Concerning Caen and the Coast Towards Trouville
Caen, like mediaeval London, is famed for its bells and its smells. If you
climb up to any height in the town you will see at once that the place is
crowded with the spires and towers of churches; and, if you explore any of
the streets, you are sure to discover how rudimentary are the notions of
sanitation in the historic old city. If you come to Caen determined to
thoroughly examine all the churches, you must allow at least two or three
days for this purpose, for although you might endeavour to “do” the place
in one single day, you would remember nothing but the fatigue, and the
features of all the churches would become completely confused.
My first visit to Caen, several years ago, is associated with a day of
sight-seeing commenced at a very early hour. I had been deposited at one of
the quays by the steamer that had started at sunrise and had slowly glided
along the ten miles of canal from Ouistreham, reaching its destination at
about five o’clock. The town seemed thoroughly awake at this time, the
weather being brilliantly fine. White-capped women were everywhere to be
seen sweeping the cobbled streets with their peculiarly fragile-looking
brooms. It was so early by the actual time, however, that it seemed wise to
go straight to the hotel and to postpone the commencement of sight-seeing
until a more rational hour. My rooms at the hotel, however, were not yet
vacated, so that it was impossible to go to my bedroom till eight o’clock.
The hotel courtyard, though picturesque, with its three superimposed
galleries and its cylindrical tower containing the staircase, was not, at
this hour in the morning at least, a place to linger in. It seemed
therefore the wisest plan to begin an exploration of some of the adjoining
streets to fill the time. After having seen the exterior of three or four
churches, the interiors of some others; after having explored a dozen
curious courtyards and the upper part of the town, where the Chateau
stands, the clocks began to strike seven, although to me it seemed like
noon. By half-past eight the afternoon seemed well advanced, and when
dejeuner made its appearance at the hotel it seemed as though the day would
never cease. I had by this time seen several more churches and interesting
old buildings, and my whole senses had become so jaded that I would
scarcely have moved a yard to have seen the finest piece of architecture in
the whole of Normandy. The circumstances of this day, were, no doubt,
exceptional, but I mention them as a warning to those who with a pathetic
conscientiousness endeavour to see far more than they can possibly
comprehend in the space of a very few hours. It would be far better to
spend one’s whole time in the great church of the Abbaye aux Hommes, and
photograph in one’s mind the simplicity of the early Norman structure, than
to have a confused recollection of this, St Pierre, the church of the
Abbaye aux Darnes and half a dozen others.
The galleried hotel I have mentioned was known as the Hotel St Barbe. It is
now converted into a warehouse, but no one need regret this for it was more
pleasant to look at than to actually stay in. I am glad, personally, to
have had this experience; to have seen the country carts, with the blue
sheep-skins over the horse collars, drive into the courtyard, and to have
watched the servants of the hotel eating their meals at a long table in the
open air. There was a Spanish flavour about the place that is not found in
the modern hotels.
There is no town I have ever known more confusing in its plan than Caen,
and, although I have stayed there for nearly a week on one occasion, I am
still a little uncertain in which direction to turn for the castle when I
am at the church of St Jean. The streets, as a rule, are narrow and have a
busy appearance that is noticeable after the quiet of Bayeux. The clatter
and noise of the omnibuses has been subdued in recent years by the
introduction of electric trams which sweep round the corners with a
terrifying speed, for after a long sojourn in the country and quiet little
towns one loses the agility and wariness of the town-bred folk.
Caen, of course, does not compete with Lisieux for its leading position as
the possessor of the largest number of old houses, but it nevertheless can
show some quaint carved fronts in the Rue St Pierre and the narrow streets
adjoining. At the present time the marks of antiquity are being removed
from the beautiful renaissance courtyard of the Bourse near St Pierre. The
restoration has been going on for some years, and the steps that lead up to
the entrance in one corner of the quadrangle are no longer stained with the
blackish-green of a prolonged period of damp. But it is better, however,
that this sixteenth century house should assume a fictitious newness rather
than fall entirely into disrepair. It was originally the house of one of
the wealthy families of Caen named Le Valois, and was known as the Hotel
d’Escoville. Another splendid house is the Hotel de la Monnaie built by the
famous and princely merchant Etienne Duval, Sieur de Mondrainville, whose
great wealth enabled him to get sufficient supplies into Metz to make it
possible for the place to hold out during its siege in 1553. In his most
admirably written book “Highways and Byways in Normandy,” Mr Dearmer gives
an interesting sketch of this remarkable man whose success brought him
jealous enemies. They succeeded in bringing charges against him for which
he was exiled, and at another time he was imprisoned in the castle at Caen
until, with great difficulty, he had proved the baseness of the attacks
upon his character. Duval was over seventy when he died, being, like Job,
wealthy and respected, for he had survived the disasters that had fallen
upon him.
The gateway of the Chateau is the best and most imposing portion of the
fortifications of Caen. The castle being now used as barracks, visitors as
a rule are unable to enter, but as the gateway may be seen from outside the
deep moat, the rest of the place need not tantalise one. In William the
Conqueror’s time the castle was being built, and the town walls included
the two great abbeys for which Caen is chiefly famous. These two
magnificent examples of Norman architecture have been restored with great
thoroughness so that the marks of antiquity that one might expect are
entirely wanting in both buildings. The exterior of the great church of St
Etienne disappoints so many, largely from the fact that the gaunt west
front is the only view one really has of the building except from a
distance. Inside, services seem to go on at most times of the day, and when
you are quietly looking at the mighty nave with its plain, semicircular
arches and massive piers, you are suddenly startled by the entry from
somewhere of a procession of priests loudly singing some awe-inspiring
chant, the guttural tones of the singers echoing through the aisles.
Following the clerical party will come a rabble of nuns, children and
ordinary laity, and before you have scarcely had time to think a service
has commenced, people are kneeling, and if you do not make haste towards
the doors a priest will probably succeed in reaching you with a collecting
dish in which one is not inclined to place even a sou if the service has
hindered the exploration of the church. Owing to the perpetuation of an
error in some of the English guides to Normandy, it is often thought that a
thigh-bone of the founder of the abbey is still lying beneath the marble
slab in the sanctuary, but this is a great mistake, for that last poor
relic of William the Conqueror was lost during the Revolution. The whole
story of the death, the burial, and the destruction of the tomb and remains
of the founder of the abbey are most miserable and even gruesome. William
was at Rouen when he died, and we need scarcely remind ourselves of that
tragic scene discovered by the clergy when they came to the house not long
after the great man had expired. Every one of William’s suite had
immediately recognised the changed state of affairs now that the inflexible
will that had controlled the two kingdoms had been removed, and each,
concerned for himself, had betaken himself with indecent haste to England
or wherever his presence might be most opportune. In this way, there being
no one left to watch the corpse, the Archbishop of Rouen discovered that
the house and even the bed had been pillaged, so that the royal body was
lying in great disorder until reverently tended by a Norman gentleman named
Herluin. Having fulfilled William’s wishes and brought the remains to Caen,
a stately funeral was arranged. As the procession slowly passed through the
narrow streets, however, it was interrupted by an alarm of fire-some of the
wooden houses blazing fiercely just when the bier was passing. The flames
grew so quickly that in some danger the mournful procession was dispersed
and the coffin was only attended by a few monks when the gates of the
Abbaye aux Hommes were reached. Eventually the burial ceremonies were in
progress beside the open grave within the church, but another interruption
ensued. Scarcely had the Bishop of Evreux concluded his address when
everybody was startled at hearing the loud voice of Ascelin resounding
through the church. He was a well-known man, a burgher, and a possessor of
considerable wealth, and it was therefore with considerable anxiety that
the clergy heard his claim upon the ground in which they were about to bury
William. It was the actual site of a house that had belonged to Ascelin’s
father, for the dead king had shown no consideration to private claims when
he was building the great abbey to appease the wrath of the church. The
disturbance having been settled by the payment for the grave of a sum which
Ascelin was induced to accept, the proceedings were resumed. But then came
the worst scene of all, for it has been recorded that the coffin containing
the ponderous body of the king had not been made with sufficient strength,
and as it was being lowered into the grave, the boards gave way, and so
gruesome was the result that the church was soon emptied. It thus came
about that once more in the last phase of all William was deserted except
by a few monks.
The monument which was raised over the Conqueror’s grave, was, however, of
a most gorgeous character. It was literally encrusted with precious gems,
and it is known that enormous quantities of gold from the accumulated
stores of wealth which William had made were used by Otto the goldsmith
(sometimes known as Aurifaber) who was entrusted with the production of
this most princely tomb. Such a striking object as this could scarcely pass
through many centuries in safety, and we find that in the Huguenot wars of
the seventeenth century it was largely destroyed and the stone coffin was
broken open, the bones being scattered. We only know what became of a
thigh-bone which was somehow rescued by a monk belonging to the abbey. He
kept it for some time, and in 1642 it was replaced in a new, but much less
gorgeous tomb. About one hundred years later, it was moved to another part
of the church, but in the Revolution this third tomb was broken into, and
the last relic of the Conqueror was lost. Then after some years, the Prefet
of Calvados placed upon the site of the desecrated tomb the slab of black
marble that still marks the spot. The inscription reads “Hic sepultus est,
Invictissimus Guielmus Conquestor, Normanniæ Dux et Angliæ Rex, Hujusce
domus Conditor Qui obit anno MLXXXVII.”
When Lanfranc had been sent to the Pope by William with a view to making
some arrangement by which the King could retain his wife Matilda and at the
same time the good offices of the Church, his side of the bargain consisted
in undertaking to build two great abbeys at Caen, one for men and one for
women. The first we have already been examining, the other is at the
eastern side of the town on the hill beyond the castle. It is a more
completely Norman building than St Etienne, but its simple, semi-circular
arches and round-headed windows contrast strangely with the huge pontifical
canopy of draped velvet that is suspended above the altar, and very
effectually blocks the view of the Norman apse beyond. The smallness of the
windows throughout the building subdues the light within, and thus gives St
Trinité a somewhat different character to St Etienne. The capitals of the
piers of the arcade are carved with strange-looking monkeys and other
designs, and there are chevron mouldings conspicuous in the nave. The tomb
of Queen Mathilda is in the choir. Like that of her husband it has been
disturbed more than once, so that the marble slab on top is all that
remains of the original.
Opposite the Place Reine Mathilde stands the desecrated church of St
Gilles, one of the numerous beautiful buildings in Caen now in partial ruin
and occupied as warehouses, wine-vaults or workshops. They are all worth
looking for, and if possible examining inside as well as out, for they
include some beautiful flamboyant structures and others of earlier date,
such as St Nicholas, illustrated here, which in part dates from Norman
times. St Etienne le Vieux, quite close to the Abbaye aux Hommes, is a
beautiful building rich in elaborate carving and rows of gargoyles. It was
built in the early years of the fifteenth century in place of one which had
fallen into ruin when Henry V. besieged Caen. It is still unrestored, and
if you peep inside the open doors you will see the interior filled with
ladders, boxes, brooms, and a thousand odds and ends, this most beautiful
structure being used as a municipal workshop.
We have more than once referred to the church of St Pierre, but as yet we
have made no reference to its architecture. The tower and graceful spire
needs no detailed description, for it appears in the coloured illustration
adjoining, and from it one may see what a strikingly perfect structure this
is for such an early date as 1308. It is a marvel of construction, for the
spire within is hollow, and without any interior framework or supports at
all. Although it is so seemingly frail, it was used during the sixteenth
century for military purposes, having been selected as a good position for
firing upon the castle, and it naturally became a target for the guns
inside the fortress. You cannot now see the holes made by the cannon balls,
but although they were not repaired for many years the tower remained
perfectly stable, as a proof of the excellent work of Nicholas, the
Englishman who built it.
Unlike the church of the Abbaye aux Dames, St Pierre is brilliantly lit
inside by large, traceried windows that let in the light through their
painted glass. In the nave the roof is covered with the most elaborate
vaulting with great pendants dropping from the centre of each section; but
for the most crowded ornament one must examine the chancel and the chapels.
The church of St Jean is not conspicuous, but it is notable for two or
three features. The western tower is six and a half feet out of
perpendicular, the triforium has a noticeable balustrade running all round,
and the chancel is longer than the nave. St Sauveur, in the Rue St Pierre
is of the same period as St Jean, but its tower if it had been crocketed
would have very closely resembled that of St Pierre, and it is chiefly
notable for the fact that it is two churches thrown into one--that of St
Eustace being joined on to it.
Another feature of Caen that is often overlooked is the charm of its old
courtyards. Behind some of the rather plain stone fronts, the archways lead
into little paved quadrangles that have curious well-heads, rustic outside
staircases, and odd-shaped dormer windows on the steep roofs. One of these
courtyards behind a house in the Rue de Bayeux is illustrated here, but to
do justice to the quaintnesses that are to be revealed, it would have been
necessary to give several examples. In the Boulevard St Pierre, where the
pavements are shaded by pink horse chestnuts there stands the Tour le Roy.
It is the most noticeable remnant of the days when Caen was a walled and
strongly fortified city, but as you look at it to-day it seems too much
like a good piece of the sham antique to be found at large exhibitions. It
is the restoration that is at fault, and not the tower itself, which is
really old, and no doubt is in quiet rebellion at the false complexion it
is obliged to wear.
The view of Caen from across the race-course is a beautiful one, but under
some aspects this is quite eclipsed by the wonderful groupings of the
church towers seen from the canal as it goes out of the town towards the
east. I can remember one particular afternoon when there was a curious
mistiness through which the western sunlight passed, turning everything
into a strange, dull gold. It was a light that suppressed all that was
crude and commercial near at hand and emphasised the medievalism of the
place by throwing out spires and towers in softly tinted silhouettes. I
love to think of Caen robed in this cloth of gold, and the best I can wish
for every one who goes there with the proper motives, is that they may see
the place in that same light.
On the left, a few miles out of Caen on the road to Creully, stands the
Abbaye d’Ardennes where Charles VII. lodged when his army was besieging
the city in 1450. The buildings are now used as a farm, and the church
is generally stacked with hay and straw up to the triforium.
Although they start towards the east, the canal and the river Orne
taking parallel courses run generally towards the north, both entering
the sea by the village of Ouistreham, the ancient port of Caen. Along
the margin of the canal there is a good road, and almost hidden by the
long grass outside the tall trees that line the canal on each bank,
runs the steam tramway to Cabourg and the coast to the west of the
Orne. Except when the fussy little piece of machinery drawing three or
four curious, open-sided trams, is actually passing, the tramway
escapes notice, for the ground is level and the miniature rails are
laid on the ground without any excavating or embanking. The scenery as
you go along the tramway, the road, or the canal, is charming, the
pastures on either side being exceedingly rich, and the red and white
cattle seem to revel in the long grass and buttercups. Heronville,
Blainville and other sleepy villages are pleasantly perched on the
slight rise on the western side of the canal. Their churches, with red
roofs all subdued with lichen into the softest browns, rise above the
cottages or farm buildings that surround them in the ideal fashion that
is finally repeated at Ouistreham where locks impound the waters of the
canal, and a great lighthouse stands out more conspicuously than the
church tower. Seen through the framework of closely trimmed trees
Ouistreham makes a notable picture. The great Norman church is so
exceedingly imposing for such a mere village, that it is easy to
understand how, as a port in the Middle Ages, Ouistreham flourished
exceedingly.
The tramway crosses the canal at Benouville on its way to Cabourg, and
leaving the shade of birches and poplars takes its way over the open fields
towards the sea. Benouville is best remembered on account of its big
chateau with a great classic portico much resembling a section of Waterloo
Place perched upon a fine terraced slope. Ranville has an old church tower
standing in lonely fashion by itself, and you pass a conspicuous calvary as
you go on to the curious little seaside resort known as Le Home-Sur-Mer.
The houses are bare and (if one may coin a word) seasidey. Perched here and
there on the sandy ridge between the road and the shore, they have scarcely
anything more to suggest a garden than the thin wiry grass that contrives
to exist in such soil.
Down on the wide sandy beach there is an extensive sweep of the coast to be
seen stretching from beyond Ouistreham to the bold cliffs of Le Havre.
Keeping along the road by the tramway you have been out of sight of the
sea, but in a few minutes the pleasant leafiness of Cabourg has been
reached. Here everything has the full flavour of a seaside resort, for we
find a casino, a long esplanade, hotels, shops and bathing apparatus. It is
a somewhat strong dose of modern life after the slumbering old world towns
and villages we have been exploring, and it is therefore with great
satisfaction that we turn toward the village of Dives lying close at hand.
The place possesses a splendid old market hall, more striking perhaps than
that of Ecouche and a picturesque inn--the Hotel Guillaume le Conquerant.
The building is of stone with tiled roofs, and in the two courtyards there
are galleries and much ancient timber-framing, but unfortunately the
proprietor has not been content to preserve the place in its natural
picturesqueness. He has crowded the exterior, as well as the rooms, with a
thousand additions of a meretricious character which detract very much from
the charm of the fine old inn and defeat the owner’s object, that of making
it attractive on account of its age and associations. Madame de Sevigne
wrote many of her letters in one of the rooms, but we know that she saw
none of the sham antique lamps, the well-head, or the excess of flowers
that blaze in the courtyards. On account of its name, the unwary are
trapped into thinking that William the Norman--for he had still to defeat
Harold--could have frequently been seen strolling about this hostelry, when
his forces for invading England were gathering and his fleet of ships were
building. This is, of course, a total misapprehension, for the only
structure that contains anything that dates back to 1066 is the church.
Even this building dates chiefly from the fourteenth century, but there is
to be seen, besides the Norman walls, a carved wooden cross that is
believed to have been found in the sea, and therefore to have some
connection with William’s great fleet and its momentous voyage to England.
The names of the leading men who accompanied William are engraved upon two
marble slabs inside the church, and on the hill above the village a short
column put up by M. de Caumont, commemorates the site upon which William is
believed to have inspected his forces previous to their embarkation.
It is a difficult matter to form any clear idea of the size of this army
for the estimates vary from 67,000 to 14,000, and there is also much
uncertainty as to the number of ships employed in transporting the host
across the channel. The lowest estimates suggest 696 vessels, and there is
every reason to believe that they were quite small. The building of so
large a fleet of even small boats between the winter and summer of 1066
must have employed an enormous crowd of men, and we may be justified in
picturing a very busy scene on the shores of this portion of the coast of
Normandy. Duke William’s ship, which was named the _Mora_, had been
presented to him by his wife Mathilda, and most of the vessels had been
built and manned by the Norman barons and prelates, the Bishop of Bayeux
preparing no less than a hundred ships. The Conquest of England must have
almost been regarded as a holy crusade!
When the fleet left the mouth of the river Dives it did not make at once
for Pevensey Bay. The ships instead worked along the coast eastwards to the
Somme, where they waited until a south wind blew, then the vessels all left
the estuary each carrying a light, for it was almost dark. By the next
morning the white chalk of Beachy Head was in sight, and at nine o’clock
William had landed on English soil.
Close to Dives and in sight of the hill on which the Normans were
mustered, there is a small watering-place known as Houlgate-sur-mer. The
houses are charmingly situated among trees, and the place has in recent
years become known as one of those quiet resorts where princes and
princesses with their families may be seen enjoying the simple pleasures
of the seaside, _incognito_. This fact, of course, gets known to
enterprising journalists who come down and photograph these members of the
European royal families wherever they can get them in particularly
unconventional surroundings.
From Houlgate all the way to Trouville the country is wooded and hilly, and
in the hollows, where the timber-framed farms with their thatched roofs are
picturesquely arranged, there is much to attract the visitor who, wearying
of the gaiety of Trouville and its imitators along the coast, wishes to
find solitudes and natural surroundings.