A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany Volume I Part 7

Among book-collectors, Antiquaries, and Men of Taste, let me speak with becoming praise of the amiable and accomplished M. AUGUSTE LE PREVOST--who is considered, by competent judges, to be the best antiquary in Rouen.[76]

Mr. Dawson Turner, (a name, in our own country, synonymous with all that is liberal and enlightened in matters of virtu) was so obliging as to give me a letter of introduction to him; and he shewed me several rare and splendid works, which were deserving of the commendations that they received from their owner.

M. Le Prevost very justly discredits any remains of Roman masonry at Rouen; but he will not be displeased to see that the only existing relics of the castle or town walls, have been copied by the pencil of a late travelling friend. What you here behold is probably of the fourteenth century.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The next book-collector in commendation of whom I am bound to speak, is MONSIEUR DUPUTEL; a member, as well as M. Le Prevost, of the _Academy of Belles-Lettres_ at Rouen. The Abbe Turquier conducted me thither; and I found, in the owner of a choice collection of books, a well-bred gentleman, and a most hearty bibliomaniac. He has comparatively a small library; but, withal, some very curious, scarce, and interesting volumes. M. Duputel is smitten with that amiable pa.s.sion,--the love of printing for _private distribution_--thus meriting to become a sort of Roxburghe a.s.sociate. He was so good as to beg my acceptance of the "nouvelle edition" of his "_Bagatelles Poetiques,"_ printed in an octavo volume of about 112 pages, at Rouen, in 1816. On taking it home, I discovered the following not infelicitous version of our Prior's beautiful little Poem of _the Garland_.

_La Guirlande_.

_Traduction de l'Anglais de Prior_.

Pour orner de Chloe les cheveux ondoyans, Parmi les fleurs nouvellement ecloses J'avais choisi les lis les plus brillans, Les oeillets les plus beaux, et les plus fraiches roses.

Ma Chloe sur son front les placa la matin: Alors on vit ceder sans peine, Leur vif eclat a celui de son teint, Leur doux parfum a ceux de son haleine.

De ses attraits ces fleurs paraissaient s'embellir, Et sur ses blonds cheveux les bergers, les bergeres Les voyaient se faner avec plus de plaisir Qu'ils ne les voyaient naitre au milieu des parterres.

Mais, le soir, quand leur sein fletri Eut cesse d'exhaler son odeur seduisante, Elle fixa, d'un regard attendri, Cette guirlande, helas! n'agueres si brillante.

Des larmes aussi-tot coulent de ses beaux yeux.

Que d'eloquence dans ces larmes!

Jamais pour l'exprimer, le langage des dieux, Tout sublime qu'il est, n'aurait a.s.sez de charmes.

En feignant d'ignorer ce tendre sentiment; "Pourquoi," lui dis-je, "o ma sensible amie, Pourquoi verser des pleurs? et par quel changement Abandonner ton ame a la melancholie?"

"Vois-tu comme ces fleurs languissent tristement?"

Me dit, en soupirant, ce moraliste aimable, "De leur fraicheur, en un moment, S'est eclipse le charme peu durable.

Tel est, helas! notre destin; Fleur de beaute ressemble a celles des prairies; On les voit toutes deux naitre avec le matin, Et des le soir etre fletries.

Estelle hier encor brillait dans nos hameaux, Et l'amour attirait les bergers sur ses traces; De la mort, aujourd'hui, I'impitoyable faulx A moissonne sa jeunesse et ses graces.

Soumise aux memes lois, peut-etre que demain, Comme elle aussi, Damon, j'aurai cesse de vivre....

Consacre dans tes vers la cause du chagrin Auquel ton amante se livre."

p. 92.

The last and not the least of book-collectors, which I have had an opportunity of visiting, is MONSIEUR RIAUX. With respect to what may be called a ROUENNOISE LIBRARY, that of M. Riaux is greatly preferable to any which I have seen; although I am not sure whether M. Le Prevost's collection contain not nearly as many books. M. Riaux is himself a man of first-rate book enthusiasm; and unites the avocations of his business with the gratification of his literary appet.i.tes, in a manner which does him infinite honour. A city like Rouen should have a host of such inhabitants; and the government, when it begins to breathe a little from recent embarra.s.sments, will, I hope, cherish and support that finest of all patriotic feelings,--a desire to preserve the RELICS, MANNERS, AND CUSTOMS of PAST AGES. Normandy is fertile beyond conception in objects which may gratify the most unbounded pa.s.sion in this pursuit. It is the country where formerly the harp of the minstrel poured forth some of its sweetest strains; and the lay and the fabliaux of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, which delight us in the text of Sainte Palaye, and in the versions of Way, owed their existence to the combined spirit of chivalry and literature, which never slumbered upon the sh.o.r.es of Normandy.

Farewell now to ROUEN.[77] I have told you all the tellings which I thought worthy of communication. I have endeavoured to make you saunter with me in the streets, in the cathedral, the abbey, and the churches. We have, in imagination at least, strolled together along the quays, visited the halls and public buildings, and gazed with rapture from Mont Ste. Catharine upon the enchanting view of the city, the river, and the neighbouring hills. We have from thence breathed almost the pure air of heaven, and surveyed a country equally beautified by art, and blessed by nature. Our hearts, from that same height, have wished all manner of health, wealth, and prosperity, to a land thus abounding in corn and wine, and oil and gladness. We have silently, but sincerely prayed, that swords may for ever be "turned into plough-shares, and spears into pruning-hooks:"--that all heart-burnings, antipathies, and animosities, may be eternally extinguished; and that, from henceforth, there may be no national rivalries but such as tend to establish, upon a firmer footing, and upon a more comprehensive scale, the peace and happiness of fellow-creatures, of whatever persuasion they may be:--of such, who sedulously cultivate the arts of individual and of national improvement, and blend the duties of social order with the higher calls of morality and religion. Ah! my friend, these are neither foolish thoughts nor romantic wishes. They arise naturally in an honest heart, which, seeing that all creation is animated and upheld by ONE and the SAME POWER, cannot but ardently hope that ALL may be equally benefited by a reliance upon its goodness and bounty. From this eminence we have descended somewhat into humbler walks. We have visited hospitals, strolled in flower-gardens, and a.s.sociated with publishers and collectors of works--both of the dead and of the living. So now, fare you well. Commend me to your family and to our common friends,--especially to the Gorburghers should they perchance enquire after their wandering Vice President. Many will be the days pa.s.sed over, and many the leagues traversed, ere I meet them again. Within twenty-four hours my back will be more decidedly turned upon "dear old England"--for that country, in which her ancient kings once held dominion, and where every square mile (I had almost said _acre_) is equally interesting to the antiquary and the agriculturist. I salute you wholly, and am yours ever.

[71] The reader may possibly not object to consult two or three pages of the _Bibliographical Decameron_, beginning at page 137, vol. ii.

respecting a few of the early Rouen printers. The name of MAUFER, however, appears in a fine large folio volume, ent.i.tled _Gaieta.n.u.s de Tienis Vincentini in Quatt. Aristot. Metheor. Libros_, of the date of 1476--in the possession of Earl Spencer. See _aed.

Althorp_. vol. ii. p. 134. From the colophon of which we can only infer that Maufer was a _citizen of Rouen_. [According to M.

Licquet, the first book printed at Rouen--a book of the greatest rarity--was ent.i.tled _Les Croniques de Normandie, par Guillaume Le Talleur_, 1487, folio.]

[72] [Since the publication of the first edition of this Tour, I have had _particular_ reason to become further acquainted with the partiality of the Rouennois for Parisian printing. When M. Licquet did me the honour to translate my IXth Letter, subjoining notes, (which cut their own throats instead of that of the author annotated upon) he employed the press of Mons. c.r.a.pelet, at Paris: a press, as eminently distinguished for its beauty and accuracy, as its Director has proved himself to be for his narrow-mindedness and acrimony of feeling. M.L.

(as I learnt from a friend who conversed with him, and as indeed I naturally expected) seemed to be sorry for what he had done.]

[73] _like Aldus, "say my saying" quickly_.] Consult Mr. Roscoe's _Life of Leo X._ vol. i. p. 169-70, 8vo. edit. Unger, in his Life of Aldus, _edit. Geret._ p. x.x.xxii. has a pleasant notice of an inscription, to the same effect, put over the door of his printing-office by Aldus. [It has been quoted to satiety, and I therefore omit it here.]

[74] [Mons. Periaux has lately published a Dictionary of the Streets of Rouen, in alphabetical order; in two small, unostentatious, and useful octavo volumes.]

[75] [Mons. Licquet translates the latter part of the above pa.s.sage thus:--"avec quelle facilite nous parvenons a nous abuser nous-memes,"--adding, in a note, as follows: "J'avais d'abord vu un tout autre sens dans la phrase anglaise. Si celui que j'adopte n'etait pas encore le veritable, j'en demande sincerement pardon a l'auteur."

In turn, I may not be precisely informed of the meaning and force of the verb "_abuser_"--used by my translator: but I had been better satisfied with the verb _tromper_--as more closely conveying the sense of the original.]

[76] M. Le Prevost is a belles-lettres Antiquary of the highest order. His "Memoire faisant suite a l'Essai sur les Romans historiques du moyen age" may teach modern Normans not to despair when death shall have laid low their present oracle the ABBE DE LA RUE. [I am proud, in this second edition of my Tour, to record the uninterrupted correspondence and friendship of this distinguished Individual; and I can only regret, in common with several friends, that M. Le Prevost will not summon courage sufficient to visit a country, once in such close connexion with his own, where a HEARTY RECEPTION has long awaited him.]

[77] [The omission, in this place, of the entire IXth Letter, relating to the PUBLIC LIBRARY at Rouen, must be accounted for, and it is hoped, approved, on the principle laid down at the outset of this undertaking; namely, to omit much that was purely bibliographical, and of a secondary interest to the general Reader. The bibliography, in the original IXth Letter, being of a partial and comparatively dry description--as relating almost entirely to ancient volumes of Church Rituals--was thought to be better omitted than abridged. Another reason might be successfully urged for its omission.

This IXth Letter, which comprehends 22 pages in the previous impression, and about 38 pages in the version, having been translated and _separately_ published in 1821, by Mons. Licquet (who succeeded M. Gourdin as Princ.i.p.al Librarian of the Library in question) I had bestowed upon it particular attention, and entered into several points by way of answer to his remarks, and in justification or explanation of the original matter. In consequence, any _abridgement_ of that original matter must have led to constant notice of the minute remarks, and pigmy attacks, of my critical translator: and the stream of intelligence in the text might have been diverted, or rendered unpalatable, by the observations, in the way of controversy, in the notes. If M. Licquet considers this avowal as the proclaiming of his triumph, he is welcome to the laurels of a Conqueror; but if he can persuade any COMMON FRIENDS that, in the translation here referred to, he has defeated the original author in one essential position--or corrected him in one flagrant inaccuracy--I shall be as prompt to thank him for his labours, as I am now to express my astonishment and pity at his undertaking. When M. Licquet put forth the brochure in question--(so splendidly executed in the press of M. c.r.a.pelet--to harmonise, in all respects, with the large paper copies of the original English text) he had but recently occupied the seat of his Predecessor. I can commend the zeal of the newly-appointed Librarian in Chief; but must be permitted to question alike his judgment and his motives.

One more brief remark in this place. My translator should seem to commend what is only laudatory, in the original author, respecting his countrymen. Sensitively alive to the notice of their smallest defects, he has the most unbounded powers of digestion for that of their excellences. Thus, at the foot of the ABOVE Pa.s.sAGE, in the text, Mons. Licquet is pleased to add as follows--in a note: "Si M. Dibdin ne s'etait livre qu'a des digressions de cette nature, il aurait trouve en France un chorus universel, un concert de voeux unanimes:"

vol. i. p. 239. And yet few travellers have experienced a more cordial reception, and maintained a more _harmonious_ intercourse, than HE, who, from the foregoing quotation, is more than indirectly supposed to have provoked opposition and _discord!_]

LETTER IX.

DEPARTURE FROM ROUEN. ST. GEORGE DE BOSCHERVILLE. DUCLAIR. MARIVAUX. THE ABBEY OF JUMIEGES. ARRIVAL AT CAUDEBEC.

_May_, 1818.

MY DEAR FRIEND.

In spite of all its grotesque beauties and antiquarian attractions, the CITY OF ROUEN must be quitted--and I am about to pursue my route more in the character of an independent traveller. No more _Diligence_, or _Conducteur_. I have hired a decent cabriolet, a decent pair of horses, and a yet more promising postilion: and have already made a delightfully rural migration. Adieu therefore to dark avenues, gloomy courts, overhanging roofs, narrow streets, cracking whips, the never-ceasing noise of carts and carriages, and never-ending movements of countless ma.s.ses of population:--Adieu!--and in their stead, welcome be the winding road, the fertile meadow, the thickly-planted orchard, and the broad and sweeping Seine!

Accordingly, on the 4th of this month, between the hours of ten and eleven, A.M. the rattling of horses' hoofs, and the echoes of a postilion's whip, were heard within the court-yard of the _Hotel Vatel_. Monsieur, Madame, Jacques--and the whole fraternity of domestics, were on the alert--"pour faire les adieux a Messieurs les Anglois." This Jacques deserves somewhat of a particular notice. He is the prime minister of the Hotel Vatel.[78] A somewhat _uncomfortable_ detention in England for five years, in the character of "prisoner of war," has made him master of a pretty quick and ready utterance of common-place phrases in our language; and he is not a little proud of his attainments therein. Seriously speaking, I consider him quite a phenomenon in his way; and it is right you should know that he affords a very fair specimen of a sharp, clever, French servant. His bodily movements are nearly as quick as those of his tongue. He rises, as well as his brethren, by five in the morning; and the testimonies of this early activity are quickly discovered in the unceasing noise of beating coats, singing French airs, and scolding the boot-boy. He rarely retires to rest before mid-night; and the whole day long he is in one eternal round of occupation. When he is bordering upon impertinence, he seems to be conscious of it--declaring that "the English make him saucy, but that naturally he is very civil." He always speaks of human beings in the _neuter_ gender; and to a question whether such a one has been at the Hotel, he replies, "I have not seen _it_ to-day." I am persuaded he is a thoroughly honest creature; and considering the pains which are taken to spoil him, it is surprising with what good sense and propriety he conducts himself.

About eleven o'clock, we sprung forward, at a smart trot, towards the barriers by which we had entered Rouen. Our postilion was a thorough master of his calling, and his spurs and whip seemed to know no cessation from action. The steeds, perfectly Norman, were somewhat fiery; and we rattled along the streets, (for the _chausse_ never causes the least abatement of pace with the French driver) in high expectation of seeing a thousand rare sights ere we reached Havre--equally the limits of our journey, and of our contract with the owner of the cabriolet. That accomplished antiquary M. Le Prevost, whose name you have often heard, had furnished me with so dainty a bill of fare, or carte de voyage; that I began to consider each hour lost which did not bring us in contact with some architectural relic of antiquity, or some elevated position--whence the wandering Seine and wooded heights of the adjacent country might be surveyed with equal advantage.

You have often, I make no doubt, my dear friend, started upon something like a similar expedition:--when the morning has been fair, the sun bright, the breeze gentle, and the atmosphere clear. In such moments how the ardour of hope takes possession of one!--How the heart warms, and the conversation flows! The barriers are approached; we turn to the left, and commence our journey in good earnest. Previously to gaining the first considerable height, you pa.s.s the village of _Bapeaume_. This village is exceedingly picturesque. It is studded with water-mills, and is enlivened by a rapid rivulet, which empties itself, in a serpentine direction, into the Seine.

You now begin to ascend a very commanding eminence; at the top of which are scattered some of those country houses which are seen from Mont Ste.

Catharine. The road is of a n.o.ble breadth. The day warmed; and dismounting, we let our steeds breathe freely, as we continued to ascend leisurely. Our first halting-place, according to the instructions of M. Le Prevost, was _St. George de Boscherville_; an ancient abbey established in the twelfth century, This abbey is situated about three French leagues from Rouen. Our route thither, from the summit of the hill which we had just ascended, lay along a road skirted by interminable orchards now in full bloom. The air was perfumed to excess by the fragrance of these blossoms. The apple and pear were beautifully conspicuous; and as the sky became still more serene, and the temperature yet more mild by the un.o.bstructed sun beam, it is impossible to conceive any thing more balmy and genial than was this lovely day. The minutes seemed to fly away too quickly--when we reached the village of _Boscherville_; where stands the CHURCH; the chief remaining relic of this once beautiful abbey. We surveyed the west front very leisurely, and thought it an extremely beautiful specimen of the architecture of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; for certainly there are some portions more ancient than others. A survey of the chapter-house filled me with mingled sorrow and delight: sorrow, that the Revolution and a modern cotton manufactory had metamorphosed it from its original character; and delight, that the portions which remained were of such beautiful forms, and in such fine preservation. The stone, being of a very close-grained quality, is absolutely as white and sound as if it had been just cut from the quarry. The room, where a parcel of bare-legged girls and boys were working the respective machineries, had a roof of the most delicate construction.[79]

The very sound of a _Monastery_ made me curious to examine the disposition of the building. Accordingly, I followed my guide through suites of apartments, up divers stone stair-cases, and along sundry corridors. I noticed the dormitories with due attention, and of course inquired eagerly for the LIBRARY:--but the shelves only remained--either the fear or the fury of the Revolution having long ago dispossessed it of every thing in the shape of a _book_. The whole was painted white. I counted eleven perpendicular divisions; and, from the small distances between the upper shelves, there must have been a very considerable number of _duodecimos_.

The t.i.tles of the respective cla.s.ses of the library were painted in white letters upon a dark-blue ground, at top. _Bibles_ occupied the first division, and the _Fathers_ the second: but it should seem that equal importance was attached to the works of _Heretics_ as to those called _Litterae Humaniores_--for each had a division of equal magnitude.

On looking out of window, especially from the back part of the building, the eye rests entirely upon what had once been fruitful orchards, abundant kitchen gardens, and shady avenues. Yet in England, this spot, rich by nature, and desirable from its proximity to a great city, would, ere forty moons had waned, have grown up into beauty and fertility, and expanded into luxuriance of condition.

The day was now, if possible, more lovely than before. On looking at my instructions I found that we had to stop to examine the remains of an old castle at _Delafontaine_--about two English miles from _St. George de Boscherville_. These remains, however, are but the fragments of a ruin, if I may so speak; yet they are interesting, but somewhat perilous: for a few broken portions of a wall support an upper chamber, where appears a stone chimney-piece of very curious construction and ornament. On observing a large cavity or loop-hole, about half way up the outer wall, I gained it by means of a plentiful growth of ivy, and from thence surveyed the landscape before me. Here, having for some time past lost sight of the Seine, I caught a fine bold view of the sweep of that majestic river, now becoming broader and broader--while, to the left, softly tinted by distance, appeared the beautiful old church we had just quitted: the verdure of the hedges, shrubs, and forest trees, affording a rich variety to the ruddy blossoms of the apple, and the white bloom of the pear. I admit, however, that this delicious morceau of landscape was greatly indebted, for its enchanting effect, to the blue splendour of the sky, and the soft temperature of the air; while the fragrance of every distended blossom added much to the gratification of the beholder. But it is time to descend from this elevation; and to think of reaching Duclair.

DUCLAIR is situated close to the very borders of the Seine, which has now an absolute lake-like appearance. We stopped at the auberge to rest our horses; and I commenced a discourse with the master of the inn and his daughter; the latter, a very respectable-looking and well-behaved young woman of about twenty-two years of age. She was preparing a large crackling wood-fire to dress a fish called the _Alose_, for the pa.s.sengers of the _diligence_--who were expected within half an hour. The French think they can never _b.u.t.ter_ their victuals sufficiently; and it would have produced a spasmodic affection in a thoroughly bilious spectator, could he have seen the enormous piece of b.u.t.ter which this active young _cuisiniere_ thought necessary to put into the pot in which the '_Alose_' was to be boiled. She laughed at the surprise I expressed; and added "qu'on ne peut rien faire dans la cuisine sans le beurre." You ought to know, by the by, that the _Alose_, something like our _mackerel_ in flavour, is a large and delicious fish; and that we were always anxious to bespeak it at the table-d'hote at Rouen. Extricated from the lake of b.u.t.ter in which it floats, when brought upon table, it forms not only a rich, but a very substantial dish.