The grande route winding, passes directly in its front, and the precipice is scarcely pleasant with a starting horse, particularly as the carters we meet crack their whips at me, kindly curious to know whether the lady’s seat is as unsafe as strange. Arrived at the stone cross on the hill, we lost sight of the castle, but obtained a lovelier view of the valley, as green meadows and fruit-trees in flower enlivened the same bold scenery. I had led Fanny down, as the descent is rapid, and as I was about to remount, only Grizzel’s affectionate disposition spared us an inconvenient adventure. By the road-side are various marly pools, whose thin mud seems unlikely to tempt even a thirsty horse; yet Grizzel left free when D—— came to assist me, walked towards, and into it, bending her knees and making preparations for rolling, in utter disregard of the saddle and valise she carries. D—— ran to the edge, but the edge was slippery and the pool deep, and Grizzel too intent on her bath to listen to shouts or commands; a stroke of the long whip was the last resource, and out of the water she splashed, and, to our dismay, trotted up a by-path. What was to be done? to pursue would have quickened her retreat; by a lucky thought, we led away little Fanny, and the poor grey had not gone a hundred yards ere she turned to look for her, and though she hesitated a little, preferred the risk of feeling the whip again to losing her companion; so we rode peaceably on to Chagny, which is situated in a rather pretty country, though beyond the valley. I asked an old woman who was there at work, the name of its tiny river; she turned round to gaze at it, as if she then saw it for the first time, and said “Cela? cela s’appelle la rivière.” Met again to-day several soldiers going on furlough; one from Africa, bronzed by its sun. We stopped him to ask whether we are likely to find our friend Captain ——’s regiment at Lyons. From Chagny to Chalons, though but four leagues, seemed a long distance from the badness of the road: between them, on a lone flat, we passed the stone erected to the memory of Antoine Prévost a countryman, assassinated here for the sake of a five-franc piece in his pocket. Met an exceedingly uncivil waggoner with his team, who made a face at me! and got in at sunset, the frogs in the ditches croaking so loud a “good night,” that they startled the horses.
Chalons existed as a town of importance, even previous to Cæsar’s entrance into Gaul, and was called Orbandale. Cæsar made it the head-quarters of several legions, and it increased in importance till the reign of Constantine. The inhabitants boast that near their city he beheld in the clouds the luminous cross which converted him to Christianity.
It was at Chalons that the marriage was negotiated between Clovis and Clotilda, by whose influence he afterwards became first Christian King of France. It was to him that St. Remy made that fine speech before his baptism; “Bow the head, barbarian! burn what you have adored; reverence what you have burned.” The scene of the exploits of the famous Brunehaud was also laid here; she was second wife to King Gontran; his first spouse Austragilda, who died at Chalons, made a singular request to her husband:—“I pray you, sire, put to death all those unskilful leeches who have failed to cure my malady.” King Gontran promised to give her this token of affection, and kept his word, and yet—he has been canonized!!! The parish of St. Laurent, which was formerly a little town with privileges of its own, occupies an island formed by the Saône. It had once a convent of Cordeliers, in the church of which was the tomb of a monk who was its superior. The historian of Chalons says he was the only brother of Alphonso the Fifth, King of Portugal; in 1481, he wandered hither and assumed the cowl: the king dying childless, ambassadors came to offer him the crown he had inherited; he refused it, and dismissed them as well as his mother the queen dowager, who strove to persuade him by entreaties and vain tears. At last, in despair, she departed and retired to die among the poor Cordeliers of St. Claire of Auxonne, where she is interred. Of all the riches of Portugal, Father John only accepted what sufficed to decorate the church of his convent, and died in 1525, having chosen to be the principal of five and twenty mendicant monks, rather than to rule a kingdom.
Having purchased a bonnet, I walked after dinner to the cathedral. It is believed to have existed from the earliest epoch of Christianity; ruined by the Saracens, it was magnificently rebuilt by Charlemagne in the commencement of the ninth century. It fell into decay five hundred years after, and the present edifice is of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. It is an extensive and solemn-looking building. We saw it imperfectly and for a few minutes only; not arriving till after sunset. The side aisles are shorter than the nave, and the arch, which descends lower where the transept crosses the latter, gives it weight and gloom; but the nun’s walk, with an open gallery below and above, is light and beautiful. The armed and gilded figures, which seem to guard the choir, belong to the tombs of some of the old Counts of Chalons buried here. The chapels are rich in ornaments, having belonged to the chief families of the country, mostly to those which have given bishops to Chalons. In one of them kneels a painted statue attired in its robes, which, though it might possess little illusion in broad daylight, made us start in the gloom, looking though “lifeless so very lifelike.” The unfinished portal is about to be completed; and this part of the cathedral is screened off for the present by most curious old tapestry, seemingly of Francis the First’s time. The small irregular place in front of the church is surrounded by houses with projecting upper stories, and carved cherubims at their corners, resembling those at Tewkesbury; but nothing at Chalons appears to date back to 590, though it is pretended that a part of the palace occupied by King Gontran still remains. We go to-morrow, for the quay below our windows is the spot whence the Saône steamers start; and the noise exceeds that of a Saturday night at Birmingham: the horses are uncomfortably situated, not only from the extreme filthiness of the stable, but because one end of its enormous space is merely separated by a curtain from the open coach-house, and the other by a glass partition from the kitchen; luckily they are good travellers. We dined yesterday in our own rooms and well, and to-day at the table d’hôte, the worst I have seen yet, and having a nasty appendage in a lavoir opposite, with often-used soap on its edge, and dirty towels for drapery; the diners washed their hands as they came in—a most odious custom.
CHAPTER V.
Tournus—Greuze’s grave—Mâcon—The walking Wedding—Retirement of a Count of Mâcon, with thirty Knights, to the Abbey of Cluny—Dealings of his Successor with evil Spirits—His exit from Earth in the Car of a black Visitor—His Son turning Monk through fear—The County sold by his Daughter Alice to France—Bloodless occupation of Mâcon by the Huguenots—Mâcon retaken through bribery by the Marshal of Tavannes—Madame de Tavannes’ mode of increasing her Revenues—Sauteries de Mâcon—Farce of St. Poinct—Assassination of Huguenot Prisoners—Sang froid of Catholic Dames—A Russian Noble—Villefranche—Privilege granted to its married Men—Descent into Lyons—Monastère des deux Amans, supposed Herod and Herodias—Fortress of Pierre Encise—The Prison of Cinq Mars—Fort commanding the Croix Rousse—Homage paid to the wooden Statue of 1550—Hôtel de l’Europe—View of Fourvières—Its Church escaping violation throughout the Revolution—The Antiquaille on the site of the Palace where Germanicus was born—Traces of fire in Nero’s time—Recollections of Princess Mary of Württemberg—Her love of Art to the last—Nourrit’s Funeral—A Racer’s determination to trot—Going to races—Mistaken for a Candidate—Perrache—Horses, riders, and accoutrements—Triumph of the King’s Fête—A Boat upset—The Tower of the fair German-Croix Rousse—Wretchedness of the Operatives—Causes of Insurrection in 1831—The most ancient Monastery in Gaul—Church of Aisnay.
Tournus, Hôtel de l’Europe,
23d April.
Arrived here last evening, having left the inn yard at Chalons under the inspection of all the guests assembled there for breakfast. Remembered, when we had crossed the bridge, having left no address for my bonnet, which is to be sent after me to Mâcon; and were obliged to ride back.