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 partnership 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-shiny 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 headship 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-fashioned 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.
This church has numerous side chapels, and figures of patron-saints. The entombment of Christ in white marble, (at the end of the chapel of the Virgin,) is rather singular; inasmuch as the figure of Christ itself is ancient, and exceedingly fine in anatomical expression; but the usual surrounding figures are modern, and proportionably clumsy and inexpressive.
I noted one mural monument, to the memory of _Guillaume Tellier_, which was dated 1484.[86] Few churches have more highly interested me than this at Caudebec.[87] From the church I strolled to the _Place_, where stood the caffe, by the banks of the Seine. The morning view of this scene perfectly delighted me. Nothing can be more picturesque. The river cannot be much less than a mile in width, and it makes a perfect bend in the form of a crescent. On one side, that on which the village stands, are walks and gardens through which peep numerous white villas--and on the other are meadows, terminating in lofty rising grounds--feathered with coppice-wood down to the very water"s edge. This may be considered, in fact, only a portion of the vast _Forest de Brotonne_, which rises in wooded majesty on the opposite heights. The spirit and the wealth of our countrymen would make Caudebec one of the most enchanting summer-residences in the world.
The population of the town is estimated at about five thousand.
Judge of my astonishment, when, on going out of doors, I saw the river in a state of extreme agitation: the whole ma.s.s of water rising perpendicularly, as it were, and broad rippling waves rolling over each other. It was the _coming in of the tide_.... and within a quarter of an hour it appeared to have risen upwards of three feet. You may remember that, in our own country, the Severn-tides exhibit the same phenomenon; and I have seen the river at Glocester rise _at once_ to the height of eight or ten feet, throwing up a shower of foam from the gradually narrowing bed of the river, and causing all the craft, great and small, to rise up as if by magic, and to appear upon a level with the meadows. The tide at Caudebec, although similar in kind, was not so in degree; for it rose gradually yet most visibly--and within half an hour, the elevation could not have been less than _seven_ or _eight_ feet.
Having walked for some time on the heights of the town, with which I was much gratified, I returned to my humble auberge, ordered the cabriolet to be got ready, and demanded the reckoning:--which, considering that I was not quite at an hotel-royale, struck me as being far from moderate. Two old women, of similar features and age, presented themselves as I was getting into the carriage: one was the mistress, and the other the fille de chambre. "Mais, Monsieur (observed one of them) n"oubliez pas, je vous prie, la fille-de-chambre--rappellez-vous que vos souliers ont ete superieurement decrottes." I took out a franc to remunerate the supposed fille-de-chambre--but was told it was the _mistress_. "N"importe, Monsieur, c"est a ce moment que je suis fille-de-chambre--quand vous serez parti, je serai la maitresse." The postilion seemed to enjoy this repartee as much as ourselves.
I was scarcely out of the town half a mile, when I began to ascend. I found myself quickly in the middle of those rising grounds which are seen from the promenade or _Place du Caffe_, and could not look without extraordinary gratification upon the beautiful character of spring in its advanced state.
The larch was even yet picturesque: the hazel and nut trees were perfectly clothed with foliage, of a tender yet joyous tint: the chestnut was gorgeously in bloom; the lime and beech were beginning to give abundant promise of their future luxuriance--while the lowlier tribes of laburnum and box, with their richly clad branches, covered the ground beneath entirely from view. The apple and pear blossoms still continued to variegate the wide sweep of foliage, and to fill the air with their delicious perfume. It might be Switzerland in miniature--or it might not.
Only this I know--that it seemed as though one could live embosomed and enchanted in such a wilderness of sweets--reading the _fabliaux_ of the old Norman bards till the close of human existence!
I found myself on a hard, strait, chalky old road--evidently Roman: and in due time perceived and entered the town of LILLEBONNE. But the sky had become overcast: soft and small rain was descending, and an unusual gloom prevailed ... when I halted, agreeably to my instructions, immediately before the gate of the ancient _Castle_. Venerable indeed is this Norman castle, and extensive are the ruins which have survived. I have a perfect recollection how it peeped out upon me--through the light leaf of the poplar, and the pink blossom of the apple. It lies close to the road, on the left. An old round tower, apparently of the time of William the Conqueror, very soon attracts your attention. The stones are large, and the interstices are also very considerable. It was here, says a yet current report, that William a.s.sembled the Barons of Normandy, and the invasion of England was determined upon. Such a spot therefore strikes an English beholder with no ordinary emotions. I alighted; sent the cabriolet to the inn, and wished both postilion and horses to get their dinners without delay. For myself, I had resolved to reserve my appet.i.te till I reached _Bolbec_; and there was food enough before me of a different description, to exercise my intellectual digestion for at least the next hour. Knocking at the ma.s.sive portals, I readily obtained admittance.
The area, entirely a gra.s.s-plat, was occupied by several cows. In front, were evidently the ruins of a large chapel or church--perhaps of the XIVth century. The outer face of the walls went deeply and perpendicularly down to the bottom of a dry fosse; and the right angle portion of the building was covered with garden ground, where the owner showed us some peas which he boasted he should have at his table within five days. I own I thought he was very likely to carry his boast into execution; for finer vegetables, or a finer bed of earth, I had scarcely ever beheld. How things, my dear friend, are changed from their original character and destination! "But the old round tower," say you!--To "the old round tower" then let us go. The stair-case is narrow, dark, and decayed. I reached the first floor, or circular room, and noticed the construction of the window seats--all of rough, solid, and ma.s.sive stone. I ascended to the second floor; which, if I remember rightly, was strewn with a portion of the third floor--that had fallen in from sheer decay. Great must have been the crash--as the fragments were huge, and widely scattered. On gaining a firm footing upon the outer wall; through a loop-hole window, I gazed around with equal wonder and delight. The wall of this castle could not be less than ten feet in thickness. A young woman, the shepherdess of the spot, attended as guide.
"What is that irregular rude mound, or wall of earth, in the centre of which children are playing?" "It is the _old Roman Theatre_, Sir." I immediately called to mind M. Le Prevost"s instructions--and if I could have borrowed the wings of a spirit, I should have instantly alighted upon the spot--but it was situated without the precincts of the old castle and its appurtenances, and a mortal leap would have been attended with a mortal result. "Have you many English who visit this spot?" said I to my guide.--"Scarcely _any_, Sir--it is a frightful place--full of desolation and sadness.." replied she. Again I gazed around, and in the distance, through an aperture in the orchard trees, saw the little fishing village of _Quillebeuf_,[88] quite buried, as it were, in the waters of the Seine. An arm of the river meanders towards Lillebonne. Having gratified my picturesque and antiquarian propensities, from this elevated situation, I retrod, with more difficulty than toil, my steps down the stair-case. A second stroll about the area, and along the skirts of the wall, was sufficient to convince me only--how slight and imperfect had been my survey!
On quitting the portal through which I entered, and bidding adieu to my Shepherdess and guide, I immediately hastened towards the Roman Theatre.[89] The town of Lillebonne has a very picturesque appearance from the old mound, or raised terrace, along the outer walls of the castle. In five minutes I mingled with the school boys who were amusing themselves within the ruins of all that is left of this probably once vast and magnificent old theatre. It is only by clearing away a great quant.i.ty of earth, with which these ruins are covered, that you can correctly ascertain their character and state of preservation. M. Le Prevost bade me remark that the walls had much swerved from their original perpendicularity,--and that there was much irregularity in the laying of the bricks among the stones. But time, design, and accident, have each in turn (in all probability) so contributed to decompose, deface, and alter the original aspect of the building, that there is no forming a correct conjecture as to its ancient form. Earth, gra.s.s, trees, flowers, and weeds, have taken almost entire possession of some low and ma.s.sive outer walls; so that the imagination has full play to supply all deficiencies which appear to the eye.
From the whole of this interesting spot I retreated--with mixed sensations of melancholy and surprise--to the little auberge of the _Three Moors_, in the centre of the town. It had begun to rain smartly as we took shelter in the kitchen; where, for the first time since leaving England, I saw a display of utensils which might have vied with our own, or even with a Dutch interior, for neatness and order of disposition. Some of the dishes might have been as ancient as--not the old round Tower--but as the last English Duke of Normandy who might have banquetted there. The whole was in high polish and full display. On my complimenting the good _Aubergiste_ upon so creditable a sight, she laughed, and replied briskly--"Ce n"est rien, ceci: Pentecote est tout pres, et donc vous verrez, Monsieur!"--It should seem that Whitsuntide was the season for a general household purification. Some of her furniture had once belonged to the Castle: but she had bought it, in the scramble which took place at the dispersion and destruction of the movables there, during the Revolution. I recommend all travellers to take a lunch, and enjoy a bottle of vin ordinaire, at _Les Trois-Negres._ I was obliged to summon up all my stock of knowledge in polite phraseology, in order to decline a plate of soup. "It was delicious above every thing"--"but I had postponed taking dinner till we got to Bolbec." "Bon--vous y trouverez un hotel superbe." The French are easily pleased; and civility is so cheap and current a coin abroad, that I wish our countrymen would make use of it a little more frequently than they appear to do. I started about two for Bolbec.
The rain continued during the whole of my route thither; but it did not prevent me from witnessing a land of plenty and of picturesque beauty on all sides. Indeed it is scarcely possible to conceive a more rich and luxuriant state of culture. To the left, about half a league from Lillebonne, I pa.s.sed the domain of a once wealthy, and extremely extensive abbey. They call it the _Abbey of Vala.s.se._ A long rambling bare stone wall, and portions of a deserted ruin, kept in sight for full half an English mile. The immediate approach to BOLBEC is that of the entrance to a modern and flourishing trading town, which seems to be beginning to recover from the effects of the Revolution. After Rouen, and even Caudebec, it has a stiff modernized air. I drove to the princ.i.p.al inn, opposite the church, and bespoke dinner and a bed. The church is perfectly, modern, and equally heavy and large. Crowds of people were issuing from _Vespers_, when, ascending a flight of steps, (for it is built on ground considerably above the ground-floor of the inn) I resolved to wait for the final departure of the congregation, and to take a leisurely survey of the interior, while dinner was getting ready.
The s.e.xton was a perfect character in his way; old, shrewd, communicative, and civil. There were several confessionals. "What--you confess here pretty much?" "Yes, Sir; but chiefly females, and among them many widows." I had said nothing to provoke this ungallant reply. "In respect to the _sacrament_, what is the proportion between the communicants, as to s.e.x?"
"Sir, there are one hundred women to twelve men." I wish I could say that this disproportion were confined to _France_.
Quitting this heavy and ugly, but large and commodious fabric, I sought the inn and dinner. The cook was in every respect a learned professor in his art, and the produce of his skill was equally excellent and acceptable. I had scarcely finished my repast, and the _Gruyere_ cheese and nuts yet lingered upon the table, when the soft sounds of an organ, accompanied by a youthful voice, saluted my ears in a very pleasing manner. "C"est LE PAUVRE PEt.i.t SAVOYARD, Monsieur"--exclaimed the waiter--"Vous allez entendre un air touchant! Ah, le pauvre pet.i.t!"--"Comment ca?" "Monsieur, il n"a ni pere ni mere; mais pour le chant--oh Dieu, il n"y a personne qui chante comme le pauvre pet.i.t Savoyard!" I was well disposed to hear the song, and to admit the truth of the waiter"s observation. The little itinerant stopped opposite the door, and sung the following air:--
_Bon jour, Bon soir_.
Je peindrai sans detour Tout l"emploi de ma vie: C"est de dire _bon jour_ Et _bon soir_ tour-a-tour.
_Bon Jour_ a mon amie, Lorsque je vais la voir.
Mais au fat qui m"ennuie, _Bon soir_.
_Bon jour_ franc troubadour, Qui chantez la bombance; La paix et les beaux jours; Bacchus et les amours.
Qu"un rimeur en demence Vienne avec vous s"a.s.seoir, Pour chanter la Romance, _Bon soir_.
_Bon jour_, mon cher voisin, Chez vous la soif m"entraine: _Bonjour_--si votre vin Est de Beaune ou du Rhin; Mon gosier va sans peine Lui servir d"entonnoir; Mais s"il est de Surene, _Bon soir_.
I know not how it was, but had the "pet.i.t Savoyard" possessed the cultivated voice of a chorister, I could not have listened to his notes with half the satisfaction with which I dwelt upon his history, as stated by the waiter. He had no sooner concluded and made his bow, than I bought the slender volume from which his songs had been chanted, and had a long gossip with him. He slung his organ upon his back, and "ever and anon"
touching his hat, expressed his thankfulness, as much for the interest I had taken in his welfare, as for the trifling piece of silver which I slipt into his hand at parting. Meanwhile all the benches, placed on the outsides of the houses, were occupied--chiefly by females--to witness, it should seem, so novel and interesting a sight as an Englishman holding familiar discourse with a poor wandering Savoyard! My friend the s.e.xton was among the spectators, and from his voice and action, appeared especially interested. "Que le bon Dieu vous benisse!" exclaimed the Savoyard, as I bade him farewell. On pursuing my route for a stroll upon the heights near the town, I had occasion to pa.s.s these benches of spectators. The women, almost without any exception, inclined their heads by way of a gracious salute; and Monsieur _le Sacristain_ pulled off his enormous c.o.c.k"d hat with the consequence of a drum-major. He appeared not to have forgotten the donation which he had received in the church. Continuing my pursuit, I gained an elevated situation: whence, looking down upon the spot where I had left the Savoyard, I observed him surrounded by the females--each and every one of them apparently convulsed with laughter! Even the little musician appeared to have forgotten his "orphan state."
The environs of _Bolbec_, especially in the upper part, are sufficiently picturesque. At least they are sufficiently fruitful: orchards, corn and pasture land--intermixed with meadows, upon which cotton was spread for bleaching--produced altogether a very interesting effect. The little hanging gardens, attached to labourer"s huts, contributed to the beauty of the scene. A warm crimson sun-set seemed to envelope the coppice wood in a flame of gold. The road was yet reeking with moisture--and I retraced my steps, through devious and slippery paths, to the hotel. Evening had set in: the sound of the Savoyard"s voice was no longer heard: I ordered tea and candles, and added considerably to my journal before I went to bed. I rose at five; and before six the horses were harnessed to the cabriolet.
Having obtained the necessary instructions for reaching _Tancarville_, (the ancient and proud seat of the MONTMORENCIS) I paid my reckoning, and left Bolbec. As I ascended a long and rather steep hill, and, looking to the right and left, saw every thing in a state of verdure and promise, I did all I could to persuade myself that the journey would be agreeable, and that the castle of Montmorenci could not fail to command admiration. I was now in the high and broad "_route royale_" to Havre le Grace; but had scarcely been a league upon it, when, looking at my instructions, we struck out of the high road, to the left, and followed a private one through flat and uninteresting arable land. I cannot tell how many turns were taken, or how many pretty little villages were pa.s.sed--till, after a long and gradual ascent, we came upon a height, flanked the greater part by coppice wood, through one portion of which--purposely kept open for the view--was seen at a distance a marvellously fine group of perpendicular rocks (whose grey and battered sides were lighted up with a pink colour from the morning sun) in the middle, as it were, of the _Seine_--which now really a.s.sumed an ocean-like appearance. In fact, these rocks were at a considerable distance, and appeared to be in the broadest part of the embouchure of that river. I halted the cabriolet; and gazed with unfeigned delight on this truly magnificent and fascinating scene!... for the larks were now mounting all around, and their notes, added to those of the "songsters of the grove," produced an effect which I even preferred to that from the organ and voice of the "pauvre pet.i.t Savoyard." The postboy partook of my rapture. "Voila, Monsieur, des rochers terriblement perpendiculiers--eh, quelle belle vue de la riviere, et du paysage!"