obtained his liberty at this price, and
was brought before William, who ordered the chains with which he was
bound to be removed, as Wace relates--
"Dunc le fist li Reis amener
Et des _buies_ le fist oster."
He then offered to attach himself to William, as one of his most
faithful officers; but this being declined, murmurs escaped him, which
roused the king's anger, as the old chronicler has recounted.
"Count Hélie's steed he ordered forth,
With housings dight of regal worth;
'Mount straight, sir knight, and go,' he cried;
'Wherever it may list you ride,
But guard you well another tide.
My prison shall be deep and strong
If you again my thrall should be,
And trust me 'twill be late and long
Ere, once my captive, you are free.
In future, Count, I bid you know
I am your ever-ready foe;
Where'er you go, it shall not lack,
But William shall be on your back!'
I know not if Count Hélie found
Words to reply. He turned him round,
And little he delayed, I ween,
To make their distance great between!"
As might be anticipated, Hélie was not content to sit down patiently
with so bad a bargain as he had made. He had yielded his right in Le
Maine, and by resisting he placed himself in the position of a rebel to
his liege lord; nevertheless, scarcely had William returned to England,
thinking himself secure, than Hélie began to make a struggle to recover
what he had lost. No sooner, however, did William hear of his proceeding
than he hurried back from England, and in an incredibly short space of
time was at Le Mans: he found his vassal more powerful than he expected,
and much violence ensued. Obliged to return to England, not long after
this his sudden death ensued. Hélie, aided by the Count of Angers,
attacked and took possession of Le Mans, and besieged the castle: two
Norman officers in command had, in the meantime, received orders from
the new King of England to treat with Hélie; and when he presented
himself before the walls, they requested him to clothe himself in his
white tunic, which had gained him the surname of the White Knight. With
this he complied; and on his re-appearance before them, they received
him with smiles, saying,--
"Sir White Knight, you may now rejoice to good purpose, for we have
reached the term so long desired by you; and if you have a good sum of
money for us, we will make a good bargain. If we chose to resist we have
still arms, provisions, and valour; but the truth is, we want a
legitimate master to whom we can dedicate our service. For which reason,
noble warrior, knowing your merit, we elect and constitute you
henceforth Count of Le Mans."
Hélie, after this, took part against Robert and the Count of Mortain at
the battle of Tinchebray, where he commanded an army composed of Bretons
and Manceaux. He distinguished himself wherever he appeared in battle,
and died in 1110, and was buried in the abbey church of La Couture,
where his tomb was formerly seen. He was the hero of his age. Pious,
loyal, and valiant, his device expressed his qualities:--"No glory
without honour, and no honour without glory." He was active, vigilant,
and just, says one of his biographers, as great in his reverses as in
his successes; he added to the merit of a great captain the talents of a
sound politician, and the enlightened mind of a statesman; but his
highest praise is that he merited and obtained the affection of his
vassals.
His memory was long cherished in Le Mans, even till the events of the
great Revolution swept away all records but that of the crimes then
committed.