Tonnerre, September 4, 1835.—The road from Dijon to Montbard is bare and flat and fatiguing to the eye. Montbard is an old feudal castle of the Dukes of Burgundy situated on a considerable eminence. It was presented by Louis XV. to M. de Buffon, who already possessed at the foot of the hill a rather large and melancholy house in one of the streets of the little town. He continued to live in this house which has nothing interesting in it except a fairly good portrait of the celebrated owner. He demolished four of the five surviving towers on the walls of the old château. The one he left still survives, as well as the enormous outside wall which now encloses nothing but a "quincunx" of fine trees planted by M. de Buffon, from which fine alleys lead to his house below. The trees make a delightful shady promenade. At the top of the grove there is a little house containing a single room in which M. de Buffon used to establish himself for several hours every day in order to work uninterruptedly. He had a church built on part of the foundations of the fortress, and is buried there. M. de Buffon's house is occupied by his daughter-in-law, a widow with no children.
The country becomes more varied as one approaches Ancy-le-Franc, a great and noble château built in the sixteenth century by Madame de Clermont-Tonnerre and afterwards bought by the celebrated Louvois, to one of whose descendants it still belongs. This château is perfectly regular in form; it consists of four buildings joined at each corner by a square tower. There is no principal staircase; each tower has its own—a very narrow one. The bedrooms are well proportioned and well furnished, but the public rooms are ill-arranged. They are small, especially the salon, in which the heavy gilding seems to add to the effect of smallness. Some ancient ceilings with panelling to match give some of the rooms a Gothic character, which is interesting. The windows are few and narrow, and the courtyard small and sombre. The castle is entirely surrounded by a vast and well planted park. The water is ugly and muddy and I saw neither glass-houses nor flowers, though the offices are considerable. The high road crosses the fore-court a few yards from the house, which I think is carrying the principle of accessibility a trifle too far.
What pleases me least is the situation of this abode. It lies at the bottom of a valley and lacks light, air, and a view. The English word "gloomy" seems made for Ancy-le-Franc. The chapel is fine, and it is needless to say that there is a theatre. How could the M. Louvois of to-day do without one?
I had often heard Ancy-le-Franc and Valençay mentioned as the two most considerable and remarkable châteaux in France. I cannot admit that there is any comparison. Valençay is much more imposing, and at the same time cheerful to live in. Its situation is picturesque and healthy: it is much richer in architectural ornament, and its finest part, which dates from the fifteenth century, is a hundred years older than Ancy-le-Franc, and in the purest Renaissance style.
It has just occurred to me that I saw no library in M. Louvois' house. I am sorry I did not mention it to the concierge, who seemed, however, to be conscientiously showing us all there was to be seen.
I prefer not only Valençay to Ancy-le-Franc, but, apart from tradition, even Chenonceaux, and I should prefer Ussé also if it were put in order and furnished.
Melun, September 6, 1835.—The banks of the Yonne are pleasant enough, and are a welcome rest after the melancholy road from Dijon. It is a pity, however, that the vegetation is, so to speak, factitious. Up to Sens I saw no other trees than poplars planted in quincunxes or in avenues. This in the end becomes exceedingly monotonous, and gives a stiff and artificial look to the landscape.
The Cathedral at Sens is fine, and its proportions elegant. Two sculptures attract particular attention, the Mausoleum of the Dauphin father of Louis XVI., and the altar of Saint Leu, on which this good Bishop of Sens is represented undergoing his martyrdom, which, as a matter of fact, took place at Sens itself. The group is in white marble, and very effective. I think the general effect of the Dauphin's mausoleum is heavy. The composition lacks simplicity, but some of the parts are fine. The Treasury of the Cathedral is not only very rich in relics whose authenticity is beyond question, but also in antiquities, which interested me because they bore the stamp of being genuine. Thus I saw the Episcopal throne of Saint Leu, his pastoral ring, his mitre, the pastoral ring of Gregory VII., the comb used by Saint Leu at ordinations, vestments used by Thomas Becket, who, as I lately read in Lingard, had taken refuge on the Continent when first persecuted, and had resided chiefly in France. These vestments are locked up with great care in an iron case. There is a fine crucifix by Girardon, which is worth seeing.
In a letter from the Princesse de Lieven at Baden, dated August 29, which reached me at Sens, the following passage occurs: "We have strange news from England. Will Ministers really have the courage to carry out their threats against the Lords? Will the latter give way before these threats? I doubt it; but the collision so long postponed is coming at last. In France all is going well. M. de Broglie's speech is splendid. Lord William Russell is always saying 'Our alliance is at an end.' As France is repudiating revolutionary principles and England is going more and more in that direction, there is no basis of agreement. The alliance was one of principles, and as the principles are no longer identical the alliance is dead."
Paris, September 7, 1835.—It is always a great event for me to get back to Paris where I have had so many bad moments. All my past unrolls itself before me as I pass through these streets and squares, which awake so many memories, almost all of them painful.