Volume I Part 8 (1/2)
I took a chair and sat in the open air, by the side of the door--enjoying the breeze, and much disposed to gossip with the master of the place.
Perceiving this, the landlord approached, and addressed me with a pleasant degree of familiarity. ”You are from London, then, Sir?” ”I am.” ”Ah Sir, I never think of London but with the most painful sensations.” ”How so?”
”Sir, I am the sole heir of a rich banker who died in that city before the Revolution. He was in partners.h.i.+p with an English gentleman. Can you possibly advise and a.s.sist me upon the subject?” I told him that my advice and a.s.sistance were literally not worth a sous; but that, such as they were, he was perfectly welcome to both. ”Your daughter Sir, is not married?”--”Non, Monsieur, elle n'est pas encore epousee: mais je lui dis qu'elle ne sera jamais _heureuse_ avant qu'elle le soit.” The daughter, who had overheard the conversation, came forward, and looking archly over her shoulder, replied--”ou _malheureuse_, mon pere!” A sort of truism, expressed by her with singular epigrammatic force, to which there was no making any reply.
Do you remember, my dear friend; that exceedingly cold winter's night, when, for lack of other book-entertainment, we took it into our heads to have a rummage among the _Scriptores Historiae Normannorum_ of d.u.c.h.eSNE?--and finding therein many pages occupied by _Gulielmus Gemeticensis_, we bethought ourselves that we would have recourse to the valuable folio volume yeleped _Neustria Pia_:--where we presently seemed to hold converse with the ancient founders and royal benefactors of certain venerable establishments! I then little imagined that it would ever fall to my lot to be either walking or musing within the precincts of the Abbey of Jumieges;--or rather, of the ruins of what was once not less distinguished, as a school of learning, than admired for its wealth and celebrity as a monastic establishment. Yes, my friend, I have seen and visited the ruins of this Abbey; and I seem to live ”mihi carior” in consequence.
But I know your love of method--and that you will be in wrath if I skip from _Duclair_ to JUMIEGES ere the horses have carried us a quarter of a league upon the route. To the left of _Duclair_, and also washed by the waters of the Seine, stands _Marivaux_; a most picturesque and highly cultivated spot. And across the Seine, a little lower down, is the beautiful domain of _La Mailleraye_;--where are hanging gardens, and jets d'eaux, and flower-woven arbours, and daisy-sprinkled meadows--for there lives and occasionally revels _La Marquise_.... I might have been not only a spectator of her splendor, but a partic.i.p.ator of her hospitality; for my often-mentioned valuable friend, M. Le Prevost, volunteered me a letter of introduction to her. What was to be done? One cannot be everywhere in one day, or in one journey:--so, gravely balancing the ruins of still life against the attractions of animated society, I was unchivalrous enough to prefer the former--and working myself up into a sort of fantasy, of witnessing the spectered forms of DAGOBERT and CLOVIS, (the fabled founders of the Abbey) I resolutely turned my back upon _La Mailleraye_, and as steadily looked forwards to JUMIEGES. We ascended very sensibly--then striking into a sort of bye-road, were told that we should quickly reach the place of our destination. A fractured capital, and broken shaft, of the late Norman time, left at random beneath a hedge, seemed to bespeak the vicinity of the abbey. We then gained a height; whence, looking straight forward, we caught the first glance of the spires, or rather of the west end towers, of the Abbey of Jumieges.[80] ”La voila, Monsieur,”--exclaimed the postilion--increasing his speed and multiplying the nourishes of his whip--”voila la belle Abbaye!”
We approached and entered the village of Jumieges. Leaving some neat houses to the right and left, we drove to a snug auberge, evidently a portion of some of the outer buildings, or of the chapter-house, attached to the Abbey. A large gothic roof, and central pillar, upon entering, attest the ancient character of the place.[81] The whole struck us as having been formerly of very great dimensions. It was a glorious sun-s.h.i.+ny afternoon, and the villagers quickly crowded round the cabriolet. ”Voila Messieurs les Anglois, qui viennent voir l'Abbaye--mais effectivement il n'y a rien a voir.” I told the landlady the object of our visit. She procured us a guide and a key: and within five minutes we entered the nave of the abbey. I can never forget that entrance. The interior, it is true, has not the magical effect, or that sort of artificial burst, which attends the first view of _Tintern_ abbey: but, as the ruin is larger, there is necessarily more to attract attention. Like Tintern also, it is unroofed--yet this unroofing has proceeded from a different cause: of which presently. The side aisles present you with a short flattened arch: the nave has none: but you observe a long pilaster-like, or alto-rilievo column, of slender dimensions, running from bottom to top, with a sort of Roman capital. The arched cieling and roof are entirely gone. We proceeded towards the eastern extremity, and saw more frightful ravages both of time and of accident. The latter however had triumphed over the former: but for _accident_ you must read _revolution_.
The day had been rather oppressive for a May morning; and we were getting far into the afternoon, when clouds began to gather, and the sun became occasionally obscured. We seated ourselves upon a gra.s.sy hillock, and began to prepare for dinner. To the left of us lay a huge pile of fragments of pillars and groinings of arches--the effects of recent havoc: to the right, within three yards, was the very spot in which the celebrated AGNES SOREL, Mistress of Charles VII, lay entombed:[82]--not a relic of mausoleum now marking the place where, formerly, the sculptor had exhibited the choicest efforts of his art, and the devotee had repaired to
Breathe a prayer for her soul--and pa.s.s on!
What a contrast to the present aspect of things!--to the mixed rubbish and wild flowers with which every spot is now well nigh covered! The mistress of the inn having furnished us with napkins and tumblers, we partook of our dinner, surrounded by the objects just described, with no ordinary sensations. The air now became oppressive; when, looking through the few remaining unglazed mullions of the windows, I observed that the clouds grew blacker and blacker, while a faint rumbling of thunder reached our ears.
The sun however yet shone gaily, although partially; and as the storm neared us, it floated as it were round the abbey, affording--by means of its purple, dark colour, contrasted with the pale tint of the walls,--one of the most beautiful painter-like effects imaginable. In an instant almost--and as if touched by the wand of a mighty necromancer--the whole scene became metamorphosed. The thunder growled, but only growled; and the threatening phalanx of sulphur-charged clouds rolled away, and melted into the quiet uniform tint which usually precedes sun-set. Dinner being dispatched, I rose to make a thorough examination of the ruins which had survived ... not only the Revolution, but the cupidity of the present owner of the soil--who is a _rich_ man, living at Rouen--and who loves to dispose of any portion of the stone, whether standing or prostrate, for the sake of the lucre, however trifling, which arises from the sale. Surely the whole corporation of the city of Rouen, with the mayor at their head, ought to stand between this ruthless, rich man, and the abbey--the victim of his brutal avarice and want of taste.[83]
The situation of the abbey is delightful. It lies at the bottom of some gently undulating hills, within two or three hundred yards of the Seine.
The river here runs gently, in a serpentine direction, at the foot of wood-covered hills--and all seemed, from our elevated station, indicative of fruitfulness, of gaiety, and of prosperity,--all--save the mournful and magnificent remains of the venerable abbey whereon we gazed! In fact, this abbey exists only as a sh.e.l.l. I descended, strolled about the village, and mingled in the conversation of the villagers. It was a lovely approach of evening--and men, women, and children were seated, or sauntering, in the open air. Perceiving that I was anxious to gain information, they flocked around me--and from one man, in particular, I obtained exact intelligence about the havoc which had been committed during the Revolution upon the abbey, The roof had been battered down for the sake of the _lead_--to make bullets; the pews, altars, and iron-work, had been converted into other destructive purposes of warfare; and the great bell had been sold to some speculators in a cannon-foundery at Rouen.[84] The revolutionary mania had even brutalized the Abbot. This man, who must be considered as
....d.a.m.ned to everlasting fame,
had been a monk of the monastery; and as soon as he had attained the heads.h.i.+p of it, he disposed of every movable piece of furniture, to gratify the revolutionary pack which were daily howling at the gates of the abbey for entrance! Nor could he plead _compulsion_ as an excuse. He seemed to enjoy the work of destruction, of which he had the uncontrouled direction. But enough of this wretch.
The next resting-place was CAUDEBEC: a very considerable village, or rather a small town. You go down a steep descent, on entering it by the route we came. As you look about, there are singular appearances on all sides--of houses, and hanging gardens, and elaborately cut avenues--upon summits, declivities, and on the plain. But the charm of the view, at least to my old-fas.h.i.+oned feelings, was a fine old gothic church, and a very fine spire of what _appeared_ to belong to another. As the evening had completely set in, I resolved to reserve my admiration of the place till the morrow.
[78] [I am ignorant of his present destination; but learn that he has quitted the above situation a long time.]
[79] [Mr. COTMAN has published views of the West Front, the South East, the West Entrance, and the South Transept, with sculptured capitals and ba.s.so-relievos, &c. In the whole, seven plates.]
[80] [Mr. Cotman has published etchings of the West Front: the Towers, somewhat fore-shortened; the Elevation of the Nave--and doorway of the Abbey: the latter an extremely interesting specimen of art. A somewhat particular and animated description of it will be found in _Lieut.
Hall's Travels in France_, 8vo. p. 57, 1819. [In the first edition, I had called the west end towers of the Abbey--”small.” Mons. Licquet has suggested that I must have meant ”_comparatively_” small;--in contradistinction to the centre-tower, which would have been larger.
We learn also from M. Licquet that the spire of this central tower was demolished in 1573, by the Abbe le Veneur, Bishop of Evreux. What earthly motive could have led to such a brutal act of demolition?]
[81] [”I know perfectly well, says M. Licquet, the little Inn of which the author here speaks. I can a.s.sure him that it never formed any portion of the ”chapter house.” It was nevertheless une _dependance exterieure_ (I will not attempt a version of this phrase) of the abbey. Dare I venture to say it was the _cowhouse_? (etable aux vaches). Thank you, good Mons. Licquet; but what is a cow-house but ”an _outer building_ attached to the Abbey?” Vide supra.]
[82] [The heart and entrails only of this once celebrated woman were, according to M. Licquet, buried in the above spot. The body was carried to Loches: and BELLEFOREST _(Cosmog._ vol. i. Part ii.
col. 31-32. edit. 1575, folio) gives a description of the mausoleum where it was there entombed: a description, adds M. Licquet, which may well serve for the mausoleum that was at Jumieges.]
[83] [Not the smallest portion or particle of a sigh escapes us, on being told, as my translator has told us, that the ”soil” in question has become the property of another Owner. ”Laius EST MORT”--are the emphatic words of M. Licquet.]
[84] [One of the bells of the Abbey of Jumieges is now in the Tower of that of St. Ouen, at Rouen. LICQUET.]
LETTER X.
CAUDEBEC. LILLEBONNE. BOLBEC. TANKARVILLE. MONTMORENCI CASTLE. HAVRE DE GRACE.
My last concluded with our entrance into Caudebec. The present opens with a morning scene at the same place. For a miracle I was stirring before nine.
The church was the first object of attraction. For the size of the place, it is really a n.o.ble structure: perhaps of the early part of the sixteenth, or latter part of the fifteenth century.[85] I speak of the exterior generally, and of a great portion of the interior. A little shabby green-baise covered door (as usual) was half open, and I entered with no ordinary expectations of gratification. The painted gla.s.s seemed absolutely to warm the place--so rich and varied were its colours. There is a great abundance of it, and especially of figures of family-groups kneeling--rather small, but with great appearance of portrait-like fidelity. They are chiefly of the first half of the sixteenth century: and I own that, upon gazing at these charming specimens of ancient painting upon gla.s.s, I longed to fix an artist before every window, to bear away triumphantly, in a portfolio of elephantine dimensions, a faithful copy of almost every thing I saw. In some of the countenances, I fancied I traced the pencil of LUCAS CRANACH--and even of HANS HOLBEIN.