Part 8 (1/2)

CHAPTER X.

LA ROCh.e.l.lE--LES TROIS CHANDELIERS--OYSTERS--BATHING ESTABLISHMENT--GAIETY--MILITARY DISCIPLINE--CURIOUS ARCADES--STORY OF AUFFReDY.

ON arriving at La Roch.e.l.le, early in a bright morning at the beginning of September, we found the town so full that we had immediately to inst.i.tute a search for an hotel, as that at which we stopped had no accommodation. We judged so before we alighted from the _coupe_, by the air of indifference visible on the face of every waiter and chambermaid, to whom our arrival seemed a matter of pity, rather than congratulation. After seeking through the greatest part of the town, we were conducted to a curious-looking street, from the roofs of almost every house in which projected grinning _gargouilles_, whose grotesque faces peeped inquisitively forth from the exalted position which they had maintained for several centuries; and, glaring in inviting grandeur, swung aloft a board on which was depicted three golden candlesticks. At Les Trois Chandeliers, accordingly, we applied, and found admission; the slovenly, but good-humoured landlady bestirring herself instantly to get ready the only room she had vacant. She was a.s.sisted in her various arrangements, or rather attended, by a sulky-looking girl with a hideous square cap; who stood by while her mistress heaped mattress upon mattress, and bustled about with zealous noise and clatter. She gave us to understand that certain of her neighbours were apt to give themselves airs, and accept or refuse visitors as their caprice dictated; but, for her part, she had no pride, and never acted in so unkind a manner: she always attended to everything herself; so that every one was satisfied in her house, and the Trois Chandeliers maintained its reputation of a century, during which time it had always been kept by one of the family.

Considering these facts, the state of the entrance and kitchen, through which, as is usual in France, visitors must pa.s.s to arrive at the _salon_, somewhat surprised us. The wide, yawning, black gulf, down which we had dived from the street, reminded us strongly of the entrance of the Arenes, at Poitiers, which gave pa.s.sage to the beasts about to combat: it was a low, vaulted pa.s.sage, enc.u.mbered with waggons and diligences and wheelbarrows, with no light but what it gained from the street and a murky court beyond; it was paved with uneven stones, between which were s.p.a.ces filled with mud; dogs and ducks sported along the gutter in the centre, following which, you arrived at some dirty steps leading to the kitchen, or, if you preferred a longer stroll amidst the shades, you might arrive at a low door which led through another court to the dining-room, which was a handsome apartment adorned with statues and crimson-and-white draperies, with a flower-garden opening from it. This room we were not sorry to enter, lured by the promise of some of the finest oysters in Europe. We had heard their eulogium before from a very talkative artist of Poitiers, who described them as of enormous, nay incredible, size, but delicate as _natives_: we were, therefore, surprised to see perfect miniatures, not larger than a s.h.i.+lling, very well-flavoured, but _unfed_. They form the _delices_ of all this part of the world, at this season, and are eagerly sought for from hence to the furthest navigable point of the Garonne.

We were particularly fortunate in the weather, which was bright, warm, and inspiriting; and when we reached the walk which leads to the baths, we were in raptures with the whole scene which presented itself. The fine broad sea, smooth and green, lay s.h.i.+ning in the sun, without a ripple to disturb its serenity; and for about a quarter of a mile along its margin extended one of the most beautiful promenades I ever beheld.

The first part of it is planted with small young trees, on each side of a good road, which extends between verdant plains where _glacis_ are thrown up. This leads to the great walk; a thick grove of magnificent trees, shading a very wide alley of turf of _English_ richness. Here and there are placed seats, and all is kept with the greatest neatness. The establishment of the baths is ornamental, and pretty, and very extensive. About half way up this promenade, next the sea, grounds laid out with taste, and affording shade and pastime in their compartments, surround the building. A Chinese paG.o.da, a Grecian temple, numerous arbours and seats are there for strollers; and swings and see-saws for the exercise of youthful bathers after their dips. Altogether, it is the most charming place of the kind I ever saw: the warm baths are as good as possible, and the arrangement of those in the sea are much better than at Dieppe, Havre, or Granville. There is a row of little pavilions on the edge of the sea, where bathers undress; and a paved way leads them to an enclosed s.p.a.ce where are numerous poles fixed, with ropes reaching from one to the other at different depths. The bathers hold by these ropes: and a large company can thus a.s.semble in the water together, and take as much of the sea as they please, unaccompanied by guides; but, if they are timid, there are _men_ ready to attend and protect them. The costume is a tunic and trowsers of cloth or stuff, with a large handkerchief over the head. Hour after hour will the adventurous bathers continue in the water; dancing, singing, and talking, while the advancing waters dash, splash, and foam all round them, exciting peals of laughter and screams of delight.

Separated by a high part.i.tion, and at a little distance, overlooked, however, by the strollers in the gardens above, is the gentlemen's compartment. These bathers usually run along a high platform, considerably raised, and leap into the sea beneath them; diving down, and re-appearing, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of each other; while a guide sits on a floating platform near, ready to lend a.s.sistance, or give instruction in natation, if required.

The season, we understood, had been particularly brilliant this year, and was scarcely yet over; though the ball-room and reading-rooms were less crowded than a few weeks before, when we were told that all that was gay and splendid in France _et l'Etranger_ was to be seen beneath the striped canopies of the sea-baths of La Roch.e.l.le. Certainly a more enjoyable place cannot be found anywhere; and I was not surprised that anything so rare and really comfortable and agreeable should meet with success. With any of the brilliant _toilettes_ which were described to me I did not, however, meet; as all the bathers I saw were in cloaks and slouch bonnets, and the company we met appeared by no means distinguished; peasants forming a great proportion. However, the season was nearly over, and one could not expect to see the _elegans_ so late; but I have always observed that the accounts I have heard of the brilliancy of French fas.h.i.+onable meetings are by no means borne out by the reality. At Neris, at the Monts Dores, and other places, I have been equally disappointed on seeing the manner of French living at watering-places; but it always appears to me that, except in Paris, there is no attempt at out-of-door style or gaiety anywhere. A solitary equipage, filled with children, met us every day in our walks, and a hired barouche, for the use of the baths, toiled backwards and forwards, hour after hour; but, except these, we saw no carriages at all, and the walkers were princ.i.p.ally tradespeople in smart caps and shawls. One morning, indeed, we were surprised by the sound of musical strains and the appearance of an officer or two on horseback, followed by a regiment, on their way to exercise; every man of one company was singing at the top of his voice, joined by the officer who marched in front, and who kept beating time, a very merry song and chorus, which we stopped to listen to, _only a moment_, as the words were not quite so much to be admired as the air. This seemed to us a strange, and not very decorous scene, and was so little in accordance with our ideas of propriety or good taste that we turned away in disgust. However, since it is the custom for officers and men in France to sit together in _cafes_, playing at dominos, drinking wine and beer, and putting no restraint upon their conversation, or acknowledging any superiority, there was nothing extraordinary in the familiarity I had witnessed. How this sort of a.s.sociation can be relished by officers of gentle breeding I cannot conceive; and many of them must be so, though a great part are men who, having risen from the ranks, have not been accustomed to more refined companions.h.i.+p. If it be true that

”Strict restraint, once broken, ever balks Conquest and fame,”

and that it is dangerous for those under command to

”----Swerve From law, however stern, which tends their strength to nerve,”

it is difficult to comprehend how the French army is regulated.

The next company which followed the vocal party, came hurrying along, helter-skelter, as if no drilling had ever been thought necessary in their military education; but, while we were remarking the ”admired disorder” of their march, we heard their commanding officer's voice loud in reprobation; we could scarcely help comparing the whole scene to that which a militia regiment might present in some country town in England: ”What are you all about?” cried the commander; ”Eh, mon Dieu! One would say it was a flock of sheep instead of a party of soldiers!” This admonition brought them into some order, and they advanced a little less irregularly, but still in as slovenly a manner as could well be conceived. If the French were not known to be good soldiers, one would think this laxity of discipline little likely to make them so; but they are, like French servants, good enough in their way, though careless in the extreme, and too tenacious to be spoken to.

La Roch.e.l.le is a more remarkable town, from the characteristic features it exhibits, than any we had met with since we set out on our tour.

Although there is a great deal new in the streets and outskirts, yet much that originally existed remains. For instance, almost the whole centre of the town is built in the same manner: namely, in arcades.

These arcades project from the ground-floors, are more or less high and broad, and more or less well paved; but they run along uninterruptedly, forming a shelter from sun or rain, as it may happen, and extending along the whole length of the streets on each side. They are generally of stone, with heavy pillars and circular arches, quite without grace or beauty, but peculiar, and giving an Oriental character to the place. In some streets arcades, higher and wider, have been newly erected, which are tolerably ornamental; but the more antique they are, the lower, narrower, and closer. The Roch.e.l.lois are very proud of their arcades, boasting that they are, by their means, never kept prisoners or annoyed by either rain or sun; they forget that these heavy conveniences completely exclude the light in winter from the lower part of their houses, and, confining the air, must make the town damp and unwholesome.

When we first walked along beneath these awnings we found it extremely difficult to distinguish one street from another, and were continually losing ourselves, as they branch off in all directions, with no change of aspect to distinguish them:

”Each alley has a brother, And half the _covered way_ reflects the other,”

but we got used to them by degrees. There is a sort of _Palais Royal_ effect in the pretty shops under the neatest piazzas; and from the beautiful wooded square, the Place d'Armes, the range which forms one side looks remarkably well. This Place is peculiarly fine and agreeable; it was formed on the sites of the ancient chateau, demolished in 1590, of the chapel of St. Anne and its cemetery, of the grand Protestant temple, and the old Hotel des Monnaies; it, therefore, occupies a large s.p.a.ce, and is planted on two sides with fine trees, called the _Bois d' Amourettes_, and closed on the fourth by the cathedral; part of the ramparts of the town, open towards the sea, are behind, and thus a good air is introduced into the square. On moon-light nights it is a charming promenade; for the effects of the sky here are admirable: a range of handsome _cafes_ extends along one part, whose lights, gleaming between the trees, have a lively appearance, and the groups of lounging citizens seated under the shades give a life to the scene which the rest of the town does not possess. La Roch.e.l.le is, however, infinitely less dull than the generality of French towns; and the quays and s.h.i.+pping, and the constantly-changing sea, prevent it from wearing the sad aspect which distinguishes France in her country places.

Notwithstanding all that travellers are in the habit of saying about the liveliness of France, I never can cease to think that it is a dull country; for, except Paris in its season, there is no movement, no activity, no bustle, in its towns, save, now and then, the confusion of market-days. Why England is considered _triste_, either in town or country, I cannot imagine: the brilliancy of its shops alone, compared to the little dark, dingy cells always met with abroad, even in the most fas.h.i.+onable quarters, might rescue our much-maligned country from the reproach which does not belong to it.

The cathedral of La Roch.e.l.le is a modern building; still unfinished, and possessing no interest: it is very vast, for it stands where once stood the antique church--older than the town itself--of Notre Dame de Cougnes. Here and there, outside, a projecting b.u.t.tress and part of an arch, built up, betrays its venerable origin; but, besides this, nothing remains of the original foundation.

At the back of the cathedral we remarked, as we pa.s.sed through the street, a very large building, with a great many windows, above the portal of which were inscribed the words, _Hopital M. Auffredy_. We were puzzled to make out what this could mean, as the hospital was so large and important that it scarcely would appear to be the inst.i.tution of a private person. Our inquiries gained us no information, and we continued to pa.s.s and repa.s.s still wondering who this _Monsieur Auffredy_ could be whose name was so conspicuous. When, at length, I found how much interest attached to this place I reproached myself that I should have gone near it without reverence, or have carelessly named its inst.i.tutor; whose romantic story is as follows, as near as I have been able to gather it:

STORY OF ALEXANDER AUFFReDY.

At the time when the beautiful and wealthy, the admired and accomplished, heiress of Aquitaine, presided over her courts of Love, now in one city of her extensive dominions, now in another, delighting and astonis.h.i.+ng the whole troubadour world with her liberality, her taste, her learning, grace, and gaiety, lived, in the city of La Roch.e.l.le, a rich merchant, named Alexander Auffredy, young, handsome, esteemed and envied. His generosity and wealth, added to his personal attractions, made him an object of observation and remark, and it was not long before his name reached the ears of Queen Elionore, who, always desirous to surround herself with all that was gay, brilliant, and distinguished, sent an invitation, or rather a command, to the young merchant to appear at her Court at Poitiers.

Auffredy went; and but a short time elapsed before he became the favourite of that brilliant circle where beauty and genius reigned triumphant; for it was discovered that his talent for music was of the highest order; his voice, in singing, of rare perfection; his verses full of grace and fire, his manners equal to those of the most finished courtier; and his judgment in the weighty decisions of the courts of Love, sound and good. Even the poets and musicians, who saw him distinguished for the time above themselves, felt little envy towards him, since they shared his profuse liberality, and were encouraged by his generous admiration, loudly expressed. He was pa.s.sionately attached to literature, and had so correct a taste that whatever he admired was the best in its kind, and his criticisms were so judicious that not a doubt could remain on the minds of any who listened to his opinion; yet he was never harsh, and, wherever it was possible, showed indulgence; it was only to the presuming and superficial that he was severe; and amongst that cla.s.s he was by no means beloved; for, after his expressed contempt and censure had laid open to view the faults of many compositions, whose false glare had attracted praise, their authors sunk at once into the obscurity which they deserved.

His chief friends were Bernard de Ventadour, whose lays, mysteriously addressed to _Bel Viser_ and _Conort_, had gained him so much fame; Rudel, the enthusiast, who devoted his life to an imaginary pa.s.sion; Adhemar and Rambaud d'Aurenge, whose songs were some of the sweetest of their time; and Pierre Rogiers, who sighed his soul away for ”Tort n'avetz;” and, amongst them all, his poems were held in the greatest esteem. The beautiful and coquettish mistress of the revels was not insensible to his qualities, and was anxious to appropriate him to herself; greedy of praise, and ever desirous of admiration, she used every art to enthral him, and to render the pa.s.sion real, which it was the fas.h.i.+on at her Court to feign, towards herself; but, though flattered and delighted at the preference shown him by her whom all were trying to please, it was not towards the Queen that Auffredy turned the aspirations of his soul. There was at Court a young and beautiful girl, the orphan of a knight who had fallen in the holy wars, and who was under the guardians.h.i.+p of her uncle, the Baron de Montlucon; she was as amiable in disposition as lovely in person. Auffredy soon found that his liberty was gone while he gazed upon her, but his modesty prevented his attempting to declare his pa.s.sion, though in his lays he took occasion to express all the feelings he experienced, and he saw with delight, not only that the charming Beatrix listened with pleased attention when he sung, but was even moved to tears when he uttered the lamentations of an unhappy lover.

Upon one occasion he sang a lay which Queen Elionore imagined was inspired by herself; but which, in reality, he intended should convey to Beatrix his timid pa.s.sion; it was as follows--in the style of the Eastern poets, then so much imitated and admired:--