NORMANDY:

THE SCENERY & ROMANCE OF ITS ANCIENT TOWNS:

DEPICTED BY GORDON HOME

Part 2. 

CHAPTER IV

Concerning the Cathedral City of Evreux and the Road to Bernay

The tolling of the deep-toned bourdon in the cathedral tower reverberatesover the old town of Evreux as we pass along the cobbled streets. There isa yellow evening light overhead, and the painted stucco walls of the housesreflect the soft, glowing colour of the west. In the courtyard of the Hoteldu Grand Cerf, too, every thing is bathed in this beautiful light and thedouble line of closely trimmed laurels has not yet been deserted by thegolden flood. But Evreux does not really require a fine evening to make itattractive, although there is no town in existence that is not improvedunder such conditions. With the magnificent cathedral, the belfry, theNorman church of St Taurin and the museum, besides many quaint peeps by themuch sub-divided river Iton that flows through the town, there issufficient to interest one even on the dullest of dull days. 

Of all the cathedral interiors in Normandy there are none that possess afiner or more perfectly proportioned nave than Evreux, and if I were askedto point out the two most impressive interiors of the churches in thisdivision of France I should couple the cathedral at Evreux with St Ouen atRouen. 

It was our own Henry I. Who having destroyed the previous building set towork to build a new one and it is his nave that we see to-day. The wholecathedral has since that time been made to reflect the changing ideals ofthe seven centuries that have passed. The west front belongs entirely tothe Renaissance period and the north transept is in the flamboyant style ofthe fifteenth century so much in evidence in Normandy and so infrequent inEngland. 

The central tower with its tall steeple now encased in scaffolding wasbuilt in 1470 by Cardinal Balue, Bishop of Evreux and inventor of thefearful wooden cages in one of which the prisoner Dubourg died at Mont StMichel. 

In most of the windows there is old and richly coloured glass; those in thechancel have stronger tones, but they all transform the shafts of lightinto gorgeous rainbow effects which stand out in wonderful contrast to thedelicate, creamy white of the stone-work. Pale blue banners are suspendedin the chancel, and the groining above is coloured on each side of thebosses for a short distance, so that as one looks up the great sweep of thenave, the banners and the brilliant fifteenth century glass appear as vividpatches of colour beyond the uniform, creamy grey on either side. TheNorman towers at the west end of the cathedral are completely hidden in themask of classical work planted on top of the older stone-work in thesixteenth century, and more recent restoration has altered some of theother features of the exterior. At the present day the process ofrestoration still goes on, but the faults of our grandfathers fortunatelyare not repeated. 

Leaving the Place Parvis by the Rue de l'Horloge you come to the great openspace in front of the Hotel de Ville and the theatre with the museum on theright, in which there are several Roman remains discovered at Vieil-Evreux, among them being a bronze statue of Jupiter Stator. On the opposite side ofthe Place stands the beautiful town belfry built at the end of thefifteenth century. There was an earlier one before that time, but I do notknow whether it had been destroyed during the wars with the English, orwhether the people of Evreux merely raised the present graceful tower inplace of the older one with a view to beautifying the town. The bell, whichwas cast in 1406 may have hung in the former structure, and there is somefascination in hearing its notes when one realises how these same soundwaves have fallen on the ears of the long procession of players who haveperformed their parts within its hearing. A branch of the Iton runs pastthe foot of the tower in canal fashion; it is backed by old houses andcrossed by many a bridge, and helps to build up a suitable foreground tothe beautiful old belfry, which seems to look across to the brand new Hotelde Ville with an injured expression. From the Boulevard Chambaudouin thereis a good view of one side of the Bishop's palace which lies on the southside of the cathedral, and is joined to it by a gallery and the remains ofthe cloister. The walls are strongly fortified, and in front of them runs abranch of one of the canals of the Iton, that must have originally servedas a moat. 

Out towards the long straight avenue that runs out of the town in thedirection of Caen, there may be seen the Norman church of St Taurin. It isall that is left of the Benedictine abbey that once stood here. Many peoplewho explore this interesting church fail to see the silver-gilt reliquaryof the twelfth century that is shown to visitors who make the necessaryinquiries. The richness of its enamels and the elaborate ornamentationstudded with imitation gems that have replaced the real ones, makes thiscasket almost unique. 

Many scenes from the life of the saint are shown in the windows of thechoir of the church. They are really most interesting, and the glass isvery beautiful. The south door must have been crowded with the mostelaborate ornament, but the delicately carved stone-work has been hackedaway and the thin pillars replaced by crude, uncarved chunks of stone. There is Norman arcading outside the north transept as well as just abovethe floor in the north aisle. St Taurin is a somewhat dilapidated andcob-webby church, but it is certainly one of the interesting features ofEvreux. 

Instead of keeping on the road to Caen after reaching the end of the greatavenue just mentioned, we turn towards the south and soon enter prettypastoral scenery. The cottages are almost in every instance thatched, withridges plastered over with a kind of cobb mud. In the cracks in thiscurious ridging, grass seeds and all sorts of wild flowers are soondeposited, so that upon the roof of nearly every cottage there is aluxuriant growth of grass and flowers. In some cases yellow irises aloneornament the roofs, and they frequently grow on the tops of the walls thatare treated in a similar fashion. A few miles out of Evreux you pass ahamlet with a quaint little church built right upon the roadway with nochurchyard or wall of any description. A few broken gravestones of quiterecent date litter the narrow, dusty space between the north side of thechurch and the roadway. Inside there is an untidy aspect to everything, butthere are some windows containing very fine thirteenth century glass whichthe genial old cure shows with great delight, for it is said that they wereintended for the cathedral at Evreux, but by some chance remained in thisobscure hamlet. The cure also points out the damage done to the windows by_socialistes_ at a recent date. 

By the roadside towards Conches, there are magpies everywhere, punctuatedby yellow hammers and nightingales. The cottages have thatch of a very deepbrown colour over the hipped roofs, closely resembling those in theout-of-the-way parts of Sussex. It a beautiful country, and thedelightfully situated town of Conches at the edge of its forest is wellmatched with its surroundings. 

In the middle of the day the inhabitants seem to entirely disappear fromthe sunny street, and everything has a placid and reposeful appearance asthough the place revelled in its quaintness. Backed by the dense masses offorest there is a sloping green where an avenue of great chestnuts towerabove the long, low roof of the timber-framed cattle shelter. On thehighest part of the hill stands the castle, whose round, central towershows above the trees that grow thickly on the slopes of the hill. Close tothe castle is the graceful church, and beyond are the clustered roofs ofthe houses. A viaduct runs full tilt against the hill nearly beneath thechurch, and then the railway pierces the hill on its way towards Bernay. The tall spire of the church of St Foy is comparatively new, for the wholestructure was rebuilt in the fifteenth century, but its stained glass is ofexceptional interest. Its richness of colour and the interest of thesubjects indicate some unusually gifted artist, and one is not surprised todiscover that they were designed by Aldegrevers, who was trained by thatgreat master Albrecht Dyrer. Altogether there are twenty-one of thesebeautiful windows. Seven occupy the eastern end of the apse and give scenestaken from the life of St Foy. 

You can reach the castle by passing through the quaint archway of the Hotelde Ville, and then passing through the shady public garden you plunge intothe dry moat that surrounds the fortified mound. There is not very much tosee but what appears in a distant view of the town, and in many ways theoutside groupings of the worn ruin and the church roofs and spire above thehouses are better than the scenes in the town itself. The Hotel CroixBlanche is a pleasant little house for dejeuner. Everything is extremelysimple and typical of the family methods of the small French inn, whereexcellent cooking goes along with many primitive usages. The coolsalle-a-manger is reached through the general living-room and kitchen, which is largely filled with the table where you may see the proprietorand his family partaking of their own meals. There seems no room to cookanything at all, and yet when you are seated in the next room thedaughter of the family, an attractive and neatly dressed girl, gracefully serves the most admirable courses, worthy and perhaps betterthan what one may expect to obtain in the best hotel in Rouen. 

There is a road that passes right through the forest of Conches towardsRugles, but that must be left for another occasion if we are to seeanything of the charms of Beaumont-le-Roger, the perfectly situated littletown that lies half-way between Conches and Bernay. 

The long street of the town containing some very charming peeps as you gotowards the church is really a terrace on the limestone hills that risesbehind the houses on the right, and falls steeply on the left. Spacesbetween the houses and narrow turnings give glimpses of the rich greencountry down below. From the lower level you see the rocky ridge aboveclothed in a profusion of trees. The most perfect picture in the town isfrom the river bank just by the bridge. In the foreground is themirror-like stream that gives its own rendering of the scene that is builtup above it. Leaning upon a parapet of the bridge is a man with a rod whois causing tragedies in the life that teems beneath the glassy surface. Beyond the bridge appear some quaint red roofs with one tower-like housewith an overhanging upper storey. Higher up comes the precipitous hilldivided into terraces by the huge walls that surround the abbey buildings, and still higher, but much below the highest part of the hill, are thepicturesque ruins of the abbey. On the summit of the ridge dominating allare the insignificant remains of the castle built by Roger a la Barbe, whose name survives in that of the town. His family were the founders ofthe abbey that flourished for several centuries, but finally, about ahundred years ago, the buildings were converted to the uses of a factory!Spinning and weaving might have still been going on but for a big fire thatdestroyed the whole place. There was, however, a considerably more completeseries of buildings left than we can see to-day, but scarcely more thanfifty years ago the place was largely demolished for building materials. The view from the river Rille is therefore the best the ruin can boast, forseen from that point the arches rise up against the green background as astately ruin, and the tangled mass of weeds and debris are invisible. Theentrance is most inviting. It is down at the foot of the cliff, and thearchway with the steep ascent inside suggests all sorts of delights beyond, as it stands there just by the main street of the town. I was sorryafterwards, that I had accepted that hospitality, for with the exception ofa group of merry children playing in an orchard and some big caves hollowedout of the foot of the cliff that rises still higher, I saw nothing but ajungle of nettles. This warning should not, however, suggest thatBeaumont-le-Roger is a poor place to visit. Not only is it a charming, Imay say a fascinating spot to visit, but it is also a place in which tostay, for the longer you remain there the less do you like the idea ofleaving. The church of St Nicholas standing in the main street where itbecomes much wider and forms a small Place, is a beautiful old buildingwhose mellow colours on stone-work and tiles glow vividly on a sunnyafternoon. There is a great stone wall forming the side of the rockyplatform that supports the building and the entrance is by steps that leadup to the west end. The tower belongs to the flamboyant period and high upon its parapet you may see a small statue of Regulus who does duty as a"Jack-smite-the-clock. " Just by the porch there leans against a wall a mostponderous grave slab which was made for the tomb of Jehan du Moustier asoldier of the fourteenth century who fought for that Charles of Navarrewho was surnamed "The Bad. " The classic additions to the western part ofthe church seem strangely out of sympathy with the gargoyles overhead andthe thirteenth century arcades of the nave, but this mixing up of styles isreally more incongruous in description than in reality. 

When you have decided to leave Beaumont-le-Roger and have passed across theold bridge and out into the well-watered plain, the position of the littletown suggests that of the village of Pulborough in Sussex, where a roadgoes downhill to a bridge and then crosses the rich meadowland where theriver Arun winds among the pastures in just the same fashion as the Rille. 

At a bend in the road to Bernay stands the village of Serquigny. It is justat the edge of the forest of Beaumont which we have been skirting, andbesides having a church partially belonging to the twelfth century it hastraces of a Roman Camp. All the rest of the way to Bernay the road followsthe railway and the river Charentonne until the long--and when you arelooking out for the hotel--seemingly endless street of Bernay is reached. After the wonderful combination of charms that are flaunted byBeaumont-le-Roger it is possible to grumble at the plainer features ofBernay, but there is really no reason to hurry out of the town for there ismuch quaint architecture to be seen, and near the Hotel du Lion d'Or thereis a house built right over the street resting on solid wooden posts. Butmore interesting than the domestic architecture are the remains of theabbey founded by Judith of Brittany very early in the eleventh century forit is probably one of the oldest Romanesque remains in Normandy. The churchis cut up into various rooms and shops at the choir end, and there has beenmuch indiscriminate ill-treatment of the ancient stone-work. Much of thestructure, including the plain round arches and square columns, is of thevery earliest Norman period, having been built in the first half of theeleventh century, but in later times classic ornament was added to the workof those shadowy times when the kingdom of Normandy had not long beenestablished. So much alteration in the styles of decoration has taken placein the building that it is possible to be certain of the date of only someportions of the structure. The Hotel de Ville now occupies part of theabbey buildings. 

At the eastern side of the town stands St Croix, a fifteenth century churchwith a most spacious interior. There is much beautiful glass dating fromthree hundred years ago in the windows of the nave and transepts, butperhaps the feature which will be remembered most when other impressionshave vanished, will be the finely carved statues belonging to thefourteenth century which were brought here from the Abbey of Bec. The southtransept contains a monument to Guillaume Arvilarensis, an abbot of Bec whodied in 1418. Upon the great altar which is believed to have been broughtfrom the Abbey of Bec, there are eight marble columns surrounding a smallwhite marble figure of the Child Jesus. 

Another church at Bernay is that of Notre Dame de la Couture. It has muchfourteenth century work and behind the high altar there are five chapels, the centre one containing a copy of the "sacred image" of Notre Dame whichstands by the column immediately to the right of the entrance. Much morecould be said of these three churches with their various styles ofarchitecture extending from the very earliest period down to the classicwork of the seventeenth century. But this is not the place for intricatedescriptions of architectural detail which are chiefly useful in bookswhich are intended for carrying from place to place. 

CHAPTER V

Concerning Lisieux and the Romantic Town of Falaise

Lisieux is so rich in the curious timber-framed houses of the middle andlater ages that there are some examples actually visible immediatelyoutside the railway station whereas in most cases one usually finds anaggregation of uninteresting modern buildings. As you go towards the centreof the town the old houses, which have only been dotted about here andthere, join hands and form whole streets of the most romantic and almoststage-like picturesqueness. The narrow street illustrated here is the Rueaux Fevres. Its houses are astonishingly fine, and it forms--especially inthe evening--a background suitable for any of the stirring scenes that tookplace in such grand old towns as Lisieux in medieval days. This street ishowever, only one of several that reek of history. In the Rue desBoucheries and in the Grande Rue there are lovely overhanging gables andcurious timber-framing that is now at any angle but what was originallyintended. There is really so much individual quaintness in these housesthat they deserve infinitely more than the scurry past them which sofrequently is all their attractions obtain. The narrowness and fustiness ofthe Rue aux Fevres certainly hinder you from spending much time inexamining the houses but there are two which deserve a few minutes'individual attention. One which has a very wide gable and the upper floorsboarded is believed to be of very great antiquity, dating from as early aperiod as the thirteenth century. It is numbered thirty-three, and must notbe confused with the richly ornamented Manoir de Francois I. The timberwork of this house, especially of the two lower floors is covered withelaborate carving including curious animals and quaint little figures, andalso the salamander of the royal house. For this reason the photographssold in the shops label the house "Manoir de la Salamandre. " The place isnow fast going to ruin--a most pitiable sight and I for one, would preferto see the place restored rather than it should be allowed to become sohopelessly dilapidated and rotten that the question of its preservationshould come to be considered lightly. 

If the town authorities of Lisieux chose to do so, they could encourage thetownsfolk to enrich many of their streets by a judicious flaking off of theplaster which in so many cases tries to hide all the pleasant features ofhouses that have seen at least three centuries, but this sort of work whenin the hands of only partially educated folk is liable to produce a worsestate of affairs than if things had been left untouched. An example of whatover-restoration can do, may be seen when we reach the beautiful old inn atDives. 

The two churches of Lisieux are well fitted to their surroundings, andalthough St Jacques has no graceful tower or fleche, the quaintness of itsshingled belfry makes up for the lack of the more stately towers of StPierre. Where the stone-work has stopped short the buttresses are roofedwith the quaintest semi-circular caps, and over the clock there are twomore odd-looking pepper boxes perched upon the steep slope that projectsfrom the square belfry. Over all there is a low pyramidal roof, stainedwith orange lichen and making a great contrast in colour to theweather-beaten stone-work down below. There are small patches of tiledroofing to the buttresses at the western ends of the aisles and these alsoadd colour to this picturesque building. The great double flight of stonesteps which lead to the imposing western door have balustrades filled withflamboyant tracery, but although the church is built up in this way, thefloor in the interior is not level, for it slopes gently up towards theeast. The building was commenced during the reign of Louis XII. And notfinished until nearly the end of the reign of Francois I. It is thereforecoeval with that richly carved house in the Rue aux Fevres. Along the sidesof the church there project a double row of thirsty-looking gargoyles--theupper ones having their shoulders supported by the mass of masonrysupporting the flying buttresses. The interior is richer than the exterior, and you may see on some of the pillars remains of sixteenth centurypaintings. A picture dating from 1681 occupies a position in the chapel ofSt Ursin in the south aisle; it shows the relic of the saint being broughtto Lisieux in 1055. 

The wide and sunny Place Thiers is dominated by the great church of StPierre, which was left practically in its present form in the year 1233. The first church was begun some years before the conquest of England butabout a century later it suffered the fate of Bayeux being burnt down in1136. It was reconstructed soon afterwards and shows to-day the firstperiod of Gothic architecture that became prevalent in Normandy. Only thenorth tower dates from this period, the other one had to be rebuilt duringthe reign of Henri III. And the spire only made its appearance in theseventeenth century. The Lady Chapel is of particular interest owing to thestatement that it was built by that Bishop of Beauvais who took such aprominent part in the trial of Joan of Arc. The main arches over the bigwest door are now bare of carving or ornament and the Hotel de Ville isbuilt right up against the north-west corner, but despite this St Pierrehas the most imposing and stately appearance, and there are many featuressuch as the curious turrets of the south transept that impress themselveson the memory more than some of the other churches we have seen. 

Lisieux is one of those cheerful towns that appear always clean and brightunder the dullest skies, so that when the sun shines every view seemsfreshly painted and blazing with colour. The freshness of the atmosphere, too, is seldom tainted with those peculiar odours that some French townsproduce with such enormous prodigality, and Lisieux may therefore claim afurther point in its favour. 

It is generally a wide, hedgeless stretch of country that lies betweenLisieux and Falaise, but for the first ten miles there are big farm-houseswith timber-framed barns and many orchards bearing a profusion of blossomnear the roadside. A small farm perched above the road and quite out ofsight, invites the thirsty passer-by to turn aside up a steep path topartake of cider or coffee. It is a simple, almost bare room where therefreshment is served, but its quaintness and shadowy coolness are mostrefreshing. The fireplace has an open hearth with a wood fire which cansoon be blown into a blaze by the big bellows that hang against the chimneycorner. A table by one of the windows is generally occupied in her sparemoments by the farmer's pretty daughter who puts aside her knitting tofetch the cider or to blow up the fire for coffee. They are a most genialfamily and seem to find infinite delight in plying English folk withquestions for I imagine that not many find their way to this sequesteredcorner among waving trees and lovely orchards. 

A sudden descent before reaching St Pierre-sur-Dives gives a great viewover the level country below where everything is brilliantly green andgarden-like. The village first shows its imposing church through the treesof a straight avenue leading towards the village which also possesses afine Market Hall that must be at least six hundred years old. The church isnow undergoing restoration externally, but by dodging the falling cementdust you may go inside, perhaps to be disappointed that there is not moreof the Norman work that has been noticed in the southern tower that risesabove the entrance. The village, or it should really be called a smalltown, for its population is over a thousand, has much in it that isattractive and quaint, and it might gain more attention if everyone whopasses through its streets were not hurrying forward to Falaise. 

The country now becomes a great plain, hedgeless, and at times almostfeatureless. The sun in the afternoon throws the shadows of the roadsidetrees at right angles, so that the road becomes divided into accuratesquares by the thin lines of shadow. The straight run from St Pierre isbroken where the road crosses the Dives. It is a pretty spot with a farm, amanor-house and a washing place for women just below the bridge, and thenfollows more open road and more interminable perspectives cutting throughthe open plain until, with considerable satisfaction, the greatthoroughfare from Caen is joined and soon afterwards a glimpse of thecastle greets us as we enter Falaise. 

There is something peculiarly fascinating about Falaise, for it combinesmany of the features that are sparingly distributed in other towns. Itsposition on a hill with deep valleys on all sides, its romantic castle, thetwo beautiful churches and the splendid thirteenth century gateway, formthe best remembered attractions, but beyond these there are the hundred andone pretty groupings of the cottages that crowd both banks of the littleriver Ante down in the valley under the awe-inspiring castle. 

Even then, no mention has been made of the ancient fronts that greet one inmany of the streets, and the charms of some of the sudden openings betweenthe houses that give views of the steep, wooded hollows that almost touchthe main street, have been slighted. A huge cube of solid masonry with agreat cylindrical tower alongside perched upon a mass of rock precipitouson two sides is the distant view of the castle, and coming closer, althoughyou can see the buttresses that spring from the rocky foundations, thedescription still holds good. You should see the fortress in the twilightwith a golden suffusion in the sky and strange, purplish shadows on thecastle walls. It then has much the appearance of one of those unassailablestrongholds where a beautiful princess is lying in captivity waiting for achivalrous knight who with a band of faithful men will attempt to scale theinaccessible walls. Under some skies, the castle assumes the character ofone of Turner's impressions, half real and half imaginary, and under noskies does this most formidable relic of feudal days ever lose its grandand awesome aspect. The entrance is through a gateway, the Porte St. Nicolas, which was built in the thirteenth century. There you are taken inhand by a pleasant concierge who will lead you first of all to the Tour LaReine, where he will point out a great breach in the wall made by Henri IV. When he successfully assaulted the castle after a bombardment with hisartillery which he had kept up for a week. This was in 1589, and since thenno other fighting has taken place round these grand old walls. The ivy thatclings to the ruins and the avenue of limes that leads up to the great keepare full of jackdaws which wheel round the rock in great flights. You havea close view of the great Tour Talbot, and then pass through a smalldoorway in the northern face of the citadel. Inside, the appearance of thewalls reveals the restoration which has taken place within recent years. But this, fortunately, does not detract to any serious extent from theinterest of the whole place. Up on the ramparts there are fine views overthe surrounding country, and immediately beneath the precipice below nestlethe picturesque, browny-red roofs of the lower part of the town. Just atthe foot of the castle rock there is still to be seen a tannery which is ofrather unusual interest in connection with the story of how Robert leDiable was first struck by the charms of Arlette, the beautiful daughter ofa tanner. The Norman duke was supposed to have been looking over thebattlements when he saw this girl washing clothes in the river, and we aretold that owing to the warmth of the day she had drawn up her dress, sothat her feet, which are spoken of as being particularly beautiful wererevealed to his admiring gaze. Arlette afterwards became the mother ofWilliam the Conqueror, and the room is pointed out in the south-west cornerof the keep in which we are asked to believe that the Conqueror of Englandwas born. It is, however, unfortunate for the legend that archaeologists donot allow such an early date for the present castle, and thus we are noteven allowed to associate these ramparts with the legend just mentioned. Itmust have been a strong building that preceded this present structure, forduring the eleventh century William the Norman was often obliged to retreatfor safety to his impregnable birthplace. The Tour Talbot has below itslowest floor what seems to be a dungeon, but it is said that prisoners werenot kept here, the place being used merely for storing food. The gloomychamber, however, is generally called an oubliette. Above, there are otherfloors, the top one having been used by the governor of the castle. In thethickness of the wall there is a deep well which now contains no water. Oneof the rooms in the keep is pointed out as that in which Prince Arthur waskept in confinement, but although it is known that the unfortunate youthwas imprisoned in this castle, the selection of the room seems to besomewhat arbitrary. 

In 1428 the news of Joan of Arc's continued successes was brought to theEarl of Salisbury who was then governor of Falaise Castle, and it was fromhere that he started with an army to endeavour to stop that triumphalprogress. In 1450 when the French completely overcame the numerous Englishgarrisons in the towns of Normandy, Falaise with its magnificent positionheld out for some time. The defenders sallied out from the walls of thetown but were forced back again, and notwithstanding their courage, thetown capitulated to the Duke of Alencon's army at almost the same time asAvranches and a dozen other strongly defended towns. We can picture toourselves the men in glinting head-pieces sallying from the splendid oldgateway known as the Port des Cordeliers. It has not lost its formidableappearance even to-day, though as you look through the archway the scene isquiet enough, and the steep flight of outside steps leads up to scenes ofquiet domestic life. The windows overlook the narrow valley beneath wherethe humble roofs of the cottages jostle one another for space. There aremany people who visit Falaise who never have the curiosity to explore thisunusually pleasing part of the town. In the spring when the lilac bushesadd their brilliant colour to the russet brown tiles and soft creams of thestone-work, there are pictures on every side. Looking in the cottages youmay see, generally within a few feet of the door, one of those ingeniousweaving machines that are worked with a treadle, and take up scarcely anyspace at all. If you ask permission, the cottagers have not the slightestobjection to allowing you to watch them at their work, and when one seeshow rapidly great lengths of striped material grow under the revolvingmetal framework, you wonder that Falaise is not able to supply the demandsof the whole republic for this class of material. 

Just by the Hotel de Ville and the church of La Trinite stands the imposingstatue of William the Conqueror. He is mounted on the enormous war-horse ofthe period and the whole effect is strong and spirited. The most notablefeature of the exterior of the church of La Trinite is the curiouspassage-way that goes underneath the Lady Chapel behind the High Altar. Thewhole of the exterior is covered with rich carving, crocketed finials, innumerable gargoyles and the usual enriched mouldings of Gothicarchitecture. The charm of the interior is heightened if one enters in thetwilight when vespers are proceeding. There is just sufficient light toshow up the tracery of the windows and the massive pointed arches in thechoir. A few candles burn by the altar beyond the dark mass of figuresforming the congregation. A Gregorian chant fills the building with itssolemn tones and the smoke of a swinging censer ascends in the shadowychancel. Then, as the service proceeds, one candle above the altar seems tosuddenly ignite the next, and a line of fire travels all over the greaterection surrounding the figure of the Virgin, leaving in its trail a blazeof countless candles that throw out the details of the architecture instrong relief. Soon the collection is made, and as the priest passes roundthe metal dish, he is followed by the cocked-hatted official whoseappearance is so surprising to those who are not familiar with Frenchchurches. As the priest passes the dish to each row the official brings hismetal-headed staff down upon the pavement with a noisy bang that iscalculated to startle the unwary into dropping their money anywhere elsethan in the plate. In time the bell rings beside the altar, and the priestrobed in white and gold elevates the host before the kneeling congregation. Once more the man in the cocked hat becomes prominent as he steps into theopen space between the transepts and tolls the big bell in the tower above. Then a smaller and much more cheerful bell is rung, and fearing the arrivalof another collecting priest we slip out of the swinging doors into thetwilight that has now almost been swallowed up in the gathering darkness. 

The consecration of the splendid Norman church of St Gervais took place inthe presence of Henry I. But there is nothing particularly English in anypart of the exterior. The central tower has four tall and deeply recessedarches (the middle ones contain windows) on each side, giving a richarcaded appearance. Above, rises a tall pointed roof ornamented with fourodd-looking dormers near the apex. Every one remarks on their similarity todovecots and one almost imagines that they must have been built as a placeof shelter on stormy days for the great gilded cock that forms the weathervane. The nave is still Norman on the south side, plain round-headedwindows lighting the clerestory, but the aisles were rebuilt in theflamboyant period and present a rich mass of ornament in contrast to theunadorned masonry of the nave. The western end until lately had to endurethe indignity of having its wall surfaces largely hidden by shops andhouses. These have now disappeared, but the stone-work has not beenrestored, and you may still see a section of the interior of the house thatformerly used the west end of the south aisle as one of its walls. You cansee where the staircases went, and you may notice also how wantonly thesedomestic builders cut away the buttresses and architectural enrichments tosuit the convenience of their own needs. 

As you go from the market-place along the street that runs from St Gervaisto the suburb of Guibray, the shops on the left are exchanged for a lowwall over which you see deep, grassy hollows that come right up to the edgeof the street. Two fine houses, white-shuttered and having the usual vacantappearance, stand on steep slopes surrounded by great cedars of Lebanon anda copper beech. 

The church of Guibray is chiefly Norman--it is very white inside and thereis some round-headed arcading in the aisles. The clustered columns of thenave have simple, pointed arches, and there is a carved marble altarpieceshowing angels supporting the Virgin who is gazing upwards. The aisles ofthe chancel are restored Norman, and the stone-work is bright green justabove the floor through the dampness that seems to have defied the effortsof the restorers. 

CHAPTER VI

From Argentan to Avranches

Between tall poplars whose stems are splotched with grey lichen and whosefeet are grown over with browny-green moss, runs the road from Falaise toArgentan, straight and white, with scarcely more than the slightest bend, for the whole eight miles. It is typical of the roads in this part of thecountry and beyond the large stone four or five kilometres outside Falaise, marking the boundary between Calvados and Orne, and the railway which onepasses soon afterwards, there is nothing to break the undulating monotonyof the boundless plain. 

We cannot all hope to have this somewhat dull stretch of country relievedby any exciting event, but I can remember one spring afternoon beingovertaken by two mounted gendarmes in blue uniforms, galloping for theirvery lives. I looked down the road into the cloud of dust raised by thehorses' hoofs, but the country on all sides lay calm and deserted, and Iwas left in doubt as to the reason for this astonishing haste. Half an hourafterwards a group of people appeared in the distance, and on approachingcloser, they proved to be the two gendarmes leading their blown horses asthey walked beside a picturesque group of apparently simple peasants, thethree men wearing the typical soft, baggy cap and blue smock of the countryfolk. The little group had a gloomy aspect, which was explained when Inoticed that the peasants were joined together by a bright steel chain. Evidently something was very much amiss with one of the peaceful villageslying near the road. 

After a time, at the end of the long white perspective, appear the towersof the great church of St Germain that dominate the town where Henry II. Was staying when he made that rash exclamation concerning his "turbulentpriest. " It was from Argentan that those four knights set out for Englandand Canterbury to carry out the deed, for which Henry lay in ashes for fiveweeks in this very place. But there is little at the present time atArgentan to remind one that it is in any way associated with the murder ofBecket. The castle that now exists is occupied by the Courts of Justice andwas partially built in the Renaissance period. Standing close to it, is anexceedingly tall building with a great gable that suggests anecclesiastical origin, and on looking a little closer one soon discoversblocked up Gothic windows and others from which the tracery has beenhacked. This was the chapel of the castle which has been so completelyrobbed of its sanctity that it is now cut up into small lodgings, and inone of its diminutive shops, picture post-cards of the town are sold. 

The ruins of the old castle are not very conspicuous, for in theseventeenth century the great keep was demolished. There is still a fairlynoticeable round tower--the Tour Marguerite--which has a pointed roof aboveits corbels, or perhaps they should be called machicolations. In the PlaceHenri IV. Stands a prominent building that projects over the pavementsupported by massive pointed arches, and with this building in theforeground there is one of the best views of St Germain that one can findin the town. Just before coming to the clock that is suspended over theroad by the porch of the church, there is a butcher's shop at the streetcorner that has a piece of oak carving preserved on account of its interestwhile the rest of the building has been made featureless with even plaster. The carving shows Adam and Eve standing on either side of a formal Tree ofLife, and the butcher, who is pleased to find a stranger who notices thislittle curiosity, tells him with great pride that his house dates from thefifteenth century. The porch of St Germain is richly ornamented, but ittakes a second place to the south porch of the church of Notre Dame atLouviers and may perhaps seem scarcely worthy of comment after St Maclou atRouen. The structure as a whole was commenced in 1424, and the last portionof the work only dates from the middle of the seventeenth century. Thevaulting of the nave has a very new and well-kept appearance and the sidealtars, in contrast to so many of even the large churches, are almostdignified in their somewhat restrained and classic style. The high altar isa stupendous erection of two storeys with Corinthian pillars. Nine long, white, pendant banners are conspicuous on the walls of the chancel. Thegreat altars and the lesser ones that crowd the side chapels are subject tothe accumulation of dirt as everything else in buildings sacred or lay, andat certain times of the day, a woman may be seen vigorously flapping thebrass candlesticks and countless altar ornaments with a big feather broom. On the north side of the chancel some of the windows have sections of oldpainted glass, and in one of them there is part of a ship with men incrow's nests backed by clouds, a really vigorous colour scheme. 

Keeping to the high ground, there is to the south of this church an openPlace, and beyond it there are some large barracks, where, on the otherside of a low wall may be seen the elaborately prepared steeple-chase fortraining soldiers to be able to surmount every conceivable form ofobstacle. Awkward iron railings, wide ditches, walls of differentcomposition and varying height are frequently scaled, and it is practice ofthis sort that has made the French soldier famous for the facility withwhich he can storm fortifications. The river Orne finds its way through thelower part of the town and here there are to be found some of the mostpleasing bits of antique domestic architecture. One of the quaintest ofthese built in 1616 is the galleried building illustrated here, and from aparallel street not many yards off there is a peep of a house that has beenbuilt right over the stream which is scarcely less picturesque. 

[Illustration: A SEVENTEENTH CENTURY HOUSE AT ARGENTAN]

The church of St Martin is passed on entering Argentan from Falaise. Itseast end crowds right up against the pavement and it is somewhat unusual tofind the entrances at this portion of the building. The stained glass inthe choir of St Martin is its most noticeable feature--the pictures showingvarious scenes in the life of Christ. 

As in all French towns Argentan knows how to decorate on fete days. Comingout of the darkness of the church in the late twilight on one of theseoccasions, I discovered that the town had suddenly become festooned with along perspective of arches stretching right away down the leafy avenue thatgoes out of the town--to the north in one direction, and to St Germain inthe other. The arches were entirely composed without a single exception oflarge crimson-red Chinese lanterns. The effect was astonishingly good, butdespite all the decoration, the townsfolk seemed determined to preserve thequiet of the Sabbath, and although there were crowds everywhere, the onlynoise that broke the stillness was that of the steam round-about that hadbeen erected on a triangular patch of grass. The dark crowds of peopleilluminated by flaring lights stood in perfect quiet as they watched thegreat noisy mass of moving animals and boats, occupied almost entirely bychildren, keep up its perpetual dazzle and roar. The fair--for there weremany side-shows--was certainly quieter than any I have witnessed inEngland. 

A long, straight road, poplar-bordered and level, runs southwards fromArgentan to Mortree, a village of no importance except for the fact thatone must pass through it if one wishes to visit the beautiful Chateau d'O. This sixteenth century mansion like so many to be seen in this part ofFrance, is in a somewhat pathetic state of disrepair, but as far as one maysee from the exterior, it would not require any very great sum tocompletely restore the broken stone-work and other signs of decay. These, while perhaps adding to the picturesqueness of the buildings, do not bringout that aspect of carefully preserved antiquity which is the charm of mostof the houses of this period in England. The great expanse of water in themoat is very green and covered by large tracts of weed, but the water issupplied by a spring, and fish thrive in it. The approach to the chateauacross the moat leads to an arched entrance through which you enter thelarge courtyard overlooked on three sides by the richly ornamentedbuildings, the fourth side being only protected from the moat by a lowwall. It would be hard to find a more charming spot than this with itsviews across the moat to the gardens beyond, backed by great masses offoliage. 

Going on past Mortree the main road will bring one after about eight milesto the old town of Alencon, which has been famed ever since the time ofLouis XIV. For the lace which is even at the present day worked in thevillages of this neighbourhood, more especially at the hamlet of Damigny. The cottagers use pure linen thread which is worth the almost incrediblesum of £100 per lb. They work on parchment from patterns which are suppliedby the merchants in Alencon. The women go on from early morning until thelight fails, and earn something about a shilling per day!

The castle of Alencon, built by Henry I. In the twelfth century, waspulled down with the exception of the keep, by the order of Henry ofNavarre, the famous contemporary of Queen Elizabeth. This keep is still inexistence, and is now used as a prison. Near it is the Palais de Justice, standing where the other buildings were situated. 

The west porch of the church of Notre Dame is richly ornamented withelaborate canopies, here and there with statues. One of these represents StJohn, and it will be seen that he is standing with his face towards thechurch. A legend states that this position was taken by the statue when thechurch was being ransacked by Protestants in the sixteenth century. 

Another road from Argentan is the great _route nationale_ that runs in afairly direct line to Granville. As one rides out of the town there is apretty view on looking back, of St Germain standing on the slight eminenceabove the Orne. Keeping along by that river the road touches it again atthe little town of Ecouche. The old market hall standing on massivepillars, is the most attractive feature of the place. Its old tiled roofand half-timbered upper storey remind one forcibly of some of thosefortunate old towns in England that have preserved this feature. The churchhas lost its original nave, and instead, there is a curious barn-likestructure, built evidently with a view to economy, being scarcely more thanhalf the height of the original: the vacant space has been very roughlyfilled up, and the numerous holes and crevices support a fine growth ofweeds, and a strong young tree has also taken root in the ramshackle stonework. From the central tower, gargoyles grin above the elaborately carvedbuttresses and finials in remarkable contrast to the jerry-built addition. 

[Illustration: THE OLD MARKET HOUSE AT ECOUCHE]

Passing through rich country, you leave the valley of the Orne, and onboth sides of the road are spread wide and fascinating views over theorchard-clad country that disappears in the distant blue of the horizon. Wonderful patches of shadow, when large clouds are flying over the heavens, fall on this great tract of country and while in dull weather it may seem alittle monotonous, in days of sunshine and shade it is full of a hauntingbeauty that is most remarkable. 

About seven miles from Argentan one passes Fromentelle, a quiet hamlet fullof thatched cottages and curious weathercocks, and then five miles furtheron, having descended into the valley of the little river Rouvre, Briouzeis entered. Here there is a wide and very extensive market-place withanother quaint little structure, smaller than the one at Ecouche, buthaving a curious bell-turret in the centre of the roof. On Monday, whichis market day, Briouze presents a most busy scene, and there are plenty ofopportunities of studying the genial looking country farmers, their wives, and the large carts in which they drive from the farms. In the midst of thebooths, you may see a bronze statue commemorating the "Sapeurs, pompiers"and others of this little place who fell in 1854. 

Leaving the main road which goes on to Flers, we may take the road toDomfront, which passes through three pretty villages and much pleasantcountry. Bellau, the first village, is full of quaint houses and charmingold-world scenes. The church is right in the middle on an open spacewithout an enclosure of any description. Standing with one's back to thisbuilding, there is a pretty view down the road leading to the south, apatch of blue distance appearing in the opening between the old gables. Toall those who may wish to either paint or photograph this charming scene, Iwould recommend avoiding the hour in the afternoon when the children comeout of school. I was commencing a drawing one sunny afternoon--it must havebeen about three o'clock--and the place seemed almost deserted. Indeed, Ihad been looking for a country group of peasants to fill the great whitespace of sunny road, when in twos and threes, the juvenile populationflooded out towards me. For some reason which I could not altogetherfathom, the boys arranged themselves in a long, regular line, occupyingexactly one half of the view, the remaining space being filled by anequally long line of little girls. All my efforts failed to induce thechildren to break up the arrangement they had made. They merely alteredtheir formation by advancing three or four paces nearer with almostmilitary precision. They were still standing in their unbroken rows when Ileft the village. 

Passing a curious roadside cross which bears the date 1741 and a long Latininscription splashed over with lichen, one arrives at La Ferriere auxEtangs, a quaint village with a narrow and steep street containing oneconspicuously old, timber-framed house. But it is scarcely necessary topoint out individual cottages in this part of Normandy, for wherever onelooks, the cottages are covered with thick, purply-grey thatch, and thewalls below are of grey wooden framework, filled in with plaster, generallycoloured a creamy-white. When there are deep shadows under the eaves andthe fruit trees in blossom stand out against the dark thatch, one caneasily understand how captivating is the rural charm of this part ofNormandy. Gradually the road ascends, but no great views are apparent, although one is right above the beautiful valley of the Varennes, untilquite near to Domfront. Then, suddenly there appears an enormous stretch ofslightly undulating country to the south and west. As far as one can see, the whole land seems to be covered by one vast forest. 

But though part of this is real forest-land, much of it is composed oforchards and hedgerow trees, which are planted so closely together that, ata short distance, they assume the aspect of close-growing woods. The firstimpression of the great stretch of forest-land does not lose its strikingaspect, even when one has explored the whole of the town. The road thatbrings one into the old town runs along a ridge and after passing one ofthe remains of the old gateways, it rises slightly to the highest part ofthe mass of rock upon which Domfront is perched. The streets are narrow andparallel to accommodate themselves to the confined space within the walls. At the western end of the granite ridge, and separated from the town by anarrow defile, stands all that is left of the castle--a massive butsomewhat shapeless ruin. At the western end of the ramparts, one looks downa precipitous descent to the river Varennes which has by some unusualagency, cut itself a channel through the rocky ridge if it did not merelyoccupy an existing gap. At the present time, besides the river, the roadand railway pass through the narrow gorge. 

The castle has one of those sites that appealed irresistibly to the warlikebarons of the eleventh century. In this case it was William I. , Duc deBelleme, who decided to raise a great fortress on this rock that he hadevery reason to believe would prove an impregnable stronghold, but althoughonly built in 1011, it was taken by Duke William thirty-seven years later, being one of the first brilliant feats by which William the Norman showedhis strength outside his own Duchy. A century or more later, Henry II. , when at Domfront, received the pope's nuncio by whom a reconciliation wasin some degree patched up between the king and Becket. Richard I. Is knownto have been at the castle at various times. In the sixteenth century, a most thrilling siege was conducted during the period when Catherinede Medicis was controlling the throne. A Royalist force, numbering someseven or eight thousand horse and foot, surrounded this formidable rockwhich was defended by the Calvinist Comte de Montgommery. With him wasanother Protestant, Ambroise le Balafre, who had made himself a despotat Domfront, but whose career was cut short by one of Montgommery's menwith whom he had quarrelled. They buried him in the little church ofNotre-Dame-sur-l'Eau--the wonderfully preserved Norman building that onesees beneath one's feet when standing on the ramparts of the castle. Thebody, however, was not long allowed to remain there, for when the royalarmy surrounded the castle they brought out the corpse and hung it in aconspicuous place to annoy the besieged. Like Corfe Castle in England, andmany other magnificently fortified strongholds, Domfront was capable ofdefence by a mere handful. In this case the original garrison consisted ofone hundred and fifty, and after many desertions the force was reduced toless than fifty. A great breach had been made by the six pieces ofartillery placed on the hill on the opposite side of the gorge, and throughthis the besiegers endeavoured to enter. The attenuated garrison, withmagnificent courage, held the breach after a most desperate and bloodyfight. But after all this display of courage, it was found impossible tocontinue the defence, for by the next morning there were barely more than adozen men left to fight. Finally Montgommery was obliged to surrenderunconditionally, and not long afterwards he was executed in Paris. You maysee the breach where this terrible fight took place at the present day, andas you watch the curious effects of the blue shadows falling among theforest trees that stretch away towards the south, you may feel that you arelooking over almost the same scene that was gazed upon by the notablefigures in history who have made their exits and entrances at Domfront. 

So little has the church of Notre-Dame-sur-l'Eau altered in its appearancesince it was built by the Duc de Belleme that, were he to visit the ruinsof his castle, he would marvel no doubt that the men of the nine centurieswhich have passed, should have consistently respected this sturdy littlebuilding. There are traces of aisles having existed, but otherwise theexterior of the church can have seen no change at all in this long period. Inside, however, the crude whitewash, the curious assemblage of enormousseventeenth century gravestones that are leant against the walls, and theterribly jarring almost life-sized crucifix, all give one that feeling ofrevulsion that is inseparable from an ill-kept place of worship. On thebanks of the river outside, women may be seen washing clothes; the soundsof the railway come from the station near by, and overhead, rising abovethe foliage at its feet, are the broken walls and shattered keep from whichwe have been gazing. 

[Illustration: ONE OF THE TOWERS IN THE WALLS OF DOMFRONT]

The walls of the town, punctuated by many a quaint tower, have lost theirfearsome aspect owing to the domestic uses to which the towers are palpablydevoted. One of them appears in the adjoining illustration, and it istypical of the half-dozen or so that still rise above the pretty gardensthat are perched along the steep ascent. But though Domfront is full ofalmost thrilling suggestions of medievalism and the glamour of an ancienttown, yet there is a curious lack of picturesque arrangement, so that ifone were to be led away by the totally uninteresting photographs that maybe seen in the shops, one would miss one of the most unique spots inNormandy. 

Stretching away towards Flers, there is a tract of green country all upsand downs, but with no distant views except the peep of Domfront thatappears a few miles north of the town. Crowning the ridge of the hill isthe keep of the castle, resembling a closed fist with the second fingerraised, and near it, the bell-cote of the Palais de Justice and the spireof the church break the line of the old houses. Ferns grow by the roadsideon every bank, but the cottages and farms are below the average of rusticbeauty that one soon demands in this part of France. 

Flers is a somewhat busy manufacturing town where cotton and threadmills have robbed the place of its charm. At first sight one mightimagine the church which bears the date 1870 was of considerablygreater age, but inside one is almost astounded at the ramshacklegalleries, the white-washed roof of rough boards discoloured by damp, and the general squalor of the place relieved only by a ponderousaltar-piece of classic design. The castle is still in good preservationbut although it dates from early Norman times, it is chiefly of thesixteenth century. 

Out in the country again, going westwards, the cottage industry ofweaving is apparent in nearly every cottage one sees. The loudclick-a-ti-clack--click-a-ti-clack of the looms can be heard on everyside as one passes such villages as Landisacq. Everywhere the sceneryis exceedingly English, the steep hillsides are often covered withorchards, and the delicate green of the apple-trees in spring-time, half-smothered in pinky-white blossom, gives the country a garden-likeaspect. You may see a man harrowing a field on a sudden slope with acloud of dust blowing up from the dry light soil, and you may hear himmake that curious hullaballooing by which the peasants direct theirhorses, so different from the grunting "way-yup there" of the Englishploughman. Coming down a long descent, a great stretch of country tothe north that includes the battlefield of Tinchebrai comes into view. It is hard to associate the rich green pastures, smiling orchards, andpeaceful cattle, with anything so gruesome as a battle between armiesled by brothers. But it was near the little town of Tinchebrai that thetwo brothers, Henry I. , King of England, and Robert Duke of Normandyfought for the possession of Normandy. Henry's army was greatlysuperior to that of his brother, for he had the valuable help of theCounts of Conches, Breteuil, Thorigny, Mortagne, Montfort, and two orthree others as powerful. But despite all this array, the battle forsome time was very considerably in Robert's favour, and it was onlywhen Henry, heavily pressed by his brother's brilliant charge, orderedhis reserves to envelop the rear, that the great battle went in favourof the English king. Among the prisoners were Robert and his youthfulson William, the Counts of Mortain, Estouteville, Ferrieres, and alarge number of notable men. Until his death, twenty-seven years later, Henry kept his brother captive in Cardiff Castle, and it has been saidthat, owing to an effort to escape, Henry was sufficiently lacking inall humane feelings towards his unfortunate brother, to have both hiseyes put out. It seems a strange thing that exactly sixty years afterthe battle of Hastings, a Norman king of England, should conquer thecountry which had belonged to his father. 

The old church of St Remy at Tinchebrai, part of which dates from thetwelfth century, has been abandoned for a new building, but the inn--theHotel Lion d'Or--which bears the date 1614, is still in use. Vire, however, is only ten miles off, and its rich mediaeval architecture urges usforward. 

Standing in the midst of the cobbled street, there suddenly appears rightahead a splendid thirteenth century gateway--the Tour de l'Horloge--thatmakes one of the richest pictures in Normandy. It is not always one can seethe curious old tower thrown up by a blaze of gold in the west, but thosewho are fortunate enough to see such an effect may get a small suggestionof the scene from the illustration given here. The little painted figure ofthe Virgin and Child stands in a niche just over the arch, and by itappears the prayer "Marie protege la ville!"

One of the charms of Vire is its cleanliness, for I can recall nounpleasant smells having interfered with the pleasure of exploring the oldstreets. There is a great market on the northern side of the town, open andbreezy. It slopes clear away without any intervening buildings to a greatexpanse of green wooded country, suggestive of some of the views that lieall around one at Avranches. The dark old church of Notre Dame dates mainlyfrom the twelfth century. Houses and small shops are built up against itbetween the buttresses in a familiar, almost confidential manner, and onthe south side, the row of gargoyles have an almost humorous appearance. The drips upon the pavement and shops below were evidently a nuisance, andrain water-spouts, with plain pipes leading diagonally from them, have beenattached to each grotesque head, making it seem that the grinning monstershave developed a great and unquenchable thirst. Inside, the church is darkand impressive. There are double rows of pillars in the aisles, and a hugecrucifix hangs beneath the tower, thrown up darkly against the chancel, which is much painted and gilded. The remains of the great castle consistof nothing more than part of the tall keep, built eight hundred years ago, and fortunately not entirely destroyed when the rest of the castle camedown by the order of Cardinal Richelieu. An exploration of the quaintstreets of Vire will reveal two or three ancient gateways, many gabledhouses, some of which are timber-framed visually, and most of them are thesame beneath their skins of plaster. The houses in one of the streets areconnected with the road by a series of wooden bridges across the river, which there forms one of the many pictures to be found in Vire. 

Mortain is separated from Vire by fifteen miles of exceedingly hillycountry, and those who imagine that all the roads in Normandy are the flatand poplar bordered ones that are so often encountered, should travel alongthis wonderful switch-back. As far as Sourdeval there seems scarcely a yardof level ground--it is either a sudden ascent or a breakneck rush into atrough-like depression. You pass copices of firs and beautiful woods, although in saying beautiful it is in a limited sense, for one seldom findsthe really rich woodlands that are so priceless an ornament to many Surreyand Kentish lanes. The road is shaded by tall trees when it begins todescend into the steep rocky gorge of the Cance with its tumblingwaterfalls that are a charming feature of this approach to Mortain. Highupon the rocks on the left appears an enormous gilded statue of the Virgin, in the grounds of the Abbaye Blanche. Going downwards among the brokensunlight and shadows on the road, Mortain appears, picturesquely perched ona great rocky steep, and in the opening of the valley a blue haze suggeststhe great expanse of level country towards the south. The big parish churchof the town was built originally in 1082 by that Robert of Mortain, who, itwill be remembered, was one of the first of the Normans to receive from thevictorious William a grant of land in England. The great tower which standsalmost detached on the south-west side is remarkable for its enormouslytall slit windows, for they run nearly from the ground to the saddle-backroof. The interior of this church is somewhat unusual, the nave and chancelbeing structurally one, and the aisles are separated by twenty-fourcircular grey pillars with Corinthian capitals. The plain surfaces of thewalls and vaulting are absolutely clean white, picked out with fine blacklines to represent stone-work--a scarcely successful treatment of such aninterior! On either side of the High Altar stand two great statuesrepresenting St Guillaume and St Evroult. 

To those who wish to "do" all the sights of Mortain there is the Chapel ofSt Michael, which stands high up on the margin of a great rocky hill, butthe building having been reconstructed about fifty years ago, the chiefattraction to the place is the view, which in tolerably clear weather, includes Mont St Michel towards which we are making our way. 

A perfectly straight and fairly level stretch of road brings you to StHilaire-du-Harcout. On the road one passes two or three large countryhouses with their solemn and perfectly straight avenues leading directly upto them at right angles from the road. The white jalousies seem alwaysclosed, the grass on the lawns seems never cut, and the wholeestablishments have a pathetically deserted appearance to the passer-by. Afeature of this part of the country can scarcely be believed withoutactually using one's eyes. It is the wooden chimney-stack, covered with oakshingles, that surmounts the roofs of most of the cottages. Where theshingles have fallen off, the cement rubble that fills the space betweenthe oak framing appears, but it is scarcely credible that, even with thispartial protection, these chimneys should have survived so many centuries. I have asked the inmates of some of the cottages whether they ever feared afire in their chimneys, but they seemed to consider the question as totallyunnecessary, for some providence seems to have watched over their frailstructures. 

St Hilaire has a brand new church and nothing picturesque in its long, almost monotonous, street. Instead of turning aside at Pontaubault towardsMont St Michel, we will go due north from that hamlet to the beautifullysituated Avranches. This prosperous looking town used, at one time, to havea large English colony, but it has recently dwindled to such smalldimensions that the English chaplain has an exceedingly small parish. Thestreets seem to possess a wonderful cleanliness; all the old houses appearto have made way for modern buildings which, in a way, give Avranches theaspect of a watering-place, but its proximity to the sea is more apparentin a map than when one is actually in the town. On one side of the greatplace in front of the church of Notre Dame des Champs is the Jardin desPlantes. To pass from the blazing sunshine and loose gravel, to the densegreen shade of the trees in this delightful retreat is a pleasure that canbe best appreciated on a hot afternoon in summer. The shade, however, andthe beds of flowers are not the only attractions of these gardens. Theirgreatest charm is the wonderful view over the shining sands and theglistening waters of the rivers See and Selune that, at low tide, taketheir serpentine courses over the delicately tinted waste of sand thatoccupies St Michael's Bay. Out beyond the little wooded promontory thatprotects the mouth of the See, lies Mont St Michel, a fretted silhouette offlat pearly grey, and a little to the north is Tombelaine, a lesspretentious islet in this fairyland sea. Framed by the stems and foliage ofthe trees, this view is one of the most fascinating in Normandy. One wouldbe content to stay here all through the sultry hours of a summer day, tolisten to the distant hum of conversation among white-capped nursemaids, asthey sew busily, giving momentary attention to their charges. But Avrancheshas an historical spot that no student of history, and indeed no one whocares anything for the picturesque events that crowd the pages of thechronicles of England in the days of the Norman kings, may miss. It is thefamous stone upon which Henry II. Knelt when he received absolution for themurder of Becket at the hands of the papal legate. To reach this stone is, for a stranger, a matter of some difficulty. From the Place by the Jardindes Plantes, it is necessary to plunge down a steep descent towards therailway station, and then one climbs a series of zigzag paths on a highgrassy bank that brings one out upon the Place Huet. In one corner, surrounded by chains and supported by low iron posts, is the historicstone. It is generally thickly coated with dust, but the brass plateaffixed to a pillar of the doorway is quite legible. These, and a fewfragments of carved stone that lie half-smothered in long grass and weedsat a short distance from the railed-in stone, are all that remain of thecathedral that existed in the time of Henry II. 

It must have been an impressive scene on that Sunday in May 1172, when thepapal legate, in his wonderful robes, stood by the north transept door, ofwhich only this fragment remains, and granted absolution to the sovereign, who, kneeling in all humbleness and submission, was relieved of the curseof excommunication which had been laid on him after the tragic affair inthe sanctuary at Canterbury. In place of the splendid cathedral, whose navecollapsed, causing the demolition of the whole building in 1799, there is anew church with the two great western towers only carried up to half theheight intended for them. 

From the roadway that runs along the side of the old castle walls interrace fashion there is another wonderful view of rich green country, through which, at one's feet, winds the river See. Away towards thenorth-west the road to Granville can be seen passing over the hills in aperfectly straight line. But this part of the country may be left foranother chapter.