A Pilgrimage to Auvergne/Vol 1/Chapter 11

The town of Troyes, where we arrived after a tedious journey through an uninteresting country, struck us on entering as one of the most ancient we had seen in France since Rouen. Its narrow streets, gables, projecting fronts, striped and crossed houses,—all announced a place of great antiquity. The street in which our hotel was situated was one of the principal, called La Rue de Nôtre Dame, as it led to the church of that name, now destroyed. Nothing could be conceived more irregular than its aspect; a few high, modern-built houses amongst groups of low, peaked, blackened old ones, dilapidated churches, walls, and dark alleys leading to neighbouring streets,—ruin and desolation, age and ugliness forming the main features of the whole. Opposite us was a café, which had for its sign, "Le Canard de Dieu!" To hear the opinion of its inhabitants one would imagine Troyes to be ​as great and glorious as it once was, of as much importance, and as magnificent as Paris, and flourishing as when it was the capital of Champagne, and the residence of kings and counts.

At first the stranger, after his surprise and pleasure at the picturesque effect of some of the houses are past, looks about him in dismay to behold everywhere such heaps of rubbish, old stones, and walls, defaced piles of building, black and burnt looking façades, and stony, crooked streets; but, after a little reflection, resolving to give himself up to the spirit of discovery, he finds his toil repayed by all that remains in this extraordinary town.

This was our case, as, summoning courage the next morning after our arrival, we sallied forth to the cathedral, which is naturally the first object sought. We had heard a great deal of it, and were even told that it was the finest in this part of the country. We felt therefore disappointed in its outward appearance, for it is by no means on a magnificent scale, has but one tower much blackened and defaced, the whole of the front dreadfully injured by violence, though originally highly ornamented; and there is a poorness in the whole compared to many churches we had lately seen, which caused it to fall greatly short of our expectations. ​The interior does not appear near so large as it is said to be, for it is vaunted as being inferior to few in France for extent. The form is good and regular, its galleries very rich and varied, and the arcades of the nave fine; but that which is most remarkable are the groves of painted windows, which decorate the whole building, one row above another, large and small, of all shapes and sizes—forming a most brilliant ensemble, although in execution as well as design they are inferior to Reims. Some of them date from the beginning of the thirteenth century, and are the richest and finest, but they are of all ages and dates, and the costumes they exhibit are very singular. The great rose appears pale and poor when compared to the gorgeous one at Reims; yet, when the sun is full on it, the yellow and orange tints come out very brilliantly.

A row of small painted windows, filling up the beautiful gallery which extends above the arches, and beneath the large windows all along the nave, is exquisite and unique. There is not a single tomb left, and the altars are covered with tinsel and trumpery.

People are said to be very devout at Troyes; and, to judge by the numerous old ladies we met trotting off with their books from church to church, it would seem to be the case, though, ​as usual, no men are ever to be seen at prayers. There are eight parish churches still remaining of all the myriads which have been swept away, and the chief occupation in this dull town seems to be to go from one to another, saying, or seeming to say, a few aves and paters before a favourite shrine of each: probably these indefatigable devotees were qualifying themselves for the attainment of some of the indulgences, of which printed papers stuck on the walls announce the existence, under the customary conditions of repeating prayers before certain pictures in the different chapels.

It requires a long stay to see all these churches and those of the neighbouring villages: I never saw so many together, and in such bad condition in general, but in every one we found something to repay us.

In the church of St. Jean, Henry V. of England was married to the Princess Katherine, daughter of Charles VI. The exterior is dreadfully defaced, but there are some fine bits of architecture in the interior, and a tower of remarkable construction. A well is enclosed in the church, which furnishes water to that quarter of the town. There are immense caves beneath the church, formerly used as sepulchres.

The church of Sainte Madeleine is extremely ​beautiful, with a screen of unique workmanship, unrivalled in its delicacy and grace, and many exquisite statues. St. Pantaleone is also handsome and very curious, being filled with carved figures of an excellent style. One statue of La Mater Dolorosa is full of expression and sad interest; a group of St. Peter weeping in a cave is admirable, and one of the three Maries extremely beautiful. They stand together in a rocky cavern, very well designed; but as if modern bad taste strove to do away with all that is imposing and solemn, on the summit of a rock above stands a red stuffed cock, in the act of crowing, his feathers and wings "in his habit as he lived." Nothing can be more mean and ludicrous than the effect this produces. The altars too are covered with dusty faded flowers, and little ends of dirty riband are tied to the lamps which hang round, and to the rails of the chapels.

There are many other churches which have been fine, but are in a sad state of ruin and desolation, almost knocked to pieces outside, and all their ornaments destroyed; some have curious portails and details, but they are hemmed in with mean and shabby houses, and are generally in very narrow streets, of which there is no want in Troyes.

St. Remi has some tolerably good pictures ​and statues. St. Nicolas is curious from its formation: one entrance into the gallery is from the ramparts, and you descend into the body of the church by a fine flight of steps. There are some beautiful little statuettes in niches, which have been collected from other churches demolished at the revolution; and the pulpit is magnificent. The painted glass en grisaille is very remarkable. St. Nizier has some fine windows and good sculpture.

There are several curious corners of antique houses; one which is of the time of Charles VI., much dilapidated, in the Rue Champeaux, but it is difficult to discover these, as no one in Troyes knows or cares about the antiquities: we asked a baker in this street its name, which we did not see; he smiled, and ran over to his opposite neighbour to inquire: both had lived there long, but had never thought before of making themselves acquainted with it; when we discovered it written up at the corner, they appeared very much amused, and considered it quite "unique" that we should take any interest in the ruinous, old, carved, striped projecting house we were in search of. Another, much finer, of stone and extremely well preserved, has a charming little tourelle, which, while I stood to draw, attracted more attention than it ever appeared to have ​done before. It is decorated with elegant carving, terminating in a graceful temple. As Charles VI. and his gorgeous queen frequently resided at Troyes, it is possible that this formed part of their palace.

The boucheries are celebrated here, and formerly renowned for the miraculous power exercised in favour of the butchers by St. Loup, who forbade any flies, on pain of excommunication, to approach the halle where the butchers held their meetings. The reason is tolerably evident; the market is almost subterranean, exceedingly cold and damp, and the flies penetrate there no more than they do in a cellar. A new halle has long been talked of, and the removal of this famous place would be a great advantage. It is formed of a series of low, tiled, pointed roofs, rising exactly in the centre of the best street, La Grande Rue Nôtre Dame, and is most unsightly to behold, even when, on the Fête des Bouchers at St. Jean, their patron, the market is decorated inside and out with festoons and garlands of green leaves. The meat so vaunted, and placed under such especial care, is very poor and insipid, and it would be difficult to pronounce, when served, whether it is beef, veal, or mutton. Wherever the vine abounds, other produce is usually neglected, and consequently the fruit of Troyes is of ​a bad quality, nor are any of the viands which its continual market offers particularly good.

There are not many persons of large fortune in or about the town, but small proprietors abound, and comfortable houses, with good gardens and convenient dependences, are numerous. The day of fashion is the great market on Saturday; and then may be seen, hastening along the interminable mails which extend their green arcades entirely round the town, smart cabriolets, with smartly dressed damsels and Yankee-looking men, with straw hats and striped trousers, all bent on executing commissions at Troyes—purchasing new caps and bonnets, settling affairs of commerce, procuring necessaries for the week, &c. &c. Occasionally a calèche, and even a lady en Amazone, may be observed, but the sellers appear always more numerous than the buyers. A sea of white caps completely fills the principal street, and vociferous are the voices of all those engaged in disposing of their goods, or making a good bargain for them. Very few costumes are apparent; a cap or two worn by ancient bonnes vielles mères, may be observed, and they are very curious; standing up in stiff plaits behind, round a heavy chignon, and fanned out in front, they give a butterfly effect which, with a pretty face, could not fail to make a ​sensation; unfortunately the young girls disdain the ancient mode, and are, therefore, undistinguished, and in general not particularly neat. The bourgeoises dress quite à l'Anglaise, and appear to assume a careless, nonchalant, English air and gait, which do not sit well on them. The most fashionable everywhere wear nothing but small cottage bonnets and shawls, some of the latter of handsome materials, as this is the land of cashmeer.

The promenades round the town are very fine and immensely extensive, in which, indeed, consists their charm, for no view whatever can be obtained from them, the ramparts closing them in on one side, and the houses of the proprietors on the other. They consist of long avenues of fine limes, the upper branches meeting and forming shady alleys, agreeable enough, and a great resource to the inhabitants, who seem to make it a point to visit their shades at every convenient moment; people of all trades passing on their errands from one quarter to the other by the mails rather than through the streets, even if it takes them considerably out of their way. This carelessness of time, and laisser-aller manner of getting through their work, is remarkable on all occasions. The French labourers do not weary themselves with ceaseless employment as ​the artisans in England think it their duty to do. In the intervals of their work they lounge on the Boulevards arm in arm, joking and romping, and quite easy as to the lapse of time; going and returning to their occupations they take the pleasantest way, under the trees, and until they arrive at the very spot where they must begin to be in earnest they seem to have no care on the subject. Indeed, the slightest accident in the streets will at all times divert a workman from his business, and attract him to gaze and loiter, and how they contrive to get through what they are about seems a wonder. At Troyes, however, we observed a whole host quite in earnest, busily employed in forming the new canal which is to join the great canal of Burgundy—the boast, and justly so, of the whole country—which connects Paris with the Mediterranean, and conveys goods from town to town through-out the whole extent of country which intervenes. To assemble and speculate, leaning against the palisades which mask the proceedings, on the quay strewed with heaps of stone and rubbish, appeared the favourite resort of the gaiety of Troyes. A whole street of churches and convents, amongst them Nôtre Dame herself, has been swept away to leave a passage for the canal. Other religious houses, or rather their ​walls, have been cleared off to give space for the new Prefecture and the handsome Halles aux Blés and de Commerce, at each end of the town. A few houses are distinguished by having flagstones before the door, generally bearing marks of having been the tombs of monks, with the traces of brasses visible on their surfaces. The ordinary pavement is sufficiently rugged, and the usual run of the streets extremely narrow and crowded, but by no means dirty nor, in general, slovenly. That of Les Tanneries, which might naturally be expected to be so, is kept very neat, and though, from the depth of dimness inside, the inhabitants are obliged to sit at their doors, there is no appearance of anything unclean or disgusting. So large, so extensive, and so incalculably old is Troyes, that it will require many years before it can be rebuilt into anything like a modern town; but when that event does take place, it will be a very good-looking place, always provided its churches are repaired and cleaned. The fête Dieu, which here seems to last several Sundays, was carried on with as much pomp as a prudent sense of economy could permit. Long pieces of white calico were fastened up to the houses from street to street where the procession was to pass, and tied here and there in drapery. A great number of faded flowers and ​green leaves were strewn about, and every window was full of heads, as well as the streets crowded with followers, as a party of children, crowned with roses, petits anges and petites Madeleines, advanced, preceding the priests and their holy cavalcade. There was, it must be confessed, less appearance of piety in the manner of regarding this solemn ceremony than might have been looked for in the religious town of Troyes, for the principal object seemed amusement, and "Avez-vous vu la procession?" was asked oftener and in a more lively tone than altogether comported with the occasion. However, the poor priests seemed to have quite enough to do, and to labour hard to restore the old order of things; though to see a single person fall on his knees now when the host passes, is a circumstance unknown, and the most that can be obtained is, that the lookers-on should raise their caps for a moment.

The good old Abbé who officiates at the Bibliothèque Royale, where there are upwards of fifty thousand volumes, ill enough kept, in a most ruinous apartment, has no great faith in the piety of his townsfolk. He is a lively, witty old man, and though far advanced in age, seems to preserve his native humour and quickness of perception to a remarkable degree. He is fond of re​counting an anecdote, which is striking enough, relative to the three glorious days, in which his presence of mind and knowledge of human nature stood him in good stead. The library is collected into an ancient salle, the windows of which are adorned with curious painted glass, representing different epochs in the life of Henry IV., principally relating to his entrance into conquered Troyes; the fleur de lis of course figures in the arms, and amongst the emblems round; and as these symbols were precisely what gave offence to les braves, the bibliothécaire trembled for the precious morsels, preserved with much care, and rescued from former dangers, when he beheld a riotous party of patriots entering the court. They were led by a ruffian whom he knew of old as a mauvais sujet, and in their ranks were several goddesses of liberty whose aspect did not portend much protection to literature or the arts. He, however, repressed the terrors of his assistants, and hastening to the door threw it open, and welcomed the party as friends. "I was beginning," said he, "to be extremely uneasy about our valuable library and all our treasures, which you will now take charge of. I put them in your care in case of any disturbance, and am certain that you, Monsieur," addressing the chief, "who know the importance of these works, and how ​proud our town should be of them, will prevent harm reaching them."

The enlightened public whom he addressed, astonished at this reception, were suddenly arrested in their inimical intentions; he ordered a large copy of the engravings of Napoleon's battles to be placed on the table, seats to be put for the ladies and gentlemen, and requested the brigand at their head to explain to them the meaning of the plates. Proud of the office, he fell into the snare, and exhibited his learning greatly to the delight of his auditors. Meantime a band of national guards, headed by a young artist of the town, arrived in great haste, having observed the direction taken by the first party, and it was only by great management and quickness that the Abbé contrived to prevent them from coming to blows. At length he succeeded in parting amicably with his visitors, and as soon as they were fairly gone, he set to work, with the assistance of the young painter, and concealed all the fleurs de lis with lamp-black, and thus they still remain; for, he adds, with peculiar meaning, "I thought it as well they should not reappear too soon, even now." It was fortunate he did so, for in due time, as he had anticipated, the most thinking people came back, finding that they had been cajoled, with a full intention of breaking every ​obnoxious pane; but finding they were no longer adorned with fleurs de lis, they departed with cries of Vive notre Bibliothécaire! The salle would not have resisted much rough usage, for the walls and roof and flooring seemed tottering to their fall at every movement; the shelves are propped up with huge pieces of timber, and the whole has a most melancholy and dilapidated appearance.

The windows of many of the houses have a very antique and unpleasant mode of opening; they are, in fact, little less than guillotines, for except fastened up when the sash is raised, they come down with violence, threatening to demolish all beneath. To close the window half way is not therefore feasible, and to open it to its full extent is scarcely desirable in a street where noises of all sorts abound.

There are many villages round Troyes, amongst the sweet-smelling vines, which are agreeable enough to entice the prisoner within the closely pent-up town of Troyes, where he pants in vain for free air, to wander into their precincts, and not one of them but can repay him in some way or other. All possess a curious church, with a large quantity of painted glass, carvings, strange pictures, or curious ornaments. In one, that of St. Savine, the holy pilgrim-virgin is represented in the dress of the fif​teenth century, with her staff and scrip, attended by a male companion, evidently on her way to the Holy Land. Her aumonière, which hangs to her side, seems tolerably well filled; her golden hair escapes from her pretty cap, and her purple robes are richly embroidered; her staff is of gold, and, altogether, she makes a very pleasing figure. This is represented on an antique carved chasse, which is kept with great care in the chapel dedicated to her. Another curiosity in this church is the stone coffin of St. Ragnegesile, Bishop of Troyes in the seventh century. It is enclosed in a finely-carved wooden case of the fifteenth century, and deserves to attract the notice of the antiquary. The charming little village of Les Noes, embosomed in vines and woods, has a legend attached to it, which adds to its beauty, and when the traveller pauses before La Croix de la Belle Fille, in the churchyard, he is told the following story:—

Henri I., surnamed the Liberal, Count of Brie and Champagne, had, like most other monarchs, some enemies, and though the father of his people, yet he could not escape the usual fate of princes. A conspiracy was formed for his assassination, and the ringleaders, three in number, met for consultation in ​a shady grove of lindens, not far from the palace of their intended victim. Anne Musnier, a peasant girl of Les Noes, was passing by on her return from working in the vines, and hearing the sound of voices she paused for a moment, when to her horror she became aware that a plot was on foot to destroy the beloved lord of the domains of which she was a dependent. She heard that the time was come, the hour named as now striking from the great bell of the town when the accomplices were to meet, and Henri was to fall. Regardless of her own danger, and resolved at all hazards to attempt something to save the count, she rushed forward with loud cries, and being strong and robust, and animated with the spirit of a heroine, she struck one of the conspirators to the earth with the vine knife which she held in her hand. A violent struggle ensued the other two ruffians attacked her furiously; but she contrived to keep them at bay, calling loudly all the time, until she had attracted the notice of the count's guards, who, hurrying to the spot, secured her assailants. The proofs of their conspiracy were found on them; they were executed, and the heroine rewarded by the grateful Henri, who ennobled her and all her lineage, giving the females of ​her family the power of conferring nobility on their husbands—the privilege long continued, and is known as that of Les Hoirs Musnier. A chapel and a monastery, under the invocation of the Virgin, were established in the name of Anne Musnier by the count, who granted to her arms, azure, with a golden lion, to mark the lion-like courage which she had displayed.

The Hotel Mesgrigny, near the church of St. Pantaléone, is a fine building of the time of Louis XII., it is now a private house, and kept in good order: the carved ornaments in stone of baskets of flowers which cover the façade, are finely executed. The two immense towers, ending in a long leafy point, and the fine flight of steps leading to the principal entrance, are all worthy of attention. As the house is enclosed in high walls, it is only by chance that it is seen, should the great heavy portals be open. The towers have a very singular effect, seen from the open square before the church.

We quitted Troyes for Auxerre, whose beauties, we were told, would compensate for the long extent of ugly country we had passed, and indeed we had not travelled many leagues before we found an agreeable change. We skirted the fine forest of Othe, which once ​covered a large space of country, from the Yonne to the gates of Troyes. This forest, as well as that of Der, was an important sojourn of the Druids, and here strange remains of their mysterious worship have been discovered from time to time. In this forest, on his return from Sens, Charlemagne and his knights rested for some time under the greenwood tree. It was well known to the English during the fatal wars of the fourteenth century, and a refuge for many of the Free Companies that desolated France from one end to the other.

The road is excellent the whole way; at Ervy, a little town in a charming situation, there is a delicious view, celebrated in the department. It is built on the site of its ancient castle, which must have occupied a most imposing position. The pretty river Armance flows at the foot of the high hill on which the tower stands, and nothing can be more pleasing than its gentle course through fertile valleys and smiling plains.

Soon after this, we reached St. Florentin, agreeably placed at the confluence of the Armance and Armançon, on the grand canal of Burgundy. At the pretty village of Avrolles, which was once Roman, we were delighted with the charming valleys of verdure which stretch ​along for several leagues, and afford the finest pasture in the country. Near this we passed a château, which formerly belonged to Jolivet, valet-de-chambre of Louis XVI.; it is small, but very pretty and enjoyable.

The vines are here peculiarly beautiful, from growing on hills, and every inch of ground seemed teeming with abundance; instead of the interminable plains of Champagne, the coteaux of Burgundy were beginning with all the riches of their famous wines.