PORTS--DIVONA--BORDEAUX--QUINCONCES--ALLÉES--FIRST
IMPRESSION--CHARTRONS--BAHUTIER--BACALAN--QUAYS--WHITE
GUIDE--S^{TE} CROIX--ST. MICHEL--ST. ANDRÉ--PRETTY FIGURE--PRETTY
WOMEN--PALAIS GALLIEN--BLACK PRINCE'S SON EDWARD.
TAVERNIER has said, in speaking of the most celebrated ports, "three
only can enter into comparison, one with the other, for their beauty of
situation and their _form of a rainbow_, viz., Constantinople, Goa, and
Bordeaux." The poet, Chapelle, thus names this celebrated city:--
Nous vîmes au milieu des eaux
Devant nous paraître Bordeaux,
Dont le port en croissant resserre
Plus de barques et de vaisseaux
Qu'aucun autre port de la terre.
The commendatory address to his native city, by the poet, Ausonius, is
often quoted; and has been finely rendered by M. Jouannet, whom I
venture to translate.
I was to blame; my silence far too long
Has done thy fame, my noble country, wrong:
Thou, Bacchus-loved, whose gifts are great and high,
Thy gen'rous sons, thy senate, and thy sky,
Thy genius and thy grace shall Mem'ry well
Above all cities, to thy glory, tell.
And shall I coldly from thy arms remove,
Blush for my birth-place, and disown my love?
As tho' thy son, in Scythian climes forlorn,
Beneath the Bear with all its snows was born.
No, thy Ausonius, Bordeaux! hails thee yet;
Nor, as his cradle, can thy claims forget.
Dear to the gods thou art, who freely gave
Their blessings to thy meads, thy clime, thy wave:
Gave thee thy flow'rs that bloom the whole year through,
Thy hills of shade, thy prospects ever new,
Thy verdant fields, where Winter shuns to be,
And thy swift river, rival of the sea.
Shall I describe thy mighty walls revered,--
Thy ramparts, by the god of battle feared,--
Thy gates,--thy towers, whose frowning crests assay
Amidst the clouds towards Heaven to force a way?
How well I love thy beauties to behold,
Thy noble monuments, thy mansions bold,
Thy simple porticos, thy perfect plan,
Thy squares symmetrical: their space, their span.
And that proud port which Neptune's lib'ral hand
Bade from thy startled walls its arms expand,
And show the way to Fortune! Twice each day
Bringing his floods all crown'd with glittering spray,
And foaming from the oar, while, gleaming white,
A host of vessels gaily sweep in sight.
It would appear by this description, that Bordeaux was, under its Roman
masters, a very magnificent city; the famous _Divona_, the beneficent
fountain, so celebrated by Ausonius, has left no trace of its existence,
and has employed the learned long to account for its disappearance.
Probably it was from some plan of Roman Bordeaux, that the present new
town was built; for the above lines might almost describe it as it now
stands: certainly, except the gigantic towers, the old city has no claim
to praise for wide streets, fine houses, porticos, or symmetrical
squares; probably, the architects of the Middle Ages destroyed its
_perfect plan_, and swept away most of the beauties and grandeur which
inspired the muse of the classic minstrel.
Like most pompous descriptions, this was, perhaps, overdrawn at the time
as much as, it appeared to me, the accounts of modern travellers have
exaggerated the effect of a first arrival by water at Bordeaux.
As Bordeaux is approached, the banks on one side become more
picturesque, and at Lormont, where was once an extensive monastery, the
scenery is fine: its promise is, however, forgotten by degrees, and I
was surprised not to see any fine houses on the banks, as I had
understood was the case. The few that are seen have a slovenly,
neglected appearance, by no means announcing the splendours and riches
of the great mercantile city we had now nearly reached. Paltry
wine-houses, with shabby gardens, border the river, and flat meadows and
reclaimed marshes give a meagre effect to the whole scene.
Mast after mast now, however, began to appear, and in a short time we
were steaming along between a forest of vessels of all nations, the
reading of whose names not a little amused us as we hurried by them.
English, Russian, Dutch, French, succeeded each other; the _coup d'oeil_
was extremely imposing, and the long wide quays, which seemed to know no
end, announced a city of great importance. The small steamer continued
its way, more fortunate than that which arrives from England, which,
from its size, cannot go far up the shallow river, and stops half a
league from the town at a faubourg called Barcalan; but we were enabled,
from our comparative insignificance, to reach to the very finest point
of Bordeaux, and land at the foot of the grand promenade _Des
Quinconces_--the glory of the Garonne.
The extreme flatness of the town, built as it is on marshes, takes from
its effect; and I was surprised that it struck me as so little deserving
its great reputation, compared, as it has been, to Genoa, Venice, and
Constantinople, and imagining, as I did, that I should see its buildings
rising in a superb amphitheatre from the waves, and crowning heights,
like those we had passed, with towers and spires. The quays, also, had
been so much vaunted to me that I expected much finer mansions on their
sides; whereas they are principally warehouses, and those not very
neatly kept: there was little of the bustle and stir of business which
one, accustomed to London, may picture: all seemed sufficiently quiet
and still, except the clamour of the commissioners, who contended for
the possession of the passengers in our vessel, whose arrival in this
commercial port made much more stir than seemed reasonable in so great a
city.
The _immense_ space of the Quinconces passed, we crossed an _immense_
street to an _immense_ irregular square, from whence lead _immensely_
wide _cours_ in various directions; and we stood before one of the
largest theatres in one of the widest spaces I ever saw in a town: here,
after much contention with our vociferous attendants, we resolved to
pause, choosing the hotel the nearest to this magnificent building, and
which promised to be most airy and quiet; the river running at the
bottom of the long street in which it was situated, the theatre before
it, and the great square left at its side, with all its rattle of carts
and wheelbarrows, and screaming commissioners. In the handsome, clean
Hôtel de Nantes we were accordingly deposited, and had reason to
congratulate ourselves on our choice while we staid at Bordeaux.
It appears almost heresy to every one in France to find fault with
Bordeaux, which it is the custom to consider all that is grand,
magnificent, and beautiful; yet, if I were to be silent as to my
impressions, I should feel that I was scarcely honest. We stayed nearly
a fortnight at Bordeaux, and, in the course of that time, had a variety
of weather, good and bad; so that I think we could not be influenced by
the gloom which at first, unexpectedly, damp, chill and uncongenial
skies spread around. A few days were very brilliant, but still the
waters of the Garonne kept their thick orange hue, without brilliancy or
life, and this circumstance alone suffices to prevent the great city
from deserving to be called attractive. The quays on its banks are
extremely wide; but, except for a short space on each side the
Quinconces, the houses which border them are no finer nor cleaner than
in any other town in France; the pavement is very bad near them, and
there are no _trottoirs_ in this part: incumbrances of all sorts cover
the quays in every direction, so that free walking is impossible; and
the irregularity of the pavement next the river is so great that it is
constantly necessary to resume the rugged path on the stones, among the
bullock-carts and market-people, who frequent this part in swarms at all
times of the day. The bridge is extraordinarily long, over the
clay-coloured river, but appears too narrow for its great length, and
the entrances to it struck me as poor and mean. From the centre is the
best view of the town; but, though very _singular_, from the strange
shapes of its towers and spires, the mass of dark irregular buildings it
presents cannot be called fine. The hills on the opposite side relieve
the extreme flatness; but there is no remarkable effect of the
picturesque amongst them.
The boast of Bordeaux is its wide _allées_, which are avenues of trees,
bordered with uniform houses of great size; its enormous square next the
river surrounded with a grove of trees; its theatre, certainly
magnificent, and its wide _spaces_, not to be called _squares_. The new
town is _all space_; and if in space consists grandeur, it cannot be
denied that there is a great deal of it; but, to me, these wide,
rambling places appeared ungraceful and slovenly, wet and exposed in
winter, and glaring and dusty in summer. The splendid theatre stands in
one corner of a great space, from which several wide streets diverge:
some old and dark, some new. The best street, the Rue du Chapeau Rouge,
which is of great width, runs along on one side; it is short, but
continued, with another name, across the Place, and leads from one end
of this part of the town to the other. There is a good deal of
foot-pavement in this street, and here are the smartest shops; but,
compared with Paris or London, or any great English town, they are
contemptible.
The fine Allées de Tourny traverse the town in the form of a star, and
the rays meet in a great square,--the Place Dauphine--which, if cleaner
and less neglected, would be extremely magnificent. The Place Tourny and
the Place Richelieu are also fine openings; and there are said to be no
less than forty public squares altogether, which must give a good
circulation to the air in most parts.
The old town is, however, close, dirty, damp and dingy, beyond all
others that I have ever seen, and, in common with all the _new_ part of
Bordeaux, the worst paved, perhaps, of any in France. Here it is crowded
enough, and forms a singular contrast with the deserted appearance of
the gigantic squares in the sister town.
Nevertheless, although I am by no means able to agree in attributing
extraordinary beauty to Bordeaux, there is no denying that there is much
to be astonished at in its magnitude, and to congratulate its
inhabitants upon, in the facilities afforded them of enjoying the air in
streets which would be shady, from the trees on each side, if they were
not so wide; in alleys and walks apparently interminable, where the
whole population can promenade, if they please, without appearing
crowded; in squares where they may lose themselves; and the most
magnificent theatre in Europe, which they generally neglect for several
smaller in other parts of the town.
Still it appears to me impossible to forget that Bordeaux is built on a
marsh, and is surrounded by immense marshes, for leagues; and that, go
out of it which way you will, there is no fine country nor any agreeable
views. All its alleys and gardens are flat and formal, and all in the
midst of the town itself, surrounded by colossal houses, and only
bounded by a thick clayey river, which it is unpleasing for the eye to
rest upon.
The sight of several of the most admired and important towns in France,
has reconciled me, in a singular degree, with that of Tours, whose fame
appeared to me, when I first saw it, to be undeserved. I judged, as one
accustomed to English splendour, and English neatness, and I scarcely
gave Tours all the credit it deserved. When I compare the clear, rapid,
sparkling Loire--shallow though it be--with the ugly waters of the
sluggish Garonne, I feel that it is indeed superior to most other French
rivers; and when I recollect the long, broad, extensive street which
divides Tours into two parts, is paved throughout, and connects it with
a bridge of noble proportions and most splendid approach, I am not
surprised that Tours is so much the object of a Frenchman's pride; and I
confess, that, if I had seen it after the boasted city of Bordeaux, its
river, and its bridge, I should have found little to find fault with;
for though it lies in a plain, it is not a marsh; and though it is
glaring and flat, it is dry and sandy, and not damp and unwholesome.
Bordeaux is--notwithstanding that it failed to impress me with a sense
of admiration of its _beauty_--full of interest in every way, and worthy
of the most minute inspection and examination. We scarcely neglected a
single street, of all its mazes, and scarcely left unvisited a single
monument. As in all other French towns, building is actively going on,
and new public works are in progress: some on a very grand scale. The
antique buildings, so curious from their history, have, in spite of
repeated wars and the efforts of time, preserved a great deal of their
original appearance, and some of them are as fine as any to be found in
France. Amongst these, is the Portal of St. Seurin, and the façade of
St. Michel and St. André.
Bordeaux is a city which seems to belong to two periods, totally unlike
each other. The old town, full of old houses--one of which, called _Le
Bahutier_, is a specimen of others--is an historical monument of the
Middle Ages, while the new is an epitome of La Jeune France, with all
its ambitious aspirations, its grand conceptions, and its failures.
There is no attempt, in the restoration of French towns in general, to
bring the new style as near the old as possible; on the contrary, it
would seem that modern architects were only glad of the vicinity of
antique fabrics, in order that they might show how superior was their
own skill, and how far they could deviate from the original model. In
Bordeaux, this is very striking. It appears as if the new city ought to
have been built by itself on another site, leaving the gloomy recesses
of the ancient city to themselves, for all that now surrounds it is
incongruous and inharmonious.
Taken by itself, modern Bordeaux is to be admired; but, backed and
flanked as it is by a dense mass of blackened buildings belonging to
another age, it is singularly out of keeping.
All the way from the great square of the Quinconces, with its Rostral
pillars, to the port of Bacalan, a series of wide quays border the broad
river; the Quai des Chartrons is considered one of the finest in France,
and, for commercial purposes, no doubt is so. Some parts of these quays
are bordered with trees, and, from the river, have a good effect. The
whole of this faubourg is on a grand scale. The appellation of
Chartrons, is said to be derived from Chartreux, a convent of that order
having existed here. The inhabitants of this quarter call themselves
_Chartronnais_, and a remarkable difference is supposed to exist between
them, both in countenance and manners, and those of the other
Bordelais. It is a common expression to say, _on va Chartronner_, when a
person takes a walk along the quay. We had occasion to do so several
times, as we were expecting friends from England, who were to arrive by
the packet, not long established between Southampton and Bordeaux, and,
on one occasion, on reaching the village of Bacalan, we hoped to be able
to while away the time of waiting, by a walk into fields, or by some
path near the river; but our hopes were in vain; there seem never to be
any walks or paths in fields, lanes, or by rivers, in France, except in
Normandy; no one cares, or is expected to care, for anything but the
high road, or the public promenade. The fields are generally marshy, and
the borders of the streams impracticable; except, therefore, one has a
taste for rough pavement, or can admire long ranges of warehouses, of
great size, the best way is to remain stationary, as we did, if
necessity calls one to Bacalau, seated on felled trees, under the shade
of others growing by the river, careless of inodorous vicinity or dust.
We were surprised to find that the expected arrival of the packet from
England created no sort of interest in any one's mind in Bordeaux; but
this fact was explained, when we heard that it was a private undertaking
of English merchants, which, as it interfered with the vessels to
Havre, was by no means popular, and was little likely, in the end, to
answer. The same thing has been several times attempted in Bordeaux, but
has always been abandoned, not meeting with encouragement, although it
would seem to be a great convenience to persons visiting the South of
France. It was not thought that the steam-boat we were expecting would
make many more voyages, and, to judge by the small number of passengers
who arrived by it, there was little reason to expect that it could be
made to answer.
In order to become well acquainted with the quays of Bordeaux, we made a
pilgrimage along their whole extent, by following the line, on the other
side of the Quinconces, as far as the old church of Sainte Croix--one of
the most ancient, as well as most curious, in Bordeaux. Our remarks, and
frequent pauses, on our way, as we passed the ends of different streets
which we destined for future explorings, attracted the attention of a
person whom, as he had an intelligent face, we addressed, begging him to
direct us in our way to Sainte Croix, as we began to think it could not
be so very far from the point where we, started, and we feared we might
have to retrace our steps over the uneasy pavement. Our new acquaintance
assured us, however, we were in the right road, and with great zeal
began to describe to us how many more ends of streets we must pass
before we should reach the desired spot. His costume was somewhat
singular, and we might have taken him for a character in the
Carnival,--if it had been the proper season--or one _voué au blanc_, for
he was entirely dressed in white, cap and all, following, we presume,
the calling of a baker or a mason. He expressed his pleasure that we
thought it worth while to go and see _his_ poor old church of Sainte
Croix, for he came from that _quartier_, and had a fondness for it: "It
is past contradiction," said he, "the most ancient and beautiful in
Bordeaux, though I say it, and deserves every attention, though it has
been dreadfully battered about at different times. People have tried to
run it down, and have asserted that the sculpture on its façade,
represented _des bétises_; but all that has now disappeared. It was
built in the time of the Pagans, when the Protestant religion--to
which," he continued, bowing, "no doubt you belong--was unknown, and
when they were ignorant, and did many improper things. But, I assure
you, now, you will find the old arches very interesting; the church has
been restored, and is in very good condition. But that I have pressing
business another way, I should have made it a duty and a pleasure to
have been your guide, and pointed out the beauties of the old place to
you; but, as I cannot do so, I recommend you to the politeness of any
one, on your route, for all will consider themselves honoured in
indicating to you the exact position of the church, which is still at
some distance."
So saying, our white spirit, pulling off his nightcap again, and, with
many bows, disappeared down a dark alley, carrying his refinement to the
doors of his customers. He must have been a good specimen of the
urbanity and good manners of his class in Bordeaux, and certainly no
finished cavalier could have expressed himself better. We had not gone
far before he re-appeared, to beg us not to forget, on our return, to
visit the church of St. Michel. We promised to neglect nothing, and
parted.
Sainte Croix does indeed deserve a visit from the curious, though the
lovers of neatness would be somewhat shocked at the extraordinary state
of filth and slovenliness in which the area of ruin where it stands is
left. To look on either side of the path which leads to the façade would
cause feelings of disgust almost fatal to even antiquarian zeal, and the
wretched dilapidation of the space formerly occupied by the immense
convent once flourishing here cannot be described. The Saracens, it
seems, destroyed great part of the church and convent, which dates from
the seventh century, or earlier, and one would imagine it had remained
in the same state of ruin ever since; though it has probably been
rebuilt and re-destroyed fifty tunes.
Much still remains, in spite of all the efforts of time and force, to
make Sainte Croix an object of singular interest; some of the circular
arches are quite perfect, with their zig-zag ornaments, as freshly cut
and sharp as possible; many of the pillars of the interior remain in
their original state--huge blocks out of which the columns have not yet
been carved, in the same manner as those at St. Alban's Abbey, in
Hertfordshire. Some of the string-courses are interrupted, being adorned
with foliage and other ornaments to a certain distance, and then
stopping suddenly, as if an incursion of new barbarians had frightened
the workmen from their labours. The space of the church is extremely
fine, the roof lofty, and the whole imposing; what is left of the
exterior of the principal entrance is very beautiful; but the carved
figures round the door-way are scarcely distinguishable; many of them
were, it is said, removed not long since, having been considered
objectionable, and not calculated to inspire piety in the beholders.
All the tombs and relics of this famous abbey have disappeared, and no
one can now read the epitaph on St. Maumolin, Abbé of Fleury, by whose
zeal the bones of St. Benedict were brought to Sainte Croix, and who was
of singular piety; here he was buried, says his chronicler, at the age
of _three hundred and seventy years_.
From Sainte Croix we directed our steps towards St. Michel, whose giant
tower had attracted us on our way, but, deterred by the extraordinary
filthiness and closeness of the nearest streets leading to it, we chose
a very circuitous route, outside the former enclosure of the town; and,
by this means, came unexpectedly on a large building of very imposing
appearance, which we found was the Abattoir: we did not care to linger
long near this place, but escaped, as soon as we could, from the droves
of bullocks which we met patiently plodding their way to their doom. For
a considerable distance we followed the walls, which had all the
appearance of being of Roman construction; and, dirty as our walk was,
we could not but prefer the free air in this part to the interior; we
had frequently occasion to ask our way, and invariably met with marked
civility; every one leaving their work to run forward, and point out to
us the nearest point we wished to reach. It appeared as if we should
never gain the entrance to this immense town again, so many streets and
alleys and gates did we pass; at length we came to one which was to lead
us down to St. Michel. Long boulevards did we traverse in this
direction, handsome and open; and in one part we were followed for some
time by a regiment going out to exercise with one of the finest bands I
ever heard, which, echoing along the extended parade, had a very
splendid effect.
We reached at length the church of St. Michel, the caverns of the tower
of which are remarkable for their power of preserving the bodies buried
in them from putrefaction; ranges of skeletons, still covered with the
dried flesh, hideous and fearful, scowl on the intruder from their
niches, and present a most awful spectacle. The belfry has often served,
in times of civil war, as a beacon-tower, dominating, as it does, the
whole country and town; it is of the most marvellously-gigantic
construction, and appears to have been originally highly ornamented. It
stands isolated from the church itself, whose façades present the most
exquisite beauties; and are singularly preserved at every entrance. The
principal façade, however, is the most perfect as well as the most
beautiful; its rose window, its ranges of saints, its pinnacles, and
wreathed arches, are as much to be admired as any in France, and rivet
the attention by the delicacy and minuteness of their details. Its date
is of the twelfth century, and the utmost taste and cost were bestowed
on its construction; although, on the side of the tower there is a space
filled with trees, and unencumbered, yet it is to be regretted that, on
the side next the chief entrance, the church is blocked up with the
houses of a dark, narrow, and filthy street, so that its beauties are
sadly hid. Surely it would have been worth while to have cleared away
the encumbrances which surround this fine building, so as to show it
well, instead of much that has been done in the way of addition in the
new town.
The only comparatively modern church in Bordeaux, which is much vaunted,
is Notre Dame, erected in 1701; it is lofty, and large, and of Grecian
architecture; but did not impress me with any feelings of admiration;
and it stands at the end of a narrow street in a corner, shown to little
more advantage than the neglected St. Michel itself.
Before the cathedral of St. André, which we next visited, a space has
been cleared away; and at St. Seurin, also, where a grove of trees has
been planted, which adds greatly to the venerable appearance of the
building.
St. André is of the thirteenth century, and is wonderfully magnificent
and curious. Its tower, called De Payberland, stands alone, like that of
St. Michel; and is only less stupendous than that wonder of
architecture. The size and height of the aisles and choir are amazing,
and the nave of the choir is bold and grand in the extreme. The two
spires of the southern portal are of great beauty, and the whole fabric
is full of interest, though scarcely a tomb remains. There are, however,
several exquisitely-carved canopies where tombs have been, and, standing
close to one of the large pillars behind the choir, is a group which
excited my utmost interest; it seems to represent the Virgin and St.
Anne, but might have another meaning. A figure in a nun's habit stands
close against a pillar in a niche, and by her side is a little girl of
about eleven years of age, in the full costume of the thirteenth
century, one of whose hands touches her robe, and who appears under her
protection. This charming little figure represents what might well be a
young princess in flowing robes; the upper one is gathered up, and its
folds held under one arm: her waist is encircled by a sash, the ends of
which are confined by tassels. A necklace of beads is round her neck;
the body of her gown is cut square. Her hair hangs in long thick tresses
down her back, and over her shoulder, and is wreathed with jewels. A
small cap, _delicately plaited_, covers the fore-part of her head, and a
rich wide band of pearls and gems surmounts it. The features are very
youthful, but with a grave majesty in their expression; the attitude is
queenly, and the whole statue full of grace and simplicity. The nun has
a melancholy, benevolent cast of features, inferior in style to the
little princess, but extremely pleasing.
I imagined this to be the effigy of Elionore, the young heiress of
Aquitaine, under the care of a patron saint; and, thinking the pretty
group was in marble, had visions of the queen of Henry II. having
erected these figures in her life-time, in the cathedral which she
built; but, on requesting a person, on whose judgment I could rely, to
examine it for me, he discovered that the whole was _only plaster_; and,
consequently, as he added in the language of an antiquarian,
"presenting no possible interest." I gave up my theory with reluctance;
although I ought to have been certain that, had any such statue existed
of her time, it was more likely to be found amongst the rubbish of the
ruined cloisters, where many are still seen, than in the body of the
cathedral.
Close to the group is a picture--at the altar of _Sainte Rote_, who also
wears a nun's habit. Probably my favourite has some connexion with her
legend.
The once fine cloisters of the Cathedral are in ruins. A few door-ways
remain, which seem of an earlier date than the church itself; and some
very antique tombs, with effigies, are thrown into corners totally
uncared for. If these were restored to some of the empty niches they
would be more in place.
At one end of the Cathedral, under the organ-loft, are some very curious
bas-reliefs, in which there seems a singular jumble of sacred and
profane history. They are very well executed, and worthy of minute
attention. An arcade of the time of the Renaissance, extremely
beautiful, but incongruous, encloses these carvings.
But, perhaps, the most remarkable of all the churches of Bordeaux is St.
Seurin: its portico is one of the richest and most elaborate I ever saw,
and the beauty and delicacy of its adornments are beyond description.
The church itself, except this precious _morceau_, is not so interesting
as others; although here once reposed the body of the famous paladin,
Rolando, whose body was brought, by Charlemagne, from Blaye. There, on
his tomb, rested his wondrous sword, Durandal, which was afterwards
transported to Roquemador en Quercy. This was the weapon with which he,
at one stroke, clove the rock of the Pyrenees which bears his name.[13]
His tomb and his bones must be sought elsewhere now, with those of many
other of the knights who fell at Roncesvalles' fight. Where his famous
horn was deposited after it came from Blaye does not appear.
[Footnote 13: See description of _the Breche_, in the second volume of
this work.]
Another long ramble, which exhibited to us more of the curiosities of
Bordeaux, brought us to the Roman building which still rises, in ruins,
in one of the distant quarters of the town, and is called the Palais
Gallien. This fabric has a singular appearance, its strong arch, which
still serves as a passage from one street to another, its thick walls of
brick and small stone, its loops, through which the blue sky shines, and
its ivy-covered masses make it very imposing. The learned are divided as
to its date: Ausonius does not name it in his enumeration of the works
of Bordeaux; but its Roman origin, of whatever age, is undoubted. It
stands in a state of squalid neglect and dirt, sharing the fate of most
of the antiquities of Bordeaux. If the space were cleared, and the
surrounding huts removed, a decent walk made, and the whole enclosed,
this monument of former days might form an attractive object: as it is,
the struggle to escape entanglement in every sort of dirt, while
fighting one's way to the ruined amphitheatre, is almost too
disheartening. When these circumstances accompany a visit to antiquities
in out-of-the-way places, such as Saintes, and distant and
anti-commercial towns, such as Poitiers, one has no reproach to make to
the inhabitants; but what is to be said for rich and flourishing
Bordeaux,--the rival of Paris,--when she allows her monuments to remain
in so degraded a state!
One of the glories of Bordeaux is having been the birth-place of
Montaigne, whose tomb is in the church of the Feuillants, now the
college. There are two inscriptions,--one Greek and one Latin; both of
which appear unsuitable and extravagant.
Another great man, born near Bordeaux, was Montesquieu: to see whose
château of La Brède, about four leagues off, is one of the usual
excursions of tourists; but we were prevented visiting it by bad
weather.
Whatever may be the effect of Bordeaux, as a city, one charm it has
which can hardly be disputed, namely, the remarkable beauty of its young
women of the _grisette_ class, and the peculiar grace with which they
wear the handkerchief, which it is usual to wreath round the head in a
manner to display its shape to the greatest advantage, and which is tied
with infinite taste; showing the form of the large knot of hair behind,
which falls low upon the neck, in the most classical style. They have
generally good complexions, rich colour, fine dark eyes and very long
eye-lashes, glossy dark hair, and graceful figures. As they flit and
glide about the streets,--and you come upon them at every turn,--in
their dark dresses and shawls, with only a lively colour in the stripe
of their pretty head-dress, a stranger cannot fail to be exceedingly
struck with their countenances and air. Black and yellow predominate in
the hues; but sometimes a rich chocolate colour, with some other tint
rather lighter, relieves the darkness of the rest of the costume. A gold
chain is worn round the throat, with a golden cross attached; and a
handsome broach generally fastens the well-made gown, with its
neatly-plaited collar, rather more open in front than is usual in
France. They are said to be great coquettes; and certainly worthy of the
admiration which they are sure to attract.
When one observes how flat and marshy all the ground about Bordeaux is,
even now, one need not be surprised at the illness it must have
engendered in the time of the Black Prince, nor that his health suffered
so fatally from its influence. He appears to have deferred his departure
from this uncongenial climate as long as possible, until the loss of his
eldest son, Prince Edward, at the interesting age of six years, decided
him to trust it no longer.
The poor child died the beginning of January 1371, to the extreme grief
of his parents; "as," says the chronicle, "might well be." It was then
recommended to the Prince of Wales and Aquitaine that he should return
to England, in order that, in his native country and air, he might
recover his health, which was fast failing. This counsel was given him
by the surgeons and physicians who understood his malady. The prince was
willing to follow their advice, and said that he should be glad to
return. Accordingly he arranged all his affairs, and prepared to leave.
"When," says the chronicler, "the said prince had settled his departure,
and his vessel was all ready in the Garonne, at the harbour of Bordeaux,
and he was in that city with madame his wife, and young Richard their
son, he sent a special summons to all the barons and knights of Gascony,
Poitou, and all of whom he was sire and lord. When they were all come
and assembled in a chamber in his presence, he set forth to them how he
had been their father, and had maintained them in peace as long as he
could, and in great prosperity and power, against their neighbours, and
that he left them only and returned to England in the hope of recovering
his health, of which he had great want. He therefore entreated them, of
their love, that they would serve and obey the Duke of Lancaster his
brother, as they had obeyed him in time past: for they would find him a
good knight, and courteous, and willing to grant all, and that in their
necessities he would afford them aid and counsel. The barons of
Aquitaine, Gascony, Poitou, and Saintonge, agreed to this proposition;
and swore, by their faith, that he should never find them fail in fealty
and homage to the said duke; but that they would show him all love,
service, and obedience; and they swore the same to him, being there
present, and each of them _kissed him on the mouth_.
"These ordinances settled, the prince made no long sojourn in the city
of Bordeaux, but embarked on board his vessel, with madame, the
princess, and their son, and the Earl of Cambridge, and the Earl of
Pembroke: and in his fleet were five hundred men-at-arms, besides
archers. They sailed so well that, without peril or harm, they reached
Hampton. There they disembarked, and remained to refresh for three days;
and then mounted on horseback--_the prince in his litter_--and travelled
till they came to Windsor, where the king then was; who received his
children _very sweetly_, and informed himself, by them, of the state of
Guienne. And when the prince had remained a space with the king, he took
leave and went to his hotel at Berkhampstead, about _twenty leagues_
from the city of London."