An hour's examination of the town thoroughly satisfied me. There was no public conveyance to Vire, whither I intended immediately departing, and so I hired a voiture to be drawn by one sturdy Norman horse. To a question about springs, the conducteur replied that I should find every thing "très propre." Having paid the reckoning, I set my face towards VIRE. The day, for the season of the year, turned out to be gloomy and cold beyond measure: and the wind (to the east) was directly in my face. Nevertheless the road was one of the finest that I had seen in France, for breadth and general soundness of condition. It had all the characteristics, in breadth and straitness, of a Roman route; and as it was greatly undulating, I had frequently some gratifying glimpses of its bold direction. The surrounding country was of a quietly picturesque but fruitful aspect; and had my seat been comfortable, or after the fashion of those in my own country, my sensations had been more agreeable. But in truth, instead of springs, or any thing approximating to "très propre," I had to encounter a hard plank, suspended at the extremities, by a piece of leather, to the sides; and as the road was but too well bottomed, and the conveyance was open in front to the bitter blast of the east, I can hardly describe (as I shall never forget) the misery of this conveyance.
Fortunately the first stage was Ville Dieu. Here I ordered a voiture and post horses: but the master of the Poste Royale, or rather of the inn, shook his head--"Pour les chevaux, vous en aurez des meilleurs: mais, pour la voiture il n'y en a pas. Tenez, Monsieur; venez voir." I followed, with miserable forebodings--and entering a shed, where stood an old tumble-down- looking phaeton--"la voilà, c'est la seule que je possède en ce moment"-- exclaimed the landlord. It had never stirred from its position since the fall of last years' leaf. It had been--within and without--the roosting place for fowls and other of the feathered tribe in the farm yard; and although literally covered with the evidences of such long and undisturbed possession, yet, as there was no appearance of rain, and as I discovered the wished for "ressorts" (or springs) I compromised for the repulsiveness of the exterior, and declared my intention of taking it onward. Water, brooms, brushes, and cloths, were quickly put in requisition; and two stately and well fed horses, which threatened to fly away with this slender machine, being fastened on, I absolutely darted forward at a round rattling gallop for St. Sever. Blessings ever wait upon the memory of that artisan who invented ... springs!
The postilion had the perfect command of his horses, and he galloped, or trotted, or ambled, as his fancy--or rather our wishes--directed. The approach to our halting place was rather imposing. What seemed to be a monastery, or church, at St. Sever, had quite the appearance of Moorish architecture; and indeed as I had occasional glimpses of it through the trees, the effect was exceedingly picturesque. This posting town is in truth very delightfully situated. While the horses were being changed, I made our way for the monastery; which I found to be in a state rather of dilapidation than of ruin. It had, indeed, a wretched aspect. I entered the chapel, and saw lying, transversely upon a desk, to the left--a very clean, large paper, and uncut copy of the folio Rouen Missal of 1759. Every thing about this deserted and decaying spot had a melancholy appearance: but the surrounding country was rich, wooded, and picturesque. In former days of prosperity--such as St. Sever had seen before the Revolution--there had been gaiety, abundance, and happiness. It was now a perfect contrast to such a state.
On returning to the "Poste Royale" I found two fresh lusty horses to our voiture--but the postilion had sent a boy into the field to catch a third. Wherefore was this? The tarif exacted it. A third horse "réciproquement pour l'année"--parce qu'il faut traverser une grande montagne avant d'arriver à Vire"--was the explanatory reply. It seemed perfectly ridiculous, as the vehicle was of such slender dimensions and weight. However, I was forced to yield. To scold the postboy was equally absurd and unavailing: "parce que la tarif l'exigea." But the "montagne" was doubtless a reason for this additional horse: and I began to imagine that something magnificently picturesque might be in store. The three horses were put a-breast, and off we started with a phaeton-like velocity! Certainly nothing could have a more ridiculous appearance than my pigmy voiture thus conveyed by three animals--strong enough to have drawn the diligence. I was not long in reaching this "huge mountain," which provoked my unqualified laughter--from its insignificant size--and upon the top of which stands the town of VIRE. It had been a fair-day; and groups of men and women, returning from the town, in their blue and crimson dresses, cheered somewhat the general gloom of the day, and lighted up the features of the landscape. The nearer I approached, the more numerous and incessant were these groups.
Vire is a sort of Rouen in miniature--if bustle and population be only considered. In architectural comparison, it is miserably feeble and inferior. The houses are generally built of granite, and look extremely sombre in consequence. The old castle is yet interesting and commanding. But of this presently. I drove to the "Cheval Blanc," and bespoke, as usual, a late dinner and beds. The first visit was to the castle, but it is right that you should know, before hand, that the town of Vire, which contains a population of about ten thousand souls, stands upon a commanding eminence, in the midst of a very beautiful and picturesque country called the BOCAGE. This country was, in former times, as fruitful in civil wars, horrors, and devastations, as the more celebrated Bocage of the more western part of France during the late Revolution. In short, the Bocage of Normandy was the scene of bloodshed during the Calvinistic or Hugonot persecution. It was in the vicinity of this town, in the parts through which I have travelled--from Caen hitherwards--that the hills and the dales rang with the feats of arms displayed in the alternate discomfiture and success of COLIGNY, CONDÉ, MONTMOGERY, and MATIGNON.[159]
But for the Castle. It is situated at the extremity of an open space, terminated by a portion of the boulevards; having, in the foreground, the public library to the left, and a sort of municipal hall to the right: neither of them objects of much architectural consequence. Still nearer in the foreground, is a fountain; whither men, women, and children--but chiefly the second class, in the character of blanchisseuses-- regularly resort for water; as its bason is usually overflowing. It was in a lucky moment that Mr. Lewis paid a visit to this spot; which his ready pencil transmitted to his sketch-book in a manner too beautiful and faithful not to be followed up by a finished design. I send you a portion of this prettily grouped picture; premising, that the woman to the right, in the foreground, begged leave purposely to sit--or rather stand--for her portrait. The artist, in a short time, was completely surrounded by spectators of his graphic skill.
The "Cheval Blanc"--the name of the hotel at which I reside-- should be rather called the "Cheval Noir;" for a more dark, dingy, and even dirty residence, for a traveller of any nasal or ocular sensibility, can be rarely visited. My bed room is hung with tapestry; which, for aught I know to the contrary, may represent the daring exploits of MONTGOMERY and MATIGNON: but which is so begrimed with filth that there is no decyphering the subjects worked upon it.
On leaving the inn--and making your way to the top of the street--you turn to the left; but on looking down, again to the left, you observe, below you, the great high road leading to Caen, which has a noble appearance. Indeed, the manner in which this part of Normandy is intersected with the "routes royales" cannot fail to strike a stranger; especially as these roads run over hill and dale, amidst meadows, and orchards, equally abundant in their respective harvests. The immediate vicinity of the town is as remarkable for its picturesque objects of scenery as for its high state of cultivation; and a stroll upon the heights, in whatever part visited, will not fail to repay you for the certain disappointment to be experienced within the streets of the town. Portions of the scenery, from these heights, are not unlike those in Derbyshire, about Matlock. There is plenty of rock, of shrubs, and of fern; while another Derwent, less turbid and muddy, meanders below. Thus much for a general, but hasty sketch of the town of Vire. My next shall give you some detail of the interior of a few of the houses, of which I may be said to have hitherto only contemplated the roofs.
And yet I must not close my despatch without performing my promise about the CASTLE; of which indeed (as you will see by the subjoined miniature view) only a sort of ruinous shell remains. Its age may be a little towards the end of the thirteenth century. The stone is of a deep reddish tint: and although what remains is only a portion of the keep, yet I can never suppose it, even in its state of original integrity, to have been of very capacious dimensions. Its site is most commanding.