Volume I Part 9 (1/2)

Leaving this brilliant picture, we turned rather to the left, and then found our descent proportionably gradual with the ascent. The Seine was now right before us, as hasty glimpses of it, through partial vistos, had enabled us to ascertain. Still _Tancarville_ was deemed a terrible way off.

First we were to go up, and then we were to go down--now to turn to the right, and afterwards to the left--a sort of [Greek: polla d'ananta katanta] route--when a prepossessing young paysanne told the postilion, that, after pa.s.sing through such a wood, we should reach an avenue, from the further end of which the castle of _Montmorenci_ would be visible..

”une pet.i.te lieue de distance.” Every thing is ”une pet.i.te lieue!” It is the answer to every question relating to distance. Though the league be double a German one, still it is ”une pet.i.te!” Here however the paysanne happened to be right. We pa.s.sed through the wood, gained the avenue, and from the further end saw--even yet towering in imposing magnitude--the far-famed _Chateau de Montmorenci_. It might be a small league off. I gained spirits and even strength at the sight: told the postilion to mend his pace--of which he gave immediate and satisfactory demonstration, while the echoes of his whip resounded along the avenue. A closer road now received us. Knolls of gra.s.s interwoven with moss, on the summits of which the beech and lime threw up their st.u.r.dy stems, now enclosed the road, which began to widen and to improve in condition. At length, turning a corner, a group of country people appeared--”Est-ce ici la route de Tancarville?”--”Tancarville est tout pres: c'est la, ou on voit la fumee des cheminees.” Joyful intelligence! The post-boy increased his speed: The wheels seemed to move with a readier play: and in one minute and a half I was upon the beach of the river Seine, and alighted at the door of the only auberge in the village.

I know you to be both a lover of and connoisseur in Rembrandt's pictures: and especially of those of his _old_ characters. I wish you could have seen the old woman, of the name of _Bucan_, who came out of this same auberge to receive us. She had a sharp, quick, constantly moving black eye; keen features, projecting from a surface of flesh of a subdued mahogany tint; about her temples, and the lower part of her cheeks, were all those harmonizing wrinkles which become old age--_upon canvas_--while, below her chin, communicating with a small and shrunken neck, was that sort of concavity, or dewlap, which painters delight to express with a minuteness of touch, and mellowness of tint, that contribute largely to picturesque effect! This good old woman received us with perfect elasticity of spirits and of action. It should seem that we were the first Englishmen who had visited her solitude this year. Her husband approached, but she soon ordered him ”to the right about”--to prepare fuel, coffee, and eggs. I was promised the best breakfast that could be got in Normandy, in twenty minutes. The inn being sufficiently miserable, I was anxious for a ramble.

The tide was now coming up, as at Caudebec; but the sweep and breadth of the river being, upon a considerably larger scale, its increase was not yet so obvious--although I am quite sure that all the flats, which I saw on my arrival as a bed of mud, were, within a quarter of an hour, wholly covered with the tide: and, looking up to the right, I perceived the perpendicular walls of _Montmorenci Castle_ to be washed by the refluent wave. It was a sort of ocean in miniature before me. A few miserable fis.h.i.+ng boats were moored upon the beach; while a small number of ill-clad and straggling villagers lingered about the same spot, and seemed to look upon the postboy and myself as beings dropt from the sky!

On ascending a considerable elevation, I had the gratification of viewing _Quillebeuf_ a little more nearly. It was almost immediately opposite: while, to the right, contemplating the wide sweep of the river towards its embouchure, I fancied that I could see _Havre_. The group of rocks, which had so charmed us on our journey, now a.s.sumed a different character. On descending, I could discover, although at a considerable distance, the old woman standing at the door of the auberge--apparently straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of us; and she was almost disposed to scold for having put her reputation of giving good breakfasts to so hazardous a trial. The wood was blazing, and the room was almost filled by smoke--but a prolonged fast, and a stage of sixteen or eighteen miles, in a keen morning air, made Mr.

Lewis and myself only think of allaying our hunger. In every public house, however mean, you see the white metal fork, and the napkin covering the plate. A dozen boiled eggs, and a coffee pot and cups of perfectly Brobdignagdian dimensions, with tolerable bread and indifferent b.u.t.ter, formed the _materiel_ of our breakfast. The postboy, having stabled and refreshed his horses, was regaling himself in the kitchen--but-how do you think he was regaling himself?--Truly, in stretching himself upon a bench, and reading, as old Ascham expresses it, ”a merry tale in Boccace.” In other words, he was reading a French version of the Decameron of that celebrated author. Indeed, I had already received sufficient proof of the general propensity of the common people to _read_--whether good or bad books ... but let us hope and believe the former. I left the bibliomaniacal postboy to his Boccaccio, and prepared to visit the CASTLE... the once proud and yet commanding residence of the family of MONTMORENCI.

I ascended--with fresh energies imparted from my breakfast. The day grew soft, and bright, and exhilarating ... but alas! for the changes and chances of every thing in this transitory world. Where was the warder? He had ceased to blow his horn for many a long year. Where was the harp of the minstrel? It had perished two centuries ago, with the hand that had struck its chords. Where was the attendant guard?--or pursuivants--or men at arms?

They had been swept from human existence, like the leaves of the old limes and beech trees by which the lower part of the building was surrounded. The moat was dry; the rampart was a ruin:--the rank gra.s.s grew within the area... nor can I tell you how many relics of halls, banqueting rooms, and bed-rooms, with all the magnificent appurtenances of old castellated architecture, struck the eager eye with mixed melancholy and surprise! The singular half-circular, and half square, corner towers, hanging over the ever-restless wave, interested me exceedingly. The guide shewed me where the prisoners used to be kept--in a dungeon, apparently impervious to every glimmer of day-light, and every breath of air. I cannot pretend to say at what period even the oldest part of the Castle of Montmorenci was built: but I saw nothing that seemed to be more ancient than the latter end of the fifteenth century.[90] Perhaps the greater portion may be of the beginning of the sixteenth; but, amidst the unroofed rooms, I could not help admiring the painted borders, chiefly of a red colour, which run along the upper part of the walls, or wainscoats--giving indication not only of a good, but of a splendid, taste. Did I tell you that this sort of ornament was to be seen in some parts of the eastern end of the Abbey of Jumieges? _Here_, indeed, they afforded evidence--an evidence, mingled with melancholy sensations on reflection--of the probable state of magnificence which once reigned throughout the castle. Between the corner towers, upon that part which runs immediately parallel with the Seine, there is a n.o.ble terrace, now converted into garden ground--which commands an immediate and extensive view of the embouchure of the river. It is the property of a speculator, residing at Havre.

The cabriolet meeting me at the bottom of the mound upon which the castle is built, (having paid the reckoning before I left the inn), I had nothing to do but to step in, and push forward for _Havre_. Retracing the road through which we came, we darted into the _Route Royale_, and got upon one of the n.o.blest high roads in France. Between _Tancarville_ and _Havre_ lie _Hocher_ and _Harfleur_; each almost at the water's edge. I regretted I could not see the former; but on our approach to Harfleur I observed, to the right, some delightfully situated, and not inelegantly built, country villas or modern chateaux. The immediate run down to Harfleur is exceedingly pleasing; and though we trotted sharply through the town, the exquisite little porch of the church was not lost upon me. Few places, I believe, for its dimensions, have been more celebrated in the middle ages than Harfleur. The Seine to the left becomes broader and bolder; and, before you, beneath some wooded heights, lies HAVRE. Every thing gives indication of commerce and prosperity as you gain upon the town. The houses increase in number and respectability of appearance--”Voyez-vous la, Monsieur, a droite, ces belles maisons de plaisance?--(exclaimed the charioteer)--”C'est la ou demeurent Messieurs vos compatriotes: ma foi, ils ont un joli gout.” The first glance upon these stone houses confirmed the sagacity of the postilion. They are gloriously situated--facing the ocean; while the surrounding country teems with fish and game of every species.

Isaac Walton might have contrived to interweave a pretty ballad in his description of such trout-streams as were those before us.

But we approach the town. The hulls of hundreds of vessels are seen in the commodious docks; and the flags of merchantmen, from all quarters of the globe, appear to stream from the mast-heads. It is a scene of bustle, of business, and variety; and perfectly English. What a contrast to the gloomy solitude of Montmorenci! The outer and inner gates are pa.s.sed. _Diligences_ issue from every quarter. The centinels relieve guard. The sound of horns, from various packet-boats immediately about to sail, echoes on all sides.... Driving up the high street, we approached the hotel of the _Aigle d'Or,_[91] kept by Justin, and considered to be the best. We were just in time for the table d'hote, and to bespeak excellent beds. Travellers were continually arriving and departing. What life and animation!... We sat down upwards of forty to dinner: and a good dinner it was. Afterwards, I settled for the cabriolet, and bade the postboy adieu!--nor can I suppress my feelings in saying that, in wis.h.i.+ng him farewell, I felt ten times more than I had ever felt upon taking leave of a postilion.

[85] The nave was begun in 1416. LICQUET.

[86] Corrected by Mons. Licquet: with thanks from the Author. It was, before, 1184.

[87] Lieutenant Hall has well described it. I did not see his description till more than a twelvemonth after my own had been written. A part may be worth extracting.... ”The princ.i.p.al object of attraction is the CHURCH, the gothic spire of which is encircled by fillets of roses, beautifully carved in stone, and continued to the very summit of the steeple. The princ.i.p.al portal too is sculptured with no less richness and delicacy than that of St. Maclou at Rouen. Its interior length is about 250 feet by 72 of width. The central aisle [nave] is flanked on either side by ten ma.s.sive circular columns, the capitals of which represent vine leaves and other decorations, more fanciful, and not less rich, than the Corinthian acanthus.... In one of the chapels there is a rude monumental effigy of the original architect of this church. It consists of a small skeleton, drawn in black lines, against a tablet in the wall: a mason's level and trowel, with the plan of a building, are beside it, and an inscription in gothic characters, relating that the architect endowed the church he had built with certain lands, and died Anno 1484.” _Travels in France_, p. 47, 1819, 8vo. I take this to be GUILLAUME TELLIER--mentioned above: but in regard to the lands with which Tellier endowed the church, the inscription says nothing. LICQUET.

[88] Small as may be this village, and insignificant as may be its aspect, it is one of the most important places, with respect to navigation, in the whole course of the river Seine. Seven years ago there were not fewer than _four-score_ pilots settled here, by order of government, for the purpose of guarding against accidents which arise from a want of knowledge of the navigation of the river. In time of peace this number would necessarily be increased. In the year 1789 there were upwards of 250 English vessels which pa.s.sed it--averaging, in the whole, 19,000 tons. It is from _Quillebeuf_ to _Havre_ that the accidents arise. The author of a pompous, but very instructive memoir, ”_sur la Topographie et la Statistique de la Ville de Quillebeuf et de l'embouchure de la Seine, ayant pour objet-princ.i.p.al la navigation et la peche_,” (published in the Transactions of the Rouen Society for the year 1812, and from which the foregoing information has been obtained) mentions three or four _wrecks_ which have taken place in the immediate vicinity of Quillebeuf: and it should seem that a _calm_ is, of all things, the most fatal. The currents are strong, and the vessel is left to the mercy of the tides in consequence. There are also rocks and sand banks in abundance. Among the wrecks, was one, in which a young girl of eighteen years of age fell a victim to the ignorance of the pilot. The vessel made a false tack between _Hode_ and _Tancarville_, and running upon a bank, was upset in an instant.

An English vessel once shared the same calamity. A thick fog suddenly came on, when the sloop ran upon a bank near the _Nez de Tancarville_, and the crew had just time to throw themselves into the boat and escape destruction. The next morning, so sudden and so decisive was the change wrought by the sand and current, that, of the sloop, there remained, at ebb-tide, only ten feet of her mast visible! It appears that the _Quillebois_, owing to their detached situation, and their peculiar occupations, speak a very barbarous French. They have a sort of sing-song method of p.r.o.nunciation; and the _g_ and _j_ are strangely perverted by them. Consult the memoir here referred to; which occupies forty octavo pages: and which forms a sequel to a previous communication (in 1810) ”upon the Topography and Medical properties of Quillebeuf and its adjacent parts.” The author is M.

Boismare. His exordium is a specimen of the very worst possible taste in composition. One would suppose it to be a prelude to an account of the discovery of another America!

[89] [”The Roman Circus (says M. Licquet) is now departmental property.

Many excavations have already taken place under the directions of Mons. Le Baron de Vanssay, the present Prefect of the Department. The most happy results may be antic.i.p.ated. It was in a neighbouring property that an ANTIQUE BRONZE GILT STATUE, of the size of life, was lately found,” vol. i. 194. Of this statue, Mr. Samuel Woodburn, (with that spirit of liberality and love of art which have uniformly characterised his purchases) became the Owner. The sum advanced for it was very considerable; but, in one sense, Mr. W. may be said to have stood as the Representative of his country; for the French Government declining to give the Proprietor the sum which he asked, Mr. Woodburn purchased it--solely with the view of depositing it, on the same terms of purchase, in a NATIONAL GALLERY OF ART, of which the bequest of Mr.

Payne Knight's ancient bronzes and coins, and the purchase of Mr.

Angerstein's pictures, might be supposed to lay the foundation.

This statue was accordingly brought over to England, and freely exhibited to the curious admirers of ancient art. It is the figure of an APOLLO--the left arm, extended to hold the lyre, being mutilated. A portion of the limbs is also mutilated; but the torso, head and legs, are entire: and are, of their kind, of the highest cla.s.s of art.

Overtures were made for its purchase by government. The Trustees of the British Museum were unanimous both in their admiration and recommendation of it: it was indeed ”strongly recommended” by them to the Treasury. Several months however elapsed before an answer could be obtained; and that answer, when it _did_ come, was returned in THE NEGATIVE. The disappointment of reasonably indulged hopes of success, was the least thing felt by its owner. It was the necessity of transporting it, in consequence, to enrich a _rival capital_--which, were its means equal to its wishes and good taste, it must be confessed, makes us frequently blush for the comparative want of energy and liberality, at home, in matters relating to ANCIENT ART.]

[90] Mr. Cotman has a view of the gateway of Tancarville, or Montmorenci Castle.

[91] I am not sure whether this inn be called the _Armes de France_, or as above.

LETTER XI

HAVRE DE GRACE. HONFLEUR. JOURNEY TO CAEN.