NORMANDY:

THE SCENERY & ROMANCE OF ITS ANCIENT TOWNS:

DEPICTED BY GORDON HOME

Part 3. 

CHAPTER VII

Concerning Mont St Michel

 So, when their feet were planted on the plain That broaden'd toward the base of Camelot, Far off they saw the silver-misty morn Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount, That rose between the forest and the field. At times the summit of the high city flash'd; At times the spires and turrets half-way down Pricked through the mist; at times the great gate shone Only, that open'd on the field below: Anon, the whole fair city disappeared. 

 Tennyson's _Gareth and Lynette_

"The majestic splendour of this gulf, its strategetic importance, have atall times attracted the attention of warriors. " In this quaint fashioncommences the third chapter of a book upon Mont St Michel which is to bepurchased in the little town. We have already had a glimpse of thesplendour of the gulf from Avranches, but there are other aspects of therock which are equally impressive. They are missed by all those who, instead of going by the picturesque and winding coast-road fromPontaubault, take the straight and dusty _route nationale_ to Pontorson, and then turn to follow the tramway that has in recent years been extendedalong the causeway to the mount itself. If one can manage to make it arather late ride along the coast-road just mentioned, many beautifuldistant views of Mont St Michel, backed by sunset lights, will be an amplereward. Even on a grey and almost featureless evening, when the sea isleaden-hued, there may, perhaps, appear one of those thin crimson linesthat are the last efforts of the setting sun. This often appears justbehind the grey and dim rock, and the crimson is reflected in a delicatetinge upon the glistening sands. Tiny rustic villages, with churches humbleand unobtrusive, and prominent calvaries, are passed one after the other. At times the farmyards seem to have taken the road into their own hands, for a stone well-head will appear almost in the roadway, and chickens, pigs, and a litter of straw have to be allowed for by those who ride ordrive along this rural way. When the rock is still some distance off, theroad seems to determine to take a short cut across the sands, but thinkingbetter of it, it runs along the outer margin of the reclaimed land, andthere is nothing to prevent the sea from flooding over the road at its owndiscretion. Once on the broad and solidly constructed causeway, the rockrapidly gathers in bulk and detail. It has, indeed, as one approaches, analmost fantastic and fairy-like outline. Then as more and more grows fromthe hazy mass, one sees that this remarkable place has a crowded and muchembattled loneliness. Two round towers, sturdy and boldly machicolated, appear straight ahead, but oddly enough the wall between them has noopening of any sort, and the stranger is perplexed at the inhospitablecurtain-wall that seems to refuse him admittance to the mediaeval delightswithin. It almost heightens the impression that the place belongsaltogether to dreamland, for in that shadowy world all that is mostdesirable is so often beyond the reach of the dreamer. It is a verydifferent impression that one gains if the steam train has been taken, forits arrival is awaited by a small crowd of vulture-like servants andporters from the hotels. The little crowd treats the incoming train-load oftourists as its carrion, and one has no time to notice whether there is agateway or not before being swept along the sloping wooden staging thatleads to the only entrance. The simple archway in the outer wall leads intothe Cour de l'Avancee where those two great iron cannons, mentioned in anearlier chapter, are conspicuous objects. They were captured by the heroicgarrison when the English, in 1433, made their last great effort to obtainpossession of the rock. Beyond these, one passes through the barbican tothe Cour de la Herse, which is largely occupied by the Hotel Poulard Aine. Then one passes through the Porte du Roi, and enters the town proper. Thenarrow little street is flanked by many an old house that has seen most ofthe vicissitudes that the little island city has suffered. In fact many ofthese shops which are now almost entirely given over to the sale ofmementoes and books of photographs of the island, are individually of greatinterest. One of the most ancient in the upper part of the street, ispointed out as that occupied in the fourteenth century by Tiphane deRaguenel, the wife of the heroic Bertrand du Guesclin. 

It is almost impossible for those who are sensitive in such matters, not tofeel some annoyance at the pleasant but persistent efforts of the vendorsof souvenirs to induce every single visitor to purchase at each separateshop. To get an opportunity for closely examining the carved oaken beamsand architectural details of the houses, one must make at least some smallpurchase at each trinket store in front of which one is inclined to pause. Perhaps it would even be wise before attempting to look at anythingarchitectural in this quaintest of old-world streets, to go from one end tothe other, buying something of trifling cost, say a picture postcard, fromeach saleswoman. In this way, one might purchase immunity from theover-solicitous shop-keepers, and have the privilege of being able torealise the mediaeval character of the place without constantinterruptions. 

Nearly every visitor to Mont St Michel considers that this historic gem, inits wonderful setting of opalescent sand, can be "done" in a few hours. They think that if they climb up the steps to the museum--a new buildingmade more conspicuous than it need be by a board bearing the word _Musee_in enormous letters--if they walk along the ramparts, stare for a moment atthe gateways, and then go round the abbey buildings with one of the smallcrowds that the guide pilots through the maze of extraordinary vaultedpassages and chambers, that they have done ample justice to thisworld-famous sight. If the rock had only one-half of its historic andfantastically arranged buildings, it would still deserve considerably morethan this fleeting attention paid to it by such a large proportion of thetourists. So many of these poor folk come to Mont St Michel quite willingto learn the reasons for its past greatness, but they do not bring withthem the smallest grains of knowledge. The guides, whose knowledge ofEnglish is limited to such words as "Sirteenth Senchury" (thirteenthcentury), give them no clues to the reasons for the existence of anybuildings on the island, and quite a large proportion of visitors go awaywithout any more knowledge than they could have obtained from theexamination of a good book of photographs. 

To really appreciate in any degree the natural charms of Mont St Michel, atleast one night should be spent on the rock. Having debated between therival houses of Poularde Aine and Poularde Jeune, and probably decided onthe older branch of the family, perhaps with a view to being able to speakof their famous omelettes with enthusiasm, one is conducted to one of thehouses or dependences connected with the hotel. If one has selected theMaison Rouge, it is necessary to make a long climb to one's bedroom. Thelong salle a manger, where dinner is served, is in a tall wedge-likebuilding just outside the Porte du Roi and in the twilight of eveningcoffee can be taken on the little tables of the cafe that overflows on tothe pavement of the narrow street. The cafe faces the head-quarters of thehotel, and is as much a part of it as any of the other buildings whichcontain the bedrooms. To the stranger it comes as a surprise to be handed aChinese lantern at bedtime, and to be conducted by one of the hotelservants almost to the top of the tall house just mentioned. Suddenly theman opens a door and you step out into an oppressive darkness. Here the useof the Chinese lantern is obvious, for without some artificial light, thelong series of worn stone steps, that must be climbed before reaching theMaison Rouge, would offer many opportunities for awkward falls. Thebedrooms in this house, when one has finally reached a floor far above thelittle street, have a most enviable position. They are all provided withsmall balconies where the enormous sweep of sand or glistening ocean, according to the condition of the tides, is a sight which will drag thegreatest sluggard from his bed at the first hour of dawn. Right away downbelow are the hoary old houses of the town, hemmed in by the fortified wallthat surrounds this side of the island. Then stretching away towards thegreeny-blue coast-line is the long line of digue or causeway on which onemay see a distant puff of white smoke, betokening the arrival of the earlytrain of the morning. The attaches of the rival hotels are already awaitingthe arrival of the early batch of sight-seers. All over the delicatelytinted sands there are constantly moving shadows from the light cloudsforming over the sea, and blowing freshly from the west there comes aninvigorating breeze. 

Before even the museum can have a real interest for us, we must go back tothe early times when Mont St Michel was a bare rock; when it was not evenan island, and when the bay of Mont St Michel was covered by the forest ofScissey. 

It seems that the Romans raised a shrine to Jupiter on the rock, which soongave to it the name of Mons Jovis, afterwards to be contracted intoMont-Jou. They had displaced some earlier Druidical or othersun-worshippers who had carried on their rites at this lonely spot; but theRoman innovation soon became a thing of the past and the Franks, aftertheir conversion to Christianity, built on the rock two oratories, one toSt Stephen and the other to St Symphorian. It was then that the nameMont-Jou was abandoned in favour of Mons-Tumba. The smaller rock, now knownas Tombelaine, was called Tumbella meaning the little tomb, to distinguishit from the larger rock. It is not known why the two rocks should have beenassociated with the word tomb, and it is quite possible that the Tumba maysimply mean a small hill. 

In time, hermits came and built their cells on both the rocks and graduallya small community was formed under the Merovingian Abbey of Mandane. 

It was about this time, that is in the sixth century, that a great changecame over the surroundings of the two rocks. Hitherto, they had formedrocky excrescences at the edge of the low forest-land by which the countryadjoining the sea was covered. Gradually the sea commenced a steadyencroachment. It had been probably in progress even since Roman times, butits advance became more rapid, and after an earthquake, which occurred inthe year 709, the whole of the forest of Scissey was invaded, and theremains of the trees were buried under a great layer of sand. There wereseveral villages in this piece of country, some of whose names have beenpreserved, and these suffered complete destruction with the forest. Athousand years afterwards, following a great storm and a consequentmovement of the sand, a large number of oaks and considerable traces of thelittle village St Etienne de Paluel were laid bare. The foundations ofhouses, a well, and the font of a church were among the discoveries made. Just about the time of the innundation, we come to the interesting story ofthe holy-minded St Aubert who had been made bishop of Avranches. He couldsee the rock as it may be seen to-day, although at that time it was crownedwith no buildings visible at any distance, and the loneliness of the spotseems to have attracted him to retire thither for prayer and meditation. Heeventually raised upon the rock a small chapel which he dedicated to Michelthe archangel. After this time, all the earlier names disappeared and theisland was always known as Mont St Michel. Replacing the hermits of Mandanewith twelve canons, the establishment grew and became prosperous. That thiswas so, must be attributed largely to the astonishing miracles which weresupposed to have taken place in connection with the building of the chapel. Two great rocks near the top of the mount, which were much in the way ofthe builders, were removed and sent thundering down the rocky precipice bythe pressure of a child's foot when all the efforts of the men to inducethe rock to move had been unavailing. The huge rock so displaced is nowcrowned by the tiny chapel of St Aubert. The offerings brought by thenumerous pilgrims to Mont St Michel gave the canons sufficient means tocommence the building of an abbey, and the unique position of the rock soonmade it a refuge for the Franks of the western parts of Neustria when thefierce Norman pirates were harrying the country. In this way the village ofMont St Michel made its appearance at the foot of the rock. The contact ofthe canons with this new population brought some trouble in its wake. Theholy men became contaminated with the world, and Richard, Duke of Normandy, replaced them by thirty Benedictines brought from Mont-Cassin. These monkswere given the power of electing their own abbot who was invested with themost entire control over all the affairs of the people who dwelt upon therock. This system of popular election seems to have worked admirably, forin the centuries that followed, the rulers of the community were generallymen of remarkable character and great ideals. 

About fifty years before the Conquest of England by Duke William, the abbotof that time, Hildebert II. , commenced work on the prodigious series ofbuildings that still crown the rock. His bold scheme of building massivewalls round the highest point, in order to make a lofty platform whereon toraise a great church, was a work of such magnitude that when he wasgathered to his fathers the foundations were by no means complete. Thosewho came after him however, inspired by the great idea, kept up the work ofbuilding with wonderful enthusiasm. Slowly, year by year, the ponderouswalls of the crypts and undercrofts grew in the great space which it wasnecessary to fill. Dark, irregularly built chambers, one side formed of thesolid rock and the others composed of the almost equally massive masonry, grouped themselves round the unequal summit of the mount, until at last, towards the end of the eleventh century, the building of the nave of thechurch was actually in progress. Roger II. , the eleventh of the abbots, commenced the buildings that preceded the extraordinary structure known asLa Merveille. Soon after came Robert de Torigny, a pious man of greatlearning, who seems to have worked enthusiastically. He raised two greattowers joined by a porch, the hostelry and infirmary on the south side andother buildings on the west. Much of this work has unfortunatelydisappeared. Torigny's coffin was discovered in 1876 under the north-westpart of the great platform, and one may see a representation of thearchitect-abbot in the clever series of life-like models that have beenplaced in the museum. 

The Bretons having made a destructive attack upon the mount in the earlyyears of the thirteenth century and caused much damage to the buildings, Jourdain the abbot of that time planned out "La Merveille, " which comprisesthree storeys of the most remarkable Gothic halls. At the bottom are thecellar and almonry, then comes the Salle des Chevaliers and the dormitory, and above all are the beautiful cloisters and the refectory. Jourdain, however, only lived to see one storey completed, but his successors carriedon the work and Raoul de Villedieu finished the splendid cloister in 1228. 

Up to this time the island was defenceless, but during the abbatiate ofToustain the ramparts and fortifications were commenced. In 1256 thebuildings known as Belle-Chaise were constructed. They contained theentrance to the abbey before the chatelet made its appearance. AfterToustain came Pierre le Roy who built a tower behind Belle-Chaise and alsothe imposing-looking chatelet which contains the main entrance to the wholebuildings. The fortifications that stood outside this gateway have to someextent disappeared, but what remain are shown in the accompanyingillustration. 

In the early part of the fifteenth century, the choir of the churchcollapsed, but peace having been declared with England, soon afterwardsD'Estouteville was able to construct the wonderful foundations composed ofponderous round columns called the crypt of les Gros-Piliers, and above itthere afterwards appeared the splendid Gothic choir. The flamboyant traceryof the windows is filled with plain green leaded glass, and the fact thatthe recent restoration has left the church absolutely bare of anyecclesiastical paraphernalia gives one a splendid opportunity of studyingthis splendid work of the fifteenth century. The nave of the church hasstill to undergo the process of restoration, for at the present time thefraudulent character of its stone-vaulted roof is laid bare by the mostcasual glance, for at the unfinished edge adjoining the choir one may seethe rough lath and plaster which for a long time must have deceived thevisitors who have gazed at the lofty roof. The western end of the buildingis an eighteenth century work, although to glance at the great patches oforange-coloured lichen that spread themselves over so much of thestone-work, it would be easy to imagine that the work was of very greatantiquity. In earlier times there were some further bays belonging to thenave beyond the present west front in the space now occupied by an openplatform. There is a fine view from this position, but it is better stillif one climbs the narrow staircase from the choir leading up to theasphalted walk beneath the flying buttresses. 

About the middle of the fourteenth century, Tiphaine de Raguenel, the wifeof Bertrand du Guesclin, that splendid Breton soldier, came from Pontorsonand made her home at Mont St Michel, in order not to be kept as a prisonerby the English. There are several facts recorded that throw light on thecharacter of this noble lady, sometimes spoken of as "The Fair Maid ofDinan. " She had come to admire Du Guesclin for his prowess in militarymatters, and her feeling towards him having deepened, she had no hesitationin accepting his offer of marriage. It appears that Du Guesclin after thismost happy event--for from all we are able to discover Tiphaine seems tohave shared his patriotic ideals--was inclined to remain at home ratherthan to continue his gallant, though at times almost hopeless struggleagainst the English. Although it must have been a matter of greatself-renunciation on her part, Tiphaine felt that it would be much againsther character for her to have any share in keeping her husband away fromthe scene of action, and by every means in her power she endeavoured tore-animate his former enthusiasm. In this her success was complete, andresuming his great responsibilities in the French army, much greatersuccess attended him than at any time in the past. Du Guesclin was not amartyr, but he is as much the most striking figure of the fourteenthcentury as Joan of Arc is of the fifteenth. 

All through the period of anxiety through which the defenders of the mounthad to pass when the Hundred Years' War was in progress, Mont St Michel wasvery largely helped against sudden attacks by the remarkable vigilance oftheir great watch-dogs. So valuable for the safety of the Abbey and thelittle town were these dogs considered that Louis XI. In 1475 allowed theannual sum of twenty-four pounds by Tours-weight towards their keep. Thedocument states that "from the earliest times it has been customary to haveand nourish, at the said place, a certain number of great dogs, which aretied up by day, and at night brought outside the enclosure to keep watchtill morning. " It was during the reign of this same Louis that the militaryorder of chivalry of St Michael was instituted. The king made threepilgrimages to the mount and the first chapter of this great order, whichwas for a long time looked upon as the most distinguished in France, washeld in the Salle des Chevaliers. 

For a long while Tombelaine, which lies so close to Mont St Michel, was inthe occupation of the English, but in the account of the recovery ofNormandy from the English, written by Jacques le Bouvier, King of Arms toCharles VII. , we find that the place surrendered very easily to the French. We are told that the fortress of Tombelaine was "An exceedingly strongplace and impregnable so long as the persons within it have provisions. "The garrison numbered about a hundred men. They were allowed to go toCherbourg where they took ship to England about the same time as thegarrisons from Vire, Avranches, Coutances, and many other strongholds whichwere at this time falling like dead leaves. Le Bouvier at the end of hisaccount of this wonderful break-up of the English fighting force inNormandy, tells us that the whole of the Duchy of Normandy with all thecities, towns, and castles was brought into subjection to the King ofFrance within one year and six days. "A very wonderful thing, " he remarks, "and it plainly appears that our Lord God therein manifested His grace, fornever was so large a country conquered in so short a time, nor with theloss of so few people, nor with less injury, which is a great merit, honourand praise to the King of France. "

In the early part of the sixteenth century, Mont St Michel seems to havereached the high-water mark of its glories. After this time a declinecommenced and Cardinal le Veneur reduced the number of monks to enlarge hisown income. This new cardinal was the first of a series not chosen from theresidents on the mount, for after 1523 the system of election amongthemselves which had answered so well, was abandoned, and this wealthyestablishment became merely one of the coveted preferments of the Church. There was no longer that enthusiasm for maintaining and continuing thearchitectural achievements of the past, for this new series ofecclesiastics seemed to look upon their appointment largely as a spongewhich they might squeeze. 

In Elizabethan times Mont St Michel once more assumed the character of afortress and had to defend itself against the Huguenots when its resourceshad been drained by these worldly-minded shepherds, and it is notsurprising to find that the abbey which had withstood all the attacks ofthe English during the Hundred Years' War should often fall into the handsof the protestant armies, although in every case it was re-taken. 

A revival of the religious tone of the abbey took place early in the firstquarter of the seventeenth century, when twelve Benedictine monks from StMaur were installed in the buildings. Pilgrimages once more became theorder of the day, but since the days of Louis XI. Part of the sub-structureof the abbey buildings had been converted into fearful dungeons, and theday came when the abbey became simply a most remarkable prison. In the timeof Louis XV. , a Frenchman named Dubourg--a person who has often been spokenof as though he had been a victim of his religious convictions, but whoseems to have been really a most reprehensible character--was placed in awooden cage in one of the damp and gruesome vaults beneath the abbey. Dubourg had been arrested for his libellous writings concerning the kingand many important persons in the French court. He existed for a littleover a year in the fearful wooden cage, and just before he died he wentquite mad, being discovered during the next morning half-eaten by rats. Arealistic representation of his ghastly end is given in the museum, but onemust not imagine that the grating filling the semi-circular arch is at alllike the actual spot where the wretched man lay. The cage itself wascomposed of bars of wood placed so closely together that Dubourg was notable to put more than his fingers between them. The space inside was onlyabout eight feet high and the width was scarcely greater. The cage itselfwas placed in a position where moisture dripped on to the miserableprisoner's body, and we can only marvel that he survived this fearfultorture for so many months. During the French Revolution the abbey wasnothing more than a jail, and it continued to be devoted to this base useuntil about forty years ago. Since that time, restoration has continuedalmost unceasingly, for in the prison period nothing was done to maintainthe buildings, and there is still much work in hand which the Frenchgovernment who are now in control are most successfully carrying out. 

These are a few of the thrilling phases of the history of the rock. Butwhat has been written scarcely does the smallest justice to its crowdedpages. The only way of being fair to a spot so richly endowed withenthralling events seems to be in stirring the imagination by a preliminaryvisit, in order that one may come again armed with a close knowledge of allthat has taken place since Aubert raised his humble chapel upon the lonelyrock. Who does not know that sense of annoyance at being conducted oversome historic building by a professional guide who mentions names andevents that just whet the appetite and then leave a hungry feeling for wantof any surrounding details or contemporary events which one knows wouldconvert the mere "sight" into holy ground. I submit that a French guide, aFrench hand-book or a poor translation, can do little to relieve thishunger, that Mont St Michel is fully worthy of some preliminaryconsideration, and that it should not be treated to the contemptuous scurryof a day's trip. 

The tides that bring the sea across the great sweep of sand surroundingMont St Michel, are intermittent, and it is possible to remain for a day ortwo on the island and be able to walk around it dry-shod at any hour. It isonly at the really high tides that the waters of the Bay of Cancale givevisitors the opportunity of seeing the fantastic buildings reflected in thesea. But although it is safer and much more pleasant to be able to examineevery aspect of the rock from a boat, it is possible to walk over the sandsand get the same views provided one is aware of the dangers of thequicksands which have claimed too many victims. It is somewhat terrifyingthat on what appears to be absolutely firm sand, a few taps of the footwill convert two or three yards beneath one's feet into a quaking mass. There is, however, no great danger at the foot of the rocks orfortifications, but to wander any distance away entails the gravest risksunless in company with a native who is fully aware of any dangerouslocalities. The sands are sufficiently firm to allow those who know theroute to drive horses and carts to Tombelaine, but this should notencourage strangers to take any chances, for the fate of the English ladywho was swallowed up by the sands in sight of the ramparts and whose bodynow lies in the little churchyard of the town, is so distressing that anyrepetition of such tragedies would tend to cast a shade over the glories ofthe mount. 

You may buy among the numerous photographs and pictures for sale in thetrinket shops, coloured post-cards which show flaming sunsets behind theabbey, but nothing that I have yet seen does the smallest justice to thereality. Standing on the causeway and looking up to the great height of thetower that crowns the highest point, the gilded St Michael with hisoutspread wings seems almost ready to soar away into the immensity of thecanopy of heaven. Through the traceried windows of the chancel of thechurch, the evening light on the opposite side of the rock glows throughthe green glass, for from this position the upper windows are opposite toone another and the light passes right through the building. The great massof curiously simple yet most striking structures that girdle the summit ofthe rock and form the platform beneath the church, though built atdifferent times, have joined in one consenescence and now present theappearance of one of those cities that dwell in the imagination whenreading of "many tower'd Camelot" or the turreted walls of fairyland. Downbelow these great and inaccessible buildings comes an almost perpendiculardrop of rocks, bare except for stray patches of grass or isolated bushesthat have taken root in crevices. Then between this and the fortified wall, with its circular bastions, encircling the base of the rock, the roofs ofthe little town are huddled in picturesque confusion. The necessity ofaccommodating the modern pilgrims has unfortunately led to the erection ofone or two houses that in some measure jar with their mediaevalsurroundings. Another unwelcome note is struck by the needlessly aggressiveboard on the museum which has already been mentioned. However, when asunset is glowing behind the mount, these modern intrusions are subduedinto insignificance, and there is nothing left to disturb the harmony ofthe scene. 

A walk round the ramparts reveals an endless series of picturesquegroupings of the old houses with their time-worn stone walls, over whichtower the chatelet and La Merveille. Long flights of stone steps from thehighest part of the narrow street lead up to the main entrance of the abbeybuildings. Here, beneath the great archway of the chatelet, sits an oldblind woman who is almost as permanent a feature as the masonry on whichshe sits. Ascending the wide flight of steps, the Salle des Gardes isreached. It is in the lower portion of the building known as Belle-Chaise, mentioned earlier in this chapter. From this point a large portion of theseemingly endless series of buildings are traversed by the visitor, who isconducted by a regular guide. You ascend a great staircase, between massivestone walls spanned by two bridges, the first a strongly built structure ofstone, the next a slighter one of wood, and then reach a breezy rampartwhere great views over the distant coasts spread themselves out. From hereyou enter the church, its floor now littered with the debris ofrestoration. Then follow the cloister and the refectory, and down belowthem on the second floor of the Merveille is the Salle des Chevaliers. Besides the wonderful Gothic halls with their vaulted roofs and perfectsimplicity of design, there are the endless series of crypts and dungeons, which leave a very strong impression on the minds of all those whoseknowledge of architecture is lean. There is the shadowy crypt of Les GrosPilliers down below the chancel of the church; there is the Charnier wherethe holy men were buried in the early days of the abbey; and there is thegreat dark space filled by the enormous wheel which was worked by theprisoners when Mont St Michel was nothing more than a great jail. It was bythis means that the food for the occupants of the buildings was raised fromdown below. Without knowing it, in passing from one dark chamber toanother, the guide takes his little flock of peering and wondering visitorsall round the summit of the rock, for it is hard, even for those whoendeavour to do so, to keep the cardinal points in mind, when, except for achance view from a narrow window, there is nothing to correct theimpression that you are still on the same side of the mount as theMerveille. At last the perambulation is finished--the dazzling sunshine isonce more all around you as you come out to the steep steps that leadtowards the ramparts. 

CHAPTER VIII

Concerning Coutances and Some Parts of the Cotentin

When at last it is necessary to bid farewell to Mont St Michel, one is notcompelled to lose sight of the distant grey silhouette for a long while. Itremains in sight across the buttercup fields and sunny pastures on the roadto Pontaubault. Then again, when climbing the zig-zag hill towardsAvranches the Bay of Mont St Michel is spread out. You may see the mountagain from Avranches itself, and then if you follow the coast-road towardsGranville instead of the rather monotonous road that goes to itsdestination with the directness of a gun-shot, there are further views ofthe wonderful rock and its humble companion Tombelaine. 

Keeping along this pretty road through the little village of Genets, whereyou actually touch the ocean, there is much pretty scenery to be enjoyedall the way to the busy town of Granville. It is a watering-place and aport, the two aspects of the town being divided from each other by thegreat rocky promontory of Lihou. If one climbs up right above the placethis conformation is plainly visible, for down below is the stretch ofsandy beach, with its frailly constructed concert rooms and cafessheltering under the gaunt red cliffs, while over the shoulder of thepeninsula appears a glimpse of the piers and the masts of sailing ships. There is much that is picturesque in the seaport side of the town, particularly towards evening, when the red and green harbour-lights arereflected in the sea. There are usually five or six sailing ships loadingor discharging their cargoes by the quays, and you will generally find aBritish tramp steamer lying against one of the wharves. The sturdycrocketed spire of the sombre old church of Notre Dame stands out above thelong line of shuttered houses down by the harbour. It is a wonderfulcontrast, this old portion of Granville that surmounts the promontory, tothe ephemeral and gay aspect of the watering-place on the northern side. But these sort of contrasts are to be found elsewhere than at Granville, for at Dieppe it is much the same, although the view of that popular resortthat is most familiar in England, is the hideous casino and the wide sweepof gardens that occupy the sea-front. Those who have not been there wouldscarcely believe that the town possesses a castle perched upon toweringcliffs, or that its splendid old church of Saint-Jacques is the real gloryof the place. Granville cannot boast of quite so much in the way ofantiquities, but there is something peculiarly fascinating about its darkchurch, in which the light seems unable to penetrate, and whose wallsassume almost the same tones as the rocks from which the masonry was hewn. 

I should like to describe the scenery of the twenty miles of country thatlie between Granville and Coutances, but I have only passed over it on oneoccasion. It was nine o'clock in the evening, and the long drawn-outtwilight had nearly faded away as I climbed up the long ascent whichcommences the road to Coutances, and before I had reached the village ofBrehal it was quite dark. The road became absolutely deserted, and althoughone or two people on bicycles passed me about this time, they were carryingno lamps as is the usual custom in France, where the rules governing theuse of a _bicyclette_ are so numerous and intricate, but so absolutelyignored. My own lamp seemed to be a grave distraction among the invisibleoccupants of the roadside meadows, and often much lowing rose up on eitherside. The hedges would suddenly whirr with countless grasshoppers, although, no doubt, they had been amusing themselves with their monotonousnoises for hours. The strange sound seemed to follow me in a mostpersistent fashion, and then would be merged into the croaking of a vastassemblage of frogs. These sounds, however, carry with them no real menace, however late the hour, but there is something which may almost striketerror into the heart, though it might almost be considered foolish bythose who have not experienced a midnight ride in this country. The clippedand shaven trees that in daylight merely appear ridiculous, in the darknessassume an altogether different character. To the vivid imagination, it iseasy to see a witch's broom swaying in the wind; a group of curious anddistorted stems will suggest a row of large but painfully thin brownies, holding hands as they dance. Every moment, two or three figures of gauntand lanky witches in spreading skirts will alarm you as they suddenlyappear round a corner. When they are not so uncanny in their outlines, thetrees will appear like clipped poodles standing upon their hind legs, orthey will suddenly assume the character of a grove of palm trees. After along stretch of this sort of country, it is pleasant to pass through somesleeping village where there are just two or three lighted windows to showthat there are still a few people awake besides oneself in this lonelycountry. I can imagine that the village of Hyenville has some claims tobeauty. I know at least that it lies in a valley, watered by the riverSienne, and that the darkness allowed me to see an old stone bridge, with across raised above the centre of the parapet. Soon after this I began todescend the hill that leads into Coutances. A bend in the road, as I wasrapidly descending, brought into view a whole blaze of lights, and I feltthat here at last there were people and hotels, and an end to the ghostlysights of the open country. Then I came to houses, but they were all quitedark, and there was not a single human being in sight. Following this camea choice of streets without a possibility of knowing which one would leadin the direction of the hotel I was hoping to reach; but my perplexity wasat length relieved by the advent of a tall youth whose cadaverous featureswere shown up by the street lamp overhead. He gave his directions clearlyenough, but although I followed them carefully right up the hill past thecathedral, I began to think that I had overshot the mark, when anotherpasser-by appeared in the silent street. I found that I was within a fewyards of the hotel; but on hurrying forward, I found to my astonishment, that the whole building was completely shut up and no light appeared evenwithin the courtyard. As I had passed the cathedral eleven reverbratingnotes had echoed over the town, and it seemed as though Coutances hadretired earlier on this night of all nights in order that I might learnto travel at more rational hours. Going inside the courtyard, my anxietywas suddenly relieved by seeing the light of a candle in a stable on thefurther side; a man was putting up a horse, and he at once volunteeredto arouse some one who would find a bedroom. After some shouting to thegallery above, a maid appeared, and a few minutes afterwards mine hosthimself, clad in a long flannel night robe and protecting a flickeringcandle-flame with his hand, appeared at a doorway. His long grey beardgave him a most venerable aspect. The note of welcome in his cheeryvoice was unmistakable and soon the maid who had spoken from the balconyhad shown the way up a winding circular staircase to a welcome exchangeto the shelter of a haystack which I had begun to fear would be my onlyresting-place for the night. 

In the morning, the Hotel d'Angleterre proved to be a most picturesqueold hostelry. Galleries ran round three sides of the courtyard, and thecircular staircase was enclosed in one of those round towers that aresuch a distinctive feature of the older type of French inn. 

The long main street does not always look deserted and in daylight itappeared as sunny and cheerful as one expects to find the chiefthoroughfare of a thriving French town. Coutances stands on such a boldhill that the street, almost of necessity, drops precipitously, and thecathedral which ranks with the best in France, stands out boldly from allpoints of view. It was principally built in the thirteenth century, but achurch which had stood in its place two centuries before, had beenconsecrated by Bishop Geoffrey de Montbray in 1056, in the presence of DukeWilliam, afterwards William I. Of England. The two western towers of thepresent cathedral are not exactly similar, and owing to their curiousformation of clustered spires they are not symmetrical. It is for thisreason that they are often described as being unpleasing. I am unable toecho such criticism, for in looking at the original ideas that are mostplainly manifest in this most astonishing cathedral one seems to be inclose touch with the long forgotten builders and architects whose notionsof proportion and beauty they contrived to stamp so indelibly upon theirmasterpiece. From the central tower there is a view over an enormous sweepof country which includes a stretch of the coast, for Coutances is onlyhalf a dozen miles from the sea. This central tower rises from a squarebase at the intersection of the transepts with the nave. It runs up almostwithout a break in an octagonal form to a parapet ornamented with openquatrefoils. The interior has a clean and fresh appearance owing to therecent restorations and is chiefly remarkable for the balustraded triforiumwhich is continued round the whole church. In many of the windows there isglass belonging to the sixteenth century and some dates as early as thefourteenth century. 

Besides the cathedral, the long main street of Coutances possesses thechurches of St Nicholas and St Pierre. In St Nicholas one may see asomewhat unusual feature in the carved inscriptions dating from early inthe seventeenth century which appear on the plain round columns. Here, asin the cathedral, the idea of the balustrade under the clerestory iscarried out. The fourteen Stations of the Cross that as usual meet one inthe aisles of the nave, are in this church painted with a most unusualvividness and reality, in powerful contrast to so many of these crucifixionscenes to be seen in Roman Catholic churches. 

The church of St Pierre is illustrated here, with the cathedral beyond, butthe drawing does not include the great central tower which is crowned by apyramidal spire. This church belongs to a later period than the cathedralas one may see by a glance at the classic work in the western tower, formost of the building is subsequent to the fifteenth century. St Pierre andthe cathedral form a most interesting study in the development from EarlyFrench architecture to the Renaissance; but for picturesqueness in domesticarchitecture Coutances cannot hold up its head with Lisieux, Vire, orRouen. There is still a remnant of one of the town gateways and to thosewho spend any considerable time in the city some other quaint corners maybe found. From the western side there is a beautiful view of the town withthe great western towers of the cathedral rising gracefully above thequarries in the Bois des Vignettes. Another feature of Coutances is theaqueduct. It unfortunately does not date from Roman times when the placewas known as Constantia, for there is nothing Roman about the ivy-cladarches that cross the valley on the western side. 

From Coutances northwards to Cherbourg stretches that large tract ofNormandy which used to be known as the Cotentin. At first the country isfull of deep valleys and smiling hills covered with rich pastures andwoodland, but as you approach Lessay at the head of an inlet of the sea theroad passes over a flat heathy desert. The church at Lessay is a mostperfect example of Norman work. The situation is quite pretty, for near byflows the little river Ay, and the roofs are brilliant with orange lichen. The great square tower with its round-headed Norman windows, is crownedwith a cupola. With the exception of the windows in the north aisle thewhole of the interior is of pure Norman work. There is a double triforiumand the round, circular arches rest on ponderous pillars and there is alsoa typical Norman semi-circular apse. The village, which is a very ancientone, grew round the Benedictine convent established here by one TurstanHalduc in 1040, and there may still be seen the wonderfully picturesquecastle with its round towers. 

Following the estuary of the river from Lessay on a minor road you come tothe hamlet of St Germain-sur-Ay. The country all around is flat, but thewide stretches of sand in the inlet have some attractiveness to those whoare fond of breezy and open scenery, and the little church in the villageis as old as that of Lessay. One could follow this pretty coast-linenorthwards until the seaboard becomes bold, but we will turn aside to thelittle town of La Haye-du-Puits. There is a junction here on the railwayfor Carentan and St Lo, but the place seems to have gone on quite unalteredby this communication with the large centres of population. The remains ofthe castle, where lived during the eleventh century the Turstan Halduc justmentioned, are to be seen on the railway side of the town. The dungeontower, picturesquely smothered in ivy, is all that remains of this Normanfortress. The other portion is on the opposite side of the road, but itonly dates from the sixteenth century, when it was rebuilt. Turstan had ason named Odo, who was seneschal to William the Norman, and he is known tohave received certain important lands in Sussex as a reward for hisservices. During the next century the owner of the castle was that Richardde la Haye whose story is a most interesting one. He was escaping fromGeoffrey Plantagenet, Count of Anjou, when he had the ill luck to fall inwith some Moorish pirates by whom he was captured and kept as a slave forsome years. He however succeeded in regaining his liberty, and after hisreturn to France, he and his wife, Mathilde de Vernon, founded the Abbey ofBlanchelande. The ruins of this establishment are scarcely more than twomiles from La Haye du Puits, but they unfortunately consist of little morethan some arches of the abbey church and some of the walls of the lesserbuildings. 

Immediately north of La Haye there is some more heathy ground, but it ishigher than the country surrounding Lessay. A round windmill, muchresembling the ruined structure that stands out conspicuously on the bare tableland of Alderney, is the first of these picturesque features thatwe have seen in this part of the country. It is worth mention also onaccount of the fact that it was at St Sauveur-le-Vicomte, only about sevenmiles distant, that the first recorded windmill was put up in France aboutthe year 1180, almost the same time as the first reference to suchstructures occurs in England. St Sauveur has its castle now occupied by thehospital. It was given to Sir John Chandos by Edward III. After the Treatyof Bretigny in 1360, and that courageous soldier, who saw so much fightingin France during the Hundred Years War, added much to the fortress whichhad already been in existence since very early times in the history of theduchy. 

A road runs from St Sauveur straight towards the sea. It passes the cornerof a forest and then goes right down to the low sandy harbour of Port Bail. It is a wonderful country for atmospheric effects across the embankedswamps and sandhills that lie between the hamlet and the sea. One of thetwo churches has a bold, square tower, dating from the fifteenthcentury--it now serves as a lighthouse. The harbour has two other lightsand, although it can only be entered at certain tides, the little portcontrives to carry on a considerable export trade of farm produce, most ofit being consumed in the Channel Islands. 

The railway goes on to its terminus at Cartaret, a nicely situated littleseaside village close to the cape of the same name. Here, if you tire ofshrimping on the wide stretch of sands, it is possible to desert Normandyby the little steamer that during the summer plies between this point andGorey in Jersey. Modern influences have given Cartaret a more civilisedflavour than it had a few years ago, and it now has something of the aspectof a watering-place. Northwards from Cartaret, a road follows thecoast-line two or three miles from the cliffs to Les Pieux. Then one can goon to Flamanville by the cape which takes its name from the village, andthere see the seventeenth century moated manor house. 

Cherbourg, the greatest naval port of France, is not often visited by thosewho travel in Normandy, for with the exception of the enormous breakwater, there is nothing beyond the sights of a huge dockyard town that is of anynote. The breakwater, however, is a most remarkable work. It stands abouttwo miles from the shore, is more than 4000 yards long by 100 yards wide, and has a most formidable appearance with its circular forts and batteriesof guns. 

The church of La Trinite was built during the English occupation and musthave been barely finished before the evacuation of the place in 1450. Sincethat time the post has only been once attacked by the English, and that wasas recently as 1758, when Lord Howe destroyed and burnt the forts, shippingand naval stores. 

Leaving Cherbourg we will take our way southwards again to Valognes, a townwhich suffered terribly during the ceaseless wars between England andFrance. In 1346, Edward III. Completely destroyed the place. It wascaptured by the English seventy-one years afterwards and did not againbecome French until that remarkable year 1450, when the whole of Normandyand part of Guienne was cleared of Englishmen by the victorious Frencharmies under the Count of Clermont and the Duke of Alencon. 

The Montgommery, whose defeat at Domfront castle has already beenmentioned, held Valognes against the Catholic army, but it afterwards wascaptured by the victorious Henry of Navarre after the battle of Ivry nearEvreux. 

Valognes possesses a good museum containing many Roman relics from theneighbourhood. A short distance from the town, on the east side, lies thevillage of Alleaume where there remain the ivy-grown ruins of the castle inwhich Duke William was residing when the news was brought to him of theinsurrection of his barons under the Viscount of the Cotentin. It was atthis place that William's fool revealed to him the danger in which hestood, and it was from here that he rode in hot haste to the castle ofFalaise, a stronghold the Duke seemed to regard as safer than any other inhis possession. 

Still farther southwards lies the town of Carentan, in the centre of agreat butter-making district. It is, however, a dull place--it can scarcelybe called a city even though it possesses a cathedral. The earliest part ofthis building is the west front which is of twelfth century work. The spireof the central tower has much the same appearance as those crowning the twowestern towers at St Lo, but there is nothing about the building thatinspires any particular enthusiasm although the tracery of some of thewindows, especially of the reticulated one in the south transept, isexceptionally fine. 

CHAPTER IX

Concerning St Lo and Bayeux

The richest pasture lands occupy the great butter-making district that liesnorth of St Lo. The grass in every meadow seems to grow with particularluxuriance, and the sleepy cows that are privileged to dwell in this choicecountry, show by their complaisant expressions the satisfaction they feelwith their surroundings. It is wonderful to lie in one of these sunnypastures, when the buttercups have gilded the grass, and to watch themotionless red and white cattle as they solemnly let the hours drift pastthem. During a whole sunny afternoon, which I once spent in those pastoralsurroundings, I can scarcely remember the slightest movement taking placeamong the somnolent herd. There was a gentle breeze that made waves in thesilky sea of grass and sometimes stirred the fresh green leaves of thetrees overhead. The birds were singing sweetly, and the distant tolling ofthe cathedral bells at Carentan added a richness to the sounds of nature. Imagine this scene repeated a thousand times in every direction and youhave a good idea of this strip of pastoral Normandy. 

About four miles north of St Lo, the main road drops down into the pleasantlittle village of Pont Hebert and then passes over the Vire where it flowsthrough a lovely vale. In either direction the brimming waters of the riverglide between brilliant green meadows, and as it winds away into thedistance, the trees become more and more blue and form a charming contrastto the brighter colours near at hand. 

To come across the peasants of this pretty country in the garb one sofrequently sees depicted as the usual dress of Normandy, it is necessary tobe there on a Sunday or some fete day. On such days the wonderful frilledcaps, that stand out for quite a foot above the head, are seen on everypeasant woman. They are always of the most elaborate designs, and it isscarcely necessary to say that they are of a dazzling whiteness. The menhave their characteristic dark blue close-fitting coats and thehigh-crowned cap that being worn on week days is much more frequently inevidence than the remarkable creations worn by the womenfolk. 

There is a long climb from Pont Hebert to St Lo but there are plenty ofpretty cottages scattered along the road, and these with crimson stonecropon the roofs and may and lilac blossoming in the gardens, are pictures thatprevent you from finding the way tedious. At last, from the considerableheight you have reached, St Lo, dominated by its great church, appears on ahill scarcely a mile away. The old town, perched upon the flat surface of amass of rock with precipitous sides, has much the same position asDomfront. But here we are shut in by other hills and there is no unlimitedview of green forest-lands. The place, too, has a busy city-like aspect sothat the comparison cannot be carried very far. When you have climbed thesteep street that leads up through a quaint gateway to the extensiveplateau above, you pass through the Rue Thiers and reach one of the finestviews of the church. On one side of the street, there are picturesquehouses with tiled roofs and curiously clustered chimneys, and beyond them, across a wide gravelly space, rises the majestic bulk of the west front ofNotre Dame. From the wide flight of steps that leads to the main entrance, the eye travels upwards to the three deeply-recessed windows that occupymost of the surface of this end of the nave. Then the two great towers, seemingly similar, but really full of individual ornament, risemajestically to a height equal to that of the highest portion of the nave. Then higher still, soaring away into the blue sky above, come the enormousstone spires perforated with great multi-foiled openings all the way to theapex. Both towers belong to the fifteenth century, but they were not builtat quite the same time. In the chancel there is a double arcade of gracefulpillars without capitals. There is much fine old glass full of beautifulcolours that make a curious effect when the sunlight falls through themupon the black and white marble slabs of the floor. 

Wedged up against the north-west corner of the exterior stands acomparatively modern house, but this incongruous companionship is nostrange thing in Normandy, although, as we have seen at Falaise, there areinstances in which efforts are being made to scrape off the humble domesticarchitecture that clings, barnacle-like, upon the walls of so many of thefinest churches. On the north side of Notre Dame, there is an admirablydesigned outside pulpit with a great stone canopy overhead full ofelaborate tracery. It overhangs the pavement, and is a noticeable object asyou go towards the Place de la Prefecture. On this wide and open terrace, aband plays on Sunday evenings. There are seats under the trees by the stonebalustrade from which one may look across the roofs of the lower townfilling the space beneath. The great gravelly Place des Beaux-Regards thatruns from the western side of the church, is terminated at the very edge ofthe rocky platform, and looking over the stone parapet you see the Vireflowing a hundred feet below. This view must have been very much finerbefore warehouses and factory-like buildings came to spoil the river-sidescenery, but even now it has qualities which are unique. Facing the westend of the church, the most striking gabled front of the Maison Dieu formspart of one side of the open space. This building may at first appearalmost too richly carved and ornate to be anything but a modernreproduction of a mediaeval house, but it has been so carefully preservedthat the whole of the details of the front belong to the original time ofthe construction of the house. The lower portion is of heavy stone-work, above, the floors project one over the other, and the beauty of thetimber-framing and the leaded windows is most striking. 

St Lo teems with soldiers, and it has a town-crier who wears a dark blueuniform and carries a drum to call attention to his announcements. In thelower part of the town, in the Rue des Halles, you may find the corn-marketnow held in the church that was dedicated to Thomas a Becket. The buildingwas in course of construction when the primate happened to be at St Lo andhe was asked to name the saint to whom the church should be dedicated. Hisadvice was that they should wait until some saintly son of the churchshould die for its sake. Strangely enough he himself died for theprivileges of the church, and thus his name was given to this nowdesecrated house of God. 

The remains of the fortifications that crown the rock are scarcelynoticeable at the present time, and it is very much a matter of regret thatthe town has, with the exception of the Tour Beaux-Regards, lost the wallsand towers that witnessed so many sieges and assaults from early Normantimes right up to the days of Henry of Navarre. It was one of the townsthat was held by Geoffrey Plantagenet in Stephen's reign, and it was burntby Edward III. About the same time as Valognes. Then again in the religiouswars of the sixteenth century, a most terrific attack was made on St Lo byMatignon who overcame the resistance of the garrison after Colombieres, theleader, had been shot dead upon the ramparts. 

It is fortunate for travellers in hot weather that exactly half-way betweenSt Lo and Bayeux there lies the shade of the extensive forest of Cerisythrough which the main road cuts in a perfectly straight line. At Semillythere is a picturesque calvary. The great wooden cross towers up to aremarkable height so that the figure of our Lord is almost lost among theoverhanging trees, and down below a double flight of mossy stone stepsleads up to the little walled-in space where the wayfarer may kneel inprayer at the foot of the cross. Onward from this point, the dust and heatof the roadway can become excessive, so that when at last the shade of theforest is reached, its cool glades of slender beech-trees entice you fromthe glaring sunshine--for towards the middle of the day the roadwayreceives no suggestion of shadows from the trees on either side. 

In this part of the country, it is a common sight to meet the peasant womenriding their black donkeys with the milk cans resting in panniers on eitherside. The cans are of brass with spherical bodies and small necks, and arekept brilliantly burnished. 

The forest left behind, an extensive pottery district is passed through. The tuilleries may be seen by the roadside in nearly all the villages, Naron being entirely given up to this manufacture. Great embankments ofdark brown jars show above the hedges, and the furnaces in which theearthenware is baked, are almost as frequent as the cottages. There aresome particularly quaint, but absolutely simple patterns of narrow neckedjugs that appear for sale in some of the shops at Bayeux and Caen. 

Soon the famous Norman cathedral with its three lofty spires appearsstraight ahead. In a few minutes the narrow streets of this historic cityare entered. The place has altogether a different aspect to the busy andcheerful St Lo. The ground is almost level, it is difficult to find anyreally striking views, and we miss the atmosphere of the more favourablysituated town. Perhaps it is because of the evil influence of Caen, butcertainly Bayeux lacks the cleanliness and absence of smells thatdistinguishes Coutances and Avranches from some of the other Norman towns. It is, however, rich in carved fronts and timber-framed houses, andprobably is the nearest rival to Lisieux in these features. The visitor isinclined to imagine that he will find the tapestry for which he makes apoint of including Bayeux in his tour, at the cathedral or some buildingadjoining it, but this is not the case. It is necessary to traverse two orthree small streets to a tree-grown public square where behind a greatwooden gateway is situated the museum. As a home for such a priceless relicas this great piece of needlework, the museum seems scarcely adequate. Ithas a somewhat dusty and forlorn appearance, and although the tapestry iswell set out in a long series of glazed wooden cases, one feels that therisks of fire and other mischances are greater here than they would be werethe tapestry kept in a more modern and more fire-proof home. Queen Mathildaor whoever may have been either the actual producer or the inspirer of thetapestry must have used brilliant colours upon this great length of linen. During the nine centuries that have passed since the work was completed thelinen has assumed the colour of light brown canvas, but despite this, thegreens, blues, reds, and buffs of the stitches show out plainly against theunworked background. There is scarcely an English History without areproduction of one of the scenes portrayed in the long series of pictures, and London has in the South Kensington Museum a most carefully producedcopy of the original. Even the chapter-house of Westminster Abbey has itscoloured reproductions of the tapestry, so that it is seldom that any onegoes to Bayeux without some knowledge of the historic events portrayed inthe needlework. There are fifty-eight separate scenes on the 230 feet oflinen. They commence with Harold's instructions from Edward the Confessorto convey to William the Norman the fact that he (Harold) is to become kingof England. Then follows the whole story leading up to the flight of theEnglish at Senlac Hill. 

Even if this wonderful piece of work finds a more secure resting-place inParis, Bayeux will still attract many pilgrims for its cathedral and itsdomestic architecture compare favourably with many other Norman towns. 

The misfortunes that attended the early years of the life of the cathedralwere so numerous and consistent that the existence of the great structureto-day is almost a matter for surprise. It seems that the first church madeits appearance during the eleventh century, and it was in it that Haroldunwittingly took that sacred oath on the holy relics, but by some accidentthe church was destroyed by fire and there is probably nothing left of thisearliest building except the crypt. Eleven years after the conquest ofEngland, William was present at Bayeux when a new building built by hishalf-brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, was consecrated. Ten years after hisdeath, however, this second church was burnt down. They rebuilt it oncemore a few years later, but a third time a fire wrought much destruction. The portions of the cathedral that survived this century of conflagrationscan be seen in the two great western towers, in the arches of the Normannave, and a few other portions. The rest of the buildings are in the EarlyFrench period of pointed architecture, with the exception of the centraltower which is partly of the flamboyant period, but the upper portion is asmodern as the middle of last century. The spandrels of the nave arcades arecovered over with a diaper work of half a dozen or more different patterns, some of them scaly, some representing interwoven basket-work, while othersare composed simply of a series of circles, joined together with lines. There are curious little panels in each of these spandrels that are carvedwith the most quaint and curious devices. Some are strange, Chinese-lookingdragons, and some show odd-looking figures or mitred saints. The panelshowing Harold taking the oath is modern. There is a most imposing pulpitsurmounted by a canopy where a female figure seated on a globe issurrounded by cherubs, clouds (or are they rocks?) and fearful lightning. At a shrine dedicated to John the Baptist, the altar bears a painting inthe centre showing the saint's dripping head resting in the charger. Quiteclose to the west front of the cathedral there stands a house that stillbears its very tall chimney dating from mediaeval times. Not far from thisthere is one of the timber-framed fifteenth century houses ornamented withcurious carvings of small figures, and down in the Rue St Malo there is aneven richer example of the same type of building. On the other side of theroad, nearer the cathedral, a corner house stands out conspicuously. 

[Illustration: AN ANCIENT HOUSE IN THE RUE ST MALO, BAYEUX]

It is shown in the illustration given here and its curious detail makes itone of the most quaint of all the ancient houses in the city. 

Some of these old buildings date from the year 1450, when Normandy wasswept clear of the English, and it is probably owing to the considerationof the leader of the French army that there are any survivals of this time. The Lord of Montenay was leading the Duke of Alencon's troops and with himwere Pierre de Louvain, Robert Conigrain and a number of free archers. After they had battered the walls of Bayeux with their cannon for fifteendays, and after they had done much work with mines and trenches, the Frenchwere ready for an assault. The King of France, however, and the notableswho have been mentioned "had pity for the destruction of the city and wouldnot consent to the assault. " Without their orders, however, the troops, whose ardour could not be restrained, attacked in one place, but not havinghad the advice of their leaders the onslaught was quite indecisive, bothsides suffering equally from arrows and culverins. It was soon after thisthat Matthew Gough, the English leader, was obliged to surrender the city, and we are told that nine hundred of the bravest and the best soldiers ofthe Duchy of Normandy came out and were allowed to march to Cherbourg. TheFrench lords "for the honour of courtesy" lent some of their horses tocarry the ladies and the other gentlewomen, and they also supplied carts toconvey the ordinary womenfolk who went with their husbands. "It was, " saysJacques le Bouvier, who describes the scene, "a thing pitiful to behold. Some carried the smallest of the children in their arms, and some were ledby hand, and in this way the English lost possession of Bayeux. "

[Illustration: THE GATEWAY OF THE CHATEAU]

CHAPTER X

Concerning Caen and the Coast Towards Trouville

Caen, like mediaeval London, is famed for its bells and its smells. If youclimb up to any height in the town you will see at once that the place iscrowded with the spires and towers of churches; and, if you explore any ofthe streets, you are sure to discover how rudimentary are the notions ofsanitation in the historic old city. If you come to Caen determined tothoroughly examine all the churches, you must allow at least two or threedays for this purpose, for although you might endeavour to "do" the placein one single day, you would remember nothing but the fatigue, and thefeatures of all the churches would become completely confused. 

My first visit to Caen, several years ago, is associated with a day ofsight-seeing commenced at a very early hour. I had been deposited at one ofthe quays by the steamer that had started at sunrise and had slowly glidedalong the ten miles of canal from Ouistreham, reaching its destination atabout five o'clock. The town seemed thoroughly awake at this time, theweather being brilliantly fine. White-capped women were everywhere to beseen sweeping the cobbled streets with their peculiarly fragile-lookingbrooms. It was so early by the actual time, however, that it seemed wise togo straight to the hotel and to postpone the commencement of sight-seeinguntil a more rational hour. My rooms at the hotel, however, were not yetvacated, so that it was impossible to go to my bedroom till eight o'clock. The hotel courtyard, though picturesque, with its three superimposedgalleries and its cylindrical tower containing the staircase, was not, atthis hour in the morning at least, a place to linger in. It seemedtherefore the wisest plan to begin an exploration of some of the adjoiningstreets to fill the time. After having seen the exterior of three or fourchurches, the interiors of some others; after having explored a dozencurious courtyards and the upper part of the town, where the Chateaustands, the clocks began to strike seven, although to me it seemed likenoon. By half-past eight the afternoon seemed well advanced, and whendejeuner made its appearance at the hotel it seemed as though the day wouldnever cease. I had by this time seen several more churches and interestingold buildings, and my whole senses had become so jaded that I wouldscarcely have moved a yard to have seen the finest piece of architecture inthe whole of Normandy. The circumstances of this day, were, no doubt, exceptional, but I mention them as a warning to those who with a patheticconscientiousness endeavour to see far more than they can possiblycomprehend in the space of a very few hours. It would be far better tospend one's whole time in the great church of the Abbaye aux Hommes, andphotograph in one's mind the simplicity of the early Norman structure, thanto have a confused recollection of this, St Pierre, the church of theAbbaye aux Darnes and half a dozen others. 

The galleried hotel I have mentioned was known as the Hotel St Barbe. It isnow converted into a warehouse, but no one need regret this for it was morepleasant to look at than to actually stay in. I am glad, personally, tohave had this experience; to have seen the country carts, with the bluesheep-skins over the horse collars, drive into the courtyard, and to havewatched the servants of the hotel eating their meals at a long table in theopen air. There was a Spanish flavour about the place that is not found inthe modern hotels. 

There is no town I have ever known more confusing in its plan than Caen, and, although I have stayed there for nearly a week on one occasion, I amstill a little uncertain in which direction to turn for the castle when Iam at the church of St Jean. The streets, as a rule, are narrow and have abusy appearance that is noticeable after the quiet of Bayeux. The clatterand noise of the omnibuses has been subdued in recent years by theintroduction of electric trams which sweep round the corners with aterrifying speed, for after a long sojourn in the country and quiet littletowns one loses the agility and wariness of the town-bred folk. 

Caen, of course, does not compete with Lisieux for its leading position asthe possessor of the largest number of old houses, but it nevertheless canshow some quaint carved fronts in the Rue St Pierre and the narrow streetsadjoining. At the present time the marks of antiquity are being removedfrom the beautiful renaissance courtyard of the Bourse near St Pierre. Therestoration has been going on for some years, and the steps that lead up tothe entrance in one corner of the quadrangle are no longer stained with theblackish-green of a prolonged period of damp. But it is better, however, that this sixteenth century house should assume a fictitious newness ratherthan fall entirely into disrepair. It was originally the house of one ofthe wealthy families of Caen named Le Valois, and was known as the Hoteld'Escoville. Another splendid house is the Hotel de la Monnaie built by thefamous and princely merchant Etienne Duval, Sieur de Mondrainville, whosegreat wealth enabled him to get sufficient supplies into Metz to make itpossible for the place to hold out during its siege in 1553. In his mostadmirably written book "Highways and Byways in Normandy, " Mr Dearmer givesan interesting sketch of this remarkable man whose success brought himjealous enemies. They succeeded in bringing charges against him for whichhe was exiled, and at another time he was imprisoned in the castle at Caenuntil, with great difficulty, he had proved the baseness of the attacksupon his character. Duval was over seventy when he died, being, like Job, wealthy and respected, for he had survived the disasters that had fallenupon him. 

The gateway of the Chateau is the best and most imposing portion of thefortifications of Caen. The castle being now used as barracks, visitors asa rule are unable to enter, but as the gateway may be seen from outside thedeep moat, the rest of the place need not tantalise one. In William theConqueror's time the castle was being built, and the town walls includedthe two great abbeys for which Caen is chiefly famous. These twomagnificent examples of Norman architecture have been restored with greatthoroughness so that the marks of antiquity that one might expect areentirely wanting in both buildings. The exterior of the great church of StEtienne disappoints so many, largely from the fact that the gaunt westfront is the only view one really has of the building except from adistance. Inside, services seem to go on at most times of the day, and whenyou are quietly looking at the mighty nave with its plain, semicirculararches and massive piers, you are suddenly startled by the entry fromsomewhere of a procession of priests loudly singing some awe-inspiringchant, the guttural tones of the singers echoing through the aisles. Following the clerical party will come a rabble of nuns, children andordinary laity, and before you have scarcely had time to think a servicehas commenced, people are kneeling, and if you do not make haste towardsthe doors a priest will probably succeed in reaching you with a collectingdish in which one is not inclined to place even a sou if the service hashindered the exploration of the church. Owing to the perpetuation of anerror in some of the English guides to Normandy, it is often thought that athigh-bone of the founder of the abbey is still lying beneath the marbleslab in the sanctuary, but this is a great mistake, for that last poorrelic of William the Conqueror was lost during the Revolution. The wholestory of the death, the burial, and the destruction of the tomb and remainsof the founder of the abbey are most miserable and even gruesome. Williamwas at Rouen when he died, and we need scarcely remind ourselves of thattragic scene discovered by the clergy when they came to the house not longafter the great man had expired. Every one of William's suite hadimmediately recognised the changed state of affairs now that the inflexiblewill that had controlled the two kingdoms had been removed, and each, concerned for himself, had betaken himself with indecent haste to Englandor wherever his presence might be most opportune. In this way, there beingno one left to watch the corpse, the Archbishop of Rouen discovered thatthe house and even the bed had been pillaged, so that the royal body waslying in great disorder until reverently tended by a Norman gentleman namedHerluin. Having fulfilled William's wishes and brought the remains to Caen, a stately funeral was arranged. As the procession slowly passed through thenarrow streets, however, it was interrupted by an alarm of fire-some of thewooden houses blazing fiercely just when the bier was passing. The flamesgrew so quickly that in some danger the mournful procession was dispersedand the coffin was only attended by a few monks when the gates of theAbbaye aux Hommes were reached. Eventually the burial ceremonies were inprogress beside the open grave within the church, but another interruptionensued. Scarcely had the Bishop of Evreux concluded his address wheneverybody was startled at hearing the loud voice of Ascelin resoundingthrough the church. He was a well-known man, a burgher, and a possessor ofconsiderable wealth, and it was therefore with considerable anxiety thatthe clergy heard his claim upon the ground in which they were about to buryWilliam. It was the actual site of a house that had belonged to Ascelin'sfather, for the dead king had shown no consideration to private claims whenhe was building the great abbey to appease the wrath of the church. Thedisturbance having been settled by the payment for the grave of a sum whichAscelin was induced to accept, the proceedings were resumed. But then camethe worst scene of all, for it has been recorded that the coffin containingthe ponderous body of the king had not been made with sufficient strength, and as it was being lowered into the grave, the boards gave way, and sogruesome was the result that the church was soon emptied. It thus cameabout that once more in the last phase of all William was deserted exceptby a few monks. 

The monument which was raised over the Conqueror's grave, was, however, ofa most gorgeous character. It was literally encrusted with precious gems, and it is known that enormous quantities of gold from the accumulatedstores of wealth which William had made were used by Otto the goldsmith(sometimes known as Aurifaber) who was entrusted with the production ofthis most princely tomb. Such a striking object as this could scarcely passthrough many centuries in safety, and we find that in the Huguenot wars ofthe seventeenth century it was largely destroyed and the stone coffin wasbroken open, the bones being scattered. We only know what became of athigh-bone which was somehow rescued by a monk belonging to the abbey. Hekept it for some time, and in 1642 it was replaced in a new, but much lessgorgeous tomb. About one hundred years later, it was moved to another partof the church, but in the Revolution this third tomb was broken into, andthe last relic of the Conqueror was lost. Then after some years, the Prefetof Calvados placed upon the site of the desecrated tomb the slab of blackmarble that still marks the spot. The inscription reads "Hic sepultus est, Invictissimus Guielmus Conquestor, Normanniae Dux et Angliae Rex, Hujuscedomus Conditor Qui obit anno MLXXXVII. "

When Lanfranc had been sent to the Pope by William with a view to makingsome arrangement by which the King could retain his wife Matilda and at thesame time the good offices of the Church, his side of the bargain consistedin undertaking to build two great abbeys at Caen, one for men and one forwomen. The first we have already been examining, the other is at theeastern side of the town on the hill beyond the castle. It is a morecompletely Norman building than St Etienne, but its simple, semi-circulararches and round-headed windows contrast strangely with the huge pontificalcanopy of draped velvet that is suspended above the altar, and veryeffectually blocks the view of the Norman apse beyond. The smallness of thewindows throughout the building subdues the light within, and thus gives StTrinite a somewhat different character to St Etienne. The capitals of thepiers of the arcade are carved with strange-looking monkeys and otherdesigns, and there are chevron mouldings conspicuous in the nave. The tombof Queen Mathilda is in the choir. Like that of her husband it has beendisturbed more than once, so that the marble slab on top is all thatremains of the original. 

Opposite the Place Reine Mathilde stands the desecrated church of StGilles, one of the numerous beautiful buildings in Caen now in partial ruinand occupied as warehouses, wine-vaults or workshops. They are all worthlooking for, and if possible examining inside as well as out, for theyinclude some beautiful flamboyant structures and others of earlier date, such as St Nicholas, illustrated here, which in part dates from Normantimes. St Etienne le Vieux, quite close to the Abbaye aux Hommes, is abeautiful building rich in elaborate carving and rows of gargoyles. It wasbuilt in the early years of the fifteenth century in place of one which hadfallen into ruin when Henry V. Besieged Caen. It is still unrestored, andif you peep inside the open doors you will see the interior filled withladders, boxes, brooms, and a thousand odds and ends, this most beautifulstructure being used as a municipal workshop. 

We have more than once referred to the church of St Pierre, but as yet wehave made no reference to its architecture. The tower and graceful spireneeds no detailed description, for it appears in the coloured illustrationadjoining, and from it one may see what a strikingly perfect structure thisis for such an early date as 1308. It is a marvel of construction, for thespire within is hollow, and without any interior framework or supports atall. Although it is so seemingly frail, it was used during the sixteenthcentury for military purposes, having been selected as a good position forfiring upon the castle, and it naturally became a target for the gunsinside the fortress. You cannot now see the holes made by the cannon balls, but although they were not repaired for many years the tower remainedperfectly stable, as a proof of the excellent work of Nicholas, theEnglishman who built it. 

Unlike the church of the Abbaye aux Dames, St Pierre is brilliantly litinside by large, traceried windows that let in the light through theirpainted glass. In the nave the roof is covered with the most elaboratevaulting with great pendants dropping from the centre of each section; butfor the most crowded ornament one must examine the chancel and the chapels. 

The church of St Jean is not conspicuous, but it is notable for two orthree features. The western tower is six and a half feet out ofperpendicular, the triforium has a noticeable balustrade running all round, and the chancel is longer than the nave. St Sauveur, in the Rue St Pierreis of the same period as St Jean, but its tower if it had been crocketedwould have very closely resembled that of St Pierre, and it is chieflynotable for the fact that it is two churches thrown into one--that of StEustace being joined on to it. 

Another feature of Caen that is often overlooked is the charm of its oldcourtyards. Behind some of the rather plain stone fronts, the archways leadinto little paved quadrangles that have curious well-heads, rustic outsidestaircases, and odd-shaped dormer windows on the steep roofs. One of thesecourtyards behind a house in the Rue de Bayeux is illustrated here, but todo justice to the quaintnesses that are to be revealed, it would have beennecessary to give several examples. In the Boulevard St Pierre, where thepavements are shaded by pink horse chestnuts there stands the Tour le Roy. It is the most noticeable remnant of the days when Caen was a walled andstrongly fortified city, but as you look at it to-day it seems too muchlike a good piece of the sham antique to be found at large exhibitions. Itis the restoration that is at fault, and not the tower itself, which isreally old, and no doubt is in quiet rebellion at the false complexion itis obliged to wear. 

The view of Caen from across the race-course is a beautiful one, but undersome aspects this is quite eclipsed by the wonderful groupings of thechurch towers seen from the canal as it goes out of the town towards theeast. I can remember one particular afternoon when there was a curiousmistiness through which the western sunlight passed, turning everythinginto a strange, dull gold. It was a light that suppressed all that wascrude and commercial near at hand and emphasised the medievalism of theplace by throwing out spires and towers in softly tinted silhouettes. Ilove to think of Caen robed in this cloth of gold, and the best I can wishfor every one who goes there with the proper motives, is that they may seethe place in that same light. 

On the left, a few miles out of Caen on the road to Creully, stands theAbbaye d'Ardennes where Charles VII. Lodged when his army was besiegingthe city in 1450. The buildings are now used as a farm, and the churchis generally stacked with hay and straw up to the triforium. 

Although they start towards the east, the canal and the river Ornetaking parallel courses run generally towards the north, both enteringthe sea by the village of Ouistreham, the ancient port of Caen. Alongthe margin of the canal there is a good road, and almost hidden by thelong grass outside the tall trees that line the canal on each bank, runs the steam tramway to Cabourg and the coast to the west of theOrne. Except when the fussy little piece of machinery drawing three orfour curious, open-sided trams, is actually passing, the tramwayescapes notice, for the ground is level and the miniature rails arelaid on the ground without any excavating or embanking. The scenery asyou go along the tramway, the road, or the canal, is charming, thepastures on either side being exceedingly rich, and the red and whitecattle seem to revel in the long grass and buttercups. Heronville, Blainville and other sleepy villages are pleasantly perched on theslight rise on the western side of the canal. Their churches, with redroofs all subdued with lichen into the softest browns, rise above thecottages or farm buildings that surround them in the ideal fashion thatis finally repeated at Ouistreham where locks impound the waters of thecanal, and a great lighthouse stands out more conspicuously than thechurch tower. Seen through the framework of closely trimmed treesOuistreham makes a notable picture. The great Norman church is soexceedingly imposing for such a mere village, that it is easy tounderstand how, as a port in the Middle Ages, Ouistreham flourishedexceedingly. 

The tramway crosses the canal at Benouville on its way to Cabourg, andleaving the shade of birches and poplars takes its way over the open fieldstowards the sea. Benouville is best remembered on account of its bigchateau with a great classic portico much resembling a section of WaterlooPlace perched upon a fine terraced slope. Ranville has an old church towerstanding in lonely fashion by itself, and you pass a conspicuous calvary asyou go on to the curious little seaside resort known as Le Home-Sur-Mer. The houses are bare and (if one may coin a word) seasidey. Perched here andthere on the sandy ridge between the road and the shore, they have scarcelyanything more to suggest a garden than the thin wiry grass that contrivesto exist in such soil. 

Down on the wide sandy beach there is an extensive sweep of the coast to beseen stretching from beyond Ouistreham to the bold cliffs of Le Havre. Keeping along the road by the tramway you have been out of sight of thesea, but in a few minutes the pleasant leafiness of Cabourg has beenreached. Here everything has the full flavour of a seaside resort, for wefind a casino, a long esplanade, hotels, shops and bathing apparatus. It isa somewhat strong dose of modern life after the slumbering old world townsand villages we have been exploring, and it is therefore with greatsatisfaction that we turn toward the village of Dives lying close at hand. The place possesses a splendid old market hall, more striking perhaps thanthat of Ecouche and a picturesque inn--the Hotel Guillaume le Conquerant. The building is of stone with tiled roofs, and in the two courtyards thereare galleries and much ancient timber-framing, but unfortunately theproprietor has not been content to preserve the place in its naturalpicturesqueness. He has crowded the exterior, as well as the rooms, with athousand additions of a meretricious character which detract very much fromthe charm of the fine old inn and defeat the owner's object, that of makingit attractive on account of its age and associations. Madame de Sevignewrote many of her letters in one of the rooms, but we know that she sawnone of the sham antique lamps, the well-head, or the excess of flowersthat blaze in the courtyards. On account of its name, the unwary aretrapped into thinking that William the Norman--for he had still to defeatHarold--could have frequently been seen strolling about this hostelry, whenhis forces for invading England were gathering and his fleet of ships werebuilding. This is, of course, a total misapprehension, for the onlystructure that contains anything that dates back to 1066 is the church. Even this building dates chiefly from the fourteenth century, but there isto be seen, besides the Norman walls, a carved wooden cross that isbelieved to have been found in the sea, and therefore to have someconnection with William's great fleet and its momentous voyage to England. The names of the leading men who accompanied William are engraved upon twomarble slabs inside the church, and on the hill above the village a shortcolumn put up by M. De Caumont, commemorates the site upon which William isbelieved to have inspected his forces previous to their embarkation. 

It is a difficult matter to form any clear idea of the size of this armyfor the estimates vary from 67, 000 to 14, 000, and there is also muchuncertainty as to the number of ships employed in transporting the hostacross the channel. The lowest estimates suggest 696 vessels, and there isevery reason to believe that they were quite small. The building of solarge a fleet of even small boats between the winter and summer of 1066must have employed an enormous crowd of men, and we may be justified inpicturing a very busy scene on the shores of this portion of the coast ofNormandy. Duke William's ship, which was named the _Mora_, had beenpresented to him by his wife Mathilda, and most of the vessels had beenbuilt and manned by the Norman barons and prelates, the Bishop of Bayeuxpreparing no less than a hundred ships. The Conquest of England must havealmost been regarded as a holy crusade!

When the fleet left the mouth of the river Dives it did not make at oncefor Pevensey Bay. The ships instead worked along the coast eastwards to theSomme, where they waited until a south wind blew, then the vessels all leftthe estuary each carrying a light, for it was almost dark. By the nextmorning the white chalk of Beachy Head was in sight, and at nine o'clockWilliam had landed on English soil. 

Close to Dives and in sight of the hill on which the Normans weremustered, there is a small watering-place known as Houlgate-sur-mer. Thehouses are charmingly situated among trees, and the place has in recentyears become known as one of those quiet resorts where princes andprincesses with their families may be seen enjoying the simple pleasuresof the seaside, _incognito_. This fact, of course, gets known toenterprising journalists who come down and photograph these members of theEuropean royal families wherever they can get them in particularlyunconventional surroundings. 

From Houlgate all the way to Trouville the country is wooded and hilly, andin the hollows, where the timber-framed farms with their thatched roofs arepicturesquely arranged, there is much to attract the visitor who, wearyingof the gaiety of Trouville and its imitators along the coast, wishes tofind solitudes and natural surroundings. 

CHAPTER XI

Some Notes on the History of Normandy

The early inhabitants of Normandy submitted to the Roman legions underTiturus Sabinus in B. C. 58, only a few years before Caesar's first attemptupon Britain. By their repeated attacks upon Roman territory the Gaulishtribes had brought upon themselves the invasion which, after some stubbornfighting, made their country a province of the Roman Empire. Inter-tribalstrife having now ceased, the civilisation of Rome made its way all overthe country including that northern portion known as Neustria, much ofwhich from the days of Rollo came to be called Normandy. Traces of theRoman occupation are scattered all over the province, the most remarkablebeing the finely preserved theatre at Lillebonne, a corruption ofJuliabona, mentioned in another chapter. 

In the second century Rouen, under its Roman name Rotomagos, is mentionedby Ptolemy. It was then merely the capital of the tribe of Velocasses, butin Diocletian's reign it had become not only the port of Roman Paris, butalso the most important town in the province. In time the position occupiedby Rotomagos became recognised as one having greater strategical advantagesthan Juliabona, a little further down the river, and this Gallo-Romanprecursor of the modern Rouen became the headquarters of the provincialgovernor. The site of Rotomagos would appear to include the Palais deJustice and the Cathedral of the present day. 

After the four centuries of Roman rule came the incursions of the savagehordes of northern Europe, and of the great army of Huns, under Attila, whomarched through Gaul in A. D. 451. The Romans with their auxiliaries engagedAttila at Chalons--the battle in which fabulous numbers of men are said tohave fallen on both sides. 

The Roman power was soon completely withdrawn from Gaul, and the Franksunder Clovis, after the battle of Soissons, made themselves completemasters of the country. In 511 Clovis died. He had embraced Christianityfifteen years before, having been baptised at Rheims, probably throughthe influence of his wife Clothilda. Then for two hundred and fiftyyears France was under the Merovingian kings, and throughout much ofthis period there was very little settled government, Neustria, togetherwith the rest of France, suffering from the lawlessness that prevailedunder these "sluggard" kings. Rouen was still the centre of many of theevents connected with the history of Neustria. We know something of thestory of Hilparik, a king of Neustria, whose brutal behaviour to hisvarious queens and the numerous murders and revenges that darkened hisreign, form a most unsavoury chapter in the story of this portion ofFrance. 

Following this period came the time when France was ruled by the mayorsof the palace who, owing to the weakness of the sovereigns, graduallyassumed the whole of the royal power. After Charles Martel, the mostfamous of these mayors, had defeated the Saracens at Tours, came his sonPepin-le-Bref, the father of Charlemagne. Childeric, the last of theMerovingian kings, had been put out of the way in a monastery and Pepinhad become the King of France. Charlemagne, however, soon made himselfgreater still as Emperor of an enormous portion of Europe--France, Italy, and Germany all coming under his rule. At his death Charlemagnedivided his empire. His successor Louis le Debonnaire, owing to hiseasy-going weakness, fell a prey to Charlemagne's other sons, and at hisdeath, Charles the Bald became King of France and the country west ofthe Rhine. The other portions of the empire falling to Lothaire and theyounger Louis. 

During all this period, France had suffered from endless fighting and thefamines that came as an unevitable consequence, and just about this timeNeustria suffered still further owing to the incursions of the Danes. Evenin Charlemagne's time the black-sailed ships of the Northmen had been seenhovering along the coast near the mouth of the Seine, and it has been saidthat the great Emperor wept at the sight of some of these awe-inspiringpirates. 

In the year 841 the Northmen had sailed up the Seine as far as Rouen, butthey found little to plunder, for during the reign of the Merovingiankings, the town had been reduced to a mere shadow of its former prosperity. There had been a great fire and a great plague, and its ruin had beenrendered complete during the civil strife that succeeded the death ofCharlemagne. Wave after wave came the northern invasions led by such men asBjorn Ironside, and Ragnar Lodbrog. Charles the Bald, fearing to meet thesedreaded warriors, bribed them away from the walls of Paris in the year 875. But they came again twelve years afterwards in search of more of theFrenchmen's gold. When Charles the Fat, the German Emperor, became alsoKing of France, he had to suffer for his treacherous murder of a Danishchief, for soon afterwards came the great Rollo with a large fleet ofgalleys, and Paris was besieged once more. Odo, Count of Paris, held outsuccessfully, but when the king came from Germany with his army, instead ofattacking the Danes, he induced them to retire by offering them a bribe of800 lbs. Of silver. Before long Odo became King of France, but after tenyears of constant fighting, he died and was succeeded by Charles theSimple. This title does an injustice to his character, for he certainly didmore for France than most of his predecessors. Finding the Northmen toofirmly established in Neustria to have any hope of successfully drivingthem out of the country, he made a statesmanlike arrangement with Rollo. The Dane was to do homage to the French king, to abandon his gods Thor, Odin and the rest for Christianity, and in return was to be made ruler ofthe country between the River Epte and the sea, and westwards as far as theborders of Brittany Rollo was also to be given the hand of the PrincessGisela in marriage. Rouen became the capital of the new Duchy of Normandy, and the old name of Neustria disappeared. 

The Northmen were not at this time numerous, but they continued to comeover in considerable numbers establishing centres such as that of Bayeux, where only Danish was spoken. As in England, this warrior people showed themost astonishing adaptability to the higher civilisation with which theyhad come into contact, and the new generations that sprang up on Frenchsoil added to the vigour and daring of their ancestors the manners andadvanced customs of France, although the Northmen continued to be called"The Pirates" for a considerable time. When Rollo died he was succeeded byhis son William Longsword, and from an incident mentioned by Mr T. A. Cookin his "Story of Rouen, " we can see the attitude of the Normans towardsCharles the Simple. He had sent down to Rouen two court gallants tosympathise with the Princess Gisela, his daughter, for the rough treatmentshe had received at the hands of Rollo, but they were both promptly siezedand hanged in what is now the Place du Marche Vieux. 

Great stone castles were beginning to appear at all the chief places inNormandy, and when Duke Richard had succeeded Harold Blacktooth we findthat the Duchy was assuming an ordered existence internally. The feudalsystem had then reached its fullest development, and the laws establishedby Rollo were properly administered. With the accession of Hugh Capet tothe throne of France, Normandy had become a most loyal as well as powerfulfief of the crown. The tenth century witnessed also an attempt on the partof the serfs of the Duchy to throw off something of the awful grip of thefeudal power. These peasants were the descendants of Celts, of Romans, andof Franks, and their efforts to form a representative assembly bear apathetic resemblance to the movement towards a similar end in Russia ofto-day. The representatives of the serfs were treated with the most fearfulcruelty and sent back to their villages; but the movement did not fail tohave its effects, for the condition of the villains in Normandy was alwaysbetter than in other parts of France. 

Broadly speaking, all the successors of Rollo, the first Duke of Normandy, governed the country with wisdom and ability, and although there was moreor less constant war, either with the French, who were always hoping toregain the lost province, or with rebellious barons who disputed theauthority of the dukes, yet the country progressed steadily and becameprosperous. Abbeys and churches that the invaders had laid waste wererebuilt on a larger scale. At Jumieges there are still to be seen someremains of the church that William Longsword began to build for theunfortunate monks who had been left homeless after their abbey had beendestroyed by the "Pirates. " Richard I. , who died in 996, had added to theCathedral at Rouen, and the abbey of St Ouen prospered greatly in thereligious revival that became so widespread during the eleventh century. Duke Richard II. Had been assisted on one occasion by Olaf, King of Norway, and before his return to the north that monarch, impressed no doubt by thepomp of the ceremonial, was in 1004 baptised in the cathedral at Rouen. 

After Richard II. Came Robert the Magnificent, who was called alsoRobert the Devil by the people. It was he, who from the walls of hiscastle at Falaise, if the legend be true, first saw Arlette the tanner'sdaughter who afterwards became the Mother of William the Bastard. As aboy William had a perilous life, and it is almost marvellous that hesurvived to change his appellation to that of "Conqueror. " Robert theMagnificent had joined one of the crusades to the Holy Land when Williamwas only seven years old, but before he left Normandy, he had made itknown that he wished the boy to succeed him. For twenty years there wascivil war between the greater barons and the supporters of the heir, butin the end William showed himself sufficiently strong to establish hispower. He won a great battle at Val-es-Dunes where he had been met bythe barons led by Guy of Burgundy, and, having taken some of the mostformidable fortresses in the Duchy, he turned his attention to his foesoutside with equal success. Soon after this William married Mathilda adaughter of Count Baldwin of Flanders, but although by this act he madepeace with her country, William soon found himself in trouble with thechurch. Bishop Mauger, whom he had appointed to the See of Rouen, foundfault with the marriage owing to its being within the forbidden degreesof relationship, and the papal sanction having been refused, Williamonly obtained his wishes through the agency of Lanfranc. All his lifeWilliam appears to have set a stern example of purity in family life, and his relations with the church, from this time to his death, seem tohave been most friendly. It was largely due to his religious life aswell as the support he gave to the monasteries that William was able togive the colour of a religious crusade to his project for invadingEngland. Harold had slighted the sacredness of the holy relics of thesaints of Normandy, and William was to show England that their king'saction was not to pass unpunished. In this way the Norman host thatassembled at Dives, while the great fleet was being prepared, includedmany who came from outside William's dominions. After the whole ofEngland had been completely subjugated William had his time andattention largely taken up with affairs in Normandy. His son Robert wassoon in open rebellion, and assisted by the French King, Philip I. , Robert brought about the death of his father, for it was whiledevastating a portion of French territory that William received theinjury which resulted in his death. Robert then became Duke of Normandy, and there followed those sanguinary quarrels between the three brothersWilliam Rufus, King of England, Henry Beauclerc and Robert. Finally, after his return from Palestine, Robert came to England to endeavour tomake peace with his younger brother Henry, who was now king, but thequarrel was not to be settled in this way. Henry, determined to addNormandy to the English crown, crossed the channel with a large army anddefeated his brother at Tinchebrai in 1106. With the accession ofStephen to the English throne in 1135, came the long struggle betweenthat king and Maud. When Henry II. Married Eleanor of Aquitaine, notonly that great province but also Maine and Anjou came under his sway, so that for a time Normandy was only a portion of the huge section ofFrance belonging to the English Crown. During his long reign Henry spentmuch time in Normandy, and Argentan and Avranches are memorable inconnection with the tragedy of Thomas a Becket. During the absence ofRichard Coeur-de-Lion in Palestine John became exceedingly friendly withPhilip Augustus, the French King, but when Richard was dead he foundcause to quarrel with the new English king and, after the fall of theChateau Gaillard, John soon discovered that he had lost the Duchy ofNormandy and had earned for himself the name of "Lackland. "

From this time, namely, the commencement of the thirteenth century, Normandy belonged to the crown of France although English armies were, until 1450, in frequent occupation of the larger towns and fortresses.