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THE STORY OF ROUEN

by

THEODORE ANDREA COOK

Illustrated by Helen M. James and Jane E. Cook







[Illustration]


London: J.M. Dent & Co.
Aldine House, 29 and 30 Bedford Street
Covent Garden, W.C. 1899

All rights reserved


[Illustration: ST. MACLOU]




[Greek: TEI METRI DIDAKTRA]




PREFACE

     "Est enim benignum et plenum ingenui pudoris fateri per quos
     profeceris."


The story of a town must differ from the history of a nation in that
it is concerned not with large issues but with familiar and domestic
details. A nation has no individuality. No single phrase can fairly
sum up the characteristics of a people. But a town is like one face
picked out of a crowd, a face that shows not merely the experience of
our human span, but the traces of centuries that go backward into
unrecorded time. In all this slow development a character that is
individual and inseparable is gradually formed. That character never
fades. It is to be found first in the geographical laws of permanent
or slowly changed surroundings, and secondly in the outward aspect of
the dwellings built by man, for his personal comfort or for the good
of the material community, or for his spiritual needs.

To these three kinds of architecture I have attached this story of
Rouen, because even in its remotest syllables there are some traces
left that are still visible; and these traces increase as the story
approaches modern times. While moats and ramparts still sever a city
from its surrounding territory, the space within the walls preserves
many of those sharply defined characteristics which grow fainter when
town and country merge one into the other; the modern suburb gradually
destroys the personality both of what it sprang from and of what it
meets. Up to the beginning of the sixteenth century I have been more
careful to explain the scattered relics of an earlier time than during
the years when Rouen was filled with exquisite examples of the
builder's art. After that century there is so little of distinction,
and so much of average merit, that my story languishes beneath a load
of bricks and mortar.

Each chapter in this book which describes an advance in time or a
different phase of life and feeling will be found to be connected with
the buildings that are either contemporaneous with that phase or most
suggestive of it. I have thus been able to mention all the important
architectural features of the town without disturbing a fairly even
chronological development of the tale, in the hope that this method
will appeal not only to the traveller who needs guidance and
explanation in the place he visits, but also to the reader who prefers
to hear my story by his own fireside. Working, then, with this double
audience in my mind, I have used to a very large extent, in my
description of the people's life, the documents they have left behind
themselves, so that the best expression may be given of the vital fact
that a town is built and fashioned and inspired not by a few great
men, but by the many persistent citizens who dwell in it, working
their will from age to age without shadow of changing.

One such manuscript, the work of many hands and many centuries, I must
particularly mention. It is the record kept by the Cathedral
Chapterhouse, from 1210 to 1790, of the prisoners pardoned by the
Privilege of St. Romain's Shrine. Forbidden, for reasons of health, to
investigate these ancient parchments for myself, I have been fortunate
enough to find them all printed by the care of M. A. Floquet, to whom
the judicial history of Rouen owes so much. To his industry and to
that of M. Charles de Beaurepaire I owe all the more astonishing and
unknown details which are derived from original authorities scarcely
yet appreciated at their full value. Both were scholars in the Ecole
des Chartes, the only school of accurate historical instruction in the
world; and for any possibility of using fruitfully the mass of details
they have brought to light I am indebted to my initiation by M. and
Madame James Darmesteter into the same principles of organised
research. The list of Authorities in the Appendix will show rather
more fully a debt to M. de Beaurepaire which can never be adequately
acknowledged.

My stay in Rouen was rendered more profitable and more pleasant by the
kindness of yet others of its citizens. To M. Georges Dubosc; to M. le
Marquis de Melandri; to M. Lafont who, as is but right in Armand
Carrel's birthplace, presides over the oldest and best French
provincial newspaper; to M. Edmond Lebel, Director of the Museum; to
M. Noel, the librarian, I would here express my heartiest gratitude.
To M. Beaurain I am under an especial obligation. Not only did he
carefully trace for me the madrigal, set in its modern dress by the
kindly skill of Mr Fuller Maitland, which English readers may now hear
for the first time since 1550; but he chose out of the vast store at
his command the portrait of Corneille by Lasne, and the View of Rouen
in 1620 by Merian. These were photographed by M. Lambin of 47 Rue de
la Republique, with whom I left a list of those typical carvings in
wood and stone of which visitors to Rouen would be likely to desire
some accurate and permanent record.

Among those things in this little volume to which I desire special
attention, as being unknown in England, and in some cases never
reproduced before, I would mention, in addition to the music in
Chapter XIII., the plan in Chapter IX. by Jacques Lelieur, who also
drew the view of the whole town reproduced in Chapter XIII. This plan
is the only instance of which I am aware which enables us to see a
French town of 1525 exactly as it was, for by a queer but easily
intelligible mixture of plan and elevation, the architect has drawn
not merely the course of various streets but the facades of the houses
on each side of them. And this leads me to my last, and perhaps my
most striking debt, that to my illustrators; not only to my mother,
who drew the arms of Rouen, from a design of 1550, for the first
chapter, and Coustou's charming bas-relief of Commerce for the last,
but more especially to Miss James; of her work I need say nothing; it
is quite able to make its own appeal; but for her indefatigable desire
to draw exactly what I wanted and to assist the whole scheme of the
book I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude. Her drawings of the
Crypte St. Gervais, of the Chapelle St. Julien, and of the Eglise St.
Paul, will be as new as they are valuable to architectural readers;
her picture of the Cour des Comptes, and of the old house in the Rue
St. Romain were made under exceptional circumstances which may never
recur again; and the view of the Chartreuse de la Rose is the first
representation of the headquarters of our Henry V. in France which has
ever, to my knowledge, been produced in England.

In conclusion I must express the earnest wish that the pages I have
written about the carvings of the Maison Bourgtheroulde, and the
illustrations accompanying them, will not have been published in vain.
That the only authentic contemporaneous record of the Field of the
Cloth of Gold, except the one picture at Hampton Court, should now be
mouldering into decay in a French town is hardly creditable to those
who can act with authority in valuable questions of historical art. If
it be impossible to procure any good reproduction of these carvings
for the pleasure and instruction of the public in our own National
Galleries, a suggestion might at least be made that would secure their
better preservation in the French house which they will soon cease to
adorn.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER I
                                                            PAGE
_Introductory_                                                 1


CHAPTER II

_The First City_                                              12


CHAPTER III

_Merovingian Rouen_                                           24


CHAPTER IV

_Rouen under her own Dukes_                                   44


CHAPTER V

_The Conquest of England and the Fall of Normandy_            72


CHAPTER VI

_A French Town_                                              103


CHAPTER VII

_La Rue de la Grosse Horloge_                                134


CHAPTER VIII

_The Siege of Rouen by Henry V._                             169


CHAPTER IX

_Jeanne d'Arc and the English Occupation_                    200


CHAPTER X

_A City of Churches_                                         233


CHAPTER XI

_Justice_                                                    264


CHAPTER XII

_Death_                                                      292


CHAPTER XIII

_Life_                                                       321


CHAPTER XIV

_Literature and Commerce_                                    369


_A Madrigal of 1550_                                         362

_Appendix_                                                   394

_Index_                                                      403




ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                            PAGE

_St. Maclou_                                      _Frontispiece_

_The Arms of Rouen_*                                           1

_The Original Fontaine Croix de Pierre_                       13

_Crypt of St. Gervais_                                        19

_Statue of St. Louis_                                         22

_Initial Letter from an old Manuscript_                       24

_The Arms of Rouen_*                                          35

_Chapelle de la Fierte de St. Romain_                         37

_The Arms of Normandy_*                                       44

_Figure from the Border of the Bayeux Tapestry_*              56

_Figure from the Border of the Bayeux Tapestry_*              64

_Figure from the Border of the Bayeux Tapestry_*              72

_Horses for the Army of William the Conqueror
crossing the Channel, Bayeux Tapestry_*                       74

_Figure from the Border of the Bayeux Tapestry_*              88

_Interior of the Chapel of St. Julien_                        96

_Corbel from the old Church of St. Paul_                      99

_Apse of the old Church of St. Paul_                         101

_The Arms of France_*                                        103

_A Mason at Work_*                                           118

_Portail des Libraires_                                      123

_Rouen Cathedral from the North-West_                        128

_The Good Shepherd of the Grosse Horloge_                    141

_The Salt Porter of St. Vincent_                             147

_La Grosse Horloge and the Town Belfry_                      151

_Hotel des Bons Enfants_                                     159

_A Cobbler at Work_*                                         161

_The Rue du Hallage_                                         165

_The Chartreuse de la Rose_                                  181

_The Apse of St. Ouen_                                       193

_Maison des Celestins_                                       196

_Rue St. Romain_                                             206

_La Cour d'Albane_                                           218

_Central Tower of St. Ouen from the South-East_              222

_Tour Jeanne d'Arc_                                          230

_The Original West Front of St. Ouen_                        236

_Nave of St. Ouen_                                           239

_Staircase of St. Maclou_                                    245

_Door of St. Maclou_                                         246

_Tour St. Andre_                                             247

_Eglise St. Laurent_                                         249

_Western Porch of St. Vincent_                               257

_Palais de Justice. Tourelle in the Rue St. Lo_              267

_Courtyard of Palais de Justice_                             272

_Octagon Room of the Palais de Justice_                      278

_Bureau des Finances, from the Parvis_                       284

_Cour des Comptes, from the Rue des Carmes_                  288

_The Dead Body of De Breze, from his Tomb
in Rouen Cathedral_*                                         292

_Entrance to the Aitre St. Maclou_                           299

_The Cemetery of St. Maclou_                                 304

_Tomb of the two Cardinals d'Amboise, from
Rouen Cathedral_                                             311

_Tomb of Louis de Breze in Rouen Cathedral_                  313

_A Monk praying, from the Tomb of the Cardinals
d'Amboise_                                                   315

_Sir Christopher Lytcot, from the Brass in
West Hanney Church_*                                         319

_Des Todes Wappenschild, after Holbein_*                     320

_Rouen in 1525, by Jacques Lelieur_                 _Facing_ 321

_The Gallery of the Maison Bourgtheroulde_                   323

_The Field of the Cloth of Gold_                             327

_A Window in the Maison Bourgtheroulde_                      335

_Inner Facade of the Maison Bourgtheroulde_                  339

_Maison Caradas_                                             347

_Rue de l'Epicerie_                                          353

_A Window in the Maison Bourgtheroulde_*                     361

_Rouen in 1620, by Merian_                          _Facing_ 369

_Coustou's Bas-relief of Commerce_*                          369

_Pierre Corneille, by Lasne_                        _Facing_ 376

_Eau de Robec_                                               381

_Courtyard in the Rue Petit Salut_                           388


The illustrations marked with * are drawn by Jane E. Cook.




MAPS


                                                            PAGE

A. _The Site of Rouen between the Seine and
the Hills_                                                     3

B. _Main Streets and Boulevards, showing the
Walls besieged by Henry V._                           _Facing_ 5

C. _The Gallo-Roman Walls, and the oldest
Streets in Rouen_                                    _Facing_ 71

D. _Rouen in the Thirteenth Century_                _Facing_ 103

E. _The Extension of Rouen Eastwards at the
end of the Fourteenth Century_                      _Facing_ 169

F. _Plan (and elevation of the Houses) of the
Vieux-Marche and the Marche-aux-Veaux
(now Place de la Pucelle) drawn
by Jacques Lelieur for his "Livre des
Fontaines" in 1525_                                 _Facing_ 209


[Illustration: THE ARMS OF ROUEN]




CHAPTER I

_Introductory_

     Amis, c'est donc Rouen, la ville aux vieilles rues,
     Aux vieilles tours, debris de races disparues,
     La ville aux cent clochers carillonant dans l'air,
     Le Rouen des chateaux, des hotels, des bastilles,
     Dont le front herisse de fleches et d'aiguilles
     Dechire incessamment les brumes de la mer.


The three great rivers that flow from the heart of France to her three
seas have each a character of their own. The grey and rapid current of
the Rhone, swollen with the melting of the glacier-snows, rolls past
the imperishable monuments of ancient Empire, and through the
oliveyards and vineyards of Provence, falls into the blue waves of the
southern sea. The sandy stream of Loire goes westward past the palaces
of kings and the walled pleasure-gardens of Touraine, whispering of
dead royalty. But the Seine pours out his black and toil-stained
waters northward between rugged banks, hurrying from the capital of
France to bear her cargoes through the Norman cliffs into the English
Channel.

If Paris, Rouen, and Le Havre were but one town, whose central highway
was this great river of the north, it would be at the vital spot, the
very market-cross, that Rouen has sprung up and flourished through the
centuries, at that dividing line where ships must stay that sail in
from the sea, and cargo boats set out that ply the upper stream with
commerce for the inland folk; and this geographical position has
affected every generation of the city's growth and strength.

Rouen that is now "_cheflieu du departement de la Seine-Inferieure_,"
was once the Norman stronghold which commanded all the basin of the
river from the incoming of the stream of Eure. The Seine and its
tributaries have cut vast plateaux some four hundred feet in height,
through chalk and debris piled above the Jurassic bedrock that crops
out here and there, as it does at Bray. On the right bank of the
river, at the summit of a huge curve, the city lies between the valley
of Darnetal, that is watered by Robec and his mate Aubette, and the
valley of Bapaume. Upon this northern side the town is guarded from
east to west by the hills of St. Hilaire, Mont Fortin, Mont aux
Malades and Mont Riboudet, and from these the houses grow downwards to
the water's edge. Upon the plateau above perch the villages of
Mont-Saint-Aignan and of Bois-Guillaume. But between the valley of
Darnetal and the Seine, is yet another natural buttress, the
promontory on whose summit is Mont Ste. Catherine and the hamlet
Bonsecours. From this magnificent height you may take the best view of
the natural setting of the town. The western horizon is closed by the
plateau of Canteleu and the forest of Roumare. To the south, within
that strong bent elbow of the stream, the bridges bind to Rouen her
faubourg of St. Sever with its communes of Sotteville and of Petit
Quevilly; and the forest of Rouvray spreads its shadow to the meeting
of the sky.

[Illustration: MAP A]

The first Rothomagus, like the Rouen of to-day, was neither a hill
city, for then it would have stood upon the Mont Ste. Catherine, nor
an island city like ancient Paris, for the Ile St. Croix was too
small. It was essentially a river city; and you may see at once the
extraordinary natural strength of its position on the outside of the
river's curve (see Map A), instead of on the inside which may have
seemed more probable at first but would have left the town
defenceless. Even to-day you can only get into Rouen, as into a town
that has been battered and taken by assault, through the breach in her
fortified lines. If you enter by the railway from Paris, from Havre,
from Dieppe or from Fecamp, it is by subterranean tunnels only that
approach is possible, and up a flight of steps that you make your
first acquaintance with a "coin perdu" of the town, a corner without
character, without size, without the least promise of the beauty that
is hidden further off. Of all those great gates through which the
mediaeval city welcomed her dukes or sallied out against her enemies,
but one is left, the Porte Guillaume Lion close by the quays, at the
end of the Rue des Arpents, which is as faded and decrepit as its
entrance.

To understand something of the origins of the town, it is far better
to come there for the first time by the river, by the highway that has
suffered least change since Rouen was a town at all. Yet the river
itself is cribbed within far narrower bounds than when the first huts
of savage fishermen were stuck upon the reed-beds of the marsh; for
the town was first set upon islets that have long ago been absorbed
into the mainland, and the waters of the Seine once washed the
boatmen's landing stages at a spot that now bounds the Parvis of the
Cathedral. Even now the Seine varies in breadth at this point from a
hundred and thirty-five to two hundred and fifteen metres, with a
depth of five metres on the quays at lowest tide. These tides are felt
as far as twenty miles above the town. They vary in height from one
metre to as much as three, and a tidal wave is formed that is one of
the greatest dangers of the downstream navigation. Coming up from the
sea is fairly easy in almost any kind of stout and steady craft, but
it is difficult for all but the best steamers to get down without
being delayed, and sometimes fairly stopped, by the great tidal wave
at Caudebec or Quilleboeuf. Only when the floods reduce their
strength are the tides unable to turn the current of the stream; and
flood water is not unusual in a country where the rain blows in so
often from the Channel.

There is an average of a hundred and fifty rainy days each year, the
late autumn being worst, for the clouds are attracted by the river, by
the forests, and by the hills that stand round about the city. But the
unhealthiness engendered by all this moisture is a thing of the past.
An enlightened municipal authority has widened streets, planted broad
boulevards, and cleansed the waterworks which Jacques Lelieur first
sketched in the early years of the sixteenth century. And much as we
may deplore the loss of picturesque surroundings, it was high time
that some of the "Fumier du Moyen Age" should be shovelled out of
sight. What existence meant in those Middle Ages we shall be better
able to realise later on, and it will be possible as we pass through
the streets of Rouen to see what little has been left of it; for the
vandalism of ignorance has too often accompanied the innocent and
hygienic efforts of the restorer, and undue Haussmanism has ruined
many an inoffensive beauty past recall.

[Illustration: MAP B

MAP OF ROUEN SHEWING THE LINES OF THE MODERN BOULEVARDS (WHICH ARE
THOSE OF THE WALLS BESIEGED BY KING HENRY V.) WITH THE CHIEF BUILDINGS
AND MAIN STREETS OF THE CITY.]

As you look upon the modern town from the river, it is difficult to
realise that the views of 1525, or of 1620, which I have reproduced in
this book, can represent the same place. The old walls and battlements
have disappeared, and all the ancient keeps save one. But though we
cannot tell the towers of ancient Rothomagus, we can mark well her
bulwarks, from the Church of St. Pierre du Chastel that stands in the
Rue des Cordeliers (see Maps B and C) where was the first Castle of
Rollo, to the Halles and the Chapelle de la Fierte St. Romain, where
the names of Haute and Basse Vieille Tour recall the citadel of later
dukes. Within her earliest walls was the site of the first Cathedral;
outside them was built St. Ouen to the north-east, and the monastery
of St. Gervais to the north-west where the Conqueror died. Above the
town still rises the Tour Jeanne d'Arc, the donjon of the Castle of
Bouvreuil, which showed that Normandy was no more an independent
Duchy, but a part of the domains of Philip Augustus. This memory of
bondage still remains; but of the home of her own dukes Rouen has not
preserved one stone; nor of the English palace of King Henry the Fifth
near "Mal s'y Frotte" is anything left in the Rue du Vieux Palais near
the western quay.

The small compass of the first battlements set on the swamp grew, by
the twelfth century, to the lines of the modern boulevards on the
north and west, but at the Tour Jeanne d'Arc they turned east and
southwards, round the apse of St. Ouen, down the Rue de l'Epee and the
Rue du Ruisseau by way of the Rue des Espagnols to the Porte Guillaume
Lion and the quay. The walls besieged by the English under Henry V.
had expanded almost exactly to the lines of the present boulevards in
all directions, for the town had spread up the stream of Robec in
broad lines that converged past the Place du Boulingrin above, and the
Place Martainville below, upon the Place St. Hilaire to the east (see
map B).

From the Place Cauchoise on the north-west of the city of to-day two
main streets pierce the town. The Rue Thiers passes the Museum, and
comes out at the Place de l'Hotel de Ville, close to St. Ouen. The Rue
Cauchoise leads straight into the Place du Vieux Marche where Jeanne
d'Arc was burnt. From there begins the Rue de la Grosse Horloge, the
central artery of old Rouen, in which is the town's focal point, the
belfry with its fountain and its archway. The other end of this street
comes out on the open space or Parvis before the west door of the
Cathedral. If you will go still further eastward by way of the Rue St.
Romain, past the Portail des Libraires, the most characteristic
thoroughfare is from the Place des Ponts de Robec, not far south of
St. Ouen, along the street called Eau de Robec to the boulevards.
These are the main lines of lateral division.

From north to south the town is cut by the Rue Jeanne d'Arc; further
eastwards, by the Rue des Carmes, which becomes the Rue Grand Pont;
and by the Rue de la Republique, which passes clear from the Musee des
Antiquites at the northern angle of the town to the Pont de Pierre
Corneille on the river. The quays are crowded with a busy throng of
workmen; on the stream are ships from every quarter of the world;
great cranes are hoisting merchandise out of their holds and
distributing it into the markets of the town, or into the barges for
Paris and the Ile-de-France. For this is the limit of the maritime
Seine, and here, where the tide of ocean throbs upon her quays, it was
but natural that the strength and commerce of Rouen should increase
and multiply. "_L'agneau de la ville a toujours la patte levee_" says
the old Norman proverb, and if you look at the lamb upon the arms of
Rouen you will see her foot is raised in readiness for the travel that
has been always the characteristic of her sons. From the days when
northern rovers sailed here, when Guiscard's colonists went out to
Sicily, when traders watched the wind for England, the citizens of
Rouen have had their interests far afield.

But it is with the story of their home-town that I have now to do. And
if it is to be told within the bounds of your patience and my
opportunity, that story must be limited, if not by the old walls of
the city, then by the shortest circuit of the suburbs round it. Nor
need we lose much by this circumscribing of our purpose. The life of
Normandy was concentrated in its capital. The slow march of events
from the independence as a Duchy to the incorporation as a part of
France has left footprints upon all the thoroughfares of the town. The
development of mediaeval Rothomagus into modern Rouen has stamped its
traces on the stones of the city, as the falling tide leaves its own
mark upon the timbers of a seaworn pier. It will be my business to
point your steps to these traces of the past, and from the marks of
what you see to build up one after another the centuries that have
rolled over tide-worn Rouen. Let it be said at once that the "Old
Rouen" you will first see is almost completely a French Renaissance
city of the sixteenth century. Of older buildings you will find only
slight and imperfect remnants, and as you pass monstrosities more
modern you will involuntarily close your eyes. But the remnants are
there, slight as they are; and they are worth your search for them, as
we try together to reconstruct the ancient city of which they formed a
part.

Rouen has in its turn been the most southerly city of a Norman Duke's
possessions, then the central fortress of an Angevin Empire that
stretched from Forth to Pyrenees, then a northern bulwark for the
Kings of Paris against the opposing cliffs of England. It has sent out
fleets upon the sea, and armies upon land. It has been independent of
its neighbours, it has led them against a common foe, and it has
undergone with them a national disaster. But no matter who were its
rulers, or by what title it was officially described, or how it has
been formally divided, eternal bars and doors have been set for its
inhabitants by the mountains and the waters, eternal laws have been
made for them by the clouds and the stars that cannot be altered. In
the natural features that remain the same to-day, in the labourers of
the soil, and in the toilers of the city, there has been the least
change. For these are the "dim unconsidered populations" upon whom the
real brunt of war falls, the units who compose the battalions, the
pieces in the game who have little or no share in the stakes; who
abide in their land always, blossoming as the trees in summer,
enduring as the rocks in snow. Over this deep-rooted heart of humanity
sweeps the living hail and thunder of the armies of the earth. These
are the warp and first substance of the nations, divided not by
dynasties but by climates, strong by unalterable privilege or weak by
elemental fault, unchanged as Nature's self.

In the city of to-day, and in such thoroughfares as the Rue de
l'Epicerie, you may look for a moment into that humbler and less
spacious form of habitation in which the people and the workers lived
their days, making up for the poverty of their own surroundings by the
magnificence of that great Cathedral which rose above the low horizon
of their roofs, and opened its doors to poor and rich alike. The
buildings that have so long outlived their inhabitants may be taken as
the background--like the permanent stone scenery in a Greek
theatre--to the shifting kaleidoscope of many- life in the old
city.

In the place itself you will see scarcely a trace of the great
personages whose names have glittered in its list of sieges, battles,
massacres, pageants, and triumphal entries. The story of a town is not
a drum-and-trumpet chronicle of the Kings and Queens. It is the tale
of all those domestic and municipal details which from their very
unimportance have well-nigh disappeared. To hear it you must follow me
from the Crypte St. Gervais to the Cathedral, from the Hotellerie des
Bons Enfants to the Maison Bourgtheroulde, and it is to the voices of
the people that I shall ask you to listen, and to the life of the
people that I shall point you among the streets they lived in. Thus,
and thus only, may you possibly realise the spirit of the place, that
calls out first to every stranger in the bells that sound through the
silence of his first night in a foreign town. These you shall know
better soon in Rouen, by name even, "Rouvel" and "Cache-Ribaut," if
you be worldly-minded, "Georges d'Amboise" and "Marie d'Estouteville"
for your hours of prayer. Before you pass beyond their sound again,
their ancient voices shall bring to you something of the centuries
that had died when they were young, something of the individuality of
the city above which they have been swinging for so long.

"Spirit of Place," writes the most charming of our living essayists:--

     "It is for this we travel, to surprise its subtlety; and
     where it is a strong and dominant angel, that place, seen
     once, abides entire in the memory with all its own
     accidents, its habits, its breath, its name. It is recalled
     all a lifetime, having been perceived a week, and is not
     scattered but abides, one living body of remembrance. The
     untravelled spirit of place--not to be pursued, for it never
     flies, but always to be discovered, never absent, without
     variation--lurks in the byways and rules over the towers,
     indestructible, an indescribable unity. It awaits us always
     in its ancient and eager freshness. It is sweet and nimble
     within its immemorial boundaries, but it never crosses them.
     Long white roads outside have mere suggestions of it and
     prophecies; they give promise, not of its coming, for it
     abides, but of a new and singular and unforseen goal for our
     present pilgrimage, and of an intimacy to be made."

How many a traveller moves from place to place, not realising anything
beyond the transportation of his body! Yet in every town there is this
fresh acquaintance, this lifelong friendship, that shall last while
his own memory lasts, that is as fresh for him as for a thousand
before him, and for tens of thousands after. When the bells of an
unknown city have given me their first greeting, my first
acknowledgment of that compelling invitation is to see those buildings
in the town that can become alive again beneath their echoes. Of such
churches, of such civic buildings, of private houses, of monuments by
unknown hands for unknown owners, Rouen is full in almost all her
streets.

     "La dans le passe tu peux vivre
     Chaque monument est un livre
     Chaque pierre un souvenir."

The history of the Middle Ages is written upon magnificent and
enduring volumes, and a great responsibility is laid on those who
would deface the writing on the wall. Their virtues and vices, their
jests and indecencies, their follies and their fears, are all writ
large upon the pages of a book that was ever open to every passer-by,
and that remains for us to read. It is no rhetorical exaggeration,
that "_Ceci tuera cela_" of Victor Hugo. Our smaller doings are
recorded in the perishable print of fading paper, and we have no care
to stamp what little we have left of character upon our buildings. No
one, at least it may be fervently hoped, will try in the future to
reconstruct the ideals or the life of the Victorian Era from its
architecture. Yet we are the heirs of all that is noblest in that
greatest of all arts; and if you would test that, you need only look
at any mediaeval French Cathedral with a seeing eye. You will find no
meaningless mass of bricks and mortar, but the speaking record of the
age that built them. "The stone shall cry out of the wall, and the
beam out of the timber shall answer it."

[Illustration]




CHAPTER II

_The First City_

     "Latera aquilonis civitas regis magni
     Deus in domibus eius cognoscetur cum suscipiet eam."


Follow the Rue de la Republique past the Abbey of St. Ouen and up the
hill to the Place Sainte Marie. On your left you will find the Musee
des Antiquites which contains the earliest traces of the inhabitants
of Rouen. There are so few of them that they are easily contained in a
few glass cases; and this Museum is itself an excellent place with
which to begin your visitation of the town. Few travellers go there,
yet it is well worth the while, for here are collected many relics of
an age that has left few traces anywhere, and here can be filled up
many gaps in that story of Rouen which you can never read completely
in what is left of the old town. In the courtyard that faces the Rue
de la Republique are several of the ancient gateways that have given
way before the press of modern traffic, and a few facades of carved
and timbered houses rest like empty masks against the wall, looking
forlorn enough, yet better here than lost. One of the best of these
empty shells was taken in 1842 from No. 29 Rue Damiette. Dating about
1500, its overhanging storeys are carved with statues of St. John and
of St. Romain with his Gargouille. It probably belonged to the
Professional (Pellottier or Racquettier) of the Tennis Court near it,
the Jeu de Paume St. Jacques. In this same courtyard of the Museum is
a row of ancient weather-beaten statues, and, best relic of them all,
the exquisite original of the fountain Croix de Pierre which is
represented by a more modern imitation on the spot it once adorned.[1]

[Footnote 1: Built in 1515, its name is misleading, for it was made by
Cardinal d'Amboise not to hold a cross but to carry a fountain which
happened to be placed near the stone cross erected by Archbishop
Gauthier in commemoration of the profitable exchanges made when
Richard Coeur de Lion built his Chateau Gaillard in 1197 on land
belonging to the Cathedral. When the Cross disappeared the Fountain
took its name.]

[Illustration: THE ORIGINAL FONTAINE "CROIX DE PIERRE" NOW IN THE
MUSEE DES ANTIQUITES]

The inner quadrangle, which you reach through the rooms of the Museum,
is the best thing it has to show. Remote from the dust and bustle of
the highway the little cloistered square is gay with flowers upon the
turf, and statues from various churches are set here and there, like
pensioners in Chelsea Hospital, after their active service in
religious wars has left them mutilated and useless, but not without
honour in the days of their old age. From the walls and windows
sculptured saints and angels look down with an air of gentle
approbation on the scene, and in the very middle a little bishop
raises his hand in benediction over pious strangers from the centre
of a rosebed.

But it is in the galleries within that we must seek for those records
of primitive habitation that we have come to see. Hatchets of silex or
of bronze, rude clay vases that were found nine yards beneath the
soil, bear witness to the remotest ages of humanity in Rouen. The town
grew very slowly, for its name was unknown in any form to Caesar, and
it is not till the second century that Ptolemy mentions Rotomagos as
the capital of the tribe of Velocasses who have left their name to the
Vexin. The unhealthy marshes in the valley between the hills and the
river were not likely to be tenanted by the first Roman conquerors who
fixed their centre at Julia Bona, and their amphitheatre may still be
seen, near the ruins of a Norman castle, in the midst of the
manufactories of Lillebonne. But as the importance of Lutetia grew
upon the upper waters of the Seine, the value of this elbow of the
stream grew greater every year; and by the days of Diocletian,
Rotomagus had become the sea-gate of the capital, and the chief town
of the province. Already Strabo speaks of its commerce with the
English ports, and it appears as the natural point of exchange between
southern civilisation and the barbarism of the north, the gate through
which goods came from Italy, travelling by Rhone, by Saone, or Seine,
to England.

Its first fortifications found a natural southern base upon the
river's bend; to east, to west, and north it was protected by hills
and by the marshes, and unhealthy as it was, the Roman colonists were
compelled, when danger came, to leave the Julia Bona they preferred in
peace, and fly for safety to the fine strategical position Nature had
marked out at Rouen. Here, too, was the home of the Provincial
Governor, and of his military captain; and of the walls they built the
eye of faith can still see traces at the Ponts de Robec, at the
Abbaye de St. Amand, near the Hotel de France, close to the Priory St.
Lo, and in the Place Verdrel in front of the Palais de Justice. I have
marked out the limits of this earliest _castrum_ on Map C; and in the
Rouen of to-day you may see a strange confirmation of the fact that
Roman Rotomagus was a far more watery place than may be realised at
first. For if you stand anywhere about the level of the Cathedral
foundations and look in the direction of the river, you will notice
that all the streets <DW72> upwards. Go nearer still, and at the angle
where the Rue du Bac meets the Rue des Tapissiers, the upward <DW72>
becomes even more pronounced, for though the river is not so far away,
there is even less of it to be seen. A great embankment has been
slowly built; and upon what was once marshland and islands and the
tidal mud, has grown up nearly all that part of Rouen which lies
between the Cathedral and the river.

This gradual consolidation of the land which was reclaimed slowly from
the Seine must have gone on from the time when the Roman walls stopped
at the Rue aux Ours on one side, and at the Rue Saint Denis on the
other. Their northern boundary was very slightly farther than the Rue
aux Fosses Louis VIII. The Rue Jeanne d'Arc runs just outside them to
the west, and the stream of Robec forms their natural boundary to the
east, flowing into the _Mala Palus_ that has left its name in the Rue
Malpalu which leads from the west front of St. Maclou towards the
Seine. Robec himself is well-nigh hidden now, though once his southern
turn formed one of the defences of the town. Now he gropes underground
his way into the Seine, and even when his waters can be traced, in the
Rue Eau de Robec, their muddy waves were almost better hidden.

There is a striking likeness to all this in the early days of the
history of London. Apart from all legends of the Troy Novant, of Lud
and Lear and that King Lucius who sanctified Cornhill, legends which
have their counterpart in all the old histories of Rouen, there are
almost as few relics of the fortified barrack on the Thames, or of the
more pretentious "Augusta" which followed, as there are of Roman
Rouen. The same mud flats along the river bank remained until, in 982,
after the first great fire, Cnut made a canal for his boats round
Southwark. Into the marsh fell the Fleet river, just as Robec into
Mala Palus; the English stream like the French one, formed the first
natural line of defence on that side; and both are now little better
than built-in sewers, one flowing into Thames at Blackfriars Bridge,
the other through its smaller tunnel into Seine near the Pont de
Pierre Corneille.

In the Museum of the Place Sainte Marie are the few Roman tombs that
have survived all other relics of their occupants, and some of the
money that they brought here, coins of Posthumus, of Tetricus, of
Gordian, of Commodus. It is said, too, that when the foundations of
vanished St. Herbland were being dug, some rusty iron rings for
mooring boats and mouldering ship timbers were discovered, which were
supposed to have been traces of the Roman quay. But the word "Port
Morant" is probably not derived from _Portus Morandi_, but from
_Postis_, and refers to the far more modern "avant soliers" or jutting
balconies, which were supported on stout beams, and ran round the
Parvis when Jacques Lelieur was making his sketches of the town in
1525. With such mere conjectures we must leave all that the Roman
occupation has to tell. Their story was a short one; for the town was
outside that circle where Roman influence was chiefly felt; and it
ended with the Frankish invasions from beneath the Drachenfels. From
being the head of a Roman province, Rouen became one of the fourteen
cities of the Armorican Confederation, through the influence of the
churchmen who now begin to appear in the dim records of the
city-chronicles as the defenders of these earliest citizens.

The Romans laid foundations here, as they did in so many places in
Europe, and then passed away. But before they disappeared there had
been time for the first missionaries of the Christian faith to sow the
seeds that were to grow into the Church. The legions left the city,
but the faith of Rome stayed on. As early as the second century (and
some say earlier still) came St. Nicaise. After him arrived St. Mellon
of Cardiff, who is said to have converted the chief Pagan temple into
a Christian church. St. Sever was the third "Bishop." In 400, St.
Victrice had laid the foundations of the first church on the site of
the Cathedral, and tradition puts the beginning of what became St.
Ouen as one year earlier. Strangely enough there remains a record of
the ecclesiastical architecture of these early days that is of the
highest interest, for it is the oldest building of its kind to be
found north of the Alps.

To reach it you must pass out of the town to the north-west, going by
the Rue Cauchoise where it starts from the Place du Vieux Marche
towards the hill of St. Gervais. All Roman burials took place outside
their walls, and the tombs generally lined the great roads that led
out of the towns. There is no doubt that many such monuments stood on
either hand of the road that you must follow now, beyond the Place
Cauchoise and into the Rue Saint Gervais. Go straight on up the hill
and at the turn into the Rue Chasselievre, upon the left, you will see
an uncompromisingly new Norman church standing alone upon some high
ground. This is a modern building on the site of the old Priory of St.
Gervais, to which William the Conqueror was carried in his last
illness, when he could no longer bear the noise and traffic of the
town. At the west end, on the outside wall of this third and newest
church, is placed a tablet that records his death. Of the second
church you can trace the apse, with its Romanesque pillars and carved
capitals of birds and leaves, beneath the choir at the east end of the
third one.

Look lower still. Beneath the second choir is a still older window
that barely rises high enough above the soil to catch the light at
all. That is the window of the oldest crypt in France. Down thirty
steps from the inner pavement of the new church you can descend with
lighted candles to see the first building in which the Church of Rouen
met. The only accurate drawing that has ever been published of it was
made for these chapters, and it is worth while taxing your patience
with rather more detail than usual in describing a subterranean
chamber that has no parallel save in the Catacombs of Rome. It was no
doubt after his visit to the Holy City in 404 that St. Victrice built
this shrine for the safe-keeping of the first relics of his church in
a pagan land. The friend of St. Martin of Tours, and of St. Ambrose at
Milan, St. Victrice had probably obtained from them the sacred
fragments which were to be so carefully preserved for the
strengthening of the faith among the infidels. But the little
community of Christians at Rouen had its own relics that needed safe
disposal too. For in this crypt on the left hand as you enter is the
tomb of St. Mellon who died in 311, to whom a church is dedicated that
still exists in Monmouthshire, and on the right lies St. Avitien who
died in 325. The saint to whose name and memory the crypt was
dedicated lies buried beneath the high altar of the Church of St.
Ambrose at Milan. The body of St. Victrice, its builder, after lying
in this same vault for nearly four centuries after his death, was
transferred elsewhere.

The cold and gloomy little pit is eleven metres forty long, by five
metres forty broad, and five metres thirty high, and in the recessed
arches above the tombs may still be traced the thin red bricks of the
Roman builders and their strong cement between. In the circular apse
opposite the tiny square-headed entrance is the high window, set in
the east, that we saw from the outside, and in the wall on each side
are two square recesses in which the sacred vessels were locked up.
The altar on its raised platform stands upon two rude upright stones,
and is marked with five small crosses incised upon its upper surface.
Behind it, on the rounded wall, are faint traces of carving and of
fresco. All round the walls, except at the altar and the entrance,
runs a low stone seat after the true type of the Christian Catacomb. A
flat projecting rib of stone divides the barrel roof of the nave from
the circular vault of the apse which <DW72>s upwards to the rounded
summit of the tiny window. A few skulls lie in a shadowed hollow near
the altar, but the State has fortunately put a stop to any further
grubbing in the floor for corpses that should never have been
disturbed.

[Illustration: ANCIENT CRYPT BENEATH THE CHURCH OF ST. GERVAIS]

There is an absolute and elemental simplicity in this tiny crypt,
with its stone bench and tombs of stone, that appeals far more
strongly to the imagination than any bespangled ecclesiasticism above
it. This is the true service of God and of His poor. The cold
austerity of a faith that stood in no need of external attractiveness
lays hold upon the senses as the reticent syllables of that first
gospel, spelt out from its original sentences, must have gripped the
hearts of those who heard it first. The Latin phrases of a long drawn
litany, set to complicated tunes, rolled overhead with an emptiness of
barren sound, among the clouds of incense and the glitter of the
painted walls and all the service of "the clergyman for his rich."

More beautiful places of worship we shall see in many parts of Rouen.
But in all France there is nothing more sincere than the small crypt
of St. Gervais.

So the only remnant that is left of "Roman" Rouen is not Roman at all,
but a type of that strong, naive, and sincere Christianity which
invigorated the Gothic captains who overthrew Rome. It is but fitting
that there should be so little left. For the Romans were not so much a
nation as an empire. They were not so much a people, as the embodiment
of a power. When their work of spreading law and order, of diffusing
Greek imagination through the channels of their strength was over,
they split asunder at the vigorous touch of the truth that came
against them. They left no personal traces in a town so far removed as
Rouen from the centres of their civilisation.

It was the same in London, which was still farther off. For if you
believe that any "Roman" wall was built round Augusta before 400 A.D.,
there is little left of it to point to now, save at that south-eastern
corner on which the Norman Conqueror built his tower, at the New Post
Office buildings in St. Martin's le Grand, and in the churchyard of
St. Giles's, Cripplegate. In the British Museum and at Guildhall are
some scanty relics of domestic life, some fragments of mosaic, shreds
of pavement, and the like.

At Rouen it is the same. The legions left the stamped impression of
their armoured feet, impersonal and strong, a hallmark as it were, to
guarantee the local strength and value of the first Rothomagus. But it
was the Christian worshippers who left the only building that remains
of those first centuries, to testify to what some men and women in
that early time could really feel and think and do.

It is by another priest that the story of the town is carried on from
"Roman" times to the next period of transition. St. Godard
appropriately enough, a Frank by descent himself and born of a Roman
mother, is the link between this shadowy twilight of early church
history and the stronger colouring of the Frankish story that is to
come. In 488 he was elected as the fourteenth bishop of Rouen by the
unanimous vote of clergy and people together, and eight years
afterwards he represented the diocese when Hlodowig or Clovis was
baptised at Rheims, from which we may gather that the Frankish power
had definitely embraced his town within its grasp some time before. He
died about 525 and his body, which was first buried in the crypt of
the church which bears his name, was afterwards removed to Soissons.
It was at that same Soissons that the Romans were driven out of
"France," and Hlodowig with his Franks took possession of the country
to the Loire, and then pushed on the boundaries of their kingdom to
the Pic du Midi. The profession of Christianity by Hlodowig was not a
mere matter of policy. It was another expression of that Frankish
quality of sincerity and truth, which has been already noticed, in the
Gaul that was shaking off the bonds of Rome. It was perhaps the chief
quality of that band of nations north of Tiber which stretched from
English hills, across limestone plateaux of Northern France, through
German forests, to the vales of the Carpathians. These were the first
wave of the "barbarian" invasion after Rome had fallen. Behind them,
further to the north and east, drifted a piratical band of roaming
warriors, who for the next five centuries press and harry the
boundaries of the kingdoms, Visigoths and Ostrogoths, Saxons, Danes,
and Scandinavians, of whom we shall hear more later.

[Illustration: STATUE SUPPOSED TO REPRESENT ST. LOUIS (FROM THE
CATHEDRAL) NOW IN THE MUSEE DES ANTIQUITES]

The Christian bishops were the shield after Rome fell, between the
trembling conquered races and the first wave of conquering barbarian
invasion. The strength of their faith we have seen already in the
crypt of St. Gervais. This little altar, and the tiny shrine of St.
Godard watched infant Rouen from beyond its walls. An edict in 399 had
destroyed the rural temples of the old Pagan faith. About 450 a new
law recommended the conversion of the old temples within the towns
into churches. So in these years we may suppose that the first
building had risen on the site of the Cathedral, with St. Herbland's
earliest church in front, and upon other eyots in the Seine the
shrines of St. Martin de la Roquette, St. Clement, and St. Eloi. When
Julia Bona was finally deserted, Rouen became the home of a count, who
held, under Clovis, administrative, judicial and military power. By
the next century the town must have grown to a considerable size and
importance. Yet there is absolutely nothing of Merovingian Rouen left
except the few poor ornaments in the glass cases of the Musee des
Antiquites. Here you will see some of the characteristically shaped
bronze axe-heads of the period; but by far the larger part of what is
left is woman's gear. Beside the axes there are a few lance and
arrow-heads; but the finger rings (still on the bones that wore them)
are numerous; there are necklaces too, and bracelets; nails and
buttons, styles for writing, pins, needles, combs, and pottery. By
such pitiful trifles that have survived the pride and strength of all
their owners, you may be fitly introduced to the next chapter in the
pageant of historic Rouen, the tale of Fredegond and Brunhilda.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER III

_Merovingian Rouen_

     "Consurgit pater in filium, filius in patrem, frater in
     fratrem, proximus in propinquum."


Literally not one stone remains in Rouen to which I can point you as a
witness of the tragedy in which the names of Fredegond and Brunhilda
will always live. Yet the part of their tragedy which was played in
Rouen must be told, if you are clearly to fashion for yourself that
web of many faded colours which is to be the background for the first
figures recognisable as flesh and blood, the northern pirates. It is a
story which points as clearly to the downfall of Merovingian society
and the coming of a new race, as ever any tale of Rome's decline and
fall pointed to the coming of the barbarians.

After the death of King Hlothair, the last man of the blood of the
great Hlodowig, or Clovis, whose Frankish warriors had driven the
Romans out of Gaul, and who himself became the "eldest son of the
Church," his kingdom had been divided among his four sons, of whom the
eldest died in possession of the lands of Bordeaux; and left his
treasure to be taken by the next brother, Gunthram, and his lands to
be divided among all three of the surviving heirs. Mutual suspicion
defeated its own ends, and the ridiculous principles on which the
division was made were the mainspring of nearly all the quarrelling
that followed. Sigebert, the youngest brother, reigned over Austrasia,
which stretched eastward from the north of Gaul through Germany
towards the Slavs and Saxons. Gunthram had the central land of Orleans
and Burgundy. Hilperik reigned north and westward of the Loire in
Neustria. But each of the three owned towns and lands in various parts
of France without regard to the broad lines of division which have
just been indicated. Of them all Hilperik, the King of Neustria, was
the most uxorious and effeminate. By his wife, Audowere, he had had
three sons, Hlodowig, Theodobert and Merowig, who was held at the font
of Rouen Cathedral by the Bishop Pretextatus. Among the royal waiting
women was a young and very beautiful Frank called Fredegond, on whom
the King had already cast a too-favourable eye; and the opportunity of
his absence on an expedition to the North was seized by the girl in a
way which showed at once the unscrupulous and subtle treachery which
was the keynote of her character. The Queen was brought to bed of her
fourth child, a daughter, while the King was still from home. By
Fredegond's suggestion, the infant was held at the font by Audowere
herself and christened Hildeswinda. Hlodowig at once took advantage of
the trap into which the innocent and unsuspecting mother had fallen.
As soon as he returned he sent away Audowere and her baby to a
monastery at Le Mans, on the pretext that it was illegal for the
godmother of his own daughter to be his wife. He then made Fredegond
his queen.

The conduct of the younger brother Sigebert was at once more dignified
and more politically secure. At Metz in 566 he married Brunhilda, the
younger daughter of Athanagild, King of the Goths, whose capital was
at Toledo, a woman whose courage, beauty, and resource, have remained
a byword in history and song. The splendour and success of this
alliance roused Hilperik's jealousy, and he lost no time in sending an
embassy to Spain asking the hand of Galeswintha, the elder sister of
his brother's wife. After much negotiation, the girl left the palace
of Toledo on her long march to the north. Her own presentiment of
coming evil was strengthened by the tears of her reluctant mother, who
could with difficulty be persuaded to leave the procession that
escorted the princess across the Pyrenees. By way of Narbonne,
Carcassonne, Poitiers, and Tours, Galeswintha moved slowly across
France towards her husband, with all her Goths and Franks behind her,
and a train of baggage waggons groaning beneath the treasures of her
dowry. She made her entry into Rouen on a towering car, set with
plates of glittering silver, and all the Neustrian warriors stood in a
great circle round her with drawn swords, crying aloud the oath of
their allegiance. Before them all, the King swore constancy and faith
to her, and on the morning following he publicly made present to her
of the five southern cities that were his wedding gift.

Fredegond had disappeared. In the general proscription of immorality
that had followed the embassy to Spain, she was swept away like the
rest, and she knew when to yield. Like the viper in the grass she lay
hidden, gathering up her venom for a more deadly blow. So harmless did
she seem that she was soon allowed to return to her former humble post
as one of the waiting women of the palace. It was not long before she
struck. The sensual and shallow nature of the King had soon wearied of
his new bride, whose chief charm was not, it would appear, her beauty.
A moment came when weariness became disgust. The sight of Fredegond
recalled his former passion, and the proud princess of the Goths soon
had the mortification of seeing the affections of her husband
transferred to her waiting woman. But this was not enough. A few days
afterwards Queen Galeswintha was found strangled in her bed, in 568.
Hilperik was not long in adding the dignity of queen to the position
of wife which he had already given to the triumphant Fredegond.

The sad young figure of this Spanish princess, brought up against her
will from sunnier courts into the midst of Merovingian brutality in
the dark palaces of Neustria, is one that affected many minds with
compassion for her fate. The story of the crystal lamp that hung above
her tomb in Rouen, which fell upon the marble pavement, yet was
neither broken nor extinguished, was but a poetical expression of the
universal pity.[2] In the heart of her sister Brunhilda pity flamed
rapidly into revenge. Sigebert was enlisted on the side of justice,
and Gunthram quickly followed him, with the object of making peace
between his brothers. The King of Neustria was condemned to forfeit
certain cities as punishment for the murder of his queen.

[Footnote 2: Gregory of Tours, H.F., iv. 28. "Post cuius obitum Deus
virtutem magnam ostendit. Lichinus enim ille, qui fune suspensus coram
sepulchrum eius ardebat, nullo tangente, disrupto fune, in pavimentum
conruit, et fugientem ante eam duriciam pavimenti, tanquam in aliquod
molle aelimentum discendit, atque medius est suffusus nec omnino
contritus."]

But the blood of Galeswintha still cried out for vengeance from the
ground, and the horrible series of murders that filled the century
began with Hilperik's unwarranted aggressions on the territory of his
brother Sigebert. Long months passed in pillage, in ineffectual
attempts at reconciliation, in perpetual reprisals. At last Brunhilda
rose and insisted that her husband should make an end with the
murderer of her sister. So Sigebert and his army moved forward to a
combined attack and chased Hilperik to the walls of Paris. Thither,
when Fredegond and her husband had fled to Rouen and then to Tournai,
Brunhilda came southwards to meet the conqueror who soon marched north
again to be crowned at Vitry, leaving his wife behind to guard the
capital in triumph. Now came Fredegond's opportunity. For when
Hilperik was besieged by Sigebert in the city of Tournai and sore
pressed, Fredegond saw her enemy delivered into her hand. "La femme,"
say the chronicles of St. Denis (III. 3 and 4) "pensa de la besogne la
ou le sens de son seigneur faillait, qui selon la coutume de femme,
moult plus est de grand engieng a malfaire que n'est homme." By some
diabolical trick of fascination she persuaded a pair of assassins to
penetrate into Sigebert's camp, armed with a "scramasax" she had
herself provided. They murdered him as he sat at table, and were
instantly cut to pieces by the courtiers.[3] Fredegond always managed
to get inconvenient witnesses out of the way. Hilperik at once took
advantage of the confusion to march on Paris, and the horror of
Brunhilda may be imagined as she realised that the murderer of her
husband and of her sister was approaching the city in which the widow
and her three orphans were defenceless. Her son (afterwards the second
Hildebert), was then but five years old, and by the help of Gundobald
she was able to contrive his escape, lowering him in a basket through
an opening in the city walls.

[Footnote 3: Gregory of Tours, _Ib._ 51. "Tunc duo pueri cum cultris
validis, quos vulgo scramasaxos vocant, infectis veneno, maleficati a
Fredegundae Regina, cum aliam causam suggerere simularent, utraque ei
latera feriunt."]

Then began another act in this dark drama, which ended very
differently to the expectations of Fredegond. For with his father had
come young Merowig to Paris, and whether from fascinations that had
some deep ulterior design, or whether as is more probable from the
natural attraction felt by the young warrior for a lovely princess in
distress, Merowig fell hopelessly in love with the fair Brunhilda, who
was but twenty-eight and could have been very little older than her
second husband. He saw, however, the danger of prematurely confessing
his passion, and quietly went off on a foraging expedition to Berri
and Touraine at the bidding of his father. But, no doubt, he was aware
before starting of Hilperik's intention to send Brunhilda to Rouen;
for it was not long before he marched northwards (after a visit to his
mother Audowere in her prison at Le Mans),[4] and came to Rouen
himself. The meeting cannot have been a surprise to the daughter of
the Spanish Goths, and whatever may have been her intentions, she
proved so willing to console herself that a very short time elapsed
before she was the wife of Merowig. Strangely enough the Bishop of
Rouen at the time was the same Pretextatus who had been Merowig's
godfather at his baptism. "Proprium mihi," he says (in the history of
Gregory of Tours) "esse videbatur, quod filio meo Merovecho erat, quem
de lavacro regeneratione excepi." This kindly and somewhat weak
prelate, whose natural sympathies seem invariably to have proved too
strong for his political prudence, was prevailed upon to perform the
ceremony of marrying to Merowig the widow of his father's murdered
brother. But it was not merely canonical law, or even certain
sentimental precepts, that were offended by a union that was later on
to cost its celebrant his life. The suspicions of Hilperik were
instantly aroused. Brunhilda's young son had already been accepted as
their King by the Austrasian warriors at Metz. Now Brunhilda herself
had taken what was evidently the second step in a deep-laid plot to
reassert her own superiority and ruin Neustria. It can have scarcely
needed the hatred of Fredegond, both for her natural rival and for the
son of Audowere, to urge Hilperik to speedy action. He hastened to
Rouen with such swiftness that the newly-married pair were entirely
taken by surprise in the first few months of their new happiness. They
fled for sanctuary to the little wooden church of St. Martin, whose
timbers rested on the very ramparts of the town. No entreaties nor
cajoleries at first availed to make them leave their refuge. At last,
they agreed to come out if the King would swear not to separate them.
His oath was a crafty one as it is given by Gregory of Tours: "Si,
inquit, voluntas Dei fuerit, ipse has separare non conaretur," and, of
course, the "will of God" happened to be the wish of Hilperik, and
they were safely separated as soon as possible. For after two or three
days of feasting and apparent reconciliation he hurried off with the
unwilling bridegroom in his train, and left Brunhilda under a strict
guard at Rouen.

[Footnote 4: But "Ipse vero, _simulans_ ad matrem suam ire velle,"
says Gregory (H.F. V. 2), "Rothomago petiit et ibi Brunechildae
reginae conjungitur...."]

The very first incident that followed this unhappy marriage was the
siege of Soissons by the men of Neustria, and in this coincidence the
King saw further confirmation of the plots of Brunhilda in which she
had so nearly secured the assistance of Merowig against Fredegond and
his father. He at once ordered his miserable son, whose intellect was
incapable of ambitious schemes, and whose only fault had been an
unconsidered passion, to be stripped of his arms, and to have the long
hair cut from his head that was a mark of royal blood. The later
adventures of the wretched Merowig, an exile and an outlaw, hunted
through his father's kingdom, are too intricate to follow. After a
long imprisonment in the sanctuary of Tours Cathedral, he escaped only
to be murdered by the emissaries of the implacable Fredegond in a
farmhouse north of Arras. Meanwhile his wife, Brunhilda, had long ago
been set free to go from Rouen to Austrasia. She was safer across the
border, while the follies of another Merowig might make her dangerous.
Her flight, at this unexpected opportunity of freedom, was so rapid
that she left the greater part of her baggage and treasure with the
Bishop of Rouen, who was once more unwise enough to compromise himself
in order to be of service to his godchild's wife. For Pretextatus not
only supplied Merowig with money in his various efforts to escape, but
was so careless in his demands upon the friendship of the surrounding
nobles, and in scattering bribes to gain them over, that his
treasonable practices soon came to the ears of Hilperik. That
avaricious and perpetually needy ruler was not long in securing the
remainder of the treasure of which tidings had so opportunely reached
him, and he then immediately summoned Pretextatus to answer before a
solemn ecclesiastical council in Paris, as to his relations with
Brunhilda, and his disposition of the money she had left with him. The
celebrated trial that followed, of which Gregory of Tours was at once
the historian and the noblest figure, was ended by the brutal
interference of Fredegond, who could not be patient with the law's
delays, and forced the Bishop of Rouen to fly for refuge to the island
of Jersey where he lived in exile for some years, until the time
arrived for Fredegond's full vengeance to be consummated.

That time was marked, as was every crisis in the blood-stained career
of Fredegond, by a murder. The weak and effeminate King himself fell a
victim, and was slain (in 584) by unknown assassins as he was out
hunting. In the confusion and lawlessness that ensued, Pretextatus
returned from exile to Rouen, and Fredegond, who had placed herself
under the protection of Gunthram, was sent to Rueil, a town in the
domain of Rouen, near the meeting of the Eure and Seine. Leaving for
awhile in peace the old ecclesiastic who had had the insolence to come
back to the dignities from which she had driven him, Fredegond turned
at once to plot the destruction of her lifelong enemy, Brunhilda, who
was now in a position of far greater security and honour than herself.
But her emissary was obliged to return unsuccessful, and had his feet
and hands cut off for his pains. A second attempt upon both mother and
son failed equally, and then Fredegond, balked of her higher prey,
took the victim that was nearest, and went out from Rueil to Rouen. It
was not long before the quarrel that she sought was occasioned by the
bishop, who seems to have added to his usual unwisdom a courage born
of the hardships of seven years of exile. Answering a taunt flung at
him by the deposed queen, he bitterly drew the contrast between their
present positions, and their former relation to each other, and bade
Fredegond look to the salvation of her soul and the education of her
son, and leave the wickedness that had stained so many years of her
life with blood.

She left him on the instant and without a word, "felle fervens," says
Gregory; and indeed it was not long before her vengeance broke out in
the usual way. As the bishop knelt in prayer soon afterwards before
the altar of the Cathedral, her assassin drove his knife beneath his
armpit, and Pretextatus was carried bleeding mortally to his chamber.
Thither came the queen to gloat over her latest victim, begging him to
say whose hand it was had done the deed, that so due punishment might
be at once exacted. But he knew well who was the real murderess. "Quis
haec fecit," replied the dying prelate, "nisi qui reges interemit, qui
sepius sanguinem innocentium effudit, qui diversa in hoc regno mala
commisit?"

The whole town was cast into distress and bitter mourning by this
pitiless assassination, and Fredegond had accomplished her will with
so much cunning that the crime could with the greatest difficulty be
legally traced to its true origin. For she had taken advantage of the
ecclesiastical jealousy which unfortunately existed side by side with
the popular reverence and love. Melantius, who had for seven years
enjoyed the privileges of office and dispensed his favours in the
bishopric, had seen himself deposed with very mingled feelings by the
exile from Jersey. His own nominees were doubtless not unwilling to
emphasise his grievance, and Fredegond found in his disappointed
ambition a soil only too ready to receive the poisonous seed she was
so anxious to implant. Among the inferior clergy was an archdeacon
whose hatred of Pretextatus was as great, and more reckless in its
expression. By him a slave was easily discovered ready to commit this
or any other crime on the promise of freedom for himself and his
family. A guarantee of favours to come was provided in some ready
money paid beforehand, and the blow was struck while Pretextatus
prayed. Romans and Franks alike were horrified at the dastardly
outrage. The former could scarcely act outside the city walls, but the
Franks felt more secure in the ancient privileges of their race, and
some of their nobles at once gave public expression to the hatred felt
by every citizen for the instigator of the crime. Led by one of their
own chiefs, a deputation of these Frankish nobles rode up to
Fredegond's palace at Rueil. They delivered a message to the effect
that justice should be done, and that the murderess must at last put a
term to all her crimes. Her reply was even more rapid and fearless
than usual. She handed the speaker a cup of honeyed wine, after the
custom of his country; he drank the poison, and fell dead upon the
spot.

A kind of panic fell upon his comrades, and extended even to the town
of Rouen itself. Like some monstrous incarnation of evil, Fredegond
seemed to have settled near their city, followed by a trail of death.
Her very breath, it was imagined, exhaled the poisons of the sorcery
and witchcraft that accompanied and rendered possible her countless
assassinations. She seemed beyond the pale of human interference, and
invested with some infernal omnipotence that baffled all pursuit or
vengeance. Every church in Rouen closed its doors, for the head of
their Church lay foully murdered, and his murderer was not yet
punished. Leudowald of Bayeux took over the sacred office in the
interval of consternation that ensued, before another successor could
be appointed, and he insisted that not another Mass should be
celebrated throughout the diocese until the criminal had been brought
to justice. Night and day he had to pay the penalty for his boldness
by being forced to keep careful guard against the hired bravos of his
unscrupulous enemy, who was now fairly started in a career of
bloodshed, that she would never end until her vengeance was complete.
At last she wore out his courage and his strength alike, and the
inquiry gradually faded away before the persistent and sinister
vindictiveness of the royal witch at Rueil. She soon was strong enough
to put her creature Melantius back in his episcopal chair, and he was
content to officiate upon the very stones that were still stained with
the innocent blood of Pretextatus.

One more proof of the absolute mastery her intrigues had given her was
afforded by Fredegond's next action. Its heartless cynicism was but a
natural consequence of so much previous guilt. For she deliberately
summoned before her the slave whose assassin's knife she had bought,
reproached him openly with his hideous crime, and handed him over to
the dead bishop's relations. Under torture this miserable wretch
confessed the full details of the murder, the names of his
accomplices, and the guilt of Fredegond. The nephew of Pretextatus,
apparently aware that he would never get satisfaction on the
principals, leapt upon the prey that had so contemptuously been flung
to him, and cut the slave to pieces with his sword. And this was the
sole reparation that was ever given for the murder of the bishop. But
the people never forgot the Pretextatus who lived for centuries in
their memory as a martyred saint. His terrible fate has more than
atoned, in their eyes, for the impolitic events of his earlier life,
or his unwise affection for the unfortunate prince he had baptised.

[Illustration: THE ARMS OF ROUEN]

With this last crime that part of the Merovingian tragedy with which
Rouen is connected comes to a close. Nor have I space here to follow
out the actors to the curtain's fall. In other pages their various
fortunes and their dark calamities may be followed to a conclusion.
The next chapter in the history of the town is that of the Northmen,
and of the founding of that mighty dynasty which was to spread its
rule across the Channel, and to gather the towns of England under the
same sceptre that swayed the citizens of Rouen. But before the coming
of the Northmen, there are a few more slight facts that I must
chronicle if only to explain the desert and the ruins that alone were
Rouen when the first pirate galley swept up to the quay and anchored
close to where the western door of the Cathedral now looks out across
the Parvis.

The monk Fridegode relates that it was in 533 that the first stones of
what was afterwards to be the famous Abbey of St. Ouen[5] were laid by
the first Hlothair. Others say that a church founded nearly two
centuries before was restored by the son of Hlotild the holy Queen
and dedicated first to the Holy Apostles, and then to St. Peter and
St. Paul. Its name was changed to the one it bears now in 686 when the
body of St. Ouen was moved there on Ascension Day three years after
his death. But not a trace of the original church remains, and most
probably it was built almost entirely of wood, like that shrine of St.
Martin in which Brunhilda and her young husband fled for sanctuary in
about the year 580. In this same century we first hear too of that
legendary Kingdom of Yvetot, whose lord was freed from all service to
the Royal House of France by the penitence of King Hlothair. Its
history is chiefly confined to the airy fantasies of poets, and is
completely justified of its existence by Beranger's verses:

     "Il etait un roi d'Yvetot
       Peu connu dans l'histoire
     Se levant tard se couchant tot
       Dormant fort bien sans gloire
     Et couronne par Jeanneton
       D'un simple bonnet de coton,"

which may very well serve as the epitome and epitaph of a lazy
independence that needed no more serious chronicler.[6]

[Footnote 5: "In manu gothica," he says, with a phrase that was to
produce a very pretty quarrel later on.]

[Footnote 6: This jovial monarch is mentioned in a legal decree of
1392. He retires into obscurity during the English Occupation, and is
restored, curiously enough, by the sombre Louis XI. in 1461, and freed
from all taxes and subsidies. At the entry of Charles VIII. in 1485
(see Chap. X.) he makes a very appropriate appearance. In 1543
Francois Premier mentions a "Reine d'Yvetot." In 1610 Martin du
Bellay, Sieur de Langey and Lieutenant General of Normandy, was hailed
as "Mon petit roi d'Yvetot" by Henri Quatre at the coronation of Marie
de Medicis. In 1783 the last "documentary" evidence occurs in the
inscription on two boundary-stones: "Franchise de la Principaute
d'Yvetot."]

[Illustration: CHAPELLE DE LA FIERTE DE ST. ROMAIN IN THE PLACE DE LA
HAUTE VIELLE TOUR]

Early in the next century occurs the name of a saint who was destined
to be famous in the story of the town from its earliest days of civic
life until the chaos of the Revolution, in which the old order fell to
pieces and carried so many picturesque and harmless ceremonies into
the limbo where it swept away the ancient abuses of despotic monarchy.
For with the name of St. Romain, who enlarged St. Mellon's primitive
"cathedral" even more than St. Victrice had done, is connected one of
the most extraordinary privileges that any ecclesiastical body ever
possessed. The Chapter of the Cathedral of Rouen every Ascension Day
were allowed by the "Privilege de Saint Romain" to release a prisoner
condemned to death, who was then made to carry the holy relics of the
saint upon his shoulders in a great procession. The list of the
prisoners who bore the "Fierte Saint Romain"[7] extends from 1210 to
1790, the chapel where the ceremony was performed still stands in the
Place de la Haute Vieille Tour, and the manuscripts in which the
released prisoners' names with their accomplices and crimes are
recorded, furnish some of the most interesting and practically
unknown details of the intimate life of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries. I shall have occasion to refer to them so fully later on
that I must for the present confine myself merely to abolishing a
myth, and laying some slight foundation for the facts that are to
follow--facts so astonishing and so authentic that they need no aid
from legend or romance.

[Footnote 7: Evidently "feretrum," _cf._ "La fiertre de Saint Thomas,"
Froissart, xii. 9.]

Yet the miracle that is related to-day about St. Romain is so
persistent and so widely spread, that it must be told, if only to
explain the many allusions contained in picture, in carving, and in
song,[8] throughout the tale of Rouen, and in the very stones and
windows of her most sacred buildings. The story is but another variant
of our own St. George, of St. Martha and the Tarasque in Provence, of
many others in almost every country. It is but one more
personification of that struggle of Good against Evil, Light against
Darkness, Truth against Error, Civilisation against Barbarism, which
is as old as the book of Genesis and as the history of the world. It
has been represented by Apollo and the python, by Anubis and the
serpent, by the Grand'gueule of Poitiers, by the dragons of Louvain
and of St. Marcel. The general truth was appropriated by each
particular locality until every church and town had its peculiar
monster slain by its especial saint. Thus at Bordeaux there was St.
Martial, thus Metz had St. Clement, Asti and Venice had their guardian
saints, Bayeux had St. Vigor, Rouen had St. Romain. The emblem of
eternal strife had become a universal allegory acceptable in every
place and in all centuries, and so commonly believed, that until some
poignant necessity arose for its assertion, it was never--as we shall
see--mentioned even by those historians of the life of St. Romain, who
might more especially be expected to know the details of his life.

[Footnote 8: He is carved on a facade in the Musee des Antiquites, for
instance, and painted in a window of the Church of St. Godard, to take
only two examples of his constant occurrence in the civil and
religious life of the people.]

For St. Romain, so the fable runs, delivered Rouen from an immense and
voracious monster, called the "Gargouille," who dwelt in the morasses
and reed-beds of the river, and devoured the inhabitants of the
town.[9] The wily saint employed a condemned criminal as a bait, lured
the dragon from its den, then made the sign of the cross over it, and
dragged it, unresisting, by his holy stole into the town, "ou elle fut
arse et bruslez." To commemorate this deliverance in 626, continues
the legend, the good King Dagobert (or was it Hlothair?) at the
saint's request, allowed the Cathedral to release a prisoner every
year upon Ascension Day, as the saint had released the prisoner who
had assisted in the destruction of the "Gargouille."

[Footnote 9: Not only did it eat men, women, and children, say the old
chronicles, but "ne pardonnait meme pas aux vaisseaux et navires!"]

All this is a very pretty example of a holy hypothesis constructed to
explain facts that arose in a very different manner; and though it is
no pleasant task to undermine a picturesque belief, yet the chain of
events which led to its universal acceptance are too remarkable to be
left without a firm historical basis, or at any rate a suggestion more
in accordance with the science of dates than that which was related by
the Church throughout so many centuries. For there is no disputing
that if the "miracle" had in actual fact occurred, some mention would
have been made of it after the death of St. Romain in 638, or at any
rate after 686, when the historians had the whole life of St. Ouen and
his times to describe. Yet neither St. Ouen himself nor Dudo of St.
Quentin in the tenth century, nor William of Jumieges, nor Orderic
Vital, nor Anselm, Abbot of Bec, in the eleventh, say a word about
it; and these are all most respectable and painstaking authorities. In
1108, when an assembly was held by William the Conqueror at
Lillebonne, with the express object of regulating privileges, not a
word was said by the Archbishop of Rouen there present about the most
extraordinary privilege enjoyed by his chapter. It is only at the
beginning of the thirteenth century that the inevitable quarrels
between the civil and ecclesiastical powers over a criminal claimed by
both can first be traced; and it may be safely argued that while the
privilege was not questioned it did not exist. It is as late as 1394
that the first mention of the famous "Gargouille" itself occurs in any
reputable document. It was not till a twenty-second of May 1425, that
Henry, King of France and England, did command the Bishop of Bayeux
and Raoul le Sage to inquire into the "usage et coutume d'exercer le
privilege de Saint Romain"; for the good reason that in this year the
chapter desired to release, by the exercise of their privilege, one
Geoffroy Cordeboeuf, who had slain an Englishman. In 1485, one
Etienne Tuvache, was summoned to uphold the privilege before the "Lit
de Justice" of Charles VIII. on the 27th of April; and in 1512 we find
the definite confirmation of the privilege by Louis XII.; and even yet
there are only a few confused and vague rumours of the "Gargouille"
and its saintly conqueror.

There are, therefore, far more numerous and more authentic traces of
the privilege than of the miracle; the effect is undoubted; it remains
to conjecture its prime cause; and as I shall show at greater length
in its right place, there is every reason to believe that the origin
of the privilege was one of the great Mystery Plays of the Ascension,
and that it was first exercised between 1135 and 1145. As the custom
grew into a privilege, and the privilege crystallised into a right,
ecclesiastical advocates were never at a loss to bring divine
authority to their aid in their championship of the chapter's powers;
the "Gargouille," in fact, was "created" after the "privilege" had
become established; and for us the chief merit of the tale lies in the
fact that it preserves the national memory of St. Romain's firm stand
against the old dragon of idolatry and paganism, whose last remnants
were swept out of Normandy by his firm and militant Christianity.[10]

[Footnote 10: He certainly pulled down the Amphitheatre, and destroyed
the Temple of Venus, and the loss of both of these was likely to be
well remembered for some time by the inhabitants. It is suggested that
the Temple of Adonis fell at the bidding of the same bold reformer to
make way for the first church of St. Paul beneath the heights of St.
Catherine.]

This is an age of great churchmen. While the Roman Empire lasted, the
Church had been dependent and submissive to the Emperors. When the
Franks arrived her attitude was changed, for to these barbarous and
ungodly strangers she stood as a beneficent superior, and a steadfast
shield over the Gallo-Roman people. So it was that the bishops became
the protectors of towns, the counsellors of kings, the owners of large
and rich tracts of land, the sole possessors of knowledge and of
letters in an age of darkest brutality and ignorance. With the names
of St. Ouen and St. Romain in Normandy at this time are bound up those
of St. Philibert, St. Saens, and St. Herbland, under whose protection
was one of the oldest parishes of Rouen. His church stood until quite
modern years in the Parvis of the Cathedral at the end of the Rue de
la Grosse Horloge. On various islands in the stream, for the very soil
of Rouen at this time was as uncertain as its chronicles, were built
the chapels to St. Clement and St. Eloi, and other saints. The
boundaries of the Frankish settlement, described in terms of modern
street-geography, were, roughly, along the Rue des Fosses Louis VIII.
from Pont de Robec to the Poterne, thence by the Marche Neuf, now
Place Verdrel, along the Palais, through the Rue Massacre to the Rue
aux Ours. From there the line passed to the Place de la Calende and
the Eau de Robec, while the fourth side was marked by the waters of
the Robec itself.

This was the Rouen which welcomed Charlemagne in 769, who came to
celebrate Easter in the Cathedral he was to benefit so largely, among
the canons who had only been organised into a regular chapter, living
in one community, about nine years before. The great Emperor not only
helped the Cathedral in his lifetime, but left it a legacy in his
will, for the town, in gratitude for his benefactions, had furnished
twenty-eight "ships" to help him pursue his enemies, out of the fleet
which had already begun to exploit the rich commercial possibilities
of Britain, and to enter into trading engagements even with the
Byzantine emperors. With the second coming of Charlemagne at the dawn
of the ninth century, the next period in the history of Rouen closes.
At his death the semblance of an empire, into which his mighty
personality had welded the warring anarchies of Western Europe,
crumbled back into its constituent fragments. His was an empire wholly
aristocratic, and wholly German. After Charles Martel had driven out
the Saracens from Tours and Poitiers, it absorbed Gaul also in its
rule, but Charlemagne was never other than a Teutonic ruler over
Franks. He was one of the makers of Europe but not one of the creators
of the Kingdom of France. It was not until his empire crumbled at his
death that those persistent entities, France and Germany, made their
appearance.

But Normandy had much to go through before she became a part of that
kingdom which she did so much to make. In 556 a great fire had
destroyed most of the city of Rouen. Thirty years later a plague had
decimated her inhabitants. The Merovingians had left her ruined and
depopulated. Though spasmodic efforts at prosperity and strength
appeared during the great Emperor's lifetime, the town had not yet
reached anything approaching to a solid basis of civic or commercial
power. Its attempts were ruined by the anarchy that followed
Charlemagne's decease, and there was little left for the first Danes
to plunder when the first galleys of the Northern pirates swept up the
Seine in 841.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER IV

_Rouen under her own Dukes_

     Normanni, si bono rigidoque dominatu reguntur, strenuissimi
     sunt et in arduis rebus invicti omnes excellunt et cunctis
     hostibus fortiores superare contendunt. Alioquin sese
     vicissim dilaniant atque consumunt. Rebelliones enim
     cupiunt, seditiones enim appetunt, et ad omne nefas prompti
     sunt. Rectitudinis ergo forti censura coerceantur et fraeno
     disciplinae per tramitem justitiae gradiri compellantur.


[Illustration: THE ARMS OF NORMANDY]

The unity of Charlemagne's Empire existed in name alone. The
agglomeration of essentially different races only served the purpose
of emphasising the distinctions of blood and climate which were to be
the eternal bars against unnatural union. But the residuum of separate
nations was some time in making its appearance. Their various rulers
would not accept the inevitable without a struggle; and in that
struggle the only power that gained was the Church. France had no
sooner thrown off the German yoke than she professed obedience to her
great ecclesiastics. In Neustria the only life and strength left after
the Empire died was in the Church. For the land was but a waste of
untilled soil, sparsely inhabited by serfs, and divided among the
overlords, and of these latter the richest were the abbots and the
bishops, round whose palaces and monasteries clustered the towns for
their defence. But their temporal power was soon destined to decay.
The empire of the mind they might regain; their leadership of France
was lost the instant that the Northmen's ships appeared upon the
Seine.

When the serfs of Neustria first heard the ivory horns of the Vikings
echoing along their river's banks, and saw the blood-red banner of the
North against the sky, few men realised that the invaders were to weld
them into the strongest Duchy of the West, and finally to make France
herself arise as an independent nation out of Europe. They fled, these
spiritless and defenceless villagers, to the nearest abbey's walls,
they hid before the altars which held the relics of their saints, but
neither relics nor sanctuary availed to save, as the monks of St.
Martin at Tours, of Saint Germain des Pres at Paris could testify.
These barbarians used the Christian rites merely to advance their own
base purposes. Ever since Harold had won a province for a baptism each
pirate chief in turn was the more eager to insist upon such lucrative
religion. When they could not make capital out of "conversions" they
took gold and provisions as the price of temporary peace. By degrees
they gave up going home in winter. The climate of these southern lands
was tempting. In various parts of France along the river-mouths, just
as they had taken the highway of the Humber into the heart of Britain,
they made their scattered settlements, even as far inland as Chartres.
But only one was destined to be permanent, and this was made by Rolf,
Rollo, or Rou, in Rouen, the kernel of the Northern province. In 841
Ogier the Dane had sailed up the "Route des Cygnes" to burn the
shrines of St. Wandrille and Jumieges, to pillage Rouen, even to
terrify Paris. After him came Bjorn Ironside and Ragnar Lodbrog. Twice
they reached Paris, knocking at the gates to pass through towards the
vineyards of Burgundy. In 861 they made a kind of camp upon an island
between Oissel and Pont de l'Arche. At last in 876 came Rolf the
Ganger, the King of the Sea, and made Rouen his headquarters.

There had been but little resistance to their advance. The fifty-three
great expeditions of Charlemagne had used up the fighting men and
scattered the bravest of the nobles over widely separated tracts of
conquered territory. The Frenchmen had disappeared, either in war or
by a voluntary submission to the lords under whose protection alone
could they find safety. No wonder that the chroniclers were obliged to
account for the barrenness and weakness of the land by exaggerating
the already certain slaughter at Fontenai....

     "La peri de France la flor
     Et des baronz tuit li meillor
     Ainsi troverent Haenz terre
     Vuide de gent, bonne a conquerre."

The land was left uncultivated. Forests grew thicker between Seine and
Loire. Wolves ravaged Aquitaine with none to hinder them. The South
was still infested by the Saracens. France seemed given up to wild
beasts. Nor were the pirates unaided in their work of rapine.
Necessarily few in number, for they came from far by sea, their ranks
were recruited by every reckless freebooter in the country, who was
quite ready to bow down to Thor and Odin, instead of to the shrines of
his own land, which had proved so powerless to protect it. Fast on the
heels of the first band of pirates came another, and another yet. Only
by the strength of Theobald of Blois was the Loire closed against
continual invasion, as the Seine was held by Rollo, who was to fix the
true race of the Northmen for ever in the land.

He made his settlement in Neustria in exactly the same way as Guthrum
thirty years before had taken possession of East Anglia. But while it
was an easy task for the Danes to become Englishmen, it was a far
harder one for the invaders of the Seine to become so completely
Frenchmen, as in fact they did. In the case of both Guthrum and Rollo,
the invaded sovereign had been compelled to give up part of his lands
to save the whole. Both the archbishop at Rouen and the "King" at
Paris saw no other way out of their difficulties; and Rollo was as
ready as Guthrum had been to go through the form of baptism and the
farce of a submission, requiring as a pledge the daughter of the King,
whose vassal or "man" he became. The treaty in which Charles the
Simple purchased peace was a close imitation of the Peace of Wedmore.
These things became more serious to the pirate later on. But his way
was at first made easy for him. At Rouen, Archbishop Franco,
remembering perhaps the gloomy prophecies of Charlemagne, gave up his
ruined and defenceless city without a blow.[11]

[Footnote 11: Chron. de St. Denis, iii. 99.--"Franco ... regarda
l'etat de la cite et les murs qui etaient dechus et abattus," etc., or
in Wace's verses:

     "Li Archeveske Frankes a Jumieges ala
     A Rou et a sa gent par latinier parla....
     ... Donc vint Rou a Roem, amont Saine naja,
     De joste Saint Morin sa navie atacha."]

Rolf found indeed very little except the "crowd without arms"
described by Dudo of St. Quentin in a town where hardly a stone wall
had been left upright and the population had been ruthlessly decimated
by his predecessors. As Wace says of the expedition of Hastings the
Dane:

     "... A Roem sunt areste
     Tote destruitrent la cite
     Aveir troverent a plente
     Mesonz ardent, froissent celiers,
     Homes tuent, robent mostiers"....

so that it is almost astonishing to hear that even the church of St.
Martin de la Roquette remained standing, if, indeed, that is meant by
the phrase, "Portae cui innexa est ecclesia Sancti Martini naves
adhaesit," which may refer to the "Saint Morin" of Wace, or the
"Portus morandi" I spoke of on page 16. The town was still, it must be
remembered, in its primitive watery condition, the chapels, not only
of St. Martin, but of St. Clement and of St. Eloi, were on islands
that are now part of the firm soil of the river's bank. The waters of
the Robec itself formed one of the defences of the ruined city Rollo
took. Just beyond the line of the old Gallo-Roman walls, rose the
first rude monastery of St. Ouen; shrines were also consecrated to St.
Godard, to St. Martin, to St. Vincent sur Rive; but most of the houses
were still only of timber, and it was not till Rollo had closed up the
wandering bed of the river between these shifting islands that the
"Terres Neuves" were first formed that reached from the Rue Saint
Denis to the Eau de Robec, through the Place de la Calende, down to
the Rue de la Madeleine and the Rue aux Ours, and so to the Quai de la
Bourse by way of the Rue des Cordeliers. What is now merely No. 41 Rue
Nationale, was once the old church of St. Pierre du Chastel, and the
name commemorates the spot where Rollo built his first square tower,
the first of the many "Tours" that were built by the lords of Rouen,
native and foreign, princes or pirates, from the river to the northern
angle of the outer walls. Map B shows Rollo's castle and the three
which followed it, one on each side beneath, and one above.

It was in 912 that Rollo thus marked the beginning of the Duchy of
Normandy with the strong seal of his donjon-keep at Rouen, though he
and his descendants for another century were still known only as the
Pirates, and the Pirates' Duke. In that year he was baptised by the
Archbishop of Rouen, and received from the Karoling King all the lands
from "the river of Epte to the sea, and westwards to Brittany," with
the hand of the Princess Gisela. Robert, Duke of the Franks, came
back with him to Rouen to be his godfather, and for seven days the
"King of the Sea" wore the white robes of innocence, and his followers
eagerly joined him in the fold of Christianity, with results whose
worldwide importance were only to be seen more than a century later.
For the present the wolves were quite ready to lie down with the
lambs, but they kept their brutal dignity and coarse jests throughout
all the solemn ceremonial. The pirate who was sent to do submission
for the Duchy, embraced the royal foot so roughly that the King fell
backwards off his throne, and in a roar of Norman laughter the Norman
rule began that was to last for three centuries in France and spread
from Palermo to the Tees. The fable of this rudely-treated monarch
reflects more than the anxiety of Norman chroniclers to hide the least
appearance of submission; it suggests the fact of very actual weakness
in these dying Karolings. Rollo's coming had decided for the French
dynasty of Paris as against the Frankish dynasty of Laon. Both
Karolings and Merovingians had been essentially of German stock. It
was only late in the ninth century that Paris, the chief object of the
Northerners' attack upon the Seine, arose as the national bulwark
against the invader, and became a ducal city that was to be a royal.
Its Duke, Robert the Strong, the forefather of Capets, of Valois, and
of Bourbons, had a son, Eudes (or Odo), whose gallant repulse of the
Pirates had given him a throne that was still held by his descendants
a thousand years later, and he ruled in the French speech, while the
Karolings of Laon still used the Teutonic idiom. When Laon was joined
to Paris in 987 by the election of Hugh, modern France really began
with a French king ruling at Paris, and a German emperor as alien to
the realm of the Capets as was his brother of Byzantium. But there is
still much to happen before the date of 987 can be safely reached,
and the last ineffectual years of Charles the Simple gave Rollo every
opportunity to strengthen his new possessions in security.

The young blood, the adventurous spirit, the thirst for conquest, that
his Scandinavian followers brought to Rouen, was destined to work
wonders on its new soil. For these pirates took the creed, the
language and the manners of the French, and kept their own vigorous
characteristics as mercenaries, plunderers, conquerors, crusaders. If
in peace they invented nothing, they were quick to learn and adapt,
generous to disseminate. In Rouen itself they welcomed scholars,
poets, theologians, and artists. Their Scandinavian vigour mated to
the vivacity of Gaul was to produce a conquering race in Europe. At
Bayeux, where a Saxon emigration had settled down long before the days
of Rollo, the type of the original Norman can still be seen. The same
type comes out in every famous Norman of to-day, in that "figure de
coq," with its high nose and clever brow that marks the bold nature
tempered with the cunning, the lawyer and the soldier mixed. To these
men Rollo gave land instead of booty. Of himself and his doings little
accurate is known; but from the results of his rule his greatness can
be fairly judged, for he held his sceptre like a battleaxe, and
increased the bounds of his dominion. It was within his capital that
his rule was chiefly beneficial. Here and there his Norman names have
survived, as in Robec (Redbeck) Dieppedal (Deepdale) or Caudebec
(Coldbeck), but in the main he proved at once the high adaptability of
his race. His first assembly was of necessity aristocratic, and
without ecclesiastics, for every landowner was Scandinavian, and the
remnant of the aborigines were serfs whose revolts were pitilessly
crushed. Twice a year his barons came to his court, as feudatory
judges, the first faint beginnings of the Echiquier de Normandie. His
laws were made then, and made to be respected, and it is even said
that the cry of "Haro!" which was heard far later in the history of
Rouen, originated in the "Ha! Rou!" with which the citizens then began
their appeal to him for justice. The tale of the golden bracelets he
hung in the branches of his hunting forest by the Seine, which stayed
three years without being stolen, is an indication of the rigour of
the laws he made. In about 930 he died, and was the first layman to be
buried in the cathedral he had improved:--

     "En mostier Nostre Dame, el coste verz midi
     Ont li cler e li lai li cors ensepulcri."

His son, William Longsword, succeeded to his Duchy, enlarged by the
additions which Rollo had known how to secure during the strife
between Laon and Paris that had been going on throughout his rule.
That he had paid little attention to the weak King Charles is evident
from the tale that tells of the first execution recorded in what is
now the Place du Marche Vieux. For Charles, with a simplicity worthy
of his title, had apparently sent two gallants of his court to console
his daughter Gisela for the roughness with which he heard her husband
treated her, and these two were promptly hanged. But there was more
material profit to be had out of the quarrels of the country, and
though he lost Eu for a time, Rollo had been able to gain from the war
by which he was surrounded in Maine, in Bessin, and in Brittany; which
meant that his son came into possession of Caen, Cerisy, Falaise, and
that Bayeux, which had been colonised from the North in the last days
of the Roman Empire, and remained Teutonic long after Rouen had been
"Parisianised," where you may still see all save the tongue of
England, in men and animals, even in fields and hedges. And William
Longsword, though he wavered towards France and Christianity, remained
at heart even more Pagan than his father, sending his son to these
stubborn Northmen of Bayeux where the Danish tongue was kept in all
its purity, and calling in fresh Danish colonists to occupy his own
province of Cotentin from St. Michael's Mount to Cherbourg. It was in
the battle that secured his hold on this new territory that 300
knights of Rouen, under Bernard the Dane, drove out 4000 from Cotentin
under their leader Count Riolf, who had disputed William's suzerainty,
upon the Pre de la Bataille that is now a cider market near the town.
(Roman de Rou, v. 2239.) It was at this time, too, that Prince Alan of
Brittany fled for refuge to England, and the crushing of the Breton
revolt resulted in the addition of the Channel Islands to the Duchy of
Normandy, which remained British after John Lackland had lost the last
of his continental possessions, retaining their local independence and
ancient institutions under the protection of England; a far better
thing for them than any enjoyment of the privileges, either of a
French Department, or of a British county represented in Parliament
like the ancient Norwegian Earldom of Orkney.

Few of the occurrences of this confused period are so clearly
prominent or have such far-reaching results as this; and after young
Louis d'Outremer had been called over from England to the throne of
France, this vacillating and weak Duke William was murdered by Arnoulf
of Flanders at the conference held on the island of Pecquigny in the
Somme, as William of Jumieges relates (III. cap. xi. _et seq._). His
courtiers found upon his body the silver key of the chest that guarded
the monk's cowl he had always desired to wear. So upon a sixteenth of
December 943 (in the year of the birth of Hugh Capet), the
strengthless descendant of the Viking died and was buried in the
Cathedral, and the Normans did homage to his young son Richard the
Fearless who was fetched from his Saxon home at Bayeux and guarded by
Bernard the Dane within the walls of Rouen. The boy was destined to a
perilous and adventurous career, which began as soon as he had taken
up his father's power, for the King of France came straight to Rouen
and would have seized the little Duke had not the citizens arisen to
protect him with such menaces of violence that the attempt was
postponed. But he enticed the boy to Laon and there imprisoned him
until the faithful Osmond got him out concealed in a bundle of hay and
bore him off on horseback to Coucy. Then Bernard the Dane called on
Harold Blacktooth of Denmark to bring his men from Coutances and
Bayeux and to sail up with his long ships from Cherbourg to avenge the
murder of Duke William. The King hastened to the walls of Rouen to see
what could be done by treaty with the invaders, but the crafty Normans
pretended that among his escort they saw the murderer himself, so they
fell suddenly upon the French, slew eighteen of their nobles, and
threw their king into prison from which he was only rescued by Hugh,
Duke of the French, at the price of the city of Laon. The interference
of Germany in the quarrel produced an alliance between Normandy and
Hugh of Paris that led eventually to the independence of the Duchy and
the downfall of the Karolings of Laon as soon as the German help had
been withdrawn. But this did not happen until an energetic attempt had
been made to crush Normandy and Paris by the new allies who failed to
take either Laon or Paris, but ravaged Normandy and were only repulsed
from Rouen after a siege in 946 that is one of the most picturesque
landmarks in the early story of the town. In the Roman de Rou, and in
Dudo of St. Quentin, the details of the fighting have been carefully
preserved.

The combined host of Germans under Otto, French under Louis, and
Flemings under Arnoul, advanced together upon Rouen, and their scouts
reported that the town showed no signs of resistance. But behind the
battlements[12] the citizens were stacking piles of stones and darts.
Masses of picked men were posted at various vantage-points for
sallying forth. Spies were hidden in the long reeds and grass all
round the city, and sentinels unseen were guarding all the walls, from
the main road at the Porte Beauvoisine, round the heavy ramparts to
the north and east. Upon their south-west was the river, and there was
plenty of provisions stored inside. The quiet reported to the allies
was but the confident repose of thorough preparation, and this the
Germans discovered as soon as they drew near the city. The young Duke
Richard suddenly dashed out over the drawbridge with seven hundred
full-armed Norman knights on horseback shouting "Dex Aie!" behind him.
They rode straight upon the German spears, cut their way through and
back again taking fifteen captives with them, and slaying their
leader, the "Edeling" himself who had followed them to the very
bridge. Otto fainted at the sight of the dead body of the brave
Edeling whose "Flamberg" and Castilian steed are often mentioned in
the story though his name does not appear. Then the braying of
aurochs' horns, of cornets and of trumpets, announced the coming
vengeance of the allies. Their catapults rained missiles on the town,
and their men-at-arms waited impatiently for a breach to be battered
in the Porte Beauvoisine. But it remained steadfastly shut, and the
Duke made another brilliant sally from a postern gate with the
blood-red standard waving again above his Norman knights, and swept
back once more the assailing lines of Germany until the French had to
bring up their reinforcements from the rear and save the field. That
evening, in Otto's pavilion, the funeral service of the Edeling was
held. All night he lay beneath the silk of his funeral pall with
tapers burning at his head and feet, and the low chant of prayer
sounded till the dawn. All night had Otto stayed awake in sorrow and
unrest. At last, with the rising of the sun he heard a burst of
minstrelsy. Rouen was silent no longer; the songs of triumph and
defiance burst from every parapet and tower, while the very birds
(says the chronicler) seemed to join in the chorus of happiness all
round the beaten camp. Then Otto rode moodily along the city walls and
watched the waggons bringing in supplies across the bridge, and noted
that the bridge-head at Ermondeville (St. Sever as it is to-day), was
weakly held, so he rode back determined to starve Rouen into
submission.

[Footnote 12: "As herteiches montent et al mur quernele." (Wace, R. de
R., 4057.)]

But the council of his knights refused the plan, so he was obliged to
veil his anger by asking the Normans for permission to pray at the
Shrine of St. Ouen and bury his noble kinsman beyond the walls of
their town. Safe conduct was immediately granted, and all the leaders
except Arnoul of Flanders passed in procession to the abbey. There,
after gifts of gold and precious carpets to the abbot, Otto proposed
that Arnoul should be given up, but returned before the answer to
these treacherous negotiations had been given. The night that followed
was full of terrors and alarms. Suspecting that he would be betrayed,
Arnoul took all his Flemish host as soon as darkness fell, and
lumbered heavily out of the camp of the allies, his cumbrous waggons
creaking noisily beneath the weight of the camp-furniture. Both French
and Germans heard the sound and started to their feet imagining a
night-attack from Rouen. Panic seized the camp at once. Men cut the
cords of the rich tents, and scattered their spoil about the ground,
rushing half clad in all directions and shouting for their arms; a
fire broke out at headquarters; the camp-followers seized their
opportunity, dashed upon Otto's tent and plundered it of armour and of
all its royal ornaments; the rest fled hastily all ways at once not
seeing where they went, and in an unknown country.

[Illustration: FIGURE FROM THE BORDER OF THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY]

Meanwhile the rising clamour roused the sentinels of Rouen, and all
the garrison made ready for attack, hurried to their posts, and waited
steadfastly under arms until the dawn. As the light shone from the
east they saw the rout and disorder of their enemies' camp, and loud
jeers and laughter rose along the walls, and echo still in the rough
verses of Dudo their historian. The Flemish had the advantage of an
early start, and got clear away. The French had followed fast upon
their heels, but the Germans had plunged in unwieldy panic into the
labyrinth of the woods and fens. The Normans spread out at once and
caught them. At the Place de la Rougemare they slaughtered so many
that the fields were dyed red with their blood. At Bihorel more were
massacred. In Maupertuis, or Maromme, hundreds were butchered. Then
the peasants took up the bloody task. With sharpened scythes and
pitchforks, with pointed staves and heavy truncheons and ironshod
clubs, they killed the miserable Germans all day long, and the line of
escape was marked along the Beauvoisine road by corpses almost to
Amiens itself.

This strange victory seems to have pulled the men of Rouen together,
and given them confidence. The Laws of Rollo had been restored to
their old strength by Harold Blacktooth, and at last Neustrians and
Scandinavians seemed in a fair way to amalgamate and produce that
nation of warriors and lawyers which they afterwards became. In 954
King Louis died after a last flicker of expiring power in retrieving
Laon. But though Lothair followed him as King of the French, Hugh
Capet was ruling in 956 as Duke of Paris, and it was to Hugh that Duke
Richard of Normandy did homage for his fief. Thirty-one years later
the last Karoling was passed over, and Hugh Capet was crowned King at
Noyon. In the starting of this new dynasty, which is the
starting-point for the true history of France, Duke Richard of
Normandy had played a most important part, for it was in no small
measure by his help that Gaul had been made French and had won a
French Lord of Paris for her King. At the coronation of Hugh Capet,
Normandy ceased to be the Land of Pirates, and became the mightiest
and noblest fief of the French crown, its most loyal and most daring
vassal. In the years of Duke Richard too, Normandy was completed
internally. Her army and her fleet were organised. Her frontiers, her
laws, her feudal system came to perfection. Her national character
crystallised. Already in the Norman Baronage we can find English names
like that of the Harcourts, descended from Bernard the Dane, on a
castle-wall we can read the name of Bruce, in a tiny village trace the
name of Percy. Among the elms and apple-orchards that still faithfully
reflect our English countryside, the square gray keeps are rising
already which were handed on by Norman builders to the cliffs of
Richmond or the banks of Thames. In 996 Duke Richard built one of
these upon the right bank of Robec near the Seine, a new
Palace-Prison, another "Tour de Rouen" to replace the fallen masonry
of Rollo's ancient keep. It was founded where the Place de la Haute
Vieille Tour preserves its memory still, with the Duke's private
chapel on the spot where the Fierte St. Romain stands to this day.

Robert Wace preserves a story that indicates the close terms on which
Duke Richard was with religion, and also shows that the steady growth
in wealth and influence of the clergy through his reign, was not
unaccompanied by an immorality which was conspicuous under Archbishop
Hugh II., and became flagrant during the office of Mauger later on. It
appears that the Sacristan of St. Ouen fell most uncanonically in love
with a lady who dwelt on the other side of the Robec. On his way to
meet her one dark night, his foot slipped from the plank that crossed
the rapid little stream, and he fell into the water. Whereon a
sprightly devilkin seized hurriedly upon his soul and was on the point
of bearing it away to Hell, when an angel (mindful doubtless of the
abbey's piety) arrived, objecting with a nicely argued piece of logic
that the sacristan had not been carried off "en male veie," but before
any sin had been committed. So the contending parties brought the case
(that is the body) before the Duke for judgment.[13] His Grace
insisted that the soul should be put back into its mortal envelope,
and he would then decide according to the action of the sacristan. The
ardour of the resuscitated monk seems to have been sufficiently cooled
by his involuntary bath in Robec, and he hurried back to his lonely
bed in the Abbey of St. Ouen, and at the Duke's command confessed his
wickedness to the abbot. But his escapade remains enshrined in a
proverb that lasted well into the sixteenth century, and is given by
Wace in its original form:

     "Sire Moine, suef alez
     Al passer planche vus gardez."

[Footnote 13: Students of that invaluable vision of antiquity "Les
Contes Drolatiques" will remember that it was also before Duke Richard
that Tryballot, the lusty old ruffian known as "Vieulx Par-chemins,"
was brought up for judgment, and that the statue commemorating His
Grace's sympathetic verdict remained in Rouen till the modesty of the
English invaders removed it.]

In 996, the Fearless Duke himself gave up the ghost, after having
enlarged the Cathedral of Rouen, and given it new pavement.[14] His
son, another Richard, like him in name alone, succeeded, and in the
first year of the new reign, we hear of a peasant revolt that shows an
extraordinary foreshadowing of the changes that were to come after the
fateful thousandth year had passed. The keynote of the movement is
struck in the strange word used by Wace, that occurs now for the first
time in history:

     "Asez tost oi Richard dire
     Ke vilains _cumune_ faseient."

[Footnote 14:

     L'iglise de l'Arceveskie
     De mensam plus riche fie
     Fist abatre e fere graineur
     A la Mere Nostre Seignur
     Plus lunge la fist e plus lee
     Plus haute e miex empaventee

     R. de R., 5851.]

These downtrodden serfs, of mixed Celtic, Roman, and Frankish
parentage, had actually spoken that word of fear to every feudal
baron, a "commune." They established a regular representative
Parliament with two peasants sent from each district to a general
assembly whose decision should be binding on the whole. This was a
considerably higher political organisation than the aristocratic
household of their masters round the King. And bitterly their masters
resented such forward and unscrupulous behaviour. The Duke's uncle,
Rudolf, Count of Ivry, crushed the "revolt" with hideous cruelty, and
sent back the people's representatives maimed and useless to their
hovels. "Legatos cepit," says William of Jumieges, "truncatisque
manibus et pedibus _inutiles_ suis remisit," adding with unconscious
ferocity "his rustici expertis ad sua aratra sunt reversi." But the
germs of freedom did not die, for villenage in Normandy was lighter,
and ceased far sooner, than in the rest of France. These first
martyrs did not suffer in vain.

If you look closely at the few carvings remaining on the churches of
the tenth and eleventh centuries, you will understand the terror under
which all men were crushed as the thousandth year drew nearer, which
was believed to be the end of the world. Grimacing dumbly in their
stiffened attitudes of fear, these thin anatomies implore with
clenched uplifted hands, the death that shall save them from the
misery of their life. A world so filled with ruins might well give up
all hope on this side of the tomb. The revolt of the Norman peasants
had been crushed in blood. The first religious persecutions had begun,
in the slaying of the Manichean heretics at Orleans. The seasons in
their courses seemed to fight against humanity, for famine and
pestilence, storm and tempest swept down upon the land and the people
died in thousands of sheer starvation. The Roman Empire had crumbled
in the dust; after it fell that of Charlemagne into the abyss. The
chronicles of Raoul Glaber are full of the most gruesome details of
cannibalism, of diabolical appearances, of tortures that cannot be
named. The only refuge seemed to be within the walls of the churches,
where the shivering congregations gathered, mute in a palsied
supplication like the stone figures carved upon the walls above them.
At last the terrible year passed by, and the stars fell not, nor did
the heaven depart as a scroll when it is rolled together, and the
kings of the earth and the great men and the rich men and the chief
captains and the mighty men and every bondman and every freeman came
forth from their houses and from their dens and from the rocks of the
mountain, and went with one accord to give thanks to Holy Church for
their deliverance. The wave of religious feeling swept from one end of
Europe to the other, and nowhere was it so strong as in Normandy. For
the Normans saw their advantage in it, just as the first pirates had
seen their gain in baptism. The laws of Rollo and his descendants were
too strict for brigandage at home, so the more restless spirits
started over Europe in the guise of pilgrims, "gaaignant," as Wace
says, towards Monte Cassino, to St. James of Compostella, to the Holy
Sepulchre itself. It was as pilgrims that they travelled into Southern
Italy, where a poor Norman knight had been rewarded for his fighting
against the infidels by the County of Aversa. Tancred of Hauteville,
from the Cotentin, followed there. By 1002 the citizens of Rouen were
already admiring the oranges, or "Pommes d'Or" which their adventurous
"Crusaders" had sent back from Salerno, as the first-fruits of that
Kingdom of Calabria and Sicily which a Norman, Robert Guiscard, was to
make his own.

Meanwhile within the bounds of Normandy itself, the great religious
revival went on side by side with growing civic and military strength.
In 1004, Olaf, King of Norway, who had come over to help the second
Duke Richard, was baptised in the Cathedral of Rouen. Sweyn, King of
Denmark, and Lacman, King of Sweden, were in the city at the same
time, and doubtless felt the same impulse to profession of the
Christian faith when visiting their Scandinavian relatives. Rouen was
indeed a gathering place for all the northern royalties, for Ethelred
II. who had lost the Anglo-Saxon throne, was there as well, with his
wife Emma the daughter of the Duke. It seems in fact to have already
become the fashion for princes of the royal house of Britain to
complete their education by a little tour in France. A curious trait
of the manners of the time is recorded by Wace, who describes one of
the many banquets that must have been given so often during all these
royal visits. He speaks of the long sleeves and white shirts of the
barons, and relates the first instance of aristocratic kleptomania at
a dinner-table, when a knight took a silver spoon and hid it in his
sleeve (R. de R. 7030). The reign of this second Richard and of his
son the third passed without much incident, and then came the sixth
Duke, Robert the Magnificent as his courtiers called him, Robert the
Devil as his people knew him. He is chiefly famous as the father of
his mighty son, and he did little in his capital of Rouen that is of
interest beyond its walls, save the attempt to restore the Saxon
princes Alfred and Edward to their father's throne, which failed
because his fleet was stopped by persistent headwinds and could do
nothing more than thoroughly subjugate the neighbouring fief of
Brittany. After this, the Duke fell in, like all around, with the
dominant religious passion, took up the pilgrim's cross, and died with
his Crusaders at Nicaea.

     "A Faleize ont li Dus hante,"

says Wace,

     "Une meschine i ont amee,
     Arlot ont nom, de burgeis nee."

And from this love-match with a tanner's daughter sprang William the
Bastard in 1028. Though his father had insisted upon this child's
inheritance on his departure for the East, the election of a boy of
seven to the Ducal throne was naturally bitterly opposed by such great
baronial houses as those of Belesme and others. A period of anarchy
and assassination was the obvious result. But Alan of Brittany, the
Seneschal Osbern, and Count Gilbert stood staunchly by the heir. All
three were murdered, and young William himself with difficulty
escaped. Then Ralph of Wacey and William Fitz-Osbern attached
themselves to the boy who must have shown promise of his greatness
early to attract such faithful friendships through the twenty years of
civil war that preceded his firm holding of the throne. He had been
knighted young, and he was soon to prove the strength of his right
arm. But his first actions strangely enough are connected with the
Church that overshadowed so much of public life. He made the mistake
of giving the See of Rouen to the profligate Mauger (though the error
was sternly corrected later on) just as he gave the See of Bayeux to
his half-brother Odo. Benedictine monasteries began to flourish all
over Normandy, chief among which was the Abbey of Bec, which in
Lanfranc and Anselm was to provide Canterbury with two prelates later
on. Religion was responsible, at the same time, for at least one
benefit to the land in the famous institution of the "Truce of God,"
which was fully confirmed later on, and proclaimed that from Wednesday
evening until Monday morning in every week the poor and weak were to
be free from the oppressions of their overlords and from the tyranny
of private war. And a still more valuable result of the prevalent
religious enthusiasm was the gradual drawing together of Normandy and
the Papal See which had its greatest outcome in the "Crusade" against
England.

But William had much to do in his own Duchy before he could find time
for any extension of his dominions. At Val-es-Dunes he fought his
first pitched battle, crying the "Dex Aie" of the Normans as he swept
the rebellious barons, under Guy of Burgundy, off the field. Then
feeling more secure in his own power, after he had taken Alencon and
Domfront and laid his iron hand on Maine, while Anjou and Brittany
were too bent upon intestine strife to trouble him, he pacified the
continual quarrels with Flanders by taking Matilda the daughter of its
Count Baldwin as his wife. Descended from the stock of Wessex, of
Burgundy, and of Italy, with the blood of Charlemagne in her veins,
Matilda was beautiful, virtuous and accomplished, and worthy to be the
mate of one who set an example of domestic purity to all the princes
of his time. What had been politic at first became a marriage of
affection afterwards, strengthened no doubt by the opposition that at
first arose. For the Duke's Uncle Mauger objected to the match as
being within the forbidden degrees of relationship, and the Pope at
the Council of Rheims actually pronounced against it. But now came the
first-fruits of the policy which had already shown signs of drawing
together Normandy and the Papacy. For it only needed a little pressure
on the part of the Guiscards in Apulia to secure the consent of the
Papal Legate to the banishment of Mauger to the Channel Islands, which
he appears to have richly deserved for many other reasons, if Wace be
right in his indictment; and after four years of waiting, Matilda was
married to the Duke in the Cathedral of Rouen by the new Bishop
Maurilius who finished the new church that was consecrated in 1063.
Another objection to the marriage received very different treatment.
For in Lanfranc of Bec William had recognised the clever Italian who
would be useful in Council as much as in the Church, and it was
through Lanfranc's personal intercession that the Papal authority had
finally been brought to William. The "penance" inflicted for his
wedding was, we may well believe, cheerfully performed in the building
of the hospitals at Rouen, Bayeux, Caen and Cherbourg, and the two
mighty abbeys (for William and for Matilda) that remain at Caen.

[Illustration: FIGURE FROM THE BORDER OF THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY]

Meanwhile the power of Normandy continued to wax greater. Even two
centuries after this time it comprised a third part of the wealth and
importance of the kingdom, and in the days of our own Fifth Henry no
advice more dangerous to France could be given to an English King
than to preserve by every means the independence of this Duchy. To the
France of the eleventh century, it was a far greater peril still.
Sullenly hostile, or actively menacing, it was only by perpetual
harassing that Normandy could be kept down at all. At last in 1054 the
King roused all the cities of Central Gaul, Burgundian, Gascon, Breton
and Auvergnat in one combined onset, and gathered them at Mantes, the
natural frontier between Normandy and France. Duke William's strategy
and daring were equal to his task. He divided the invaders into two,
annihilated one division at Mortemer with very little loss, and
watched the other with grim merriment as it vanished from his Duchy,
afraid to strike a blow. Four years later France and Anjou came on for
another attempt. Again the Duke was ready. He caught their hosts where
the river Dive cut the army in twain, and fell suddenly with all his
knights and clubmen and a thundershower of arrows on the division that
held the lower bank. King Henry had to watch in idleness above, while
his rear-guard was being helplessly cut to pieces. By the taking of Le
Mans in 1063, William made still further preparation for the greater
fight that was to come. Presages of the coming struggle were not long
in making their appearance.

In 1064 Earl Harold on a pleasure-trip from England was wrecked upon
the coast of Ponthieu. Duke William at once had him brought to Eu,
where he met him and escorted him, in all good fellowship and
chivalry, to Rouen. What actually happened during this important visit
cannot be accurately determined. But of a few facts there seems to be
no doubt. If Harold, for instance, received knighthood at William's
hands, he thereby became his "man." More probably he swore brotherhood
with the strong Duke. Certainly he took part in the expedition that
crushed a Breton revolt, and chased its leader to the dangerous
quicksands of St. Michael's Mount. Certainly too, an oath of some kind
was plighted between the host and his somewhat unwilling guest. In
this the Duke must have made mention of the promise given by Edward
the Confessor as to the English Succession. This Edward it will be
remembered was one of the Saxon princes who had lived for some time in
Rouen, and was always fond of his Norman mother and her friends.
Mention is also made of a betrothal of William's daughter to the Earl.
In any case, we may be sure that Harold was sufficiently engaged to
satisfy the politic Duke before he was allowed to return to England.
Nor may we imagine that the next news which came across the Channel
was wholly unexpected. For as the Duke was hunting with his courtiers
and squires in his pleasaunce at Quevilly, across the Seine from
Rouen, a messenger brought the tidings that Edward the Confessor was
dead, and that Harold son of Godwin had seized the throne. Wace
describes how Fitz-Osbern paced up and down the hunting-hall with his
master as they discussed the news, and the Duke soon made his mind up
as to the course to be pursued. A message was at once sent over to
Harold, reminding him of the famous Oath, which had been taken, as
some say, and according to the suggestions in the Bayeux Tapestry,
over the sacred relics of the saints. What the Duke had expected and
even hoped for, of course happened. Harold repudiated all knowledge of
a binding agreement as to the Succession, and Normandy could
thenceforth call upon the outraged Sanctity of Religion to help her in
what was cleverly published as a Holy War.

Now the full effects of the religious trend in William's policy were
seen at last, as clearly as was the wisdom of his own carefully
religious life. The champion of the poor, the fatherless and the
widow, the worshipper and communicant in Rouen Cathedral, the builder
of hospitals and monasteries, above all the friend of Lanfranc, was
easily able to secure the voice of the Pope in favour of a claim based
not on heredity, not on election, not on bequest, but made by virtue
of the personal injury done to him by Harold, and made to avenge the
insulted saints of Normandy by recalling pagan England into the fold
of Rome. Never were the highest motives so skilfully interwoven with
appeals to lower instincts in the mingled crowd whom the Duke William
gathered to his standard. He had before this crushed the Norman
rebels, conquered the men of Maine or Anjou or Brittany, defeated the
King of France. But this was a far greater task. Yet if Normans had
won the Kingdom of the Sicilies, Normans should cross the sea to
England and win that as well. And all the faithful of the earth should
help them. It is a mistake to think that Normans alone conquered the
land of Harold. From Flanders, from the Rhine, from Burgundy, Piedmont
and Aquitaine, from all the northern coasts, an army of volunteers
flocked to the standard of the Duke. And their leader went swiftly on
to make preparations worthy of so great a host. While all the woods of
Normandy are ringing to the axe, and all the shipwrights' yards are
sounding to the hammer, we may pause and see what this mighty
expedition means to Rouen.

To Normandy it brings at once the climax of her power and the
beginning of her fall. For a Duchy that was but secondary to the
Kingdom over seas could never claim again the full strength of the
rulers who had raised her first. By degrees she fell away from the
land across the channel and became absorbed in the kingdom of which
she was territorially a natural part. But, as we have seen, she had
already done much towards the making of that kingdom in her
independence, and when she formed an integral part of it herself she
was its firmest bulwark against invasion from the North. In Rouen
itself the beginnings of commercial greatness had been indicated, even
before the coming of Rollo, by the Mint which had been established
there, as a branch of that founded by Charlemagne at Quantowitch,
which was destroyed by the first Pirates. The money of Rouen was
marked with the letter B to signify that it was the second in
importance in the Kingdom. That the trade of the town soon justified
this proud distinction on its currency is evident from the law of King
Ethelred II., which exempted all Rouen merchants from taxation on
their wine and "Marsouin" within the port of London. Other signs of
commercial activity are to be found in bridge-building, and the
numerous Fairs which arose under the Norman Dukes. In 1024 a toll upon
the wooden bridge of Rouen is recorded, and when in 1030, it was
destroyed by a revolt under Robert the Devil, the timbers were very
shortly afterwards replaced, and remained until in 1160 the Empress
Matilda built the famous "Pont de Pierre" that lasted for so many
centuries. Of the great Fairs of Rouen, the first seems to be that of
St. Gervais, instituted by the second Duke Richard in 1020, which was
given with the church of the same name to the monks of the Abbey of
Fecamp. It is still held in June in the Faubourg Cauchoise. The Foire
du Pre was next founded in 1064 on the day after the Ascension by the
great Duke William, under the auspices of the Priory of Notre Dame du
Pre which his wife had built in the suburb of Emendreville across the
river, where St. Sever now stands. The church itself took the name of
Bonne-Nouvelle when the Duchess heard, as she was praying there, that
the Victory of Hastings had made her Queen of England. Within its
walls were buried the Empress Matilda, and the hapless Prince Arthur
of Brittany. It was burnt down in 1243, and struck by lightning in
1351, destroyed during the siege by the English in 1418, and rebuilt
only to be destroyed again by the Calvinists in 1562. In 1604 it was
rebuilt for the last time, but the rights of jurisdiction and of the
fair given it by William the Conqueror were only surrendered to the
town of Rouen in 1493. In 1070 the Fete de l'Immaculee Conception,
called the Fete aux Normands, was celebrated for the first time in
memory of a vow after a safe voyage. The Confrerie de la Conception,
sometimes called Le Puy, was founded in connection with this, with the
poems that were written each year in honour of the Feasts, which gave
rise to the jocund office of the Prince des Palinods, of whom we shall
hear more later. Their first poem, written by Robert Wace (the author
of the "Roman de Rou," who was born in Jersey in 1100 and died at the
age of 84 in England) was called "L'Establissement de la feste de la
conception, dicte la Feste as Normands."

The most famous Fair of all was founded a little later by Guillaume
Bonne Ame, forty-eighth bishop of Rouen, when he transported the body
of St. Romain in a new and precious shrine from the church of St.
Godard to the Cathedral. At this first procession in 1079 both William
the Conqueror and his wife assisted. The change had been necessitated
by the great crowds of people who had come every year to receive
pardons and indulgences at the shrine of the famous guardian saint of
the city, and who thronged into the neighbouring field, called the
Champ-du-Pardon to this day. When the saint's body had been removed to
the Cathedral, the Foire du Pardon was held in his honour in the same
open space, and the whole ceremony was without doubt the beginning of
that Levee de la Fierte which preserved the memory of St. Romain until
the end of the eighteenth century. By William, the fair was originally
fixed on two days in October, and in 1468 its duration was still
further extended.[15] In the church of St. Etienne des Tonneliers,
which was put under the protection of the monks of St. Ouen at this
time, we can trace further evidence of the gradual consolidation of
various trades; even the institution of the curfew bell, at the
assembly of Caen in 1061, shows that increasing commerce had insisted
upon greater security in the public streets. The Parvis of the
Cathedral, too, was at this time not merely a place of inviolable
sanctuary, but an open space on which merchants could display their
goods and erect booths without any interference save from the canons.
These shops were built up against the crenelated wall that surrounded
the Parvis until the quarrel between canons and bourgeois pulled them
down in 1192. The place was a frequent scene of conflict, and also of
amusement, for in spite of the presence of a cemetery which extended
over the Place de la Calende and the Portail des Libraires and was
only abolished in the last century, the mystery plays were often given
here, using the cemetery as a "background," as was frequently done.
Till 1199 bakers sold bread here. Till 1429 the "Marche aux herbes et
menues denrees" was held here, and then transferred to the Clos aux
Juifs. In 1325 the working jewellers also frequented this locality,
and in the name of the great north porch of the Cathedral is still
preserved the memory of the booksellers of times far more modern.

[Footnote 15: The Champ du Pardon attained a grisly notoriety in the
fourteenth century from the presence of the "fourches Patibulaires" or
public place of execution upon the "Mont de la Justice" in one corner
of the field.]

[Illustration: THE OLDEST ROUEN SHOWING GALLO-ROMAN WALLS

MAP C.]

The foundations of another cathedral had been laid in 990, where Robec
and Aubette still defined an "Ile Notre Dame de Rouen" whose
inhabitants were under the jurisdiction of the chapterhouse. It was
brought to a conclusion by Maurilius in 1063, and in the foundation
and lower storeys of the northern tower of the west facade (known as
the Tour St. Romain) are perhaps some of the few relics that remain of
the architecture of these destructive years. But a far more beautiful
and more authentic fragment is to be seen close to the Abbey Church of
St. Ouen, in the exquisite little piece of architecture known as the
Tour aux Clercs in the north-eastern corner of the apse, (see Chap.
VIII.). This is part of the apse of the second abbey, which was begun
by Nicolas of Normandy in 1042, finished in 1126, and burnt to the
ground in 1136. Its fate was the common one of all ecclesiastical
buildings of the time. In the next chapter we shall find but two more
churches that can certainly be dated as before the years when Normandy
became a part of France. The School of Art which gave a name to all
those English buildings of which Durham Cathedral is the type and
flower, left scarcely a stone in its own capital as a memorial of its
source. Nor can Rouen point to a single building now remaining which
was a palace or a prison of its Norman dukes. The greatest monument of
its greatest duke is the Tower of London. Even the ruined Abbey of St.
Amand, which was dedicated in 1070, does not now possess a stone that
can be traced with certainty to the period of its Norman foundation.
For whatever ruins now remain are those of the church built in 1274,
whose tower was rebuilt after 1570, and whose last abbess, Madame de
Lorge, died in October 1745.




CHAPTER V

_The Conquest of England and the Fall of Normandy_

     "En Normandie a gent molt fiere
     Jo ne sai gent de tel maniere;
     Chevaliers sont proz e vaillanz
     Par totes terres conqueranz....
     ... Orguillos sunt Normant e fier.
     E vanteor e bombancier;
     Toz tems les devreit l'en plaisier
     Kar mult sunt fort a justisier."

     ROBERT WACE.


[Illustration: FIGURE FROM THE BORDER OF THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY]

It is time to look more closely at the personality of the greatest
Duke of Rouen. William the Bastard has been described[16] as tall and
very stout, fierce of visage, with a high, bald forehead, and, in
spite of his great corpulence, of extreme dignity, whether on his
throne or in the field. The strength of his arms, for which he was
famous, was proved very early, when the chivalry of France went down
before his boyish lance at Val-es-Dunes. He evidently possessed all
the true Viking attributes of physical power derived from Rollo, his
great ancestor. In mental type he reproduced much of that Norman
cunning which we have noticed as a characteristic of the race. Both
Maine and England he conquered by fraud as much as force. If he was a
great soldier, he was a consummate statesman too. For as he used
France to conquer Normandy, so he used Normandy to conquer France, and
both to conquer England. Kindly to submissive foes, he was pitiless to
stubborn opposition, and very dangerous to taunt. The town which hung
tanners' hides upon its walls was answered by the sight of bleeding
hands, and feet, and eyes, which had been torn from its prisoners and
hurled across the battlements. The king who jested of the candles for
a woman's churching, was answered by the blaze of a whole town. A
comet flamed across the sky of Europe in the year of the great Duke's
conquest. Amid fire and tumult he was crowned at Westminster. Upon the
glowing ashes of Mantes he met his death-wound. Through burning
streets he was borne to his burial. He was not only the strongest of
the dukes of Normandy, he was also one of the world's greatest men,
whose work was not only thorough at the moment, but effective for all
time; whose purpose was fixed, and whose iron will none could gainsay.
He rose above the coarse, laughter-loving, brutal, treacherous, Norman
barons of his time, by the force of his own personal genius, and the
acuteness of his own strong intellect. If it had necessitated a web of
the subtlest intrigue to get together the vast host that was to
conquer England, it needed a vigorous and dauntless personality no
less amazing to keep together the fleet and army while they waited
wearily for the wind, until Harold's own fleet (the one safety of
England then, as ever) had dispersed, until the right moment came, and
all his barons and their men-at-arms rushed eagerly on board, carrying
their barrels of wine, their coats of mail, and helmets, and lines of
spears, and spits of meat, and stacks of swords, as is recorded in the
Bayeux Tapestry. With him went twenty ships and a hundred knights
sent by the Abbot of St. Ouen. Another ship that must have carried
especial prayers with her from Rouen was the "Mora," given by his wife
Matilda, with a boy carved upon her stern-post, blowing his horn
towards the cliffs of Pevensey.[17] By the lantern on her mast the
seven hundred transport galleys sailed at night, and early in the next
dawn they landed, archers first, then knights and horses, and marched
on to Hastings.

[Footnote 16: "Justae fuit staturae, immensae corpulentiae; facie
fera, fronte capillis nuda, roboris ingentis in lacertis, magnae
dignitatis sedens et stans, quanquam obesitas ventris nimium
protensa."--Will. Malms: lib: iii.]

[Footnote 17: With the Bayeux Tapestry _cf._ Wace's description. R. de
R., 11588, &c.:

     "Une lanterne fist li Dus
     Metre en sa nef el mast de sus
     ... Une wire-wire doree
     Ont de coivre en somet levee...."]

[Illustration: HORSES FOR THE ARMY OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR CROSSING
THE CHANNEL (BAYEUX TAPESTRY)]

How the Duke of Rouen conquered England, and how he wrote it in his
Domesday Book, is no immediate concern of ours. By March in the next
year he was back in his own capital, bringing with him, through the
cheering streets, the Prince Edgar, Stigand the Primate, and three of
his greatest earls. There his beloved wife met him, and gave account
of the Duchy she had guarded with Roger of Beaumont in his absence.
There he at once dealt out rewards to the regular and secular clergy
of the city, among which were the lordships of Ottery and of Rovrige
in Devonshire. Meanwhile the Normans were crowding to admire the
trophies of victory. The banners from the battlefield, embroidered
with the Raven of Ragnar, or the Fighting-Man of the dead Harold, and
booty that brought wonder to the eyes even of citizens who had seen
the spoils of Sicily. Nor did the Duke forget in the hour of triumph
to be politic. He sent Lanfranc to the Pope at once, no doubt with
news that Stigand would shortly be supplanted, and that England had
been brought into the fold of Rome. For the warriors that Normandy had
sent to the lands of the south, she was richly repaid in the learned
doctors sent by Italy to the northern countries. Calabria and Sicily
were counterbalanced by the archbishoprics of Lanfranc and of Anselm.
At a synod held in Rouen some six years after his great conquest,
William insisted upon reform in the morals of the Church, upon strict
rules of marriage, on an exact profession of the orthodox faith. He
was not behindhand in performing his part of the profitable bargain
that had been made with Rome.

In 1073 Maine started into revolt under Fulk Rechin,[18] nephew of
Geoffrey of Anjou, and William punished it by reducing Le Mans from a
sovereign commonwealth to a mere privileged municipality. After this
the King of England was constantly in his Duchy, where Robert "Short
Hose," his unruly son, was giving perpetual trouble in Rouen and
elsewhere, as Regent. So imperious were his demands for independence
and immediate provision, that his father's stern refusal roused an
attempt at open rebellion in which Robert attacked the Castle of
Rouen, with the help of a few turbulent young nobles of his own
unquiet persuasion. But the Conqueror grimly took their revenues and
with them paid the mercenaries that warred them down. His son was
compelled to fly, but came back again unwisely to the quarrel, with
help from the French King behind him. At Gerberoi he actually wounded
his father, without recognising him, and the Conqueror was only saved
by the swiftness of a Wallingford man who sprang to his assistance.

[Footnote 18: This was the prince who, according to Orderic Vital
(Hist. Eccl. vii.) introduced the long turned-up boots called
"pigaces" which were one sign of effeminacy among the dandies of the
Red King's Court, where men wore long hair, shaved off in front, wide
sleeves, and the narrow and flowing robes which were a very
characteristic change from the short tunic of the Conqueror's men,
which permitted them to run or ride, or fight in freedom.]

The truce that followed did not last. About this time occurred the
marriage of William's daughter, Adela, to Stephen of Blois and
Chartres, who became the mother of Stephen of England. The Conqueror's
second son had died in the fatal New Forest, and in 1083 died his
faithful wife, Matilda, and was buried at Caen. The next years were
very heavy in both parts of King William's dominions, and by 1087 the
strain seems to have told even upon his iron frame. For in that year
he stayed for treatment at Rouen, just as he had done before in
Abingdon, and while he lay in bed King Philip jested at the candles
that should be lighted when this bulky invalid arose from child-bed.
Then William swore one of those terrific oaths which came naturally to
his strong temperament--"Per resurrectionem et splendorem Dei
pronuntians"--that he would indeed light a hundred thousand candles,
and at the expense of Philip, too.[19] In August he devastated the
Vexin with fire and sword, and as he rode across the hot embers of
the burning city of Mantes, his horse stumbled, and he was wounded
mortally by the high, iron pommel of the saddle.

[Footnote 19:

     "Qant jo, dist-il, releverai
     Dedeiz sa terre a messe irai
     Riche offrende li porterai
     Mille chandeles li ofrerai."

     ROBERT WACE, _ib._]

He came back dying to his castle of Rouen, and was there borne from
the noisy streets of the city to the Priory of St. Gervais, where we
have already visited the ancient crypt of St. Mellon. Here for some
days he lay in pain, though without losing speech or consciousness,
and sent for Anselm from Bec. But the prior himself was too ill to get
further than St. Sever on his journey to his master. So the Conqueror
disposed himself to death, giving much treasure to the rebuilding of
churches both in France and England, bequeathing Normandy and Maine to
Robert, and with a last strange movement of apparent compunction,
leaving the throne of England in the hands of God:

     "Non enim tantum decus hereditario jure possedi."

As to the crowning of his son William, he gave the final decision to
Lanfranc. His youngest son, Henri Beauclerc, the truest Norman of them
all, was given five thousand pounds in silver and the prophecy of
future greatness. After releasing all the prisoners in his dungeons,
the Conqueror lay on his couch in St. Gervais and heard the great bell
of the Cathedral of Rouen ringing for prime on the morning of Thursday
the ninth of September 1087. Upon the sound he offered up a prayer and
died.

Within an hour his death-chamber was desolate and bare, and the corpse
lay well-nigh naked. But the citizens of Rouen were sore troubled.
"Malignus quippe spiritus oppido tripudiavit." The news travelled from
Normandy to Sicily in the same day. The archbishop ordered that the
body should be taken to Caen, and by the care of Herlwin this was
done, and the dead Conqueror was floated down the Seine to burial. As
the funeral procession passed through the town the streets burst into
flame, and through the fire and smoke the monks walked with the bier,
chanting the office of the dead. When the corpse reached the abbey, a
knight objected to the burial, because the land had forcibly been
taken from him. So the seven feet of the Conqueror's grave was bought,
and, not without more hideous mishaps, the body of Rouen's greatest
duke was at last laid to rest. In 1793 both the tomb and its contents
were utterly destroyed.

Among the prisoners who were released at William's death was that
half-brother, Odo of Bayeux,[20] to whose skill and knowledge is due
the marvellous pictorial record of the Bayeux Tapestry. Its
inscriptions are in the Latin letters of the time, and its
eleventh-century costumes, the short clothes easy to ride or run or
fight, the arms depicted, the clean-shaved faces, are all very
different to those which Orderic Vital describes as usual in the
twelfth century. Neither Matilda the Queen, nor Matilda the Empress,
could have embroidered the details on the border, and neither could
have known so many facts as the Odo who was on the Council that
advised invasion, who rallied the troops at Senlac when William was
supposed to have been dead, who was made Regent of England, Count of
Kent, and Bishop of Bayeux. It was to the advice of this rich,
powerful, and intelligent prelate, that the new and feeble Duke Robert
had to trust in the first year of his reign in Rouen. With all the
vices of the Conqueror, Robert had neither his virtues nor his
strength. The difficulties which met him first came from a cause too
deep-seated for him to recognise either its value or its far-reaching
issues.

[Footnote 20: According to Wace, Odo had been taken in the Isle of
Wight and imprisoned in the "Tower of Rouen" for four years. See
"Roman de Rou," v. 14,298.]

I have already described how the first attempts of Norman peasants to
found a "commune" had been crushed with horrible brutality. The
movement now began again. It is perhaps possible that the very
pre-eminence of the Conqueror over all his barons helped to emphasise
the fact that the feudality which he employed for his own uses only,
and threw away when he had done with, was not to be an order of things
fixed by any eternal providence. When the King rose at one end of the
social framework the people naturally came into greater prominence at
the other.

The truce of God, insisted upon by William himself, had helped to the
same end. For every male of twelve years old swore to help the Bishop
to keep that truce, and by degrees his parishioners combined to
organise the safety of their town, "_ex consensu parochianorum_." They
used the resources for which all subscribed, and placed them under the
control of a "gardien de la Confrerie," or "_fraternarum rerum
custos_." While these associations preserved the peace of the towns,
the King was responsible for the peace of France. But the feeling of
independence and the strength of union grew steadily among the
citizens year by year. The rise of commerce, which has been already
noticed in Rouen, also contributed to this. As cities grew in wealth,
they became more and more desirous of escaping from feudal rapacity
and of regulating their own affairs by magistrates chosen by
themselves. In 1066 Le Mans had already done this. Ten years
afterwards Cambrai followed the example. Noyon, Beauvais, Laon,
Soissons, and many more clamoured for the charter of their liberty. In
the absence of so many overlords at the Crusades the towns beneath the
shadow of their castles seized the opportunity of strengthening their
position. The same spirit of revolt began to work in Rouen as soon as
the strong hand of the Conqueror was taken from the helm of
government. But Rouen did not win her civic liberty until she had
changed her own Norman dukes for the kings of France. The descendants
of Duke William, feeble as they were, were still too near the feudal
overlord to admit of rapid change. Yet the leaven was working already,
and the disputes of the Conqueror's children fostered the unruly
elements in the town.

Scarcely three years after Robert had attained the Duchy he quarrelled
openly with his brother, the Red King of England; and Rouen was
instantly in an uproar under Conan, a rich bourgeois, who probably
sided with William Rufus, because he saw more chance of a commune
under a distant king than in the presence of a duke at Rouen. In the
days of the Conqueror there had been no tyrants or demagogues in the
city, no armies in civic pay, no dealings of the citizens with other
princes. But now the chance for an independent commonwealth seemed
really to have come. However, the youngest brother, Henri Beauclerc,
came from Cotentin to assist Robert in his difficulty, but not before
the debauched and treacherous duke had been obliged to fly by the
eastern gate of Robec into the faubourg of Malpalu, where he was
cordially welcomed, and passed on to safety in St. Sever. Then Henri
Beauclerc, "The Lion of Justice," took up the fighting for himself,
swiftly beat back the soldiers of the Red King, threw Conan, the
leader of the revolt, into the Tower of the Dukes by the Seine, and
finally cast him down headlong from the battlements to die upon the
stones beneath. The place preserved the name of "Saut de Conan" for
many years, in the south-east corner of the Halles. So this first
Artevelde of Rouen came to an untimely end. Henri Beauclerc, helped by
Robert of Bellesme, one of the de Warrens (whose tomb is in the church
of Wantage), and by the Count of Evreux, proved far too strong for him
and for his companion in revolt, William, the son of Ansgar, who had
to pay a vast ransom as the price of disobedience, while many of the
rebellious citizens were massacred, and this immature attempt to form
a commune ended.

The three brothers continued to quarrel, and to make it up again for
some years. First, Robert and Rufus combine against Henry. Then Robert
sends over troops to help the barons who were rebelling against his
brother in England. Finally he went off with his Uncle Odo on the
first crusade in 1096, pledging the Duchy in his absence to his
brother the Red King, who, of course, seized it, and the real quarrel
between England and France began. For when Normandy had been
independent, Rouen blocked the road from Winchester to Paris. But as
soon as it belonged outright either to one or to the other, the
ancestral strife of French against English was certain to begin, and
to go on. The revolt of Elias, Count of Maine, against the English
King was repressed by his imprisonment--by Robert of Bellesme
again--in the same Tour de Rouen that had seen the death of Conan. But
Rufus never used his great gifts and power of ruling for anything but
evil, and his brother Henry followed him, the husband of that
descendant of Edmund and of Alfred who called herself Matilda at his
coronation.

When the weak and incompetent Robert Short Hose returned from his
crusading, he had the temerity to lay claim not merely to his Duchy
but to the throne of England with it. He naturally lost both, at the
battle of Tinchebray, where Henri Beauclerc won Normandy, and beat the
Normans with his English soldiers. For many years Robert languished in
English prisons until he died at Gloucester. And the Duchy he had lost
throve infinitely under his brother's wise and prosperous rule, which
gradually repressed more and more of the remnants of feudal anarchy
and misrule. In 1114, his daughter Matilda gained her title of
Empress by marriage with Henry V., but won her greatest fame by her
second match--after this first husband's death with Geoffrey
Plantagenet, Count of Anjou, in 1125, from which Henry II. of England
was to be born. But Henri Beauclerc was unfortunate in his other
children. For in 1119 his sons, William and Richard, were drowned in
the White Ship on their way to England. The occurrence caused a very
painful and widespread sensation, for besides the brilliant young
nobles of the suite, eighteen high-born ladies, many of them of royal
blood, perished in the wreck. In Orderic Vital, in William of
Malmesbury, in Henry of Huntingdon, the story is fully set forth. The
captain was the son of that pilot who had steered William the
Conqueror to Pevensey in the good ship "Mora" built at Rouen. The
weather was calm and bright with moonlight, and as the young princes
urged their captain to row harder after their father's ship, he took a
short cut along the treacherous coast, and the boat split open on a
rock on the night of the 25th of November. The only survivor was a
butcher of Rouen, called Berold, or Gueroult as Robert Wace gives the
name,

     "Cil Gueroult de Roem esteit
     Machecrier ert, la char vendeit"....

and he was only preserved because of the thick clothes he wore through
the frost of the night, to be rescued by some fishermen next morning.

     "Un pelicon avit vestu
     Ki del grant freit l'ont defendu;
     Iver esteit, grant freit faiseit,"

says the "Roman de Rou" (15,319), so that in the Rue Massacre (close
to the Rue Grosse Horloge) at Rouen, one home was gladdened with good
news after a catastrophe that threw at least three courts into
mourning, and gave the succession of the English throne to the great
house of the Plantagenets of Maine.

Rouen had not remained entirely submissive to the Lion of Justice. In
1109 the King of France encouraged yet another rising of the citizens
in Rouen and elsewhere against feudal power. And after the wreck of
the White Ship, Fulk of Anjou took the opportunity to push the claims
of Duke Robert's son both in England and Normandy, but the rebels were
badly beaten at Bourgtheroulde (between Seine and Rille), and the Lion
of Justice held a court in Rouen to judge them. Some were imprisoned
in his Tower by the Seine, and some in Gloucester, while a satiric
poet, named Luke of Barre, paid the penalty of being a pioneer in
scoffing politics by having his eyes put out. At Henry's death in
1135, Matilda's infant heir was still very young at Le Mans, and the
usual anarchy followed both in England and in Normandy that was
inevitable when the direct male line of Norman Dukes died out. Of the
two countries Normandy had perhaps the fate that was hardest to bear,
for it was better to be ruled by any one than a Count of that Maine,
with whom, as with an equal, so many centuries of battles had been
fought. But the strong stock of Anjou and Maine soon took advantage of
the weakness of the Northern Duchy, and in 1144 Geoffrey Plantagenet
entered Rouen in triumph.

     "Ceu fulmen ab alto,"

sings the poet,

     "Neustria concutitur fulgure tacta novo."

To an inheritance so rich already, the boy Henry Plantagenet added all
the dominions of Eleanor of Poitou by marriage, and after the anarchy
of Stephen's reign in England had passed over, the Angevin Empire
began from the Pyrenees to the Firth of Forth. At ten years old the
second Henry had been recognised by Rouen as her duke, and it can be
easily understood that the citizens used every advantage it was
possible to win from the years of his minority, and from the days of
uncertain authority before it. Already under Henri Beauclerc the
municipality of Rouen had obtained ampler recognition than before. Its
population increased accordingly, and was augmented by the extension
of freedom to a considerable number of serfs. The bounds of the city
itself were enlarged, and from the fact that a fire is recorded (in
November 1131) to have destroyed the Hotel de Ville, near the Porte
Massacre, in the Rue de la Grosse Horloge, we may gather that the
municipality, whose rights in property were recognised, had been able
to secure a common meeting-place for the discussion of its civic
business. By 1150 these meetings had resulted in a league, definitely
made by the burgesses, to defend their rights against all feudal
encroachments, a league which very nearly deserves that name of
"Commune" at last, which was apparently first given in Normandy to Eu
and to St. Quentin. Geoffrey Plantagenet, during his government of the
Duchy for his son, had recognised the strength of this civic movement,
by confirming the privileges of the citizens, and favouring the growth
of this industrial corporation. In May of that same year the first law
court of the town, as opposed to feudal or ecclesiastical justice, was
also established, and called the Vicomte de l'Eau. It had the charge
of all civil and criminal cases by river and by land, and kept the
standard of the weights and measures. Its importance may be judged
from the fact that in the hands of the merchants of Rouen was the
monopoly of all wines sent by Seine or sea towards the north. The
Confrerie of these "Marchands de l'eau" had been accorded a special
port, known as Dunegate, at Thames' mouth, by Edward the Confessor,
and their monopoly extended also to the whole trade between Normandy
and Ireland, a trade they kept until the reign of Philip Augustus.

Other corporations were also rapidly increasing in strength and
importance. The tanners, whose especial church was St. Martin Sur
Renelle, received the charter of their privileges from Henry II. of
England. The "savetiers" and "cordonniers" enjoyed privileges that
were more ancient still, which were confirmed in 1371, in 1660, and in
1715. The "cordonniers" were united in the confrerie of St. Crepin at
the Church of St. Laurent. The "savetiers" joined the confrerie of the
Holy Trinity at the Abbey of St. Amand. The Church of St. Croix des
Pelletiers still preserves the traditions of another confrerie, that
of the "Pelletiers-fourreurs," whose statutes dated from Henri
Beauclerc. By 1171 the "Marchands de l'eau" secured a still further
extension of their privileges through the French King Louis VII. They
were allowed to come up as far as Pecq to load their barges without
interference from the Parisian confrerie, whose commerce was limited
to the same point. Forty years afterwards the two confreries united to
make the best possible for each out of the commerce of the Seine; and
the effects of reciprocity became evident so soon, that even in 1180
the merchants of Rouen and of Paris had already come to an agreement
as to the transport of the salt from the mouth of the river which
formed so important a part of every Norman landowner's revenue.

This gradual increase in self-confidence and power in Rouen soon
proved of direct importance to the King of England in a somewhat
curious way. For when the King of France had roused one of the English
royal princes to revolt, and Henry Plantagenet himself was obliged to
come to Normandy to the rescue of his besieged capital, it was by the
ringing of the bell that hung in the town belfry that the city was
saved from a sudden attack by the French forces that must have proved
successful. This was the famous bell known as "Rouvel," which rings
the alarum henceforth at every crisis in the history of the town, and
its first public service to the municipality, which had hung it where
the Grosse Horloge stands, was richly rewarded by King Henry. He freed
the citizens of all duty on their goods on both sides of the Channel,
he freed them from taxation and from forced labour, he confirmed their
ancient privileges, and--most important of all--he gave them an
established court of law, composed of burgesses, and presided over by
a "Bailli."

When once the impulse had been given in the right direction, it is
astonishing to notice how fast were the developments of civic freedom
and of commerce which go henceforth hand-in-hand throughout the story
of the town. When the last sad years of Henry's perpetual struggle
with his sons were over, neither of them dared to infringe the
privileges he had so solemnly granted or confirmed to the municipality
of Rouen. The accession of the Lionheart was signalised in the
Cathedral chapterhouse by the characteristic gift of three hundred
barrels of wine, which the canons and the archbishops were to claim
from the Vicomte de l'Eau, and this privilege the good ecclesiastics
thoroughly enjoyed until the middle of the sixteenth century. The
jurisdiction of the Vicomte de l'Eau itself, and of the new "Baillage"
and the "Maire," was further developed and established in 1192; and
the quarrels that are so persistent throughout the history of Rouen,
between the civil and ecclesiastical authorities, found their
expression two years later in a renewed and fiercely contested
struggle about the rights over the Parvis of the Cathedral. The
canons, as usual, held their own, and in the same year asserted their
still more extraordinary right of releasing a prisoner by virtue of
the Privilege of the Fierte of St. Romain, by giving their freedom to
two men, on the return of Richard from the Holy Land, because the
privilege had not been exercised during his imprisonment abroad. There
is an extremely fine impression in wax of one of Richard Coeur de
Lion's seals in the archives of Rouen, which is one of the few still
existing in which he is represented on one side as the King sitting
upon the throne of England, and on the other as the Duke of Normandy
riding in full armour against his foes. His is a character that gains
from the mystery of romance cast over it. His career in France shows
little that is creditable either to his head or heart.

In 1197 the same spirit of assertive independence was evidenced in the
building of stone crosses in all parts of the city, which lasted until
1562, and recorded that their Duke, Richard had bought the manor of
Andelys and the rock for his Chateau Gaillard from the Archbishop of
Rouen, at the price of two of the town's public mills, the manor of
Louviers, the towns of Dieppe and Bouteilles, and the forest of
Aliermont. The bargain had not been struck without great agitation,
interdicts on the town, and outcries from laymen and ecclesiastics
alike. But it was well worth any trouble and treasure, and the
Lionheart's "saucy castle" became the key of Normandy. His miserable
brother John would never have lost the Duchy had he kept the fort. But
his reign was ever destined to failure and discredit, and after the
murder of Prince Arthur, which is said to have taken place within the
Tower of Rouen by the Seine, had added gross impolicy to unpardonable
crime, the last descendant of Rollo, who was both a King of England
and a Duke of Normandy, fell before the power of the King of France.
Rouen surrendered to Philip Augustus, and Normandy became a French
province. The change had been an easy one, for John was far more
Angevin and English than he was Norman, and his Duchy was no longer
the home that William the Conqueror had made a terror to his
neighbours.

[Illustration: FIGURE FROM THE BORDER OF THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY]

Englishmen might indeed regret the loss of that motherland of heroes
which had conquered Sicily and England too, and mourn to see her seven
great cities, her strong castles, her stately minsters, and her
Teutonic people in a Roman land, all under the yoke of kings whom Duke
William had beaten at Varaville, and King Henry had conquered at
Noyon. But the loss was England's gain. It meant not only that England
was united under a really English king, but that her Norman nobles had
become her own Englishmen. Far more had resulted from the immigration
from the Continent, led by the Conqueror, than is usually appreciated.
Its results were not merely such tangible documents as that charter of
the liberties of London, signed by the great Duke of Rouen, which is
still the most cherished possession of the archives of the City.
William's soldiers were swiftly followed by peaceful invaders far more
numerous, whose influence was far more widespreading. Not only did
every Norman baron and abbot bring his own company of chosen artists
and craftsmen with him from France, but "many of the citizens and
merchants of Rouen," says the chronicler, "passed over, preferring to
be dwellers in London, inasmuch as it was fitter for their trading,
and better stored with the merchandise in which they were wont to
traffic." One concrete example of the resulting growth of trade may be
quoted. Before the Conquest, weaving had not been practised in England
as a separate craft for the market. By 1165 we find a kind of
corporation of weavers at Winchester, who preserved their own customs
almost as closely as the Jews, contributed independently (like other
aliens) to fiscal demands, and even chose their own aldermen. Almost
the only name that remains to us of those ancient "portreeves" of
London, who were the predecessors of its mayors, is that of Gilbert
Beket, a burgher of Rouen, whose son Thomas was afterwards the martyr
of Canterbury. No doubt these wealthy immigrants assisted in the
growth of the English towns, both in commerce and in freedom. The
army, the navy, the universities, trade, and education, as we know
them, had no real existence in England before the Conquest. The
Normans brought in not only the most permanent, but the most important
invasion of alien immigrants, who affected and directed the
development of English habits and character, and of the English
constitution. There is little wonder that William had no lack of
followers in his attempt, for the England of the eleventh century must
have appealed to the Normans, the Picards, and Burgundians, of his
mingled company, much as South Africa still calls our younger sons
to-day, as a land of the promise of indefinite success.

But a still further, and an even less recognised source of wealth that
was a direct result of Duke William's invasion, may be found in the
settlement of Jewish traders who followed him from Normandy, and
especially from Rouen. These were the capitalists, who helped the King
of England to collect his revenue in money rather than in kind. Though
liable to special fiscal exactions, they were protected by the King
from many of the taxes imposed upon their neighbours. They were
established, as they had been elsewhere in Europe, in separate
"Jewries," or places kept apart for them in every city. Never having
been allowed to possess either land or the rights of citizenship,
their wealth was nearly always in gold. The Jews, indeed, were already
the capitalists of Europe. Many a castle and cathedral alike owed its
existence to their loans. Everyone at once abhorred yet could not do
without them. In Rouen their history is soon marked by massacre and
crime. As soon as Duke Robert had gone to the Crusades in 1096, the
townsmen rose against the inhabitants of the Rue aux Juifs, and
murdered numbers of men with their wives and children. The great fire
that took place in the Parish of St. Lo, between 1116 and 1126, may
very likely have been caused by another attack of the same kind. In
any case, it was the unhappy Jews who paid the penalty; and still more
trouble must have been caused by the fire already mentioned in 1131
which raged round the Porte Massacre, close to their quarter. When
Philip Augustus drove them all out of France in 1182, the town of
Rouen seized the opportunity to take possession of the synagogue and
houses in the Rue aux Juifs, and the Jews were only allowed to return
sixteen years afterwards, on the payment of large sums of money. In
1202 they were again mercilessly "bled" by King John, and the
protection naturally accorded by this needy prince to their usurious
practices was bitterly resented by the burghers.

The fires that were of such continual occurrence even in the small
space of the Jews' quarter were by no means confined, unfortunately,
to that part of the city. I have had to notice several times already
the repeated devastation caused in this way to a town that was still
chiefly built of wood, and in the last days of the Norman Dukes the
ravages of fire were exceptionally widespread and pitiless. The year
1116 was a peculiarly fatal one, and only ten years afterwards flames
broke out in the Rue des Carmes, and devoured both the Abbey of St.
Amand and the Abbey of St. Ouen, while the Cathedral itself only just
escaped, and an earthquake that immediately followed the fire
completed the destruction of what little had been left standing within
its area. But the Metropolitan Church which had been struck by
lightning and injured in 1117, was not spared by the soldiers of
Geoffrey of Anjou in 1136; and before the end of the century the whole
of the building that William the Conqueror had seen consecrated before
the invasion of England was destroyed by the flames on Easter Eve, and
of the Cathedral built by his Bishop Maurilius where the Lion Heart
received his crusading sword and banner from the Archbishop Gautier,
nothing now remains except the lower part of the Tour St. Romain. In
that same terrible year of 1200 the first shrine of St. Maclou was
also burnt to the ground with several other churches, and the fire
swept through the southern parts of the city to the river itself, and
even set alight some buildings of the Tour de Rouen which the Norman
dukes had built, though the chapel must have been saved, for it is
recorded that in 1203 this building was given to his chancellor by
John Lackland. But the ancient donjon to which Henri Beauclerc had
added the palace standing where the Halles are now, and the
fortifications which were erected near the spot by the same Duke,
whose walls were strong enough to resist for three months a close
siege by Geoffrey Plantagenet after the faubourg of St. Sever had been
ruined, all this was utterly destroyed by Philip Augustus in 1204, and
the Chateau of the French Kings was built near the Porte Bouvreuil
where the donjon still remains that preserves the most shameful record
in the story of the town. Rouen has kept no memory of its native
dukes.

All this will explain how it was that the French King began his rule
in a Rouen that was almost as stripped of buildings as the Rotomagus
that Rollo took. But there was the vital difference that the "unarmed
crowd" had been replaced by burgesses conscious of their strength, by
confreries whose privileges and statutes did not depend on bricks and
mortar, and by citizens who had just begun to realise the value of
their civic independence. The Knights Templars had of course their
own commanderie in so important a centre of industry and wealth, but
all vestiges of their habitation were swept away when the order was so
mercilessly suppressed by Philippe-le-Bel. I have shown elsewhere that
by 1312 this order had become as much the bankers of Europe as were
the Jews of a century before, and that the charges of witchcraft had
merely been trumped up by royal debtors who preferred hanging their
creditors to paying their bills. The sign of the Barde or Barge
Royale, now in the Musee des Antiquites is the only remnant of the
Templars left in Rouen. A "Commanderie" that lasted far longer in the
town was that of St. Antoine, which was established in 1095 to care
for those suffering from the horrible disease known as St. Anthony's
Fire. It continued its good work until 1790. Another foundation that
had its origin in the same charitable instincts was the Hospital of
the Mont-aux-Malades, founded to care for cases of the terrible
leprosy brought back by the Crusaders from the East. This was first
instituted by the citizens themselves in 1131, and a few years
afterwards was placed under the care of a priory of Augustinian monks.
The Church of St. Gilles was then founded on the same spot, and the
hospital's funds were increased by Guillaume Baril of St. Maclou. In
1162, Henry II. of England still further added to the revenues of the
priory and hospital by giving it the rent and privileges of the Foire
de St. Gilles with half of the octroi duty. It was to be held for a
week on the first of September every year, and fourteen years
afterwards the same king rebuilt the hospital entirely and placed the
new church under the patronage of St. Thomas of Canterbury.

This church is one of the few buildings of the time before Philip
Augustus that you may still see. To reach it you go up the Rue
Cauchoise, along the Rue St. Gervais, past the Abbey of St. Gervais,
where the Conqueror died, and where the old crypt of St. Mellon still
exists, then up a long and steep hill, on whose very summit is a
village street with a broad iron railing that opens to your right into
a pretty avenue of limes, with the worn steps of an old stone cross or
fountain to the left of the church inside. At first you will be
shocked and disappointed by the hideous modern restoration of the west
front, with its side aisles, that are but poor specimens of pointed
architecture. But go boldly inside and you will see the church of
good, plain Norman work, dedicated by King Henry to the memory of the
murdered English archbishop, and built by his chamberlain, Roscelin.
The original building had the simple nave with its apse beyond, that
we shall see on the other side of the town of St. Julien. There is a
further disappointment in store when you find the incongruous windows
inserted in the chancel and the aisles that were added later on to the
original nave. To understand what has happened you must go to the
outside of the east end, and there you will see how the old round
Norman apse was cut off, and a squared end was stuck on instead with a
large pointed window, and how a new outside roof was clumsily fitted
on to cover both the aisles and the nave as well, a job so badly
calculated that the tops of the eastern aisle-windows on both sides
show above the line of roof, and the openings themselves are blocked.
When I saw it in 1897 the church was in process of being joined on to
the religious buildings which surround it, and the closed eastern
openings had been altered, in the north aisle to a round-headed
recess, and in the south aisle to the altar of a chapel. But the five
round-headed Norman arches of the nave remain, with the four smaller
ones in the choir. Above the nave arches are five narrow round-arched
windows which do not correspond with the pillars beneath, but are
merely holes in a thick wall instead of spaces between vaulting-shafts,
as they are in the perfect Gothic of St. Ouen. But even so these
windows are far better than the incongruous pointed work in the newer
aisles. There is no transept, and the roof is a plain vault. The round
columns, too, are quite plain, with slight carving here and there upon
the capitals. And this is all that is left of the church which Henry
II. ordered to be built in 1176.

Twenty-one parishes used to send their lepers to this hospital, and
those who could not pay their fees were helped to do so from the
parish purse. In 1478 each leper was obliged to bring with him (among
other things), a bed with its sheets, all his body-linen and towels,
his cooking pots and table ware, and various articles of clothing,
besides 62 sous 1 denier for the prior, 5 sous for the servants,[21]
and three "hanaps" or drinking vessels, one of silver. Evidently all
this was not what a poor patient could often afford, and we find,
without surprise, the parish St. John objecting to the rule in case of
one Perrecte Deshays, who had been sent there by order of the
officials, and could not possibly afford the list of necessaries
claimed by the prior. So a compromise was made that for all lepers in
the twenty-one parishes who could not give what the rules required, a
sum of twenty livres from the parish authorities would be accepted as
an equivalent. The treasurers of every parish were bound, in the
public safety, to report to the proper town official every case of
leprosy within their bounds. This official then took medical advice
about the sick person, and if the leprosy was certified ordered the
sequestration of the invalid. The acts in which these orders were
carried out continue very frequent, even in the first half of the
sixteenth century, and especially in the parish of Octeville. The
leper was conducted to the hospital with exactly the same ceremony as
was used for the interment of the dead, and was followed by all the
members of the confrerie to which he belonged, and preceded by a
mourner ringing a dirge. One of the statutes of a confrerie ordaining
this procession has been preserved (Arch. de la Seine Inferieure, G.
5,238):--"Le seroient tenus convoier jusques a sa malladerie le
maistre et varlets portans leurs sourplis et capperons vestus a toult
la croix et banniere et clochette, et sy luy feroit l'en semblable
service comme a ung trespasse en l'eglise ou il seroit demourant en
lad. ville et sy seroit led. varlet tenu crier par les carfours comme
pour ung trespasse."

[Footnote 21: The complete list has been printed from the archives of
Rouen by M. Ch. de Beaurepaire.]

Another of these charitable refuges for lepers was built for Rouen by
an English king in 1183 at Petit-Quevilly, outside the town on the
south side of the Seine. The Hospital of St. Julien was placed by King
Henry II. under the protection of the older Priory of Grammont, which
is now a powder magazine. It was called the "Salle aux Pucelles," or
"Nobles Lepreuses," because its patients were at first limited to
royal or nobles families. In 1366 the "Maladrerie" appears to have
outlived its original objects, and was changed into a priory, which
retained the old chapel, and seems to have kept up a public hospital
of wider scope under the patronage of Charles V. of France. It was
then known as the Prieure St. Julien. Later on it got the name of
"Chartreux," which still remains, because the besieging army of Henri
Quatre wrecked the abbey on St. Catherine's hill, above the town, and
the monks came to Quevilly, where the Carthusians had already settled
themselves when the English turned them out of the Chartreuse de la
Rose, which was the headquarters of our Henry the Fifth during his
siege of Rouen early in the fifteenth century. Something of all this
changing history is perceived in the names that the traveller sees on
his way to the little church to-day. For he can either go there from
the Pont Boieldieu in an electric car marked "Place Chartreux," or he
may tell his coachman to drive him to the "Chapelle St. Julien, Rue de
l'Hospice, Petit-Quevilly." Unless he enjoys hunting on foot for two
small gabled roofs and a round apse, hidden away in the corner of some
ancient and twisting streets among deserted fields, driving there will
be far more satisfactory, and the visit is well worth his while.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CHAPEL OF ST. JULIEN, PETIT-QUEVILLY]

The little building, whose very isolation has perhaps helped to
preserve it, is now very justly classed among the best of the
"Monuments Historiques de France" in Normandy. There is no tower. On
the line beneath the roof round apse and nave, the corbels are carved
with the heads of hairy Franks and Saxons, according to the tradition
of the older Norman architecture at the Church of St. Paul's, which we
shall next visit, near the river. Near the western end, on the
northern exterior, is a dilapidated Madonna, and an old bricked-up
doorway. But it is the inside that will chiefly repay you for your
trouble. Through the triple portal of the west entrance, with plain
round arches set on slightly carved Norman capitals, you pass at once
into the nave. The whole effect is that which can be only given by
simple, honest, and good workmanship. The restoration was carried out
with a reverential conscientiousness that is far too rare, by M.
Guillaume Lecointe, and by him this precious relic of twelfth-century
architecture and art was given to the Commune of Petit-Quevilly. A
small arcade of engaged colonnettes goes right round the whole church;
the larger pillars have carved capitals, and there is the usual
conventional Norman moulding on the round arches.

In the apse are four round-headed windows, all slightly smaller than
the four in the choir and the six in the nave. In the chancel-arch
there are two clustered columns, and also in the nave and apse. The
others have plain round shafts. The simple vaulting of the choir and
apse is excellently done, and on the roof above the choir you see the
frescoes that are the chief treasure of the place, representing scenes
from the Annunciation, the Wise Men, the Flight into Egypt, and other
Biblical subjects. These paintings are boldly and well executed, and
are of the highest interest. Indeed, their workmanship is such, that
many antiquaries refused to believe that they were contemporary with
the building itself. As if the little chapel had not suffered
vicissitudes enough, it was put up to public auction at the Revolution
in 1789, and used by its new proprietors as a stable and granary. They
were careful to cover the whole of their ceiling with a thick coat of
whitewash, and it is only in the last few years that the patriotic
work of M. Lecointe has been completed by the careful recovery of
these ancient paintings from beneath their bed of whitewash. Even then
their value was not fully appreciated, and only when M. LeRoy had
submitted certain detached portions to a chemical analysis was it
proved that frescoes of the twelfth century had really been preserved.

By this careful observer it has been shown that a couch of sandy
mortar was first laid on the stones of the vault, then a second layer,
rich in lime, and especially in white of egg, was applied, and the
surface was ready for the application of the colours. These are blue,
green, yellow ochre, reddish-brown, black, and white. Cobalt blue, or
"azure," was only discovered in the sixteenth century by a German
glass-maker. The blue used in these paintings is the true "outremer"
of the twelfth century, the solid colour made from lapislazuli, which
was worth its weight in gold. That it was employed at all, is one more
evidence of the munificence of Henry II. in his foundation. The green
is a mixture of this blue with the yellow ochre. The white was made of
powdered egg shells, and the black is lamp black. From the fact that
the colouring matter has in no case penetrated the prepared surface,
but adheres to it, we may argue finally that the process in which
white of egg is the chief constituent was used to lay on the colours.

Besides the heart of Richard Coeur de Lion, the Cathedral of Rouen
contains another relic of the Norman days in the tomb of that Empress
Matilda, who as Countess of Anjou, gave Henry Plantagenet to the
throne of England, and died in 1167. Her rich sepulchre at Bec was
pillaged by the English in 1421, and the restored monument was
desecrated in 1793, but in 1846 the original casket was discovered by
the fortunate stroke of a pickaxe, and now rests in the Cathedral. In
1124 the shrine containing the body of the famous St. Romain was
opened in the presence of the King and Queen of England, and
fifty-four years afterwards, as the decorations made for it by
Guillaume Bonne Ame had been taken for alms to the poor, Archbishop
Rotrou made a new and more magnificent covering for the venerated
relics that play so large a part in the story of the town. This new
and Norman shrine it must have been which was carried by the two
prisoners, delivered by the Privilege of the Fierte in 1194, but it
has long ago been replaced by later work.

[Illustration: CORBEL FROM THE OLD CHURCH OF ST. PAUL]

There is but one more religious monument, the last building I can show
you in this chapter, that has remained from these centuries until now.
Walk along the riverside eastwards, and as the waters flow from Paris
towards you on your right, stop where the chalk cliffs of St.
Catherine's Mount begin to <DW72> downwards from the left hand of the
road. Just between it and the river is the Church of St. Paul, which
stands where the first Christian altar replaced the Temple of Adonis,
and watched with St. Gervais and St. Godard the infant town of
Rothomagus arise.

It was no doubt at the time when St. Romain himself finally destroyed
the Tarasque of idolatry that this first church arose above the ruins
of the pagan shrine. But of Roman or Merovingian structures St. Paul
can show no trace. It has, however, an extremely interesting early
Norman apse, which is different to everything else in Rouen, and older
than any other building, save St. Mellon's crypt at St. Gervais. By
going round the outside you can see three apses, and as you stand
there, the midmost apse is the Norman building, that on your left is
of the ninth century, and that on the right of the fourteenth. This
Norman flat-buttressed and round-arched apse is directed to the east
of summer, while the new church in the same place points to the east
of winter, and is almost at right angles to the older one. The corbels
outside, beneath the roof, are carved with the hairy-bearded faces of
conquered Franks and Saxons, who were thus set up to the perpetual
derision of their clean-shaved Norman victors. The idea is as old as
the Temple of Agrigentum in 600 B.C., where the conquered Africans
hold up the weight of the building, and recalls the barbarity of the
primitive Sagas, which relate how the bleeding heads of enemies
themselves were placed around the temples of the Norsemen.

The nave goes back into some private property beyond the churchyard,
in which a forgotten tomb lies mouldering behind the railings. In the
grass to the right of the old apse you can see a pointed arch
springing from a capital, which shows how the surrounding soil has
risen since the thirteenth century. This old building is all used as
the vestry of the new church, through which you must pass to see the
interior of the ancient buildings. Once within them, you will find
nearest to you the fourteenth-century work of which a fragment showed
outside. Then comes the Norman chapel, that recalls the work in the
abbey of St. George's de Boscherville. Beyond that again is the
ninth-century "Saxon" buildings. The archaic quality of the decoration
is very notable in the capital that represents the adoration of the
Magi, and indicates the relative importance of the personages by the
size in which each is carved, just as is done in the Egyptian
sculptures.

[Illustration: APSE OF THE OLD CHURCH OF ST. PAUL]

With these few relics the tale of Norman architecture in Rouen is
finished. From a short survey of this town alone, no one who had never
seen Caen or Coutances would imagine that he was in the duchy which
possessed a school of architecture that was developed into Notre Dame,
on the one hand, in the Ile de France, and into Durham, on the other,
in England. In our own island the architecture before the eleventh
century, which it supplanted, known as the Anglo-Saxon, was a
primitive Romanesque of purely Italian origin, as shown in
Bradford-on-Avon Church, which was built by Ealdhelm in Wessex long
before the Conquest. This is the only entire building of the earlier
style that we have, though the towers of Earl's Barton, of Bywell, of
St. Benets in Cambridge, remain to show its affinity to the styles of
Italy and Western Europe, and of the Campaniles. Even when the Norman
work first appears, it is not without a great deal of that Byzantine
element which is expressed by a spreading cupola and a central
lantern. But this early Norman building is very rare, and that is why
the three churches I have just described in Rouen have a value that is
scarcely realised by travellers who are in search for Gothic or
Renaissance architecture only. They are somewhat difficult of access
too, and little known, but they will repay a visit. They show the form
of the Latin cross, with little in its eastern limb besides the apse,
the choir beneath the central tower that replaced the Byzantine
cupola, and a little vaulting in the aisles. Originally they had a
flat ceiling for frescoes. This is a style that was neither that of
Southern Italy nor that of Aquitaine. It may have been a distinctively
national development of the Lombard schools of Pavia or Milan. But in
any case, though purely local at first, it utterly supplanted the
Primitive Romanesque that had hitherto been the common possession of
Western Europe, just as, in later centuries, the pointed style utterly
swept away the round arch in all its forms of expression. And in the
coming chapters it is with the pointed arch that we shall have more
and more to deal. To Italy, who imitated it helplessly, the Northern
Gothic never became even remotely national in its expression. The
native Southern Romanesque was there only appropriately replaced by
the really Italian style developed in the Roman Renaissance. But in
the North, where the early pointed arch had been at first only a
memory of Paynim victories, or a trophy of early Saracenic work, the
pointed style as a school of architecture was destined to triumph
immediately it rose from the position of mere ornament to the
necessity of a constructive feature. It was the problem of vaulting
over a space that was not square, which gave the pointed arch its
reason for absolute existence, its beauty of proved strength and
adequate proportion. Some of the noblest forms of its development are
to be found in the buildings we shall see later on in Rouen.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: MAP D.

ROUEN

SHEWING WALLS OF THIRTEENTH CENTURY]




CHAPTER VI

_A French Town_

     Lapis de pariete clamabit, et lignum, quod inter juncturas
     aedificiorum est, respondebit.


[Illustration: THE ARMS OF FRANCE]

If the Norman capital that Philip Augustus added to the royal domain
of France was not particularly rich, as I have shown, in architectural
beauty, it possessed something more enduring even than stone, more
vital than any school of architecture, something also far more
precious as an indication of coming prosperity and strength; and this
was the beginning of the independence and wealth of the citizens of
Rouen, as symbolised by the beginning of their Commune. This spirit of
independence, and bold assertion of consecrated privilege, was not
limited to the laymen. Perhaps its most unexpected expansion is to be
found in that Privilege de St. Romain exercised by the Cathedral
Chapterhouse, whose beginning has been already mentioned in the fables
of the Church (see pp. 38 to 41). To appreciate the state of things in
this connection, which Philip Augustus found in Rouen, you must recall
two facts that I stated in earlier pages. They are, first, the
institution of the Foire du Pardon by the Conqueror (see p. 69), and,
second, the opportunity offered for experiments in independence
whether civic or ecclesiastical, by the years of Stephen's anarchy in
England, and of Henry Plantagenet's minority in France (see p. 84)
between the years 1135 and 1145.

I am enabled to limit the date of the beginning of the Privilege de
St. Romain to this particular interval, because a formal inquiry in
1210 established the facts, on sworn testimony, that there had been no
objection made to the privilege in the reigns of Richard Coeur de
Lion or of Henry II., and the details given of the procession to the
Norman castle and the visit of the canons to the dungeons show that
the machinery of ceremonial had already advanced to a certain degree
of age and elaboration. In the first of these reigns there is indeed
definite reference to the fact that no prisoner was released in 1193,
because the Lion-hearted Duke was himself a captive; and as a graceful
recognition of this courtesy the Chapter were permitted to release two
prisoners in 1194 to compensate for the voluntary lapse of one year.
This again would show that the privilege was already known and
recognised as traditional and proper. We can go still further back in
the process of limitation; for Orderic Vital, who died in 1141,
describes the first bringing of St. Romain's body to the Cathedral,
and says nothing either of the dragon or the privilege; nor, indeed,
could the essential part of the ceremony known as the "_Levee de la
Fierte_" have taken place before the jewelled shrine had been made
(see p. 98) to hold the sacred relics which the prisoner bore upon his
shoulders. Now it is not likely that Henry Plantagenet, when he came
into his kingdom in 1145, would have permitted so grave a limitation
of the royal prerogative to arise for the first time; and, on the
other hand, it is extremely probable that it should arise during the
years of his minority, when, as we have seen, experiments in
independence were quite the fashion. It is therefore practically
certain that the Privilege de St. Romain began soon after 1135,
though not so late as 1145.

The year 1210, already mentioned, is the first date on which an actual
record exists of the liberated prisoner's name. His crime is not
mentioned, though we know that it involved the penalty of death. But
the date is important because of the inquiry insisted on by the
governor of the Castle, when the Chapter of the Cathedral claimed his
release by exercising their famous Privilege. When the dispute was
referred to Philip Augustus, who was naturally anxious to conciliate
the powerful clergy in his new domains, the chevalier Richard (who was
the military protector of the abbey of St. Medard at Soissons), was
given to the canons, and in gratitude for this escape from mortal
peril,[22] he granted the Cathedral the perpetual rent upon his public
mill.

[Footnote 22: "Cum essem in periculo corporis mei in regio carcere
apud Rothomagum detentus," he says.]

From this case it is clear that so glaring a renunciation of the
incommunicable sovereign rights of life and death could only have been
successfully obtained by the regular intercession made to each duke
for the release of one prisoner every year; and the origin of that
intercession can be explained with perfect probability by the
persistent mediaeval custom of the "Mysteries" or Miracle Plays, which
came into fashion as soon as the confreries of various trades had been
consolidated, just about the time the craft guilds appeared in
England, in 1130, a date that fits in very well with the beginning of
St. Romain's "privilege." These Mysteries or Miracle Plays were, as
has been noticed, often performed in the Parvis of the Cathedral, and
their first object was to represent the truths of Scripture to the
people in the most intelligible and picturesque way. Ascension Day was
one of the festivals of the Church which most especially needed some
such educational and popular celebration, to impress upon men's minds
how Christ by ascending to His Father to free them from the Devil and
from everlasting death, had opened wide the gates of heaven, and
_taken captivity captive_. No more striking significance could have
been given to the meaning of the festival than by the public release
of a prisoner who had been condemned to death. By slow degrees this
release became an annual grace accorded to the Church in its holy
office of public instructor.

And it was no new thing to invest with such extraordinary privileges
the powerful princes of a church which was the visible representative
of Divine Providence on earth.[23] The bishops of Orleans, for
instance, possessed even until the last years of Louis XV. the
prerogative of pardoning every single criminal in the prisons on the
day of their solemn entry into their episcopal see. This, at first
sight, appears a wider power than any possessed by a bishop of Rouen,
who, on one day in the year, voted as a canon in his Chapterhouse for
the release of one prisoner and his accomplices. But the opportunity
of the bishops of Orleans came only once in a lifetime, that of the
Chapterhouse of Rouen was renewed against all opposition every year
for some six centuries, and M. Floquet has discovered a manuscript
which proves that the prerogative of pardon was granted in addition,
within certain limits, to the bishop by virtue of his office, as it
was in 1393, when Guillaume de Vienne entered his diocese in state on
a Sunday in September 1393. Yet no historian seems yet to have
noticed this most striking fact. How it must have impressed the
popular imagination may easily be estimated from the known horrors of
the dungeons and "lakes of misery" in which, at Rouen and most
mediaeval cities, the criminals were condemned to linger. The
"resurrection of the dead" would be no exaggerated description for the
act of pardon which released a prisoner from the hideous dens of a
twelfth-century jail. Certainly no act could more clearly fix on all
men's minds the meaning of a sacred season and the power of the
Church.

[Footnote 23: Outside France the Bishop of Geneva is a famous example
of this ecclesiastical right of pardon; and even limiting ourselves to
French Territory, apart from Orleans, we shall find instances at Laon,
at Vendome on the Fete of St. Lazare, at the Petit Chatelet of Paris
on Palm Sunday, and at Embrun. But in none of these cases is there
either proof or record of so continuous and persistent an exercise of
the privilege as is found at Rouen.]

In 1135 the great fete of St. Romain, the most important yet held in
Rouen, had been instituted for only about fifty years. Its pardons,
its processions, and its fair were still fresh in the popular
imagination, and would be very likely to be secured as the chief
attraction in the first great "Miracle-Play" that was given under the
patronage of the Church at Ascension-tide, for they kept alive the
memory of the patron saint of Rouen, who had delivered his city from
the Dragon of Idolatry by means of a condemned prisoner. So the idea
of the Ascension Mystery became inextricably connected with the great
saint of the town, yet the Privilege itself was not exerted on his
feast day, the 23rd of October, but on Ascension Day, when the Virgin
was also represented as crushing the serpent's head. For two days in
the great Ascension Festival the flaming monster was moved before the
cross through all the streets of Rouen. On the third day, which was
Ascension Day itself, the dragon followed, bound and vanquished,
behind it.

So it is that we find this first recorded prisoner, Chevalier Richard,
speaking of the "Privilege" as "_en l'honneur de la glorieuse Vierge
Marie et de Saint Romain_."[24] By 1210, therefore, these two holy
names had become definitely associated with the "Levee de la Fierte,"
and the _fierte_ was already raised upon the shoulders of the prisoner
to signify the new yoke of the Christian religion which he took upon
him in exchange for the sins from whose consequence he had been
mercifully delivered. Where Chevalier Richard, in 1210, raised the
jewelled shrine of the relics of St. Romain, at the chapel of the old
castle of the Dukes of Normandy, on the very same spot did Nicolas
Beherie and his wife raise it in 1790, on the last occasion when the
"Privilege" was exercised. The custom had continued through the
centuries in the place of its origin, though Norman castles had been
replaced by the prison of Philip Augustus, though the Baillage had
been built, though the Englishmen under Henry V. had taken the town,
though the Conciergerie of later reigns existed. The conservatism of
the Church had led her thus unconsciously to preserve the secret of
the origin of her Privilege from the days when the prisons of the last
Norman dukes had been the only appropriate scene for her most striking
and gorgeous public ceremony.

[Footnote 24: With this phrase in 1210 compare the words recorded in
MS. 69 in the Rouen Library, where the privilege is spoken of as
"_accorde a la Sainte vierge Marie et au bienheureux Saint Romain_,"
in 1299.]

The little open chapel built upon the same spot now (see p. 37), saw
the last deliverance of 1790, and still preserves the name of the
"_Fierte St. Romain_." An excellent and well-proportioned example of
the architecture of the sixteenth century, it was used for the first
time in 1543, and shows in every detail of its construction and
arrangement that it was expressly planned for this especial ceremony.
Of the ceremony itself I shall have more to say later on. For the
present I must content myself with this necessary explanation of its
origin and locality. From the lists of the prisoners I shall very
frequently have occasion to take a striking example of the manners of
the time, as the tale of the city is gradually unfolded, in which this
Privilege de St. Romain is perhaps the most exceptional and striking
feature. But it is only by the second half of the fourteenth century
that the names are written down with a sufficient regularity to admit
of useful reference. During the thirteenth century, at which I have
now arrived, there are only three names actually preserved, though the
continuation of the Privilege is fully proved by the inevitable
quarrels between the ecclesiastical and civil authorities, of which
conspicuous examples occur in 1207 and in 1299.

The canons did not shrink from laying the town under an interdict when
the lawyers proved recalcitrant, and took every opportunity to enforce
the recognition of their permanent right of choosing their prisoner at
the season of the year consecrated to the exercise of their peculiar
privilege. The same Bailly of Rouen who had objected to this in 1299,
found, to his cost, that it was dangerous to repeat his attempts to
thwart the ecclesiastics. For when their freedom of choice was again
infringed only three years afterwards, the Chapter brought the sacred
shrine to the chapel in the Place de la Vieille Tour, and, after
explaining what had happened to the people, they left this venerated
palladium of the town out in the open square until their privileges
had been recognised. For the Thursday of Ascension Day, for the Friday
and Saturday following, it remained there guarded by certain of the
clergy and by many pious citizens. Each day it was solemnly visited by
a procession from the Cathedral, accompanied by a sympathising crowd
that daily grew larger and more vehement. By the Sunday morning the
Baillage gave in, and the canons released the prisoner with a ceremony
that was more than usually impressive after the opposition that had
preceded it.

Such quarrels were the more probable just now, because the
ecclesiastics were thus tenacious of their "privilege" just when the
infant commune was beginning to feel its strength, when commerce was
becoming regular, and even a town militia makes its appearance; for
the "Compagnie de la Cinquantaine," sometimes called the Arbaletriers,
were able to trace back their foundations to 1204, when an inquiry was
held and their privileges confirmed more than five hundred and fifty
years afterwards. The commune itself was also fully approved by Philip
Augustus, who confirmed its possession of certain common lands in the
suburbs which had been granted by Duke Richard. By the same date the
"bourgeois" or sworn freemen were exercising the free choice of their
twelve councillors and twelve aldermen, and sent up to the King from
among them three candidates out of whom His Majesty selected the Mayor
of Rouen; and this civic constitution lasted until 1320. It was
revised by St. Louis, in 1255, and the same king reformed the civic
expenditure by establishing the Chambre des Comptes which held its
sittings in later centuries in the Renaissance building north-west of
the Cathedral. In 1220 the commune obtained from the King for an
annual rent of 40 livres, the house and land of the Earl of Leicester
close to the Porte Massacre, and the Church of Notre Dame de la Ronde,
and there they built the Belfry Tower and the Hotel de Ville, which
lasted until 1449 and is still represented by the buildings in the Rue
de la Grosse Horloge above the famous archway near the Hotel de Nord.

This fief of the Earl of Leicester was but one of the many
acquisitions by which Philip Augustus gradually bought out the feudal
barons and made sure of Normandy. Other property of the Montforts, and
of William the Marshal[25] are examples. And if the King allowed his
burgesses their Hotel de Ville, we may be sure he destroyed the
castles of the barons whenever it was possible. Even that ancient
fortress of the Dukes of Normandy, called the Tour de Rouen, or the
Haute Vieille Tour, he pulled down, destroying their double wall and
filling up their triple moat, and erected on the "Place Bouvreuil" the
new castle of the kings of France, with its six towers and the donjon
keep which still exists, and is called the Tour Jeanne d'Arc. The
other buildings only lasted until 1590, though a mill could be seen
for almost another century which was still worked by the water that
ran from the stream of Gaalor which supplied the well of the
castle-keep, and was used later on for many other fountains in the
city. By 1250 it had already been led through underground channels to
the Rue Massacre, and by 1456 the Fountain of the Town Belfry was
established which is now represented by the Fontaine de la Grosse
Horloge, built in 1732. The waters themselves come originally from a
spring near the foot of the Mont-aux-Malades. In his new castle Philip
Augustus ordained the Echiquier de Normandie, as the supreme Tribunal
of Justice in the province, whose courts were to lie alternately at
Rouen, Caen, and Falaise.

[Footnote 25: M. Paul Meyer, head of the Ecole des Chartes, has, I
hear, just discovered a mediaeval poem about this interesting person,
called the "Histoire de Guillaume le Marechal." It was in the British
Museum, and his edition will be of great interest to British history.]

Soon afterwards the land occupied by the palace of William the
Conqueror was nearly all given up to the burgesses for purposes of
their trade. They were permitted to extend the buildings to the quays
provided they did not intercept traffic on the river. By 1224 the
drapers had obtained lands in the forest of Roumare for the proper
manufacture of their woollen stuffs, which were always a staple of
commerce in Rouen, and they used these "Halles" for the exhibition and
sale of their wares. The courtyard must have looked very much as it
does to-day, with the addition of cloisters and open shop-fronts. By
1325 commerce had grown there so much that "sales in the dark" had to
be forbidden by law. St. Louis granted the extension of the
market-halls over the whole ground on which the Norman dukes had
built, and established in 1256 the market called "Marche de la Vieille
Tour." This king was an especial friend of the Archbishop Odo Rigaud,
and both were zealous in the reforms necessary to Church and State. In
1262 the Cathedral gave up to the King certain possessions outside the
town in exchange for the public mills of Rouen; and property was
further centralised by the royal charter granting these Halles, with
the Marche de la Vieille Tour, for an annual rent to the mayor and
burgesses of the town, who were also given full rights of possession
in the streams of Robec and Aubette. St. Louis also established the
right of the citizens to insist on their debtors coming to Rouen
itself to adjust their legal difficulties, and further assisted
commerce by prohibiting strange merchants from retail trade in the
city, and by making all Jews wear a circle of yellow (called rouelle)
on back and breast, as a distinctive mark.

The commercial privileges which I have already mentioned (see p. 85)
were fully confirmed by Philip Augustus, especially with regard to
exports to Ireland, while Louis IX. continued the gradual
consolidation of the river trade in the hands of the Rouen merchants.
What this involved, may be seen from the case which was brought before
the Parliament of Paris in 1272, when the Mayor of Rouen had seized
six barrels of wine which a landowner was bringing (as he asserted)
from his vineyards to his own house by river. Every quay along the
bank was rapidly taken possession of by the merchants, and by 1282 the
famous "Clos aux Galees," between the Rue du Vieux Palais and the Rue
de Fontenelle, was built in the parish of St. Eloi as a dockyard for
purposes of commerce and of war. But not long after this the space
appears to have been needed for other purposes, and the real "Clos
des Galees" was moved across the river to the other bank at the end of
the Empress Bridge, or "Pont de Mathilde." In a charter of 1297, the
change is marked by the name, "Neuves-Galees," and this occurs again
in 1308. It is remarkable as the first arsenal ever used for artillery
in France; for cannon, arms, and powder were all stored here in later
times, and here were built the ships that fought in the Hundred Years'
War by Charles VI., out of wood from the forests of Roumare. Just
before the great siege by the English in 1418 the citizens destroyed
it, but the name remained in the hostelry called the "Enseigne de la
Galere." Then the "Grenier a sel" and the "Hotel des Gabelles" were
built on the same spot; and finally you can only imagine very vaguely
where the first dockyards of Rouen were when you look now at the
Caserne St. Sever.

In tracing out the changes that have come in each century to the
aspect of the town, it is not often we shall find a locality so
persistent in its character as the Place de la Haute et Basse Vieille
Tour, when once its military strength had been changed into commercial
convenience. The older castle, originally built more to the north-west
by Rollo, between the Church of St. Pierre du Chastel and the Rue des
Charrettes, had long ago absolutely disappeared, and its place was
taken by a Franciscan convent, given to the brethren in 1248 by
Archbishop Rigaud, who had been originally a monk of the Order; and
the ruins of their building may be seen in the street which, as Rue
des Cordeliers, still preserves their name. Another change that is
still recorded in the nomenclature of the streets took place when
Louis VIII. allowed the inhabitants to build gardens and almshouses in
what had once been the moat of the old town walls. This you may trace
in the name of the Rue des Fosses Louis VIII., formerly the Rue de
l'Aumone. In the same way the Rue des Carmes preserves the fact that
the Carmelite monks brought by St. Louis from the Holy Land, migrated
to the street that bears their name in 1336, and remained there for a
very long time.

But everything did not go smoothly in the streets of Rouen while these
pacific changes were in progress. In 1213 the town was filled with the
levy of counts, barons, and knights, with all their men-at-arms, whom
Philip was collecting to attack the King of England; and in 1250 a far
more disorderly and plebeian assembly gathered under the leadership of
Andre de St. Leonard to express in the practical form of riot and
pillage their disapprobation of the ten per cent. exacted by the
Church for grinding corn in the ecclesiastical mills. Near the Pont de
Robec and the Rue du Pere Adam flour and wheat were forcibly stolen,
but Archbishop Odo Rigaud soon asserted his authority, by fining the
ringleader 100 marks of silver, equivalent to about L2000 sterling,
and the dissatisfaction ceased. In the next year a rising, that had
some slight degree of religious colour in it, gave a good deal of
trouble, not to Rouen only, but to the rest of France. Bands of
peasants, styling themselves "Pastoureaux," asserted their indignation
at the captivity of King Louis IX. by chasing the archbishop out of
his cathedral. From the fact that they had been joined, not merely by
all the lazy ruffians of the neighbourhood, but by some burgesses, and
even by certain municipal office-holders, we may infer that the
privileges or prerogatives of the Church were once more the real
objects of the dispute. Though the ecclesiastics were as usual strong
enough to exact a public apology and absolution from the mayor and his
councillors, the strange frenzy spread to the Provinces; men averred
that the Holy Virgin and her angels had appeared to urge them to
release St. Louis, and it was necessary for Queen Blanche herself to
intervene before the trouble was stopped in Paris and many parts of
France.

This widespread affection felt for St. Louis may, perhaps, be
explained not only by his personality, but by the fact that he was
always moving from one part of his dominions to another, in spite of
the obvious inconveniences of mediaeval travel. I have already noticed
some of the things he did for Rouen on his various visits. But such
pilgrimages as that of 1255 to Adam Bacon, the solitary abbot of St.
Catherine, cannot have failed to increase his local reputation. He
celebrated Christmas here in 1264, after another short visit
previously on his way from Pont de l'Arche to Bec, and in 1269 he came
again from Port-Audemer. On every such occasion he prayed in the
churches and left offerings suitable to his rank; he ate in the
refectories with the monks, he dispensed alms to the poor, and gave
money or its equivalent to the hospitals. His charity was, indeed,
extraordinary, for Queen Margaret's Confessor has related that he not
only fed the hungry at his every meal, but went round the beds in the
sick houses, smoothing the pillows of the sufferers, speaking to them,
and trying to supply their wants.

It was when King Louis came with his mother, Blanche of Castile, to
keep the Christmas of 1255 at Rouen, that the greater part of the
choir, transept, and nave of the Cathedral as we see it now was
finished. The monastical developments of previous centuries had done
their work; the power of the great abbots and priors, which raised
them into feudal dignitaries, with large wealth and wide possessions,
had reached its limit. The rise of the communes in every town, and the
passion for civic liberty which accompanied them and gave them birth,
as we have traced it in Rouen, was taken advantage of by the
archbishops in those fruitful years which lay between 1180 and 1240.
The royal power, personified here by Philip Augustus, was as much
concerned as the burgesses in the diminution of feudality. Even the
great secular nobles were not averse to encouraging a movement that
appeared to counteract the importance of their most dangerous
ecclesiastical rivals. So that religious and political motives came
together, just at this one momentous period, to produce an enthusiasm
for building which has never been equalled before or since. The
gradual development of the sacred edifice from the crypt, like that
catacomb of St. Gervais, through the form of the Roman basilica, with
its simple nave and round apse, to the new developments of choir and
chapels, introduced by Suger, had not proceeded without leaving on the
finished product--which has been called Gothic--the traces of its
growth. And this is one reason why, until the fourteenth century at
least, the Cathedral retained the mingled characteristics of a
building that was both civil and ecclesiastical, that was used both
for the divine offices and for political, even military assemblies.

In what I shall have to say of the architecture called Gothic,[26] I
would not have it thought that I exclude the praise of beauty from
every other form of building, for there are Renaissance buildings, for
instance, in Rouen alone that would contradict such barren dogmatism
at the outset. The reserve and the harmonious proportion of the Cour
des Comptes have a value of their own quite independent of the Gothic
unrestraint and revelry of carving in the Portail des Libraires. But I
cannot conceal my preference for one form of beauty over another, my
delight in the most organic form of art the world has ever seen, the
true "master art" of Gothic, as opposed to that "looking backward"
which was the Renaissance, to that defiance of the rule of progress
which bade men advance to different developments of organic living
forms in every single branch of life, except in the greatest art of
all. The Middle Ages had inherited a direct succession of harmonious
forms, one rising out of another until the perfection was attained.
Then came the Black Death, and the no less fatal scourges of
Commercialism and Bureaucracy. Men's thoughts apparently became so
riveted upon the grave that they must go back to the art of the dead
Romans and the formalism of classical examples to keep breath in their
bones at all. And even so, they informed the skeleton with a new life.
In such new creations of the aged spirit as the French Renaissance
Chateaux of Touraine, or Rouen's Hotel Bourgtheroulde, they showed
what vigour there was left, if only it had been permitted to remain
original. Nor is there any hope of betterment in architecture, or any
art, to-day, until something of the spirit has come back to us which
made each citizen proud of the house he lived in, or of the House of
God he helped to build, until the love of workmanship that built the
old cathedrals has returned.

[Footnote 26: In the matter of this word "Gothic," I am of the opinion
of Renan, who writes: "En Allemagne jusqu'au quatorzieme siecle ce
style s'appela '_opus Francigenum_,' et c'est la le nom qu'il aurait
du garder." If it is too much to expect of future writers that they
will give up the phrase, let them at least follow the advice of Mr
Moore and limit "Gothic" to the French pointed school of the Ile de
France. Our own architecture has already received quite enough
additional labels to prevent confusion.]

Through those doors, which were shut sternly in the face of princes
under the Church's ban, the poor man gladly passed from the hovel that
was his home. Out of the dark twisting streets whose crowded houses
pressed even against the walls of the Cathedral, the humblest citizen
might turn towards the beauty of a building greater and more wonderful
than any that his feudal lord could boast. He found there not merely
the sanctuary, not merely the shrine of all that was holiest in
history or in creed, but the epitome of his own life, the handicrafts
of his various guilds, as at Rouen, the tale of all his humblest
occupations, the mockery of his neighbours' foibles, the lessons of
the horror of sin. For before the end of the thirteenth century, the
handicraftsmen, associated into such guilds as we have seen in Rouen,
had not only won their freedom from arbitrary oppression, but had
secured so large a share in the government of the towns, that within
the next fifty years, the heads of the communes were nearly always the
delegates from the craft-guilds. The zenith of Gothic architecture
coincided with this period of their triumph; its bright, and
glittering, and joyful art spread all over the intelligent world, and
more especially in France; it was not contented with merely
architectural forms in colourless cathedrals, but decorated them with
carvings painted in gay colours, used every space for pictures, drew
upon all literature for its materials. In Dante, Chaucer, and
Petrarch, in the German Niebelungenlied, in the French romances, in
the Icelandic Sagas, in Froissart and the chroniclers, you may find
the same spirit; and each town smote its own epic into stone upon the
walls of its cathedral. Every village, even, had its painter, its
carvers, its actors; the cathedrals that have remained are but the
standard from which we may imagine the loving perfection to which
every form of craftsman's art was carried. And their work gives us
such pleasure now because they had such intense pleasure in doing the
work themselves.

[Illustration: A MASON AT WORK, FROM A MISERICORDE IN THE CHOIR OF
ROUEN CATHEDRAL]

For the masons had gone to their new task with a will. Freed from the
thick and shadowy archways piled upon heavy piers, which had obscured
the old priestly and dogmatic Romanesque, the builders of the new
cathedral revelled in the new found Gothic of the people, and raised
their soaring arches to the sky, and crowned their pinnacles with
wreaths that flamed into the clouds. And upon every inch of wall they
wrote and wrought upon the living stone, "magistri de vivis
lapidibus," until every detail of the world of worshippers was
gathered up and sanctified by this expression of its new found
meaning, as a part of the mystery and the beauty of holiness.

It is significant of the democratic nature of this architectural
outburst, that the first communes signalised their liberty by the
earliest cathedrals, at Noyon, Soissons, Laon, Reims, Amiens, in the
capital of France, and in the capital of Normandy. It was early in
this same century (1203) that Normandy became part of the crown domain
together with Maine, Anjou, Touraine, Poitou, and Limousin. Before the
century was done, Languedoc, the County of Toulouse, part of Auvergne,
and Champagne were also included in the royal domain. More than this,
the Head of the Church himself had come in 1309 to live in Avignon,
and this movement had, no doubt, its effect upon religious sentiment
in the nation to whose charge St. Peter's representative committed
himself; for religion had of course the greatest part in a movement
that could never have been so widespread and so creative without its
powerful motives; but, even in spite of the immense impulse given by
the crusades, religion would never have got its opportunity at all, if
"politics" had not at the very moment been ripe for contemporaneous
expansion, if the people and the King had not simultaneously been
ready to give expression to a movement in which liberty and unity were
the greatest factors. Thus it is that the cathedrals are the first
visible basis of that French nationality into which the scattered
provinces of Gaul had expanded, the first germ of that creative genius
of French art which has not yet lost its right of place in Europe,
the first clear record of the national intellect. And the people were
not slow to recognise the meaning of the carvings that were placed
where all who ran might read, placed there by men of like passions
with themselves, copied often so directly from themselves, that the
cathedrals may be regarded as the great record of the ancestry of the
common people. The emblazoned tomb, or the herald's parchment, might
fitly chronicle the proud descent of the solitary feudal lord; but the
brothers and kinsmen of his dependents were carved in their habits as
they lived upon the church's walls, and there they work at their
appointed tasks, and laugh at their superiors, unto this day. So the
people filled their church with throngs of worshippers, with
merry-making crowds, with vast audiences of the great mediaeval Mystery
Plays, with riotous assemblages sometimes not too decent, whose rough
humour has been preserved for us in the thousand grotesque carvings of
the time.

I have been at this length in explaining the building of the
cathedrals, because it would be impossible for you, without some such
suggestion of their origin, to realise the meaning of the carvings
which cover the great north and south porches of the transept at
Rouen. I choose them first out of the mass of detail and construction
in this enormous and heterogeneous building, because they are most
typical of the feeling which gave it birth, and of the craftsmen who
worked upon it. It is well-nigh impossible to attempt any explanation
of the many styles, from the twelfth century to the sixteenth, which
are commingled, superimposed even, without any feeling in the mind of
the architect, for the time being, except that of the imperious need
for self-expression, regardless of the fashions of his predecessor. In
the great western facade this mingling of the styles is most
observable. The angle towers are absolutely unlike, the arches are
broken, the pinnacles are smashed short off, niches are mutilated,
and arabesques are worn away, yet in the healing rays of moonlight,
the whole composes into a mysterious beauty of its own that will not
bear the strict analysis of glaring day.

But the Portail aux Libraires which Jean Davi, the architect of the
Chapelle de la Vierge, built for Archbishop Guillaume de Flavacourt in
1278, will bear microscopic examination in every part, and the
reverently careful restorations carried out some time ago by MM.
Desmarest and Barthelemy have only brought to light the exquisite
perfection of the original work. This gate to the northern transept
got its name from the special trade which gradually was connected with
that portion of the Cathedral bounds. I have already noticed how the
Parvis was filled with various shops and booths, and this space before
the northern gate was similarly appropriated by booksellers until at
least some time after the sixteenth century was over. What I have to
say now is connected with the actual portal itself. The forecourt once
filled with bookstalls, that leads up to it, was only decorated in
1480 by Guillaume Pontifz, who also erected the fine screen that opens
into it from the Rue St. Romain. On the east side of this court you
may see St. Genevieve standing with a Bible in her left hand, and a
candle in her right. Upon one shoulder a tiny angel tries to kindle
the light, while on the other a wicked little devil with a pair of
bellows is perched ready to blow it out again. The panel decoration
upon the buttresses of this north door has been selected by Mr Ruskin
as the high-water mark of Gothic tracery before its decline began. It
takes the form of blind windows carved upon the solid stone, and is
certainly an exquisite example of varied, yet severe proportion and
arrangement. Its plan expresses the true qualities of the material
with a right regard for mass in decoration, rather than for line, the
fatal change which wrought so much damage after the earlier ruling
principle had been given up.

[Illustration: PORTAIL DES LIBRAIRES (DOOR OF NORTH TRANSEPT OF ROUEN
CATHEDRAL)]

This same acute observer, blessed with more leisure time than I have
ever had in Rouen or elsewhere, was able to make certain remarks on
the detailed carvings of the door itself, which must be at least
suggested in any other description. My own count of the separate
carvings does not agree with that made by Mr Ruskin, and in a mere
matter of mathematics I may be bold enough to differ publicly, where
agreement is so inevitable with the main thesis of his argument. Some
idea may be obtained of the work expended on this one portion of the
Cathedral alone, when I say that in the centre of the door is a square
pedestal, on each of whose four sides are five medallions vertically
arranged. Within the great encompassing arch, on each side, is a
cluster of three more square pedestals similarly decorated. The arch
itself has seventeen medallions upon each pillar, the top five on each
side being cut in half by a moulding. Beyond the arch to right and
left are two other pedestals with the same five ornaments on their two
faces. Thus, if you count the smaller pillars only, there are
twenty-four rows of five, or 120 medallions, and adding those on the
arch, you get a total of 154. Even this is not all; for on each
medallion or panel its separate bas-relief is contained within a
quatrefoil. None of their arcs are semi-circles, and none of their
basic figures are squares, for each panel is slightly varied in size
from its neighbours. The result is that intervals of various shapes
are left at each of the four angles of every quatrefoil, and into each
interval is fitted a different animal, which gives the astonishing
result of 596 minor carvings in this one doorway, all of them
representing living things, and all of them subsidiary to the larger
subjects which they frame. If you measure these tiny sculptures you
will find the base of the curved triangle they adorn to average
about four inches long, its height being just half that distance. When
you look closer at those which are least worn away you will find them
clearly enough carved to represent unmistakably in one instance the
peculiar reverted eye of a dog gnawing something in jest, and ready to
run away with it; in another, the wrinkled skin that is pressed over a
cheekbone by an angry fist; in a third, the growth of wing and scale
upon a lizard.

Think of the life and energy that were pulsing through the brain of
the craftsman who could so fill the surface of the stone. Think of the
time that he was ready to give up to patient chiselling at this one
task till it was perfect to his mind. And then consider more closely
the quatrefoils, small in themselves, which are yet far larger than
the details which surround them. The best known is one that has
suffered terribly in the wear and tear of nearly six centuries. It is
the famous bas-relief of the hooded pig playing on a violin, a motive
which recurs at Winchester and in York Minster. Its fingers are placed
so accurately upon the bow that the method of playing has formed a
type of late twelfth-century style in all collections of musical
antiquities. The Minstrel's Gallery in Exeter Cathedral may profitably
be compared with it. This accuracy of execution in an essential detail
shows the patient copying from life which accompanied--and indeed was
necessary to--the vivid imagination that could create so many
non-existent monsters. For among all these grotesque chimeras and
fantastic mixtures of the animal and human element you will notice the
creative faculty in its strongest development. These strange beasts,
half man and half a goat, part woman and part fish, have each of them
a reality of individual life, a possibility of visualised
construction, that is marvellous in its appeal to the spectator.
Another violin player appears upon this same door, this time with a
human head set on the body of a beast, and beside it some small
animal dances to the tune.

The mediaeval carver was no mystic symbolist. But he felt so much and
so vividly that when two strongly opposed ideas came into his head at
once he had to express himself by throwing them together into one
newly-forged creation of a woman-ape, or a dog-man. He had besides his
own thoughts all that strange gallery to draw from, of sirens,
harpies, centaurs, which a dying mythology bequeathed. You may trace
most of the Metamorphoses of Ovid on the walls of the cathedrals. Then
there were the queer bestiaries of his own doctors, the early
Mandevilles, the Presterjohns of the twelfth century, the Munchausens
of all time. From these he inherited the Sciopod upon the door of
Sens, the cynoscephalae, and "men whose heads do grow beneath their
shoulders." He lived, too, in an age far more pictorial, far more
given to the living allegory, than any centuries to which the cold
print of a book alone appealed. Architecture, as he knew it, ceased
when printing became cheap. But in his days the Bible of the people,
the encyclopaedia of the poor, the general guide to heavenly or
terrestrial knowledge of the mass of worshippers, was what they saw in
the Mystery Plays, or what was carved for them (often inspired from
the same dramatic source) upon the walls of their cathedrals. When he
had tried all these, there remained the thousand simple incidents of
daily life, such as the mother welcoming her child which is on this
Portail des Libraires and was copied from it (as is the case in six
other instances) in the misericordes of the choir in 1467, or the man
who steals clothes from the line as Falstaff's ragged regiment did (a
ruffian who is no doubt commemorated also in the name of Rue
Tirelinceuil at Rouen), or the burglar walking off with a chest upon
the southern transept, while the owner soundly kicks him and tries to
take it back.

This southern door is called the Portail de la Calende from the
confrerie of that name, but the derivation is rather uncertain, and
some authorities consider it refers to certain ecclesiastical
assemblies, distinct from the synod, which were held four times a year
in this part of the Cathedral. The plan of the quatrefoils is much the
same as that of the "Libraires." Within the tall embracing arch it is
indeed identical, but upon the arch itself fourteen panels are set on
each side, and outside it are no less than three double clusters both
to right and left, which increases the total of panels to 227. In this
enormous number, I have already mentioned one; but perhaps the best
known is that which illustrates a very popular mediaeval legend, the
"Lai d'Aristote," which also recurs in the misereres of the choir. It
suggests the eternal supremacy of woman over man, even the wisest, by
representing the typical philosopher of the middle ages saddled and
bridled by a gay lady of Alexander's court, who sits upon his back and
whips him heartily. This is rather difficult to see, as it is high up
on a buttress beneath a statue at the side of the Rue des Bonnetiers.
From mythology you will find here countless sirens, some playing
instruments before their victims, others, like the mermaid of the
fable, admiring themselves in mirrors and waving a seductive comb.
There is also yet another violin player, with his back towards you,
playing to a dancer who is posturing head downwards on his hands, like
the daughter of Herodias upon the west facade.

I have already given the name of one of the master-masons who were
associated with this great pile of buildings, where the sound of
chisel and mallet can have scarcely ever ceased from the twelfth
century to the sixteenth. But Jean Davi's work was necessarily one of
the last finishing touches upon a building that others had reared in
the mass for him to decorate in detail. The various churches that had
been consecrated on the same spot have been recorded in their turn,
from the first primitive shrine of St. Mellon, in the fourth century,
to that greater fane seen by the Conqueror, which was almost entirely
burnt in 1200. The lower part of the Tour St. Romain is certainly a
part of the cathedral St. Maurilius consecrated. To say exactly when
the work of reconstruction was begun which St. Louis saw completed has
puzzled antiquarians far more diligent and learned than I am. But M.
Viollet le Duc has pointed to unmistakable signs of work earlier than
the rest in the two circular chapels of the apse, in the chapels of
the transept, and in the two side-doors of the western facade, which
open to the aisles. M. de Beaurepaire has also demonstrated, from a
close study of the Chapterhouse accounts, that when Richard de Malpalu
was dean in 1200, one Jean d'Andeli is spoken of as "Cementario, tunc
_magistro_ fabrice ecclesiae rothomagensis." He was also a relation of
one of the canons. The _Chronique du Bec_ gives the credit of
initiating the design to Ingelramus, or Enguerrand, from 1200 to 1214;
but this does not contradict the possibility of partners in the work,
and that the choir at any rate was done before the Norman influence
was much affected by the Ile de France, may be seen at once in the
fourteen tall and strong round pillars with their simple capitals and
massive round arches, which produce a very fine effect of pure
solidity amongst the lighter pointed work surrounding them. After
Enguerrand came "Durand le Machon," who dwelt in the same house that
Jean d'Andeli had held on lease, and after him, again, the name of
Gautier de St. Hilaire occurs before that of Jean Davi towards the end
of the thirteenth century.

[Illustration: ROUEN CATHEDRAL FROM THE NORTH-WEST]

The period of the first coming of Philip Augustus in the ten years
after 1210 is strongly marked by the influence of the Ile de France,
and by the French Gothic work of Suger, which at first swept out of
its path every other style with which it came in contact. But by
degrees the Norman transition re-asserts itself, and the northern
pointed work made its appearance, whose history is completed in
England, and is a different school from the Gothic on the French side
of the Channel. But every century and every style seems to have had
its say and left its mark upon the fabric of Rouen. After the
thirteenth century had built choir and transepts and a great part of
the nave, and before its close had begun the decoration of the
magnificent side portals, and the refinement of the Lady Chapel, the
first thing the fifteenth century did was to enlarge the windows of
the choir after its own manner, and widen the windows of the nave as
well. The only names we find in the fourteenth century are that of the
architect of a rose window in the nave and a tomb of Charles V.,
which have both disappeared, and that of Jean de Bayeux, the builder
of the civic belfry tower at the Hotel de Ville. But the perpetrator
of the enlarged choir windows was Jehan Salvart, who worked for Henry
V. during the English occupation, and is forgiven much, because he was
with Le Roux at the finishing of the exquisite church of St. Maclou.
The glass was put in by Jean Senlis.

I may as well complete the tale of architects now that I have begun
it, though the detail of their work is fitter given in the order of
its making, later on. But it is so rare that these master-masons have
left any traces of themselves at all, that I may perhaps be pardoned
for giving the full list that is hardly possible in any other great
cathedral in the world. Jean Roussel succeeded to his father of Bayeux
in 1430, to be followed in 1452 by Geoffroi Richier for eleven years.
Guillaume Pontifz was perhaps the greatest contributor of any of these
later men. In the thirty-four years of his office, the stalls of the
choir, representing the various crafts, were carved by several
workmen, whose names will be given later, at the cost of nearly 7000
livres, borne by the Cardinal d'Estouteville, the Portail de la
Calende was completed, a new top placed upon the Tour St. Romain, a
frigid and unpleasing staircase built in the north transept to lead up
to the canon's library, and the courtyard, with its entrance screen
placed in the Rue St. Romain before the Portail des Libraires. He also
began the Tour de Beurre, but left it to be finished by Jacques Le
Roux, who had done so much for St. Maclou, but died a poor man in
1500, and was buried beneath the organ. Within the part of this tower
that he built was hung the great bell "Georges d'Amboise," the biggest
outside Russia, which shared with "Rouvel" the affection of the
citizens, which rejoiced the heart of Francis the First, and cracked
with grief in 1786 at being called upon to ring for Louis XVI. It was
his nephew, Rouland Leroux, whose help was called in when the canons
desired to embellish their west facade and have a finer central door.
This work was begun in 1508 with the money of Georges d'Amboise, and
Pierre Desaubeaulx did the central tympanum. Jean Theroulde, Pierre
Dalix, another Leroux, Nicolas Quesnel, Hance de Bony, and Denis
Lerebours worked at the statuettes. A screen of open work (carrying
the clock) was raised in front of the rose window, and four turrets
were added, of which but one remains. So Rouland Leroux finished his
contract in 1527, having left for himself a greater fame in the
masonry of the central tower, whose base he rebuilt after the old
stone spire had been destroyed by fire, and especially in the tomb of
Cardinal d'Amboise, than ever he will gain by the patchwork of the
west facade. What he could do with a free hand and his own designs to
begin with, may be imagined from the fact that he built the Bureau des
Finances on the opposite side of the Parvis and laid the first plans
for the Palais de Justice. No wonder that he worked at Havre, at
Beauvais, and at Angers, as well as in his native town.

I shall hardly be blamed, I think, if among the full tones of a praise
that must become monotonous, a single note of regretful
misunderstanding cannot remain quite unheard; and I must confess that
in this western front so many unfinished and supervening designs occur
that I find myself unable to imagine the meaning of its builders.
Considering, first of all, the arrangement of its detail, I find
elaborate flower-mouldings and renaissance-work placed so high up that
they can barely be distinguished as anything save light and shade,
whereas upon the Portail des Libraires all such delicate work ceases
at about 9 feet high, and the upper carving is done boldly in broad,
simple masses for an effect of distance. But if this is bad flamboyant
work, the central gate itself is purer, and perhaps among the finest
examples existing of the flamboyant style. There are four strings of
niches round this porch from the ground to the top of the arch, each
holding two figures; every detail in them and about them is worked
with the most elaborate and tender patience, full of imaginative
carvings, trellised with leaves and blossoms deep wrought in the
stone. At this part of the western front and at the northern side-door
I could never tire of looking. But the whole facade I had to give up
in despair, save when the moonlight softened it into a tracery of
lacework climbing to the sky, as delicate as the pattern of white
spray upon a rising wave.

The masonry upon the central tower I have already mentioned. In 1544
it was crowned, by Robert Becquet, with a light spire of wood, 132
metres in height, that was burnt by the lightning in 1821.[27] The new
cast-iron erection, with which it has been replaced, may best be
described as possessing half the height of the Eiffel Tower with none
of the excuses for the Colonne de Juillet, of which M. Alavoine, its
architect, was also the designer. For the present I need only add that
both the western towers could actually be placed, all but their last
two metres, inside the nave of Beauvais. The nave of Rouen is but 28
metres high, and 136 in length, from the Portail to the apse of the
Chapelle de la Vierge; and as a matter of possible proportion it is
interesting to note that the old spire could just have lain down
inside it. At first it had no chapels, but these were built later on
between the buttresses, as was done at Notre Dame in Paris. The
transept measures 50 metres in breadth, which is just the height of
the great lantern above it, that is beneath the central tower.

[Footnote 27: In 1897 two men were still alive who saw it burn, and
all the gargoyles vomiting molten lead; they were M. Noel the
Librarian, and le pere Pepin, janitor of the Town Belfry.]

From here, as from the heart of Normandy, flowed the life blood of
Rouen through her arteries of traffic clustering round the great
Cathedral. Within its walls the noblest of her dead are gathered,
returning to the central shrine that gave them birth and being. With
the completion of the first main bulk of its design the story of the
town that built it is brought to a definite point of development. I
shall no longer be obliged to go even as deeply as I have hitherto
felt necessary into the details of the civic history, for Rouen is
henceforth a part of France, and the seal of her nationality is
stamped large upon her. Till now, she has been slowly growing out of
the mists of aboriginal antiquity, through Merovingian bloodshed, to
become the pirate's stronghold, and then the capital of the Northmen's
Duchy. When she had fulfilled her mission by carrying French arts and
Norman strength into the English kingdom, she lost a little of that
individuality of character which I have traced through former pages,
just as a mother loses the first bloom of her girlhood when her son is
born. Though Rouen once more passed for some years into the possession
of an English king, the days of her captivity--with its culminating
shame--are as little agreeable for us to hear, as for her citizens to
remember, and Englishmen will no longer take that vital interest in
her each year's growth, with which a grandson reads the memoirs of his
forefather.

So I have somewhat altered the plan of the next chapters in accordance
with what I suspect to be the sympathies of those who have done me the
honour to follow me thus far.

If you are content to let me guide you further among the many
buildings, whose very origin I have not yet had time to trace, you
will find that to nearly every one of them may be attached some
brilliant episode that stands out in a century, or some overshadowing
personage whose life-story dominates a generation of his
fellow-citizens. So that, as we visit these old walls together, they
shall speak to us in no uncertain voice, of the lives of those who
built them, and of the progress of the town. Until now, there have
been but few buildings to which I could point as the visible witnesses
of my written word. So that my story has had to proceed but slowly on
its way, without the illustration which your eyes in Rouen streets
could give it, making a gradual ground-work of which there are hardly
any traces left. But with the building of the Cathedral I have reached
a point where the tale of civic, or religious, or private houses that
are still to be seen, is the tale of Rouen, told on pages well-nigh
imperishable. These mile-stones on our road henceforth become so
frequent, that in passing from one to the other, I shall have hardly
any need to fill the gaps in a history that is at once more modern,
and more easily understood. And as we left off with the highest
expression of religious fervour, the Cathedral, we may well pass on,
for the sake of contrast, to the most visible sign of purely municipal
development, the belfry of the old Hotel de Ville, the famous
buildings of the Rue de la Grosse Horloge.




CHAPTER VII

_La Rue de la Grosse Horloge_

     Une rue delicieuse ou le monde se pourmene, ou tousiours il
     y ha du vent, de l'umbre et du soleil, de la pluye et de
     l'amour. Ha! Ha! riez doncques, allez-y doncques! c'est une
     rue tousiours neufve, tousiours royale, tousiours imperiale,
     une rue patrioticque, une rue a deux trottoirs, une rue
     ouverte des deux bouts ... brief, c'est la royne des rues,
     tousiours entre la terre et le ciel, une rue a fontaine, une
     rue a laquelle rien ne manque pour estre celebree parmi les
     rues.


The cluster of old buildings which are beneath the shadow of the
belfry are perhaps better known to strangers than any other piece of
architecture in the town. It is the focal point of Rouen, the centre
of its civic life, and if you are fortunate enough to live quite close
to it, as I did, you will find yourself in the best place for starting
on nearly every expedition that your fancy may dictate.[28] The Rue de
la Grosse Horloge itself is one of those memorable thoroughfares of
which nearly every old French town possesses at least one fascinating
example, the kind of street that, in his "Contes Drolatiques," Balzac
has so admirably described in making mention of the Rue Royale at
Tours. A glance at even the few streets marked upon Map B will show
its structural importance in the economy of the town. For the
Cathedral has stood in different forms upon the same spot since the
fifth century, and this street starts from immediately opposite its
western gate. In the earliest days it was stopped at the other end by
the gate through which the Roman road passed, across the Vieux Marche,
towards Caletum (Lillebonne). In later times the Porte Massacre was
built there, which takes its name, not from the wholesale murder of
the Jews in the adjoining quarter, but from the butchers who
congregated close by in the Rue Massacre, or Rue des Machecriers
(Wace's word for a butcher), which is called the Rue de la
Boucherie-de-Massacre in a title-deed of 1454.

[Footnote 28: In venturing to suggest a few such expeditions in my
appendix, I have found it convenient to assume that even if my reader
were not a guest in the Hotel du Nord, he would invariably come to the
archway of the Grosse Horloge to meditate on the programme for the
day.]

The Place du Vieux Marche is a spot almost as historic in its way as
the Parvis of the Cathedral, so that there is interest at both ends of
the Rue de la Grosse Horloge. Its most terrible memory is the burning
of Jeanne d'Arc, which (as I shall show from Lelieur's plan in a later
chapter) took place at the angle of the modern halls, and close to the
cemetery of the vanished church of St. Sauveur, on the same spot in
the Vieux Marche used since the earliest history of Rouen as one of
the many places of public execution. The Rue de la Grosse Horloge has
also been called the Grande Rue, and several other names which need
not be recorded here; for both by geographical position and in its own
right it has always claimed a large share in the interest of the
citizens of Rouen.[29] Much of its once beautiful architecture has
vanished altogether. The church of St. Herbland, for instance, once
stood at its eastern extremity, opposite the Cathedral. But of the
Gothic work of 1483 not a stone is to be seen. The stained glass
windows were bought by a traveller in 1802, and by him taken to
England, after the Revolution had suppressed the Church.

[Footnote 29: Their affection was not always grammatical, as may be
seen from the old title "Rue du Gros Horloge" on the corner of the
street to-day.]

A somewhat better fate has awaited the exquisite example of French
Renaissance architecture which used to be at No. 129. Of this very
remarkable house, known for uncertain reasons as the Maison de Diane
de Poitiers, and certainly worthy of any court beauty of the time, the
facade has been carefully preserved in the little square behind the
Tour St. Andre in the Rue Jeanne d'Arc. As the upper storeys project
over the road, it must have been built before 1520, the date after
which such overhanging constructions were forbidden. Every inch of the
wooden surface is covered with delicate arabesques and figures. The
proportions of the various storeys are admirably indicated, and the
wall-openings grow smaller as they rise, until the whole is crowned
with an equilateral triangle, in which a round-headed arch on square
pilasters fills the central space. A round medallion with a bust is
placed on each side of the second storey windows, and the floors are
boldly indicated by deep lines of shadowed carving. The house, of
which nothing but this marvellous facade remains, was originally
called by the sign of the Cock, and is known to have belonged on the
30th May 1525, to Jean Le Roy, who appears in the parish lists of 1471
as a draper. His son Noel married another of the bourgeoisie, one
Marion Ribault; and from her possession until the town bought it from
the Hospital, which held it last, the line of title-deeds is unbroken;
the important point to notice being that it was built not by a noble,
but by a tradesman.[30]

[Footnote 30: There is a charming picture by Bonington, who was
particularly attracted by Rouen, of "Le Gros Horloge," showing this
house still in its old place in the famous street.]

But it is the Grosse Horloge itself that is the jewel of the street.
As you look at it from the west you can see constructions built in the
Middle Ages, in the Renaissance, in the reign of Henri Quatre, and in
the days of Louis Quinze. The Belfry Tower, or Campanile, is, as is
fitting to its ancient history, the oldest building of them all. There
was a tower here from the earliest days when Rouen had a civic history
at all, a "Ban-cloque" to call her citizens together, which is
mentioned in the city charters as a symbol of her freedom. First hung
here in 1150, the old bell first saved the town in 1174 during the
siege by Louis VII. In the next century the bell was recast with the
following inscription:--IE SUIS NOMME ROUVEL ROGIER LE FERON ME FIST
FERE JEHAN DAMIENS ME FIST. This is not without significance, for
though the King had given the ground for the new Hotel de Ville, it
was only the Mayor, Le Feron, who in 1258 had a right to order the
communal bell which called the citizens to their orderly municipal
meetings, or summoned them to revolt against oppression. On the larger
bell, originally used as the curfew, are the words:--IE SUIS NOMME
CACHE RIBAUT MARTIN PIGACHE ME FIST FERE NICOLE FESSART ME FIST
AMENDER JEHAN DAMIENS ME FIST. Pigache was Mayor in 1254, and Fessart
in 1261.

In February 1381 Rouvel rang for the famous revolt of the "Harelle,"
and went on ringing the whole time the town was "up." So when young
Charles VI. entered angrily by a breach in the Porte Martainville, its
treasonable clamour was silenced for some time. For this most blatant
of the privileges of the commune was actually taken away altogether.
Nor when he pardoned rebellious Rouen could the King be persuaded to
give back the bell or allow the belfry he had ruined to be set up. So
the citizens humbly besought him that they might "faire une auloge et
la fere asseoir ou estoit le Beffroi de la dicte ville," and when King
and Bailli had agreed, they craftily built a tower for their "horloge"
just like the lost and beloved belfry on the old foundations, and you
may read on the bronze plate upon the southern side how this was done
when Guillaume de Bellengues was captain of the town, and Jehan la
Thuille was bailli for the King. Jehan le Bayeux took nine years to
build it as it is shown in Jacques Lelieur's manuscript of 1525.

Begun by Jourdain Delestre, the clock was finished by Jehan de
Felanis, began to go in September 1389 with two small bells to mark
the quarters, and was mounted on its proper platform in 1396. The
King's charter of 1389 had made special and approving mention of the
virtuous Cache-Ribaut, so he was set to ring the hours. But the wicked
Rouvel had been given to two of the King's household; and the town
would not rest content without him, until, after many emphatic
reminders of his royal pardon, the King was prevailed upon to give him
back again, and he rings the curfew to this day. But he was not hung
up until October 1449, when, after Talbot had left the Vieux Palais,
the Council joyfully gave orders to Laurent des Loges, "pour pendre et
asseoir certaine cloche nommee Rouve estant en la tour du beffroy";
and in the town accounts stands the cheery item of "Sept sous six
deniers pour vin donne aux ouvriers," when it was hung on the very
Saturday on which the Duke of Somerset was handing to Charles VII. the
articles of capitulation. So when a French king at last came through
the famous street again, Rouvel, who had remained in the dignified
silence of the conquered for sixty-seven years, made his joyful note
heard again above all the clamour of the citizens, and rang a welcome
to the freedom of the city, to deliverance from the English, to the
return of the King who confirmed the ancient privileges of the Charte
aux Normands, maintained the Echiquier de Normandie, and did, in fact,
everything that was expected of him except re-establish the Mayor. For
the revolt of the Harelle had entirely deposed the Mayor from office.
In 1389 his councillors were reduced to six, and it was only three
centuries later that, in 1695, the King once more appointed a real
mayor out of the usual three candidates presented by the town.

Then the bell "Cache Ribaut" came down, as was but right of him, from
his high place within the campanile, and Rouvel swung again on his
home-beam, "a la seconde croisee en ogive," and proceeded on his old
business of proclaiming elections, festivals, and fires and curfews,
and does so still. Affectionate flattery once called him a "cloche
d'argent," from his peculiar tone; but the most open-minded foreigner
can hardly, I think, now take any other interest in his voice than
that aroused by his long history, for he has grown somewhat hoarse
from ringing no less than 650 strokes at nine each evening for so many
years.

The old clock shares with that of the Palais de Justice in Paris the
honour of being the first in France. Guillaume Thibault and Guillaume
Quesnel painted with fine gold and azure the face towards the Vieux
Marche, which Olivier had made when he decorated both sides of the old
Porte Massacre, and they set upon it the figures of the lamb and of
the four evangelists. Its face was carved as it is now in the days of
Francois Premier, and on its one hand is still seen the lamb of Rouen
pointing to the hours. You must by no means omit to mount the tower
and see the guardian wind it up, for the swing of its pendulum and the
simplicity of its internal arrangements will be of the greatest
interest. The astronomical part, showing the phases of the moon, is
quite modern, and is set in a separate place just behind the
clock-face. As you turn into the belfry out of the arch or arcade you
are actually walking on the old ramparts of the city; and on the wall
you may read the number of strokes rung to mark disaster in each
portion of the town, two for St. Sever, six for St. Gervais, one for
Mont Riboudet, and so forth. From the topmost gallery look out at the
many towers and spires which even now rise in such profusion above
the roofs of Rouen--St. Pierre du Chastel, St. Eloi, the front of the
Palais de Justice with the Tour St. Laurent beyond, St. Ouen looking
(to my mind) far finer from that point of vantage than the Cathedral,
which almost hides the delicate beauties of St. Maclou. Just below you
is the Hotel de Ville, and the courtyard which M. Detancourt filled
with queer mythology in various stages of undress, "pour son
agrement," says the guide.[31] To east and west runs the great arm of
the river, with that amphitheatre of hills which holds the town
pressed against the outside of the bow like an arrow-head ready to be
launched, and on the left of Mont St. Catherine you see the Darnetal
valley where every siege of Rouen had its natural beginning. If you
are fortunate enough to find one still alive who saw the seventeenth
summer of this century, Le Pere Pepin will show you too the
"tinterelles" presented by the Sieur de Mon in 1713, which hang round
Cache Ribaut to strike the hours; and the sun and moon, which are set
in their old place again above the pavilion.

[Footnote 31: This quaint courtyard is disappointing after you have
read De La Queriere's warm eulogies, and I have only found two
occasions on which it became notable in the history of the town. In
1461 the Conte de Charolais lodged here with Regnault de Villeneuve,
Avocat du Roi, whose house was known then as the "Lion d'Or"; and when
the White Rose triumphed in England, Margaret of Anjou found a refuge
here by the orders of Louis XI.]

I have already mentioned the name of Jacques Lelieur. His chief fame
rests on the admirable plan he made in 1525 of the water-supply of
Rouen, and incidentally of many of her streets. In Lelieur's map,
which is a fascinating mixture of plan and elevation, the Porte
Massacre (in the Rue de la Grosse Horloge), is shown to be separated
from the Hotel de Ville by a few shops. Two years after his drawing
was made the great gate (which had shown signs of weakness a century
before) was taken down and the present vaulted archway begun, which
was finished in 1529. Miss James has made for me a careful drawing of
the central panel of the entrados, which is now just above the street,
and shows the Good Shepherd (which was, no doubt, suggested by the
lamb in the arms of Rouen), copied from the seal of the Drapers'
Company. "Pastor bonus," says the legend, "animam suam ponit pro
ovibus suis." Within the semicircular panel on each side are more
sheep pasturing in a landscape, and on all the strapwork, or
"bandeaux," are carved delicate arabesques. The "pavilion," with its
high roof above it, holds the famous clock of Jehan de Felanis.

[Illustration: THE GOOD SHEPHERD

CENTRAL MEDALLION FROM THE VAULT OF THE GROSSE HORLOGE]

Besides the belfry and the archway of the clock, there was a public
fountain set on this same spot ever since Charles VII. turned out the
English. The oldest of these fountains in Rouen, drawn from the famous
spring of Gaalor, had been in the Priory of St. Lo. The next was that
set up by the Franciscans on the site of Rollo's castle, and for two
centuries the pipe of this "Fontaine des Cordeliers" passed close by
the belfry, before it struck the Town Council that it might be well to
provide water supply for citizens near the Vieux Marche, both in case
of fire, and for other obvious reasons. So by 1458, the Cordeliers
having been duly "approached" on the subject, the "Fontaine de
Massacre" was established at the foot of the belfry, and is drawn by
Lelieur as a Gothic pyramid with five sides, as tall as the arcade. It
showed signs of extreme dilapidation by the eighteenth century, and
the wags wrote squibs about the broken statues of the Virgin and
bishops by Pol Mansellement (or Mosselmen, see Chap. X.), in elegiacs
as imperfect as their subject. So the Duke of Montmorency-Luxemburg,
the Governor of Rouen and Normandy in 1728, magnanimously offered for
the restoration of the fountains all those three thousand livres which
the echevins had presented to him in a purse of cloth of gold. The
affair progressed thenceforward with due solemnity. M. de Boze,
"Intendant des devises et Inscriptions des edifices royaux," wrote
from Paris that the authorities of Rouen were to decorate their new
fountain with the loves of Alpheus and Arethusa, because, said he,
"the Seine (which is Alpheus) comes from Burgundy and Champagne to
your fountain in Rouen (which is Arethusa), to bear their mingled
waters to the sea, by which is typified your fidelity to the King to
whom the monument is to be dedicated." So the name of "Ludovicus XV."
duly appears with that of "Franciscus Fredericus Montmorencius"; and
mention is made of the allegory of Arethusa and Alpheus as aforesaid:
"Quorum fluctus amor dat esse perennes." The first sketch was made by
the King's painter, and being much approved of by the worthy Mayor
Coquerel, was executed in stone by Jean Pierre de France, "architect,
sculpteur et entrepreneur," for the sum of 5700 livres, as agreed upon
in August 1733. In 1794 the whole was considerably mutilated; but in
1846 M. Cheruel put all in order as you see it to this day, and
completed the strange harmonious mixture of buildings dating from the
Middle Ages to the eighteenth century.

As I have already noted, the first "Hotel Commune de la Ville" was set
near the Porte Massacre, close by the Town Belfry, with the vanished
church of Notre Dame de la Ronde as its first municipal chapel. It
probably stood just where the Hotel du Nord is now, when Henry
Plantagenet granted the citizens of Rouen their earliest charter of
municipal independence. The second "Town-hall" was that fief of the
Count of Leicester on the opposite side of the street, which Philip
Augustus gave to the burgesses in 1220 at an annual rental of forty
livres, and it remained in a state of primitive simplicity for more
than two centuries.[32]

[Footnote 32: Though little could be done during the English
occupation, it must have been enlarged in 1440, for we find in the
archives of that century that reference is made at various times to
(1) "la salle du conseil du manoir de la ville," (2) "galleries du
manoir," (3) "une salle de parmi ou etaient les livres de ladite
ville," (4) "une cellier," (5) "une chapelle particuliere," (6) "un
jardin carre," (7) "une cour carree devant la grande salle," and (8)
"un puits."]

In 1525 Jacques Lelieur, tracing the course of the spring Gaalor shows
three large buildings on the old fief of Leicester, bigger than
anything near them, with a Rez de chaussee, two stories above, and a
third in the roof, the ground floor being arranged for open shops,
with the principal entrance at one side. Lelieur himself is shown (as
may be seen in his small view of Rouen which I have reproduced)
offering his manuscript to four municipal officers seated round their
council-table, with a clerk at a side-desk. The walls at the right and
at the back are panelled, and decorated on the left with fleurs de
lys.

The third Hotel de Ville was built when the old shops of the Rue de la
Grosse Horloge began to tumble down. In June 1607 the first stone was
laid according to the plans of Jacques Gabriel. By 1658 Gomboust's map
of Rouen shows that the facade on the street was finished. It was in
the Italian style with "rusticated" blocks of stone, and had round
arcades on the ground floor for shops. The building originally formed
a square, and the retreating angle may still be seen northwards from
the Rue de la Grosse Horloge. In the centre of the courtyard was a
statue of Louis XIV.; a chapel stood at the north-east with a
pyramidal steeple of wood covered with lead. A fountain was placed at
the east end (no doubt supplied by the old "puits"). In 1705 the entry
upon the Grosse Horloge was opened by Jacques Monthieu, just where
the Passage de l'Hotel de Ville is to-day. In 1796 the whole building
was sold to various proprietors for 72,000 livres.

Though it is very degraded in its present state, you can still see the
Doric and Ionic pilasters in couples, and the heavy circular tops
alternating with triangles above the windows; and though all those
parts of the decoration which jutted out have been destroyed, there is
still a massive dignity about the building that would have thoroughly
justified its better preservation. In any case the municipal
authorities might have had some memory of the traditions of the old
centre of their civic life, before they moved to the commonplace
erections on the north side of the Abbey Church of St. Ouen.

So, though little but the foundations remain of the original Hotel de
Ville in the Rue de la Grosse Horloge, yet the stones of its successor
are still there, and the belfry that rang out its messages is much
more than a name; so I have thought it convenient to attach to them a
few memories of the people of Rouen as they lived in the days before
the great changes of the sixteenth century. In my next two chapters I
shall have to pause for a moment over the English siege, and the death
of Jeanne d'Arc, but the tenth chapter will deal with a few of the
numberless churches of the town, and the eleventh with that Palais de
Justice which is the triumphant signal that the sixteenth century had
begun. If I am to give you, then, a glimpse, however short, of the
people themselves in earlier years before they are overshadowed by the
great names of prelates and of princes, this will be my last
opportunity.

If any Norman were asked what was the most valuable of the privileges
which he possessed by right of citizenship in the earliest times, I
suppose he would answer without hesitation that it was the Charte aux
Normands, that confirmation, granted by Louis X. in 1315, of the old
"Custom of Normandy" ascribed by tradition to Rollo and traced by
record to William the Conqueror. It was also called the "clameur de
haro," and affectionate antiquarians derive the word from the "Ha
Rou!" with which a suppliant cried to the first pirate duke that
"wrong was being done." It is no mere artifice of fiction[33] that
this same consecrated phrase might have been heard among the
Englishmen of the Channel Islands early in the nineteenth century, and
even to this hour, that cry of "_Haro! Haro!_ a l'aide mon prince, on
me fait tort!" preserves the custom of Normandy, and of Rollo the
Dane, in Jersey, so that the sound of it "makes the workman drop his
tools, the woman her knitting, the militiaman his musket, the
fisherman his net, the schoolmaster his birch, and the ecrivain his
babble, to await the judgment of the Royal Court."

[Footnote 33: See Mr Gilbert Parker's novel, "The Battle of the
Strong," in which Jersey is carefully described, on p. 189, "A Norman
dead a thousand years cries Haro! Haro! if you tread upon his grave,"
and p. 360.]

It was soon after this confirmation of their ancient rights of
justice, that the citizens lost for a time the privileges of their
mayoralty owing to a financial dispute in 1320, which necessitated the
intervention of the King. The second epoch in the history of the
commune began, and penalties were adjudged for all cases of
misdemeanour or of shirking office. The equal, in Court-precedence, to
a Count, the Mayor of Rouen was not merely the head of the Town
Council, but sovereign-judge in matters of goods or of inheritance,
with his own court and guards and prisons. On Christmas Day, to the
sound of "Rouvel's" welcome, he marched in state to the Hotel de
Ville, surrounded by his peers and counsellors and sergeants, all in
livery with wands of office. But the Mayor was not allowed to collect
his rates from the citizens unfairly, and the dispute which followed
Thomas du Bosc's attempt to levy the Gabelle, or tax upon salt, led
once more to Royal intervention--the King "put the communes under his
hand" as the phrase went, until the quarrel had been settled. The
importance of the salt trade in Rouen has been already noticed, and
the little salt-porter carved upon the Church of St. Vincent, and now
looking out from the south-east angle over the Rue Jeanne d'Arc, is a
sign that the same trade lasted for some centuries later in the
development of Rouen's commerce.

[Illustration: THE SALT PORTER, FROM EGLISE ST. VINCENT IN THE RUE
JEANNE D'ARC]

It was not merely in peaceful ways that the expansion of the civic
power may be traced at this time. For the long-drawn misery of the
Hundred Years' War began in 1337, and nine years afterwards the King
had to hurry to Rouen to oppose the advance of Edward III., who was
already at Caen and threatened the capital of Normandy. All the woods
of Bihorel, says the chronicler sadly, had to be cut down to make
"hedges and palisades" around the menaced city. After the defeat of
Cressy, the men of Rouen had a still sharper taste of the realities of
war, for the militia of the town, who had been hurried forward to
reinforce the broken army of the King, while their comrades at home
were strengthening the defences of Rouen, came up with an English
regiment near Abbeville, and contributed a heavy share to that loss
of "six thousand men of the communes" which Froissart chronicles.

That the town stood in grave need of all these warlike preparations,
as well against internal disorders as against enemies from without,
may be imagined from the disquieting scenes of 1356, when King John
came to the castle with a hundred men-at-arms, and arrested with his
own hands Charles le Mauvais, King of Navarre, and four of his suite
who were falsely accused of treason. The Count of Harcourt, the Sire
de Graville, Maubue de Mainnemare, and Colinet Doublet, were all
beheaded on the Champ du Pardon that night in April, while the King
looked on. The resistance of the citizens to this high-handed act of
injustice was only quelled by the spreading of the news of the King's
presence. But Philip, the brother of the King of Navarre (who had been
sent to prison near Cambrai), took instant vengeance by ravaging the
suburbs of Rouen, and calling in the Duke of Lancaster's English
troops. It was in resisting this allied attack that the French King
was beaten and taken prisoner at Poitiers. As soon as Charles le
Mauvais got his freedom, two years later, he returned to rehabilitate
the memory of his friends in Rouen. The body of the Count of Harcourt
had been secretly removed from the public gibbet by his family. The
three other corpses were taken down and borne to the Cathedral with
great ceremony, where their innocence of treason was solemnly
proclaimed. Excited by this open defiance of authority, the populace
of the town rose against the Dauphin's men, seized the castle, and
destroyed the Priory of St. Gervais with which they had a private
quarrel of their own on the burning question of taxes. The commune
only secured amnesty for its offences, and reconciliation with the
Regent, by paying 3000 florins as a fine.

No doubt the revolt had had some obscure connection with the horrible
excesses of the Jacquerie which at the same moment had been desolating
Paris. The disorderly bands of ruffians who had been discharged from
the French army were, at any rate, a direct source of annoyance to
Rouen later on, as indeed they were to almost every town in France in
that unhappy time, and Bertrand du Guesclin himself had to come to
Rouen in 1364 to organise the army that finally crushed these
licentious freebooters, and their ally, the King of Navarre, at
Cocherel.

Ever since the middle of the thirteenth century, frequent references
occur in the records of the town to the various trades that, in spite
of every drawback, continued slowly to progress towards riches and
consolidation. Though the early commerce with England now died down,
home industries flourished, and of them all, the making of woollen
draperies soon became the pre-eminent commerce of the town, which in
1362 signalised the fact by placing the lamb or sheep upon its civic
seal, which henceforth appears upon the arms of the town, and is also
placed so prominently on the archway of the Grosse Horloge. Rabelais
will tell you of the prosperous merchants who bought flocks of sheep
from farmers like Dindenault, to make the "bons fins draps de Rouen,"
for Pantagruel and Panurge journeyed with Epistemon, Eusthenes, and
Carpalim to Rouen from Paris, on their way to take ship at Honnefleur,
and they will explain to you (for I cannot) why the towns that grow so
thickly round the capital become more sparsely scattered towards the
sea, and in their excellent company you may appreciate the gallantry
of Eusthenes towards the Norman ladies, and even savour faintly, as
from afar, the bouquet of that Vin blanc d'Anjou which Pantagruel
bought in some old hostelry beside the Eau de Robec. "Mouton de
Rouen," says the old proverb, "qui a toujours la patte levee," and
her sons were ever ready from the earliest years to go their ways,
"gaaignant," through all the trade-routes of Europe, where French and
Spanish wines were to be bought and sold. And beyond them too; for in
1364 they had joined the mariners of Dieppe in an expedition to the
far Canaries, and even helped towards a little settlement upon the
coast of Africa, from which the good ship "Notre Dame de Bon Voyage"
brought home a cargo of pepper, ivory, and gold-dust that caused much
speculation on the quays of Rouen. In 1380 a few actual forts were set
upon the Guinea Coast, under the command of that brave Norman admiral,
Jean de Bethencourt, the chamberlain of Charles VI., who styled
himself the King of the Canaries (most fascinating of titles!) before
he died in 1425.

But even commercial enterprise could not save the city from the
ravages of the Black Death. In 1379 it swept over the town, and
carried off an enormous number of the bread-winners, for the extent of
Rouen had now almost widened to the lines of the modern boulevards,
and its population had steadily increased from the 50,000 of a century
before. The plague had left a famine in its tracks, and as a "rich
city," Rouen had been severely taxed for the necessities of war, so
that when the regents of the young King ground down the citizens with
more oppression and ill-considered taxes, there is small wonder that
their patience came suddenly to an end, and they burst into open
revolt in February 1381. These exactions came upon the citizens with a
double sting. For not only were they exhausted by previous misery, but
the good King Charles had upon his death-bed remitted these excessive
imports, and left his heart to the Cathedral in token of his eternal
goodwill to the town of Rouen, where he had so often sojourned. So the
explosion of popular indignation was instantaneous and terrible.
While "Rouvel" clanged wildly from the belfry of the town, the
citizens attacked the tax-gatherers, upset their offices, tore in
pieces their tax-rolls, and then closed the city-gates and put up the
chains across the end of every street.

[Illustration: LA GROSSE HORLOGE AND THE TOWN BELFRY]

In a tumultuous and cheering crowd, the citizens poured towards the
centre of their civic life, in the Rue de la Grosse Horloge; Robert
Deschamps, the Mayor, was put to instant flight for daring to give
halting counsels, and his private prisons were broken open. "No King
can make the people," cried the mob, "but we are going to make a
King," and forthwith they seized on poor honest Jehan le Gras, a
quiet, seemly draper; they robed him in a cloak that had just served
its turn in the last Mystery Play, and they bore him in raucous
triumph to the open square before St. Ouen. "I forthwith abolish the
taxes!" stuttered the royal phantom in high dismay, while his subjects
cheered vociferously, and every market-place roared approbation. "I
deliver up the tax-gatherers to justice!" and in a trice every
tax-gatherer, and Jew, and usurer, and fiscal agent was haled towards
the bridge and there beheaded, till the Seine ran red beneath. "I
deliver up your cruel Mayors to justice!" went on the quavering
monarch, and forthwith five miserable men who had once been mayors of
Rouen, fled from the Rue du Grand Pont, from the Rue Damiette, and
from the Rue aux Gantiers, and took shelter in the nearest cemeteries,
while their burning houses lighted up the town. "I deliver up the
proud monks of St. Ouen to justice!" continued poor Jehan le Gras,
seeing that the mob had already begun to batter in the monastery
gates,[34] and in a moment more the archives and the ancient charters
of the privileges of St. Ouen were in tatters on the ground, or
burning among the desecrated walls they had protected for so many
centuries. In his death-agony the trembling abbot signed the
renunciation of his powers, while the crowd screamed at him till he
was borne back to die.

[Footnote 34: It had always been a bitter grievance that St. Ouen held
a monopoly of the public mills for their bakers, and the grotesque
procession of the "oison bride," in which two monks carried a goose by
a rope every year to the Town Mill in the Rue Coquerel, had not
sufficed to win their pardon from the lower classes.]

And now the mob was parted here and there by a procession of strong
men who bore something with great pride and mystery, and held it,
enveloped from all harm, above their heads. A whisper went round that
grew at last into a shout of welcome and drowned all other sounds.
"The Charter of the Normans! Hats off to the Charter! God bless the
good King Louis! God save the Charter!" From the inmost shrine of the
Cathedral, where it was kept beside the relics of St. Romain, the
famous charter had been brought by four burgesses, bareheaded, upon a
stand with golden feet. For seven and sixty years it had remained in
holy keeping, with the great green seal of Louis X. hanging from its
yellow parchment, and now the dean followed it into the streets with
all his trembling canons behind him. There was business to be done
with them too, and they knew it only too well. "The Chapter will
forthwith renounce," says Jehan le Gras, "that rent of 300 livres on
the market-halls of Rouen; you will sign the deed or take the
consequences." So they signed, and the crowd passed on breathlessly to
the next entertainment; for on a scaffold hastily erected, there stood
the King's Bailli, Thomas Poignant, reading (much against his will)
the provisions of the sacred charter, while the crowd waited with
pickaxes and hammers ready to rush and pull down his house at the
least sign of hesitation.

So in a silence that was filled with possibilities, and broken only by
the sound of the indefatigable "Rouvel," who continued tolling
feverishly night and day, the sentences of the charter of Normandy
echoed over the square before St. Ouen, and when it was ended all the
company swore upon the sacred cross to keep it faithfully, the royal
draper first, then what few remnants of civic magistracy were present,
then the canons and the whole clergy of the town, then the men of law,
and lastly every citizen in sight. Before night ended all the bloody
doings of the day, the gibbet of St. Ouen (called the "fourches
Patibulaires") had been torn down and burnt at Bihorel, and a solemn
oath of amnesty for all acts of violence was exacted from every one
who had suffered from the outrages of the mob, and at last poor Jehan
le Gras was allowed to go home to his shop, without the faintest
notion of what all the uproar had been about, and very thankful to
give up his royalty and be an ordinary draper as before.

Unfortunately the crowd, drunk with success, did not cease their riot
with the deposition of their King. The next morning they attacked the
castle Philip Augustus had set up in the Place Bouvreuil. But the
garrison repulsed them; Jean de Vienne, High Admiral of France,
brought troops into the town; the King's Commissioners were sent down
in haste with reinforcements, and heads began to fall with startling
rapidity on the scaffold in the Vieux Marche, for the town prisons
were choked with the rebels who had been arrested. To all demands for
pardon, the quieter sort of the inhabitants were ruthlessly told, "Go
to your own King, Jehan le Gras, and let him save you." But the worthy
draper had taken care to fly from Rouen as soon as he could get out of
his house, for he found the pains of royalty far outweighed its
privileges. At last when Easter Eve dawned on a most unhappy town,
news came that the young King with his uncles the Regents was waiting
at Pont de l'Arche and would only enter armed and by a breach, into
the town which had rebelled against him.

So they battered down the walls by the Porte Martainville, and the
wives and mothers and sisters of the men condemned to death in prison
helped the work, weeping at their task; and as they wrought, it was
sure some woman's heart that had the sweet imagination to deck the
town with joyous emblems, that so, by the mercy of God this young
monarch of only thirteen years might perchance be moved to compassion,
and bethink him of their former loyalty. So when the King came in, his
eyes lighted only upon banners, and tapestries, and evergreens; and
flowers fell upon him from the windows, and the leaves of the forest
strewed the roads beneath him, and from every corner came the cry of
"Noel, Noel, long live the King!" The welcome had at first been the
desperate cry of people in sore straits; but at the sight of the boy
himself, it turned into a genuine shout of admiration, for, says the
chronicle, "he was of sovereign beauty both in face and body, and full
of loving-kindness, and sweet charity, insomuch that all men who saw
him were in great joy and love of him."

But the Duke of Anjou would not allow the young King's feelings to be
moved; and it was the Duke who as they passed the belfry bade "Rouvel"
to be taken down, because he had rung out the signal for revolt. Yet
the cries of "Noel, Noel!" continued every step of the progress
through the town, until they gave way to a silence that had an even
greater effect upon the impressionable boy. For he was welcomed at the
great western gate of the Cathedral by the Archbishop Guillaume de
Lestrange, and by him was led before the sepulchre in which the heart
of Charles V. lay buried, bearing testimony for ever to his love for
Rouen. Then the King remembered how his father, each holy week, had
signed many pardons, in memory of the God who had pardoned in those
days the sins of the whole world. So he spoke the words of deliverance
to Lestrange beside him, while the population crowded, still
terror-stricken and uncertain of their fate, into the Cathedral, and
filled its aisles with anxious faces, and climbed upon the pillars to
try and get some view of the little King near the altar, upon whose
will so many lives depended. Then at last appeared the Archbishop,
standing high where all might see him, and as he read the words of
pardon which had just received the royal signature, you may imagine
how the roof rang with a greater "Noel," a louder "Vive le Roi" than
ever had sounded in the Cathedral before.

From every prison and jail in the city the prisoners were hurried to
the Mother-church; with their fetters still upon them they fell on
their knees and thanked God and the King for their deliverance, while
their families hung round their necks and sobbed for joy to see them
again alive. It was that moment on the eve of the great festival when
all the bells of Rouen began to herald the coming of Easter. The great
paschal candle had been lit in the Cathedral, and as the Archbishop
turned from the joyful throng before him to the King still standing by
the altar-steps, he welcomed the beginning of a reign that was blessed
by the giving of such happiness. And as the people crowded noisily out
into the Parvis, and each wife took her husband home again, few
thought of the misery, and the madness worse than death, that was
coming upon the young King who had set the prisoners free.

There is one more tale, a very different one, that I must tell of this
same life of the people round the belfry of the Grosse Horloge, if
only to give you the contrast of the dealings of Louis XI. with the
good citizens of Rouen, and to emphasise the moral of their sturdy
independence. For though the commune was practically suppressed, in
spite of the King's pardon, and though the results of this famous
"Revoke de la Harelle" were felt until the society in which it had
occurred had almost ceased to be, yet the character of the burgesses
remained the same under whatever laws they lived, and their freedom of
opinion continued under every rule. So that when every door in the Rue
de la Grosse Horloge flew open on a morning in 1490, when every shop
was filled with gossips eager for the news, and even "Rouvel" himself
was tingling faintly with suppressed excitement, you might be sure
that another royal attempt was being made upon the liberty of these
touchy subjects. And indeed a most astonishing thing had happened. For
a horseman of the King had suddenly spurred hot-foot through the
town, and alighted at the shop of Maitre Jehan le Tellier, with the
stupefying request for the hand of his only daughter Alice in
marriage, by virtue of the King's command signed and sealed in his
pocket. The belfry-fountain was humming like a swarm of bees as all
the chambermaids and goodwives in the street rushed up to fill their
pitchers at the very moment when Le Tellier's housemaid happened to be
filling hers.

But the loudest in outcry of them all was a young merchant whose shop
happened to be opposite, and whose complaints against these outrages
on civic independence and unwarrantable extensions of the royal
prerogative would have warmed the heart of the most crabbed
constitutional lawyer. His appeals to the sacred charter of Normandy
were far louder than the rest, his invocations of the sanctity of the
paternal tie far shriller. "What right," he cried, "had this Louis XI.
to reward the ruffians of his Court with pretty girls and dowries when
his royal purse was empty? What had made him choose Rouen, of all
towns, for so unjustifiable a caprice?" As a matter of fact, it was
about the worst choice he could have made, and Madame Estiennotte
about the most unlikely mother he could have picked out for the
prosperity of his experiment. She began by putting off the horseman
until her husband should come back from market, and the moment his
back was turned, she flew down the street to the Hotel de Ville, with
half her neighbours at her heels, and laid the King's letter before
the Town Councillors. Many of them were at once appalled by the royal
seals and sign-manual. But fortunately, one, Roger Gouel, spoke up for
the ancient privileges of the charter, loudly proclaimed that the
business was not one of the public weal, but of private concern to
Dame Estiennotte alone, and avowed himself her champion. It was
perhaps lucky for Councillor Gouel that Tristan l'Hermite was out of
the way, but the citizens were soon ready with their plan.

Desile was bidden to Le Tellier's house, and met there, somewhat to
his embarrassment, the entire regiment of the worthy merchant's
relatives, including the girl's great uncle, Abbe Viote, one of the
Cathedral dignitaries, who eyed him with a sanctimonious calm that
gave him his first tremor of uncertainty. Demoiselle Alice was
formally summoned into the family gathering, and announced her
intention of remaining single with all the innocent and unaffected
purity of a novice at a convent. After which, Madame presented the
disappointed suitor with a letter for the King, wherein was duly set
forth how that "she had received the royal letter asking for the hand
of her daughter in marriage for the King's squire; that as for herself
and her family, both themselves and their goods were at the service of
His Majesty; that unfortunately her husband had not yet returned from
market, and therefore other answer was as yet impossible save that her
daughter in presence of the family had declared her unwillingness to
marry; that she prayed God to bless His Majesty with long and happy
life, and was his humble and obedient servant, Estiennotte, wife of
Jehan le Tellier."

The wrath of King Louis, the sarcasms of Tristan l'Hermite, the
laughter of Olivier le Daim; these things you must imagine for
yourself, when that letter was read before His Majesty. But the fact
remains that other and more pressing business called Desile away to
foreign wars, and Demoiselle Alice consoled herself for her royally
appointed suitor by giving distinct encouragement to the merchant
opposite who had laid such stress upon the inviolable privileges of
the "Charte aux Normands." The story went the round of Rouen, from the
Rue du Hallage to the Hotellerie des Bons Enfants and back again, and
you can almost hear its echoes still in that old Rouen

      "des vieux pignons aigus
       comme des epines dorsales
     Bombant les angles contigues
       Sur les solives tranversales.--
     Les logis causent de tout pres,
       Et l'ombre leur est coutumiere,
     On jurerait qu'ils font expres
       De manquer d'air et lumiere."

[Illustration: HOTEL DES BONS ENFANTS]

And you will pardon me that for a moment I have listened to that
muttered gossip, to the scandal that one old roof-tree whispered to
another whilst it leant across the narrow street, as some old woman
mumbles secrets to her neighbour with bleared eyes winking beneath her
shaggy brows. There was far more talking in the streets then than
there is now, especially in such crowded little passage-ways as this
old Rue du Hallage, a corruption from the Maison du Haulage where
taxes on the corporations and on goods sold in the market-halls were
levied. For in the fourteenth century for the 228,000 inhabitants of
Paris there were only twenty-four "hotels" and eighty-six "taverns,"
and the similar disproportion in Rouen was only made up for, in the
case of the "genuine traveller," by the unstinted hospitality of such
monasteries and hospitals as those at St. Catherine, St. Vivien, or
St. Martin.

But the taverns or wine-shops did a roaring trade. On their benches
the burgesses sat every afternoon discussing business matters with
their lawyers over the light "vin du pays," or bought a few bottles of
the "vin de choix," which was the recognised offering to preachers,
judges, councillors, and kings alike.[35] It was, in fact, no bad
thing to be the advocate in a case when a rich monastery was
concerned, for the Abbey of St. Gervais records about this time that
it gave its judges and lawyers in one very critical lawsuit, a dinner
at their favourite hotel, comprising fish and pears and meat and
hypocras (no less!) and ginger and sugar and a hundred oysters. Not in
that order let us hope, though the bowels of men of law are
traditionally tough, and the hospitality of the intention is
undoubted.

[Footnote 35: The Town Accounts are filled with such cheerful business
entries as the following: "Avec Mons. Jehan Delammarre qui fu clerc de
la ville, a l'Escu de France aupres la Madeleine le darrenier jour de
septembre, 28."

"Pour boire au matin avec les advocas chiez Jehan le Bucher, 4s. 6d."

"Pour boire avec le lieutenant du Maire," and so forth. The fifteen
taverns mentioned in the accounts of the jovial town clerk from 1377
to 1381 are all to be found going very strong in the sixteenth
century. M. de Beaurepaire has preserved their fascinating
names:--L'Asne Roye, Les Petits souliers, Le Fleur de Lys pres St.
Maclou, Le Cygne devant St. Martin, Le Singe pres de la Madeleine, and
many more.]

Till the end of the fifteenth century mine host was called the
"Seigneur" of his sign, as the "Seigneur de l'Ours, Seigneur de la
Fleur de Lys;" and though by the close of the sixteenth century we
still find a "Dame de la Croix Rouge" for the hostess, her husband had
become (I quote from the accounts in the Archeveche) "maitre du Pilier
vert," or "maitre de l'Ecrevisse." But even earlier than the
fifteenth century it was already possible to get good lodging for the
night at an hotel in Rouen, for a contract of 1395 has been preserved,
made between Guillaume Blanc-baston and Guillaume Marc to furnish
forth a hostelry, much as we may imagine the Hotel des Bons Enfants
was furnished in its youth. "Four casks of good wine at ten livres,"
says this document; "twelve good beds with twenty-four pairs of
sheets; eight cups and a goblet with a silver foot; a dozen 'hanaps'
of pewter," with pots and pans and pewter dishes innumerable.[36]

[Footnote 36: No. 41 Rue des Bons Enfants is a capital example of the
Fifteenth Century Timbered inn. To the right of the inner yard a
gallery juts out on crooked pillars, the "avant-soliers" so common in
mediaeval streets, and shown in Lelieur's drawings. Queer gables rise
into the air at odd corners, and if you are sufficiently hardened to
mediaeval atmospheres you may discover other stables than the big shed
at the entrance, and you will understand the reason for the Notice "On
ne repond pas des accidents qui peuvent arriver aux chevaux." Through
a dark narrow slit the phantom of a cobwebbed stable-boy will lead you
into the blackened aged stables, and the spire of the abandoned church
of St. Croix des Pelletiers rises above them. Lunch here upon
omelettes and sound wine; but sleep were possibly unwise, though "Room
Number Ten" is almost too fascinating an apartment to resist.]

[Illustration: A COBBLER OF ROUEN, FROM THE STALLS OF THE CATHEDRAL]

In such an old courtyard as this of the "Bons Enfants," with its
overhanging balcony, and queerly managed stables, or in other old inns
like No. 19 Rue des Matelas, or No. 4 Rue Etoupee with its charming
"signboard," men sat and talked of their various trades, the cobbler,
for instance, who is carved on the Cathedral stalls, with the
clog-maker, and the wool-comber, and the carpenter, all met and
gossiped of their latest piece of profitable business, while the
lawyers discussed the never-ending question of the Privilege de St.
Romain with some learned clerk over their "vin blanc d'Anjou." By the
fourteenth century the list of the prisoners released by the Cathedral
Chapter begins to be very full and detailed, and we can quite imagine
what was talked about in every tavern of the town as Ascension-tide
drew near.

In 1360, for example, the King's Mint was already established in the
Rue St. Eloi, and you may still see it at No. 30 in that street as you
go up on the right hand from the river to the Place St. Eloi. The
"Hotel des Monnaies" has been all whitewashed over, but there is a
strong and ancient look about the windows on the street facade that
warns you to go through the little passage-way, to find the soldiers
of the Douane lounging about the courtyard inside. On the back of the
houses that look out upon the street you will see the arms and cipher
of Francois Premier, which show that in his days the Mint still
remained in a house that was far older. And in 1360 the "Officer of
the Mint of the parish of St. Eloi," who quarrelled about the price of
his chicken in the Parvis, "voulait avoir de la poulaille a son pris."
He must have done his bargaining in very strong language, for one of
the three brothers Sautel who kept the shop, smote him that he died,
and it was to these brothers that the privilege of raising the Fierte
St. Romain with pardon for this crime, was in that year granted.

Only three years afterwards, Blanche, Dowager-Queen of France, had
laid her hand by way of justice upon Jehan le Bourgeois of Neufchatel
in spite of the fact that his murder had been pardoned by the canons'
Privilege de St. Romain; and from this case, and the following one in
1391, it appears that the pardon given to a prisoner involved that
(apart from "civil" restitutions) he was released from any "criminal"
fine that might have been laid on him, and was of right to be restored
to all offices and goods held by him previous to his arrest. More than
this, the Bailli of Rouen was not allowed to condemn any prisoner at
all during the month that intervened between the "insinuation of the
privilege" and the actual ceremony of the pardon; the "insinuation"
being the technical word for the annual formality by which the legal
authorities were informed that the Chapter would inquire into the
various prisons of the town, and proceed to make their choice before
Ascension. In one case a prisoner condemned to death (Robert Auberbosc
in 1299) was only just saved (though he was not finally chosen for the
Fierte) at the last moment from the gallows, whither he had been taken
during this sacred period, contrary to the rights of the chapter; and
again in 1361 the Bailli had actually executed a man in the same
interval before the canons knew, or could prevent it; and he was then
and there solemnly excommunicated until full amendment had been made,
for that he had been so wicked as to "violer le previlege et libertes
de l'eglise de Rouen, en vitupere de la dicte eglise et de Monsieur
St. Romain."

The first woman to whom the famous privilege was accorded was
Guillemette Gomont in 1380, of whom nothing is recorded; but in the
next year strangely enough another woman carried the Fierte, by name
Jehanne Helart, the wife of Robert Cariel, who had slain Jehan
Vengier; and in 1388 Estiennotte de Naples, who had been brought from
Louvier to marry Guillaume Luart, of the parish of St. Vincent in
Rouen, was pardoned by the Chapter in spite of having murdered her
husband. In this example, as in many others, to our modern eyes, the
motives which persuaded the canons to pardon the criminal they chose
are scarcely intelligible, and I can only imagine that the key to the
tragedy has been lost in most of such cases. But it is the women who
are at the bottom of nearly all recorded crime in the long story of
the Fierte, and when they are themselves chosen it is often at the end
of a drama that surpasses in interest all the tales of mere masculine
malefactors in the most interesting criminal record I have ever seen.
I shall have occasion to speak of them later. For the present I can
only take note of the cases that have been most prominent before the
time of the English siege.

The ceremony of the "Levee de la Fierte" did not invariably meet with
the approval of the people, as may be seen from the last case I have
room to quote from this period. In 1394 Jehan Maignart, of the parish
of St. Maclou, murdered Rogier le Veautre, with the assistance of two
accomplices, Pierre Robert and Jehan Marie. After the procession of
the public pardon on Ascension Day was over, the members of the
Confrerie of St. Romain were leading Maignart in triumph through the
streets of Rouen, with a wreath of roses on his head, when suddenly a
poor woman appeared at the corner of the Rue de l'Ecole, and screamed
to the prisoner that he was a disloyal traitor; praying St. Romain
that for his next crime he would not escape the hanging that was his
due, for that now he was only screening the true criminals from
punishment.[37] The indignant Chapterhouse were only prevailed upon to
overlook the crime of insulting their released prisoner by the full
repentance of this woman. But "the Law" had heard her too, and it laid
its hand promptly on the two accomplices. The canons instantly
objected, and a valuable precedent was created by the decision of the
King, before whom the final appeal of the case was laid. By the royal
charter, signed in February 1395, the full privileges of the canons
were upheld. The proces-verbal still exists upon a roll of parchment
fairly written, nine feet in length, with the evidence of eighty-seven
witnesses. The canons laid down (1) their right to the pardon; (2) its
origin in the miracle of St. Romain, who "prinst et mist en subjection
un grant serpent ou draglon qui estoit environ Rouen"; (3) the
sacredness with which this commemoration should be preserved; (4, 5,
6, 7, 8) the various details of the formality to be observed from the
"insinuation," the suspension of all capital punishment till
Ascension, the visiting of the prisons, and the choice of the
criminal, to the public procession; (9, and most important) the
prisoner is pardoned for every crime he confesses to the canons, not
only the one for which he is then in prison, but all previous ones; he
is restored to his heritage and his good fame; and all his accomplices
in sin are to enjoy the same full pardon (with its consequences) as
himself.

[Footnote 37: Her exact words were carefully recorded by the horrified
confrerie: "Ha! faux traitre, meurdrier, tu as pris le fait sus toy,
pour delivrer autruy; tu t'en repentiras. Je pri a dieu et a
Monseigneur Saint Romain que tu faches encore le fait de quoy tu saies
trainne et pendu."]

[Illustration: THE RUE DU HALLAGE]

It had been recognised as early as 1269 that all previous crimes were
pardoned, for the act of pardon granted by the bailli to Nicole
Lecordier in that year speaks of him as "delivre franc et quite de
tous forfes ... quielz qil soient, del tens en arriere jusques au jor
dui." And by 1446 the charter of Charles VII., which is still
preserved in the archives of the Cathedral, announces in May of that
year that the prisoner who raises the Fierte "est absolz du cas pour
le quel il l'a levee et de tous crismes precedents." So that we reach
the astonishing proposition that the Chapterhouse of Rouen enjoyed a
far greater power than even the royal prerogative of mercy, which only
pardoned a specified crime; whereas the Chapterhouse by a kind of
baptism and regeneration from sin, started their prisoner afresh on a
new life without any reference to his past misdeeds. What this
involved I shall show when opportunity arises; but the release of the
accomplices as well as the prisoner was an even more extraordinary
extension of powers. It had already taken place before this test case,
in a tavern brawl in 1370, in the crime of two drapers in 1356, and in
a very important example when Guillaume Yon with another man of
Pavilly were released after the slaying of a butcher; and the Seigneur
d'Esneval gave sworn testimony that when a friend of the dead butcher
publicly called the accomplice in the crime "a murderer," that
accomplice would have been delivered up to justice if the principal
had not carried the Fierte. The retrospective action of the pardon on
the principal also extended to his accomplices, who began life afresh
just as he did. And this extension was solemnly confirmed at the
inquiry, from which I have just quoted. There is no doubt, however,
that so excessive a "prolongation" of the powers of pardon cannot have
been allowed throughout the whole history of the Fierte; for public
opinion could scarcely have permitted a gang of ruffians every year to
return to the full privileges enjoyed by their more honest comrades.
So at the end of the fifteenth, and again at the end of the sixteenth
century, we find it laid down that only those crimes _named_ by the
prisoner should be pardoned, if the Chapter thought fit, and that only
those accomplices who appeared _with him_ in the procession should
share in his pardon.

It was only in April 1407 that this long appeal was finally decided in
favour of the two accomplices of Maignart, who bore the Fierte
thirteen years before. But the Chapterhouse took good care that so
much tedious and costly legal work should not be thrown away, and the
strength of the precedents and charters they secured at this time was
never entirely lost while the "Privilege" existed in Rouen at all.

There is only one other matter much concerning the life of the people
at this period for which I have space left, and that is their Mystery
Plays. Two celebrated instances occur in these years before the
invasions of the English and the siege of Rouen. In November 1365 the
King gave two hundred crowns of gold to a troupe of "dancers and
musicians" who had played before him at the castle in the Place
Bouvreuil. In 1374 the Confrerie de la Passion was instituted at the
Church of St. Patrice, and on Holy Thursday held a procession in which
all the instruments of the Passion of Christ were carried through the
streets by children in the garb of angels. The Mystery that followed
was given by the direct sanction of the Church in presence of the
King, and in 1476 these representations became a regular annual
performance, and the Confrerie had developed by 1543 into a strong
rival of that more famous Confrerie de la Conception, or Puy des
Palinods, of which I have already traced the beginning (see p. 69), in
the verses of Robert Wace.

The first of these old Mystery Plays had been merely copies of those
Fetes de l'Eglise, of which I have spoken in suggesting the origin of
the ceremonial at the Levee de la Fierte St. Romain, and were in fact
"tableaux vivants" of the religious office. Then dialogues were added,
and the "Drame Liturgique" appeared within the churches themselves.
But the inevitable element of caricature and buffoonery soon
necessitated an "outside show." The traces of this transition may be
seen in the Chapterhouse Records of Rouen. In 1451, for example, the
Christmas mystery is performed "cessantibus tamen stulticiis et
insolenciis," and in 1457 "ordinaverunt quod misterium pastorum fiat
isto festo nativitatis decenter in cappis." The "jeux de Fous" had
been forbidden by the Town Council in 1445 to be held in the churches,
and so was the "Procession de l'Ane" (from which the anthem "Orientis
partibus adventavit asinus" has been so often quoted) with its
prophets and sibyls, and the poet Virgil.

But in 1374 the Confrerie de la Passion led their procession in all
solemnity on the fete day of St. Patrice from his church to the parish
of their warden, and all the poor school children went before, and the
last twelve wardens followed after, each leading a beggar man by the
hand, whose feet they washed during the performance of their Mystery.
And this continued until 1636. The last written "Mystere du Lavement
des Pieds" that exists was by one Nicolle Mauger, who laboured under
the disadvantage of living in the same century with Corneille.

[Illustration: MAP OF ROUEN SHEWING EXTENSION EASTWARD IN FIFTEENTH
CENTURY]




CHAPTER VIII

_The Siege of Rouen by Henry V._

     "War's ragged pupils; many a wavering line
     Torn from the dear fat soil of champaigns hopefully tilled,
     Torn from the motherly bowl, the homely spoon,
     To jest at famine....
     Over an empty platter affect the merrily filled;
     Die, if the multiple hazards around said die."


The Mystery Plays which I have just mentioned in the last chapter were
undertakings at once so solemn and so popular that I can give no
better idea of coming trouble than is contained in the fact of the
postponement of the Mystery arranged by the Confrerie de la Passion
for 1410. On the 28th of March that year the sheriffs decided that,
owing to the heavy obligations pressing on the town by reason of the
quarrel with the Duke of Burgundy, and of the severe war-taxes
depleting both private purses and public revenue, these entertainments
must be given up. We find that this Confrerie was not to be put off in
1415, and even repeated its play at Pentecost thirty years later; but
in 1410 their disappointment was only one of many signs of that
disorder and poverty which finally laid Rouen open and defenceless
before the English army.

Already, in 1383, commerce and industry had suffered cruelly from the
municipal anarchy which followed the suppression of the commune, and
from the heavy fines for its rebellion imposed by the King. It was not
for more than three centuries that the famous mayor reappeared; and
this is no solitary instance of such an obliteration in the country,
for though French Communes actually began before the Free Boroughs of
England, they had not any of the qualities of permanence they showed
in the nation where antiquity is more traceable in institutions than
in such buildings as are still scattered in profusion over France.
Another quaint little episode that shows the uneasiness of the town
occurred in 1405, and is to be found in the deliberations of the Hotel
de Ville for the 27th of September. Before Guillaume de Bellengues,
Captain of Rouen, and his council, the question was discussed of the
arrival of a certain Spanish captain, Pedro Nino, Count of Buelna,
from Harfleur. Seventeen days afterwards he came, and it is
interesting to observe that, in spite of relations with Spain which
had begun long previously, lasted until after Corneille's day, and are
still recorded in the name of the Rue des Espagnols, the good citizens
of Rouen were very much upon their guard when Pedro Nino sailed up the
Seine, and only allowed him to stay in their port and revictual on
very hard conditions, one of which was the entire surrender of all
offensive and defensive weapons. They also insisted on mooring his
three galleys in a certain spot, keeping a strict guard over them, and
not allowing any of his men in Rouen during the night.

It happens that the personality of Don Pedro is not unknown to us,
from other sources, and the bombastic account[38] written by his
faithful squire, Gutierre de Gamez, has so many interesting points in
it about Rouen at this date that I must refer to it, if only to bring
out of its obscurity a book that is hardly known, and almost deserves
to rank near the more famous and extended chronicle of the "Loyal
Servitor" of Bayard. Without going at any length into a life which
does not concern us, I may say briefly that after his education at the
Court of Castile, which he is said to have owed to his descent from
the royal house of France, Don Pedro was commissioned at twenty-five
years of age to attack the Barbary Corsairs in the Western
Mediterranean. Ever since Du Guesclin had deposed Pedro the Cruel, and
placed Henry of Trastamare upon the throne of Castille, the alliance
between that power and France remained a political tradition; and at
about this time Charles VI. being at war with England, asked for help,
with which Don Pedro was sent. He actually took a town in Cornwall,
laid Portland under contribution, and burnt the town of Poole.
Returning to Harfleur, he was prevented by contrary winds from again
crossing the Channel, and therefore decided to sail up the Seine and
winter at Rouen. The luxury of the French nobles was only one of the
many reasons of the weakness and disaster of the nation, and Don
Pedro's voyage up the river seems to have been made pleasant to him by
every chatelaine upon its banks, until he reached the Clos des Galees
(which is rightly described in the "Victorial"), and met the somewhat
gruff demands of the authorities of Rouen.

[Footnote 38: The "Cronica" begins as follows:--"Este libro ha nombre
el Victorial, e fabla en el de los quatros Principes que fueron
mayores en el mundo...." It was published in Madrid in 1880, 236 pp.
4to, and was translated from the original Spanish by MM. Circourt and
Puymaigre. (Paris, Victor Palme, 1867, 590 pp. 8vo).]

They must have very soon changed their opinions, however; indeed, from
the fact that in July of that same year the welcome and the gifts
offered to Louis, Duke of Orleans, by the sheriffs were entirely
contrary to the wishes of the population, who had just rebelled
against his taxes, we may infer that a friend of that Duke, as Don
Pedro showed himself to be on visiting Paris a little later, was not
likely to have long been treated with hostility or even indifference
by the civic officials.

It is, therefore, hardly surprising that we soon hear of a love-affair
in Rouen, and that too with the daughter of M. de Bellengues, the
captain of the town himself. This lady had but just become a widow,
after her marriage with Renaud de Trie, Admiral of France, which took
place from the Hotel du Bec, before a large assembly of her father's
friends in their parish church of St. Lo, with sixteen "Farceurs"
dancing before the procession to amuse the people. "She is too
good-looking," said the Captain, "for me to prevent anyone from seeing
her;" and by this brilliant ceremony he gave a decisive check to the
prevailing custom of secret weddings in a private chapel.[39] The
description of the Chateau of Serifontaine, near Rouen, where the
gallant Don first met the old and sickly admiral and his pretty wife,
is as complete as almost any other I have seen, as a picture of a
great French nobleman's house at the beginning of the fifteenth
century.

[Footnote 39: M. de Bellengues lived in Michel Leconte's house, called
the Manoir de la Fontaine, which was disputed by the parishes of St.
Lo and St. Herbland. In it was a little chapel very fashionable for
private weddings, and a mysterious apartment which could be hired for
honeymoons. The Manor was bought in 1429, for the convenience of monks
visiting Rouen, by the Abbaye du Bec, from which the street took its
name.]

I have no space to quote the "Victorial" unfortunately, and from its
pages I can only hint at the abundance you may gather of the ordered
beauty and quiet of the place; of the chapel with its band of
wind-instruments and minstrels; of the gracious orchards and gardens
by the stream; of the lake that could be drained at will, to choose
the best fishes for the Admiral's table; of the five and forty
sporting dogs and the men who cleaned the kennels; of the long rows of
stalls, each with its horse, in the spacious stables; of the falcons
and their perches and their keepers; of the separate lodgings of my
lady, joined to the main building by a drawbridge, and filled with
dainty furniture. There, too, may be read how Madame went forth so
soon as she had risen from her bed, with her ten maids-in-waiting, to
a shrubbery where each sat in silence, with her rosary and her Book of
Hours; how they then set to picking flowers till it was time for Mass;
how breakfast followed, with chickens and roasted game upon a silver
dish, and wine; how they all rode out together of an early afternoon,
taking what gentlemen were there, and singing blithely till the fields
echoed as with the songs of Paradise. Into this delightful abode the
old Admiral had invited the sea-captain, who was a guest of Rouen. The
Spaniard was welcomed with a banquet on his arrival, at which his
host, too feeble now to ride or hunt, did the honours of his house
right courteously, providing sweet music during all the dinner, and a
ball afterwards, at which his wife danced for an hour with the gay Don
Pedro. After a ride round the castle grounds the visitor went off to
Paris, and can hardly have been surprised, when he returned to Rouen
and found the Admiral had died, to receive a message from the pretty
widow to come up and hear the news.

But the lovers were unlucky, for she might not wed again so soon after
her widowhood, and he was under orders for the war, and had no
permission for such dalliance from his master, the King of Castille.
So he sailed away towards Harfleur, after many protestations of
affection on each side, during an eclipse of the sun which came on as
he left Rouen harbour, and much terrified his sailors. And the end of
his little story is that he married Dona Beatrix of Portugal, and died
in 1453; while Jeanne de Bellengues espoused as her second husband
Louis Mallet de Graville, Sieur de Montagu, Grand-Master of the
Arbaletriers of France, and died still in her youth, in 1419. She was
buried in the chapel of the Trinity in Rouen Cathedral, and all her
husband's lands were confiscated by the English King. The intimate
connection that existed at this time with Spain is exemplified again
by the marriage of Robert de Bracquemont, who surrendered Pont de
l'Arche to King Henry during the English advance on Rouen, with Inez
de Mendoza, daughter of a high functionary at the Court of Castille,
where he had been the French ambassador, and owned estates in
Fuentesol and Pennarenda.

I have mentioned the irritation of the populace when Louis d'Orleans
was received so well by the sheriffs. But their disgust at "the six
barrels of wine, and the bales of royal scarlet" then presented may
not have been merely political; for many must have remembered how in
1390 the Hotel de Ville had actually been seized for debt owing to the
extravagant gifts of silver plate presented to Isabeau of Bavaria. The
family of Mustel in fact had "fait mettre en criees et subhastations
le manoir de la ville." And in times of such distress the citizens may
well have objected to any useless ostentation on the part of their
officials.

Disturbances continued rife in Rouen through these terrible years of
the weakness of the King. Chains had to be fastened permanently across
many squares and streets in the town, which had become absolutely
depopulated owing to the misery of such riots as that of 1411, or the
still more serious outbreak of 1417, when the perpetual quarrels of
the Armagnac and Burgundian parties were reflected in the factions of
the town. The burgesses declared for them of Burgundy, who posed as
the "Progressives," or defenders of the people's rights, and therefore
objected to the Bailli and the Chateau, as being the representatives
of the Conservative and aristocratic Armagnacs, the gatherers of those
hateful taxes, which had been doubled that year, and had thus made
still more difficult a commerce already crippled by constant changes
in the currency. Perpetual imposts and extraordinary war-subventions
had drained the town of its resources for some time. Every religious
community had been forced to forego all privileges and contribute
like the rest. And after Bernard, Count of Armagnac, had assumed
official direction of the Government, his excessive exactions made it
easy to add the loss of Harfleur and the defeat of Agincourt, to the
many sins of his party. The brigandage and violence of an Armagnac,
Jean Raoulet, all along the Seine, brought home to the people of Rouen
with an even more startling clearness the necessity for trying what
the other side could do for them.

So John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, had an easy part to play as
the champion of the downtrodden people. On the 24th of April he sent a
political manifesto into the town (very much of the kind to which
modern France has become accustomed) promising relief from taxation.
Before swallowing the bait entirely the burgesses submitted the seals
to examination in Paris, but the drapers of Rouen scarcely waited for
confirmation before they attacked the royal tax-gatherers with cries
of "Long live Burgundy!" Thereupon d'Armagnac sent three commissioners
with a troop of Bretons and Genoese cross-bowmen from Paris. But the
townsfolk would not let the mercenaries enter, seizing the keys of the
town from the officials and mounting their own guard at every gate.
The three commissioners, powerless without their escort, took refuge
in the Chateau. The King's bailli, Raoul de Gancourt, refused to leave
his post. He seems to have been a man brave enough to make his mark
upon the stricken field of Agincourt, and intellectual enough to win a
local reputation as a poet, a nature in fact somewhat akin to Charles
d'Orleans. But though he could make no head against the rioters he
would not leave his honour behind him in the Rue Beauvoisine, and
gathered round his hospitable hearth a few of the choice spirits of
the town who joined him in deploring the excesses of the populace.

Outside in the market-place Burgundian orators were rousing the
passions of the mob, and chief among the leaders of the people were
Alain Blanchart and De Livet, a canon of the Cathedral, then in charge
of the diocese during the absence of Louis d'Harcourt, who much
preferred the amusements of a courtier to the pious seclusion of an
archbishop. As soon as the news of all this reached Paris, the Dauphin
himself, with a brilliant suite, set out for Rouen, and encamped in
the fortress on St. Catherine's Hill, to the south-east of the town,
between the Aubette and the Seine. A message sent him by De Gancourt,
intercepted by the citizens, put the finishing touch to their
resentment. Three men were picked out to rid them of the bailli. One
of them was Guillot Leclerc (afterwards beheaded for his crime), but
Alain Blanchart had no share in the assassination, whatever you may
imagine to be the meaning of Monstrelet's remarks. At midnight on the
23rd of July (the day of the Dauphin's arrival on St. Catherine) some
masked men went to De Gancourt's door, begging him to receive a
malefactor they had arrested. The moment the bailli appeared they fell
upon him and left him dead in the gutter. Directly afterwards they
rushed on to the house of his lieutenant-general, Jean Legier, seized
him and his nephew, and threw them into the Seine, together with other
prominent members of the Armagnac faction.

The only result was a short blockade of the town by the Dauphin's
troops and a military demonstration from the Chateau, which could be
reinforced from outside through a postern to the west of the Porte
Bouvreuil.[40] The citizens then surrendered, the Sire de Gamaches was
made bailli, and Jean d'Harcourt (a relation of the absentee
archbishop) was made captain of the town, with command of the castle;
but the Dauphin's party was not strong enough to punish as they
wished, and Rouen was left in a state of ill-suppressed disloyalty.
This broke out once more into rebellion at the beginning of the new
year. Robert de Bracquemont, made Admiral of France in April 1417
(whose Spanish alliances I have mentioned on p. 174), was sent down
with troops as lieutenant-general of the King in Rouen, Gisors, Caux,
and Honfleur. But he could not get into the town, and had to wait in
the fortress of St. Catherine. During his short tenure of office the
negotiations (preserved in the archives of Dieppe) which he was
obliged to attempt, in order to secure some sort of coalition between
the hostile factions against the English army, are a lamentable
revelation of the dissensions of the time. When the supremacy of the
Burgundians became inevitable, he went away, as we have seen, to
Spain, leaving his opponent, Guy le Bouteiller, to take command of the
castle of Rouen, and bring back with him Alain Blanchart with other
democratic exiles; and these two are prominent names in the siege that
is to come, for Blanchart was made captain of the picked burgess-troop
of the Arbaletriers of Rouen, Guillaume d'Hondetot was made bailli,
and Laghen, the Bastard of Arly, was made lieutenant.[41] The Royalist
Armagnacs were definitely abandoned, but, as we shall see, the unhappy
town gained little in the crisis of her fate from her Burgundian
sympathies.

[Footnote 40: For the whole of this chapter see Map B.]

[Footnote 41: During the same changes, Pierre Poolin was given the
office of Procureur-General of Rouen, and Jean Segneult exercised the
functions of the Mayoralty, though without the actual name.]

During all these days of civic anarchy the English troops were
steadily advancing to their goal. Though no predetermined plan is
proved to have existed in the mind of Henry V., the movements of his
army resulted in a very definite and successful campaign. Landing on
the elbow of the coast of Normandy, where no one expected him, he cut
the strength of her resistance in two by a rapid march from north to
south, paralysing the warlike nobles of Cotentin, and forcing the
hostile Angevins and the uncertain Bretons to remain neutral. Then,
after sending out detachments to east and west, he concentrated on the
Seine, crossed it above Rouen, and seized Pont de l'Arche so as to cut
off her best communication with Paris, crush her between his fleet,
his army, and his garrison at Honfleur, and ensure the conquest of
Normandy beneath her walls.

While the toils were thus closing in upon her, while she was being
slowly cut off from crippled France, from Paris, where the citizens
had nothing better to do than massacre the Armagnacs, Rouen sent
hurriedly for help to the Duke of Burgundy. They only got brave words
from his son, the Count of Charolais, who used all the taxes of the
northern towns to fight against--not the English, but the Armagnacs.
Paris showed a greater sympathy by instantly sending 300 archers and
300 of their own militia. At last the Duke of Burgundy gave to a
selfish policy what he had refused to patriotism, and realising that
when his own party was in power the English were more enemies than
allies, he sent 4000 men-at-arms to help the beleaguered city. In
January Guy le Bouteiller had brought 1500 more with him into the
castle. The town itself could provide 15,000 militia, 100
arbaletriers, 2000 artillerymen, and 2000 troops from the rest of
Normandy, who had fled to Rouen when their own towns were destroyed,
giving a total of 25,200 fighting men.

Taught by the bitter experience of Caen, the burghers began their
preparations by devastating the buildings in St. Sever on the south
side of the bridge, and before the invaders were close up, they
practically levelled to the ground nearly every house in the faubourgs
outside the fortifications. With the stone thus sacrificed, they
repaired the breaches in their walls, and strengthened every tower,
sowing "chausse-trappes," or sharp three-pronged irons in the fields
all round the city. Besides the cannon on the walls, each tower had
three large guns pointing in different directions, and eight smaller
pieces for fast firing. Antiquated weapons were pressed into the
service as well, the balista, the three-mouthed trebuchet (the
tappgete, or tryppgette of the English), and the sling for hurling
heavy darts and arrows set up on the Porte Martainville. Besides this,
they sank every boat on the Seine, above or below the town, and even
burnt their two royal galleys when the progress of the siege compelled
them to prevent the English from the advantage of their capture.
Further taxes were raised and cheerfully paid by layman, ecclesiastic,
and soldier alike, and orders were issued, by the sound of a trumpet
in every public square, that every householder should get in
provisions for ten months, an almost impossible feat considering the
scarcity of all food in Normandy at the time. Finally, some thousands
of the poorer classes were banished out of the town, and a few drifted
as far as Beauvais and Paris, but the majority were swept back again
into Rouen by the constantly increasing tide of fugitives driven into
the city by the English, to make the task of feeding so many useless
mouths more difficult. The results were hideous when the famine came.

On the English side, the King's own men numbered 16,400 of all arms,
the contingents of his various captains and barons amounted to 20,306,
including knights, light cavalry, and archers on foot. In addition,
1000 carpenters and workmen followed the army, with some 6000
engineers, sappers, and miners including the men who served the
artillery. This was the force that left England, and any diminutions
in it, by lapse of time and service, were more than made up by the
reinforcements of the Earl of March, of the Duke of Exeter, of Sir
John Talbot, and the Prior of Kilmaine. So that the total of the army
that besieged Rouen was, at least, 45,000 men. This large force was
brought across the Seine, partly by the old bridge of Pont de l'Arche,
partly by a light and ingenious pontoon bridge made of planks
supported on watertight leather boats, which could be packed up and
carried with the army on the march.

The first appearance of the enemy was when the Duke of Beaufort (who
had been Earl of Dorset in 1415), appeared before the walls to summon
Rouen to surrender on terms. The citizens answered him with an attack
of cavalry. On Friday the 29th of July, Henry V. set out from Pont de
l'Arche by the right bank of the river, with a cloud of scouts before
his army, savage half-clad Irishmen, armed with light shields, short
javelins, and long knives, who plundered all the countryside, and rode
into camp at night astride of the cattle they had stolen. That same
evening, "the Friday before Lammas day," the King reached Rouen and
placed his troops all round the town under cover of the darkness. The
citizens awoke next morning to find Rouen girdled with English steel.
The die was irrevocably cast. Abandoned by their king, by both the
factions into which the rest of France was torn, the hardy burgesses
resolved to stand firm for the honour of a nation which had left them
to their fate. And, at first sight, the mighty walls, and moats, and
towers must have made even the English hesitate before attacking a
town that had prepared so stubborn a defence.

[Illustration: THE CHARTREUSE DE LA ROSE]

The account of the siege has very fortunately been preserved by two
eye-witnesses, and we are able to check any French sympathies that may
have crept into the accounts of Monstrelet, or of the Monk of St.
Denys, of Juvenal des Ursins, or of the "Journal d'un Bourgeois de
Paris," by comparing them not merely with the worthless "Chronique de
Normandie," or with Pierre Cochon's "Chronique Normande," but with
two far more important and more authoritative descriptions, one
preserved in Paris, the other in the British Museum. Both were written
by men in the army of Henry V., whose names are unknown. The first is
called the "Chronicon Henrici Quinti," which was brought to France by
Pierre Pithou, and is now in the Bibliotheque Nationale (MS. 6239).
The second is a poem in contemporary English called the "Sege of
Roan," of which 954 verses were published by Mr Conybeare in
"Archaeologia Britannica" (vol. xxi.), and 676 verses by Sir Frederick
Madden (_Ib._ vol. xxii.). Of English contemporary authorities,
Otterbourne and Stow have something to say, but Walsingham is useless.
Rymer's "Foedera" has some important documents (vol. IV. iv.) and
there are finally, of course, the archives of the town itself, which
emphasise in many details the heroic patriotism and constancy of the
citizens amidst the sufferings, as terrible as can be imagined, which
preceded the fall of the town and the consequent subjugation of
Normandy to England for thirty years.

There is not much that you can still see of the city that was so
splendidly defended, but I can at least point you to the very spot
where King Henry the Fifth had his headquarters. By going eastwards
out of the city, along the Rue d'Amiens, which starts from the Place
des Ponts de Robec, you reach the boulevard Gambetta, north of the
streams of Aubette (along which runs the road to Nid de Chiens, the
Norman dukes' sporting kennel) and south of that branch of Robec which
passes by the Tour du Colombier. Though that part of Rouen's
fortifications has disappeared, you may still see at the south-east
angle of the old walls, a remnant of that Couvent des Celestins
founded by the Duke of Bedford during the English occupation. A little
further northwards you pass the end of the Rue Eau de Robec, "ignoble
petite Venise" as Flaubert called it, with its queer bridges and
overhanging gables, and finally in the Place St. Hilaire you will find
the Route de Darnetal. Walk eastwards straight along it, until a small
suburban road turns out of it upon your right hand, called the Rue de
la Petite Chartreuse. This soon leads you to a large expanse of
enclosed ground on the left of the road, surrounded by a fine bit of
fifteenth-century wall; the entrance-gate is marked with the number
4. Within are several ruined buildings dotted about a quiet abbey
close whose strange religious atmosphere has never changed in more
than four and a half centuries. Close to the gate, there rises an
ivy-covered column of dilapidated ancient masonry, which holds a much
more modern seventeenth-century shrine, still commemorating "Notre
Dame des Roses," as the laundresses call her.

Far behind your right shoulder rise the spires of Rouen; away to the
left is the church tower of Darnetal; in the opposite horizon the
great <DW72> of St. Catherine rises to the sky. Within this quiet
square Archbishop Guillaume de l'Estrange built the Chartreuse de
Notre Dame de la Rose, in 1386, rather more than a mile from the Porte
St. Hilaire, in that cool valley between St. Catherine and Darnetal,
which is shut in by the interlacing arms of Robec and Aubette. Some
fifty yards beyond the shrine I have just mentioned, you will see a
half-ruined mediaeval building, which must have been the great hall of
the convent. Traces of fourteenth and fifteenth century work have been
found in it by the eye of faith, though the lower floor is now a kind
of granary, and the upper storey is used as a big drying-ground by the
laundry girls who live close by in the pretty old house that used to
form a set of lodgings for the monks. Above its walls in 1418 floated
the royal flag of England, and within them the last act in the tragedy
of the siege of Rouen was played out. It is my good fortune that the
drawing of this historic spot, made for me by Miss James, happens to
be yet another picture in this little volume of a scene that has
never, to the best of my belief, been given to English readers before.
The King's headquarters, though close to Mont St. Catherine were
beyond the range of the cannon of those days, and between him and the
fortress Lord Salisbury's men were placed, with Lieutenant Philip
Leech on the south side, and Sir John Gray to the west. Opposite the
Porte Martainville was the Earl of Warwick's camp; and Edmund
Beaufort, Count of Mortain, who became Duke of Somerset when he was
made governor of Normandy, held the north side of the Aubette and
completed the investment of St. Catherine's.

North of the King's camp, Sir William Porter had at first held the
ground before the Porte St. Hilaire, but the Duke of Gloucester was
given the position as soon as he came up from Cherbourg, placing his
two lieutenants on each side of the stream, the Earl of Suffolk to the
south, the Marquis of Abergavenny northwards.

Leaving the side on which the King's camp was so well guarded, if you
passed west and northwards round the battlements of Rouen, you would
have seen Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, guarding the Porte
Beauvoisine, having as his lieutenants Lord Willoughby de Eresby and
the Lord Chamberlain, Henry Fitz-Hugh, to the east, and John Lord Ross
westwards. The Castle of Rouen and the Porte Bouvreuil were besieged
by Lord John Mowbray, second son of the Duke of Norfolk, whose
lieutenants were first Sir William Hanington, and later on Sir Gilbert
Talbot, the father of the famous Earl of Shrewsbury. The last gate,
the Porte Cauchoise at the lowest western angle of the town, was
beleaguered by Thomas Plantagenet the Duke of Clarence whose camp was
in the ruined abbey of St. Gervais; above him was the Earl of
Cornwall; and James Butler, Earl of Ormond, closed the investing lines
towards the river. A glance at map B will make all this clear.

Across the Seine, the whole of the ruined faubourg of St. Sever was
under the command of John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon, whose business
it was to guard the barbacan, or fortress at the south end of the
bridge, and to keep up the English communications with the south of
Normandy. To do this he had a numerous staff of lieutenants, Sir
Gilbert d'Umfreville, Lord John Nevill, eldest son of the Earl of
Westmoreland, Sir Richard Arundel, and Lord Edmund Ferrers. Finally,
Thomas, Lord Carew, was given a roving commission to scout and forage
with his light Irish troops and a body of hardy Welshmen under Jenico
of Artois who is mentioned both by the English anonymous poet and by
Holinshed.

Within the walls of Rouen the roll of the defenders has but very
modest names to contrast to the flower of English chivalry opposed to
them. Of Guy le Bouteiller, captain of the castle at the Porte
Bouvreuil, I have already spoken. One of his lieutenants, Jean Noblet,
held St. Catherine, and the other, Laghen, the Bastard of Arly, kept
the Porte Cauchoise with the goodwill of all the citizens who firmly
trusted him. One of his subordinates is called "Mowne-sir de
Termagowne" by the English poet. The names of all those who kept the
walls are chronicled either by this authority or by Monstrelet. But
the most famous of them were Alain Blanchart, captain of the
Arbaletriers, who seems to have taken command of the whole militia and
was the life and soul of the town's resistance, and Canon Robert de
Livet whose devotion and ardour inspired every non-combatant to assist
the soldiers in their weary task and to bear their sufferings with a
fortitude he was himself the first to show. I have mentioned 2000
refugee-warriors from other places. They seem to have been led by the
men of Caen under a Lombard condottiere called Le Grand Jacques, or as
the English poem has it:--

     "Guaunte Jakys a werryour wyse."

The real operations of the siege began with a desperate sortie of the
citizens from every gate at once, which was repulsed with slaughter.
The following days were filled with spirited attacks on every English
captain who had not had time to fortify his post, attacks which only
ceased when a huge ditch had been dug all round the town, with regular
posts and covered ways, the whole under the guidance of Sir Robert
Bapthorp, who was afterwards rewarded with the "Maison a l'enseigne de
l'Ours" in the Rue de la Vicomte. Meanwhile the English continued to
make sure of their communications with Harfleur down the Seine, and to
cut off the same route to the French. The Portuguese fleet helped them
to blockade the mouth of the river, and even advanced upstream as far
as Quilleboeuf. Most important of all, they built the Bridge of St.
George of solid timbers sunk into the stream between Lescure and
Sotteville, four miles higher up than Rouen, and guarded it thoroughly
from all attack. Finally, Jean Noblet, cut off from all provisions in
St. Catherine, had to surrender on the thirtieth of August, and a few
days afterwards, Caudebec, the last hope of the city down the stream
was forced to swear complete neutrality and to abide by the same terms
which were eventually won by Rouen, an instance of heroic partisanship
which proves the solidarity of Normandy and the loyalty of every
outlying town to the capital.

The results of all this were very soon visible, for the Seine was now
completely in the power of the English, and the only problem that
remained for the King to solve was to get his war-galleys high enough
up the Seine to protect St. George's Bridge. He could not think of
sailing past the town itself. He finally determined to drag the
vessels across the narrow neck of land that lies at the southern
angles of the great curve on which Rouen herself is set. The space at
this point between the villages of Moulineaux and Orival is scarcely
five miles, as may be seen on map A. The galleys were hauled across
under full sail with a favouring wind on huge greased rollers, and
then indeed the men of Rouen were face to face with the reality of a
blockade which held them fast by land and water; so they burnt their
own last warships and set fire to the famous Clos des Galees.

Henry V. had before this written to London for provisions, in a letter
to the Lord Mayor which is still preserved in the archives of the
City, and took nine days to get to him. "And pray you effectuelly,"
writes the King, "that in al the haste that ye may, ye wille do arme
as manie smale vessels as ye may goodly with vitaille and namly with
drinke for to come Harfleu and fro thennes, as fer as they may, up ye
river of Seyne to Roan ward, vith the said vitaille for the
refresching of us and our said hoost." The royal request was
cheerfully welcomed, and the city of London hasted to send "Tritty
botes of swete wyne, ten of Tyre, ten of Romency, ten of Malvesey, and
a thousand pipes of ale and bere, with three thousand and five hundred
coppes for your hoost to drinke"--a "bote" being about 126 gallons. At
the very moment when all this good cheer reached the thirsty
Englishmen, the first pinch of hunger came upon the men of Rouen, as,
one by one, their last communications were cut off. Their attacks upon
the enemy became more frequent and more desperate every day. With
artillery, with every weapon they could scrape together, obsolete or
not, they kept a continual hail of missiles on the English camp,
especially harassing the quarters of the Duke of Gloucester,
absolutely preventing the King's soldiers from ever approaching near
enough to mine their walls, and giving not an hour of rest to the
English army.

But Henry V. was too wise to waste a man. After he had cut off every
avenue of help or hope, he sat quite still and waited, for he knew
that death and disease were on his side, and that against inevitable
starvation no city in the world could stand for long. The horror of
this long-drawn agony was now and then relieved by such single
combats between the lines as that when Laghen beat the Englishman who
had challenged him before the gate of Caux, or by the hanging of a new
French prisoner in the English lines and the retaliation of an
execution on the walls of Rouen. But rations were growing pitifully
small now, and another effort was made to get help from the King and
the Duke of Burgundy. A messenger got through the lines and brought
the stern warning of the citizens to those who had abandoned them. For
Rouen cried "Haro!" before the throne, and gave notice to the princes
that if she was compelled to surrender to the English, there would be
no bitterer enemy of the Crown than the capital of Normandy. They got
the usual promises, and every bell in Rouen (save the captive
"Rouvel") rang to welcome the good tidings of the messenger on his
return. But nothing happened, and both at Alencon and at Pont de
l'Arche the English King was easily able to put off the negotiations
which were the only sign of help that Rouen got from Paris.

And now famine itself began to grip the citizens by the throat. The
Register of the Cathedral Chapterhouse shows signs of scarcity of food
only three weeks after the siege began, for fines are then imposed in
loaves of bread. Then the bread usually distributed was given up, and
money substituted. The last entry stops short in the middle of a
pathetic sentence ... "parce que, dans le necessite du present siege,
le pain ..." and it was not until the gates were opened that a clerk
was found strong enough to go on writing. By the end of September all
the meat had disappeared, every horse and every donkey had been eaten,
and wheaten bread was sold at a sovereign a loaf. The horrors of
starvation need not any further be revealed; but by the first days of
December they had a peculiarly terrible result. To save their own
lives, and keep enough miserable fodder for the soldiers to stand
upright behind the walls, the burgesses of Rouen had to turn out of
the town all the refugees who had fled for safety to her walls from
other cities taken by the English. Some fifteen thousand of them, men,
women and children, tottered out of the gates and made feebly for the
English lines. The chronicler himself was moved to pity: "Have ye
pitee hem upone" he cries to the English King, "and yeve hem leve
thens to gone"; but when they tried to pass through they found a row
of pikes as pitiless as the shut gates of Rouen behind. Beneath the
chill December sky these famishing spectres had to take refuge in the
open ditch below the ramparts of the town. Without any shelter,
ragged, defenceless, and feeding only on roots and bitter grass,
grubbed from the war-scarred ground, they perished in hundreds every
night, they died by the chance missiles of one side or the other, they
went mad and hurled themselves into the watch-fires of the English.
From the walls above, a priest sometimes would lean down with a
blessing, or draw up an infant newly born into all this misery,
baptise it, and lower it again to die; but never a crumb of bread came
out of starving Rouen. The Canon de Livet, whose stout heart no horror
of the siege could break, was almost overcome at this last infamy of
fate; and standing high upon the ramparts he cursed the English army,
and pronounced the anathema of excommunication against its king.

The citizens made one more attempt to break through that inflexible
ring of death. Ten thousand of the strongest men who could still carry
arms were picked out from the garrison, and every atom of eatable
substance in the town was swept and scraped together to give them such
a pittance as was grimly supposed to sustain them for two days. Two
thousand of them dashed out of the Porte St. Hilaire and feverishly
made for the headquarters of the King. Their very desperation sent
them momentary victory, but their movement was only intended as a
blind to the main attack arranged from the castle gate, behind which
eight thousand undaunted skeletons rattled in their armour and
prepared to deliver their last blow for freedom. Their front ranks
were already past the moat, and the weight of their main column was
upon the bridge, when suddenly the massive timbers groaned beneath
them, and some thousand men-at-arms fell down into the ditch beneath.
Cut off from their own men, those who had already passed were shot
down at leisure by the English, while the ditch was filled with maimed
and dead. Those who had not had time to cross were obliged to make a
circuit and try to give assistance to their isolated friends outside
by way of the Porte Bouvreuil further to the north and east. The
miserable heroes who had attacked the royal camp were only got back
into the town with fearful loss. To the discouragement of the failure
was added the bitter suspicion of treason, for the great beams of the
bridge were found to have been half sawn through. Their despair was
accentuated by the death of the brave Laghen, who had at last
succumbed to the fatigues of fighting without proper food.

At the imminent peril of their lives, but preferring death in the open
to the starvation of rats in a hole, four nobles and four burgesses
got through the English lines once more, with a last appeal to the
Duke of Burgundy and the King, roundly denying all allegiance to them
if no attempt to help were made. The Duke himself was base enough to
answer that on the fourth day after Christmas help would come, and
this though he must have known that there was no real chance of
succour. But with a pitiable confidence in their leaders the envoys
dragged themselves back to Rouen and bade the garrison hold out only
for another fifteen days, and then they should be rescued. To men
already starving we can scarce imagine what the delay of another
fortnight meant. It was drawing near to Christmas. From the English
camp two priests were seen advancing towards those phantoms of still
visible humanity that stretched their fleshless arms to heaven from
the city moat. The King was sending food and drink to them for the
love of Him whose birth was celebrated on the morrow. The miserable
creatures ate and drank with hideous cries that brought the starving
garrison to the walls to watch them; but they only gained the strength
to suffer pain a little longer, for the next day the English lines
closed up again and no more food was to be had.

One more bitter disappointment the citizens were destined to suffer
before the end came. From the right bank of the Seine two Norman
nobles, Jacques d'Harcourt and the Sire de Moreuil attempted to draw
the English into an ambuscade. They had only two thousand men, but
they might well have created sufficient diversion to render a
victorious sally possible from the city, for the English imagined it
was the royal army of rescue come at last. But the eager watchers from
the walls of Rouen had the mortification of seeing their compatriots
put to flight by a far smaller body of the enemy, and their last hope
faded like dew before the sun. Then the fateful twenty-ninth of
December came, and went, without a sign of royal or Burgundian help.
For two more miserable days the citizens waited in vain, and not till
fifty thousand persons had died of famine did they think of surrender.
Their walls were still intact, their hearts as stout as ever, but
starvation began to make irreparable breaches where the enemy's
artillery had been of no avail. So on the eve of New Year's Day, the
envoys chosen by the meeting in the Hotel de Ville, went out to parley
with the English.

They wandered in vain from one camp to another, until they were
obliged to cross over to St. Sever, and there they found Sir Gilbert
d'Umfreville, whose Norman lineage perhaps made him kinder than the
rest. He was at last prevailed upon to take them on the second day of
the year, a Monday, into the presence of the King. Though every hour
meant a prolonging of their torture, the ambassadors fought foot by
foot the conditions of surrender and calmly argued every sentence of
the treaty with that Norman love of litigation which now rose to its
highest and most impassioned point. In the great hall of the
Chartreuse de la Rose, they saw the cold, impassive, handsome
countenance of the young English King, with that touch of sadness on
it that foretold his early death,[42] and the detached nobility of
manner which fitted a King who had exhausted every pleasure before he
took, and worthily wielded, the responsibilities of power.

[Footnote 42: The prophetic word "Jamais" was in the device upon the
tapestry above him.]

The first request of the ambassadors was for the succour of the poor
outcasts in the moat all round the town. But Henry only announced his
firm resolve to take Rouen and all its citizens and to make those who
had opposed his will "remember me until the Day of Judgment." At last
an armistice of two or three days was granted, and on the third of
January a solemn meeting of the picked ambassadors of either side took
place between the Chartreuse and the Porte St. Hilaire, where all the
splendour of the English noblemen's caparisons and furniture was
displayed, and the starving commissioners from Rouen made the bravest
show they could beneath the Fleurs de Lys of France. Close to all this
magnificence was the yet living horror of the moat, which was now
almost filled up with dead. From time to time the heap of rags and
withered anatomies heaved slowly, and the little spectre of a child
crawled out, imploring food. And all day long the solemn arguments
went on beneath the sumptuous pavilions of the English, until, after
three days of discussion, the ambassadors of Rouen went back,
unsatisfied, into their city.

     "We askid mykille," says the poet, "they proferid smal,
     That is yuelle to accorde with alle.
     Tho thay tretid an xiiij nyzt
     And zit accorde they ne myzt."

[Illustration: THE APSE OF ST. OUEN, SHOWING THE TOUR AUX CLERCS ON
THE RIGHT, SEEN FROM THE GARDENS OF THE HOTEL DE VILLE]

Both sides were indeed so resolute, that they "might have argued for a
fortnight without coming to an agreement." But the people of the city
had starved long enough, and they drove back their emissaries to the
Porte St. Hilaire, after one proposal, born of madness, had been
made, to set fire to the town and then by every gate at once to pour
out upon the English camp with the whole population in a flood, and so
win through or die at least with weapons in their hands. Some news of
this despairing possibility may have suggested to King Henry that the
representations of the Archbishop of Canterbury were not without their
value. At any rate he yielded to solicitation, granted another truce,
and on the ninth of January opened negotiations once again.

This time the pressure of famine was so hard upon the ambassadors
themselves that they went on with discussions night and day, burning
torches and candles when the sun set. At last a definite instrument
was signed and sealed that guaranteed life and a free pass to the
garrison, their goods to the citizens, and great portion of its
privileges to the town. But the terms were hard enough. Three hundred
thousand crowns of gold[43] was fixed as the ransom of the city; the
chains were to be taken down from every street; ground sufficient for
an English palace was to be given up, which was eventually chosen at
the south-west corner of the town near the river; nine persons, among
whom were the Canon Robert de Livet and Alain Blanchart, were exempted
from the capitulation and "reserved to the mercy of the King," which
in one case at least meant death.

[Footnote 43: Eighteen million francs would represent the relative
value of this sum nowadays. It was not fully paid eleven years later.]

Upon a throne, and dressed in cloth of gold, Henry V. received the
keys of Rouen from Guy le Bouteiller, in the Chartreuse de la Rose.
Then the Duke of Exeter, as captain of the town, set up the English
standard over all her gates and above the donjon of the castle; and at
daylight on the twentieth of January the French garrison filed out of
Rouen across the Seine towards the Bridge of St. George on the left
bank, and were stripped of everything, save one suit of clothes, by
the English soldiers, as they went. Only two thousand men survived out
of the six thousand who had so gallantly come into Rouen to help
resist the enemy. While they escaped sadly into desolated Normandy,
King Henry V. was advancing from the Chartreuse; he moved slowly round
the city to the Porte Cauchoise, and behind him was borne a fox's
brush swinging upon a lance.[44] The bells rang and the cannon roared
salute as he entered Rouen, but of the inhabitants scarcely one had
strength to stand upright, not one had voice to cheer, and all
besought for bread. Alone of the nine prisoners, Alain Blanchart was
beheaded. But thirty-three burgesses were picked out to pay a special
tax in ready money and imprisoned till it was delivered.[45] The main
sum of the ransom was disputed with the true Norman delight in legal
quibbling, and not fully paid (or at least "arranged for") till 1430.

[Footnote 44: No one has ever explained this to my satisfaction. But
visitors to Heidelberg will remember the connection of a fox's brush
with the Court Fool Perkeo, and various other legends of Renard which
give the symbol, I fear, anything but a courteous significance for a
foe beaten but not disgraced.]

[Footnote 45: The Englishmen recorded that some of their prisoners
were put in the "Ostel de la Cloche dont avoit la garde Jehan
Lemorgue." By this changed name is meant the humbled Hotel de Ville,
where prisons had been managed in the lower storeys early in the
fifteenth century.]

The imposition of this huge sum on a community already at the end of
its resources had a lasting and terrible effect upon the town. The
Chapterhouse were obliged to remit half their rents from the farmers
ruined by the war. All debts had to receive special postponement, and
commerce suffered almost as fatally as agriculture. All over Rouen
houses were continually being put up to auction for public or private
defalcations, to be bought by those Englishmen who had not been
already given estates as a reward for their services. The buildings
of the Abbey of St. Ouen were entirely occupied by the men of the Duke
of Suffolk, so that the archbishop of 1423 was unable to pass the
night before his entry in the abbey, as of immemorial custom, because
the English filled up every inch of it. Of the exquisite east end we
can see now, not much more than the beautiful little "Tour aux Clercs"
of the older abbey was standing in 1419. But it may be put down as one
of the few things creditable to the English occupation that part of
the nave was certainly finished under their encouragement (see Chap.
X.). Meanwhile the King took care to strengthen the castle at the
Porte Bouvreuil, and the barbacan at the bridge; and his own palace
began to rise near the Tour Malsifrotte and the Porte du Pre de la
Bataille. Nothing now remains of it save the name of "Rue du Vieux
Palais" in the Quartier St. Eloi (see map D). But it served in the
first years as a residence for the Duke of Bedford, and for the young
King Henry VI.

[Illustration: LA TOUR DU COLOMBIER, FROM THE BOULEVARD GAMBETTA]

After the conquest of Rouen, one town after another fell into the
English hands. On September 23 in 1419, the last resistance in
Normandy was quelled at Chateau Gaillard. Mont St. Michael alone
remained free until the English domination ceased and France joined
her in her freedom. The King who took the city of Rouen was seen there
twice again. In 1421, with Catherine of France, his wife, he opened
the Estates of Normandy. In 1422 he was borne through Rouen on his
funeral bier; two months before the crown of France would have been
his.

The Rouen besieged by King Henry V. can be almost exactly traced along
the lines of the modern boulevards shown in map B. The extension
eastwards, which is given in map E. with this chapter, took place
chiefly during the fourteenth century when Rouen was rapidly growing
to be the second town in the kingdom. In making the circuit of the
walls you will remember passing the Tour du Colombier between the
Porte Martainville and the Porte St. Hilaire. It is represented now by
a picturesque old house standing four-square upon a buttressed wall
above the stream, at the extreme eastern verge of the great enclosure
of the hospital. It is still called the Maison des Celestins, and aged
men over sixty are preserved there to live out in peace the autumn of
their days. Both the name and the present occupiers are an appropriate
reminder of one who is connected with some of the better memories of
the English occupation, the Duke of Bedford who founded the Couvent
des Celestins, that was ruined by the Huguenots in 1562, upon the land
formerly occupied by his Chateau de Chantereine, called "Joyeux
Repos."

This convent, which was also known as the "Val Notre Dame," is not the
only trace which the Duke of Bedford's benefactions left in Rouen. He
also took the Carmelite brethren under his especial protection, being
no doubt supported in this charitable action by the English Carmelite
confessor of Henry V., Thomas de Valde, who died at Rouen in 1430. But
his most intimate connection with ecclesiastical Rouen is recorded in
the archives of the Cathedral, where we are told that he left the
chapterhouse in his will a beautiful golden chalice garnished with
gems, a pair of golden censers and a silver-gilt crucifix, in memory
of his being made a canon at his own request. And there is some irony
in the thought that at the moment he was giving these proofs of his
affection for the town, his councillors were, with his consent,
pursuing Jeanne d'Arc with every subtlest form of legal and religious
torture.

Scarcely a year after Jeanne had been burnt in the Vieux Marche, the
Duke's wife, Anne of Burgundy, died at the early age of 28, and in
addition to this private loss he had to submit to the consequences of
a grave error of judgment in his second marriage to Jacqueline,
daughter of Pierre de Luxembourg, Count of St. Pol, an alliance which
gravely offended the whole house of Burgundy. In 1435 he died himself
on the 14th of September, "die exaltacionis Sancte Crucis" as the
chapterhouse entries record, in the same Chateau of Rouen where Jeanne
d'Arc had suffered her last imprisonment. His body was embalmed and
buried in a leaden coffin in the choir of Rouen Cathedral by the side
of the dukes of Normandy and the English kings his ancestors, beneath
a magnificently sculptured tomb.

He left the Celestins of "Joyeux Repos," near the Tour du
Colombier,[46] a small legacy, and benefactions to many other abbeys
and churches in the town. Though the canons did not get their golden
treasure by any means intact, or indeed get any part of it without
protracted struggles, they always took good care of his tomb, which
was certainly in excellent preservation before the Calvinists of 1562
began a destruction which was completed by the Revolution. An
inscription, however, was left on an adjacent pillar, and this was
copied by Dugdale. The ostrich feathers and the order of the garter
were shown upon the brass besides the epitaph. In 1866 his coffin was
found still in its original position on the right side of the altar,
and nothing more is now left of him in Rouen.

[Footnote 46: After the Duke of Bedford had given the Celestins their
Monastery, Charles VII. further assisted them by taking off all taxes
on their wine. In recognition of this a monk used to dance and sing in
front of the Monastic barrels as they were rolled past the Governor's
house. Occasionally the combination of good claret and freedom from
taxation overcame the monk's discretion, and the old proverb "Voila un
plaisant Celestin" preserves the memory of some such amiably festive
ecclesiastic. The "Oison bride" of the monks of St. Ouen was another
instance of the way in which feudal privileges were commemorated by
queer ceremonials which long outlived the society that gave them
birth.]

[Illustration]




CHAPTER IX

_Jeanne d'Arc and the English Occupation_

     "Je scay bien que les Angloys me feront mourir, croyant qu'
     apres ma mort ils gagneront le royaume de France; mais quand
     meme ils seraient cent mille godons de plus qu'ils ne sont
     presentement, ils n'auraient pas ce royaume."


Of the many interesting processions which must have taken place in the
fifteenth century on the occasion of the great ceremony of the Fierte
St. Romain, surely few can have been more impressive than that in
which the Duke of Bedford, in his capacity as Canon of the Cathedral,
walked among the ecclesiastics towards the little chapel in the Place
de la Haute Vieille Tour where the freedom of the prisoner was
declared before the assembled people. For in him all might see the
outward and visible proof of an English occupation in its most
intimate connection with the ancient traditions begun under his
ancestors the Dukes of Normandy. But his presence is not the only sign
that can be clearly traced of the interest which the English
inevitably felt in the most extraordinary privilege of their new
possession. As usual on every occasion when a new set of officials
came in touch with this astonishing and deeply-rooted custom, their
contact is marked by fresh expressions of dissent. So, just as
Philip-Augustus had to uphold, against his own officials, the custom
which every prince before him had sanctioned, in exactly the same way
we find Henry V. affirming that the Privilege of St. Romain was of
right to be exercised by the canons of the Cathedral according to
their ancient precedents. And it is instructive that though his
verdict was first pronounced in a case by which a native prisoner
benefited, it was only in the next year, and again on some other
occasions, that an Englishman was chosen to bear the holy shrine and
win pardon for his sins. So strangely, indeed, and so strongly was the
privilege exercised during these years of foreign dominion, that I
cannot avoid the reflection--humiliating to Rouen as it is--that an
attempt at least might have been made to exercise it in the case of
the most famous prisoner ever in the donjons of the city, of the woman
who would have been most worthy of those upon the roll of mercy to
benefit by the protection of the Church. But if any attempt was made
in favour of Jeanne d'Arc, it has not been recorded, and this is one
of the strongest reasons for my regret that, full as they are, these
records of the Privilege are often only too obviously imperfect.

The case in which objection was first raised was very naturally the
first which occurred after the English flag had been unfurled above
the city. In great surprise at the confidence shown by the good
canons, the new bailli, Gauthier de Beauchamp, demanded an enquiry
which was promptly held in his presence before the Cardinal Bishop of
Winchester. On learning of the dispute Henry V. at once wrote to
declare his reverence for the privilege established "En l'onneur et
reverence du dict glorieux confesseur monsieur sainct Rommaing"; so
Jehan Anquetil was duly delivered to mercy, after a crime to which
modern civilisation is very rightly and unswervingly severe, and his
accomplice was claimed by the Chapterhouse and delivered also. I
confess it is beyond my powers to suggest the reason for so solemn a
prerogative having been exercised by the highest dignitaries of the
city's Cathedral in favour of a prisoner convicted of rape.[47] If a
privilege that can only have resisted official competition for so long
because it was based on deeply-rooted popular support, could survive a
choice of this kind, it is one of the strongest proofs of the changes
in society and in public opinion which have fortunately appeared in
civilised communities since the fifteenth century.

[Footnote 47: In 1431 another prisoner, Souplis Lemire, of Yvetot, was
pardoned for exactly the same crime. By a lie he induced Jehanne
Corviere to mount behind his horse, rode with her into a country lane,
where in the words of the manuscript, "il la fery et frapa de
plusieurs orbes coups, plus de l'espace de quatre heures, et lui fist
la char toute noire et meudrie en plusieurs parties de son corps, et
tant fist que il oult violemment et oultre le gre d'elle sa compaignie
par grant force et a plusieurs clameurs de haro." In this case it was
evidently the influence of the offender's family which procured him
the Fierte, and his victim raised the "clameur de haro" during the
ceremony itself. For this she was obliged to apologise to the canons,
but Lemire's conduct throughout had been so disgraceful that, though
the Fierte had absolved him definitely of all criminal penalty, after
eight years of discussion he was condemned in the civil courts to pay
damages of 250 livres tournois to Jehanne. In 1540 the same principle
was upheld, and it generally seems to have been the custom that any
prisoner chosen should give surety for the payment of his civil
penalties before he was released by the Fierte from his criminal
sentence.]

In 1420 a still more interesting case arose, which is the first that
suggests to my mind the possibility of the canons' choice being
occasionally influenced by those in authority, and if by them, then it
is only too probable that other suggestions (not strictly religious in
their nature) may have been made in other years when "equity,"
according to our notions, does not explain their triumph over "law."
For in this year the manuscript records, "Pierre Lamequin, de la
paroisse de Vize, en Angleterre, diocese de Salisbery;" an entry which
inevitably suggests to English ears that Peter Lambkin of Devizes was
the lucky prisoner. He killed a merchant at an outlying village, with
a French friend to help him. Other instances occur in which the
foreign army profited by the native privilege. In 1429 the entry
reads: "Thomas Grandon, anglais, de la paroisse de Hanniquem, diocese
d'York," who killed two Scotchmen at Chambroix. In 1434 we find:
"Guillaume Banc, anglais, de la paroisse de Saint-Bin, diocese de
Carlisle," who slew one Saunders in a brawl, helped by a friend named
William Peters. In 1437, "Jehan Hotot, laique, de la paroisse de
Sainte-Marie de Helnyngan, diocese de Norfolk," who killed a pair of
Englishmen in the country. In 1438, "Jennequin Benc ou Bent, anglais,
de la paroisse de Bosc-Chatel, diocese d'Hereford, dans le pays de
Galles," who killed an Englishman. In 1439, "Jehan Helys, anglais, de
la paroisse de Hest-Monceaulz, diocese de Cantorbery," who had stolen
goods in Rouen, in company with one John Johnson and Thomas
"Kneet."[48] In 1447, "Jean Houcton, anglais, de la paroisse de
Langthon, en Clindal, diocese de Dublin," who was charged with
stealing a horse, alleging, in defence, that foraging was a common
privilege of soldiers, and was subsequently convicted of robbing an
innkeeper near the bridge of a silver cup six ounces in weight. Now
that these names are brought to the knowledge of English antiquaries
with more science and leisure at their disposal than are mine, I await
with interest to hear whether any traces of these freebooters exist
in the parish records of their native towns.[49]

[Footnote 48: This Ellis was particularly lucky, for the first
prisoner chosen had been Denisot le Charretier, who was claimed as an
ecclesiastic by the Archbishop, Louis of Luxembourg, who was also
Chancellor of France for the English King. They tried to secure his
deliverance, but the Chancellor was too strong for them, and the
dispute was settled by the intervention of Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
who came in person to the Chapterhouse and persuaded the canons to
renounce their right and choose another prisoner.]

[Footnote 49: These queerly distorted names are not the only ones that
recall the English occupation. A still more vivid memory of it may be
found in their old bowling green, which is still the "Boulingrin" of
the Boulevard St. Hilaire (see Map B), a word with which Brachet
compares "flibustier," "poulie," and others. The "redingote" for our
riding-coat is at once a more familiar and more modern instance.]

But, after all, the privilege was not always exercised in one
direction. Occasionally the feelings of the conquered population had
evidently to be consulted, as in 1425, when Geoffroy Cordeboeuf was
chosen to bear the shrine, who had murdered an Englishman at
Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer. There was a lengthy discussion over this, during
which it is recorded that the year before, the disputing canons in
their ecclesiastical costume had gone to the tavern of the Lion d'Or
to drink with Lieutenant Poolin, their opponent, in flat disobedience
to the Cathedral statute of 1361. It came out in the evidence
presented that the canons were actually allowed to keep the keys of
the prisons during Ascension Day and the three Rogation Days before
it, and that they questioned the prisoners alone, without the jailers
being present. In 1448 the same cause evidently suggested the
liberation of no less than eighteen prisoners at once, who had banded
together in the village of St. Trinite-de-Tankerville, and killed four
Englishmen. The soldiers thoroughly deserved their fate, for they had
brutally ill-treated two women, and killed one of their husbands,
before the villagers took vengeance into their own hands.

There is but space to notice very briefly the other more interesting
cases in this period. In 1428 a woman, named Estiennote Presart, who
had stolen a silver cup from a priest, was pardoned. In 1441 some
workmen on the Palace of the English King near "Mal s'y Frotte," who
had thrown some troublesome brawlers into the Seine, bore the shrine.
The next year the privilege was enjoyed by a husband who had several
times discovered his wife's infidelity with a neighbouring knight, and
had killed her on finding that she also extended her favours to a
priest. This is one of the most intelligible instances of all; and in
1454 its circumstances are almost exactly repeated in the case of
Michel Manant, who also slew his unfaithful wife. Indeed, a French
jury even of to-day is never very hard upon the "crime passionel,"
with which that nation has always had so much sympathy. A similar case
of the "equity" I have sometimes fancied I could trace occurs in 1446,
when Nicolas Hebert stole four cups of silver, two belts studded with
silver, twelve silver and ten gold spoons, having been unable to get
any wages paid him after nine years of service with an advocate of
Falaise. He was condemned to death and pardoned by the canons.

I have already mentioned the famous Talbot (see p. 203) in connection
with the Fierte. He appears again in its records (as the Comte de
Sursberik) in 1444 with a refusal to allow the canons to visit the
prisons of the castle, because they contained Armagnacs and other
treasonable enemies to the King's Majesty. But the usual processions
and popular enthusiasm with which the canons replied soon made him
change his mind, and the prisoners were duly visited both in "La
Grosse Tour" or donjon, and in every other jail. His refusal had been
particularly ill-advised, because in May of 1430 the canons had
appealed from an obstinate jailer to the Duke of Bedford, and had
obtained his permission to visit the donjon according to their ancient
custom. That very winter the castle of Philip Augustus in the Place
Bouvreuil was to hold its most famous prisoner. For when Jeanne d'Arc
was brought to Rouen in December 1430, the prison of the Baillage
(called "les prisons ou la geole du roi"), whose archways you may
still see near the stairway of the Rue du Baillage, had been destroyed
by fire in 1425; and it is particularly mentioned that she was not
placed either in the cells of the Hotel de Ville, where I have already
recorded that an English jailer had been placed, or in the
"Ecclesiastical Prisons" of the Rue St. Romain near the Cathedral,
although her whole trial was conducted by ecclesiastics, but in the
"Chateau de Rouen," where (in Talbot's words) "prisoners of war and
treasonable felons" were especially guarded.

[Illustration: HOUSE IN THE RUE ST. ROMAIN CALLED THE MAISON JEANNE
D'ARC (IN THE DISTANCE THE DOOR OF THE COUR DES COMPTES IN THE RUE DES
QUATRE VENTS)]

At the siege of Compiegne, on May 24, 1430, Jeanne d'Arc had been
taken prisoner by one of the men of John of Luxemburg, and from the
English camp at Margny she was sent further off to the Chateau of
Beaulieu. Within two days the Vicar-General of the Inquisition, and
the University of Paris, had demanded that she should be delivered
over to the "Justice of the Church." And behind both was a power
stronger than either, the hatred of the English. They soon found a
ready instrument in Pierre Cauchon, who had been made Bishop of
Beauvais by the Duke of Burgundy, was chased out of it by the party
of Charles VII., and now expected to get the Archbishopric of Rouen by
the help of the English. It was he who bore the King of England's
request to John of Luxemburg that he would give up Jeanne d'Arc for
ten thousand pieces of gold to the Church to be judged. Neither
Charles VII. nor any French ecclesiastic (save the Archbishop of
Reims) made any movement, so she was surrendered at the price of an
army. After being taken to Beaurevoir, to Arras, and to Crotoy, she
was moved by way of St. Valery, Eu, and Dieppe to Rouen. She entered
the town by the valley of Bihorel, past the spot where the Gare du
Havre now stands, and by way of the Rue Verte was led to the castle of
Philip Augustus and placed in an iron cage, so that the smirched
authority of English rule might be re-established by proving her, in
the formal processes of law, a witch.

Of the castle itself the only tower that now stands still bears her
name. Almost the last scene of her imprisonment took place within the
walls that you may visit here, though originally she was not placed in
this donjon itself. For the original castle, built by Philip Augustus
in 1205 to consolidate his rule over John Lackland's fresh-won
province, had consisted of an almost circular building, with six
towers, a demi-tower, and this donjon which was built upon two thick
curtain-walls and entirely interrupted the guards' "chemin de ronde,"
on to which no door opened from its massive circular walls. The Castle
of Arques (1038), and of Chateau Guillard (1195), are indeed older
than this of Rouen, but the ruins of their donjon-keeps do not show
anything like the character of the Tour Jeanne d'Arc, which is itself
earlier in date than either Coucy (1228) or Pierrefonds (1390). More
than this, a document of 1202 preserves the most interesting fact that
this tower was planned after the dimensions and shape of the famous
Tour du Louvre, of which Paris now possesses only a circle of white
marble to mark the site of the royal tower that once stood where the
south-west corner of the Louvre courtyard is now.

The walls of Rouen's donjon are 4 metres 20 thick, 46 metres in
circumference at the base, and 30 metres high. These last two
measurements show a difference of only two metres from those of the
vanished Tour du Louvre. Before this chapter closes I shall be able to
explain how it is that you are able to see in Rouen the most perfect
presentment of a thirteenth-century donjon in France, with two-thirds
of the present building in its original masonry. Within it took place
most of the stirring events of history after a change in dynasty had
left the castle of the Norman dukes to develop gradually into a
commercial instead of a royal or military centre. One of these, the
arrest of Charles le Mauvais, and the execution of his four friends by
King Jean le Bon, I have spoken of in earlier chapters. This, too, was
the fortress that held out longest for the King when the Revolte de la
Harelle was at its height in 1382. Before its walls Sir Gilbert Talbot
and Sir William Hanington sat down to besiege Guy le Bouteiller, who
as captain of the garrison had it in his especial charge. Within it
the eighty hostages for the ransom of the city, and the thirty
burgesses especially punished with high fines, were imprisoned when
King Henry V. took the town. It was still held by the English garrison
when Jeanne d'Arc was brought to Rouen as a prisoner. It is the last
visible relic of the royal homes of Rouen, for every other one has
disappeared, from the first keep of Rollo to the Haute et Basse
Vieilles Tours of his descendants, to the Palace of Philip Augustus
and of the English kings, even to the fortresses of St. Catherine's
Hill and of the barbacan beside the bridge.

[Illustration: MAP F.

PLAN OF THE VIEUX-MARCHE AND OF THE MARCHE AUX VEAUX, FROM THE "LIVRE
DES FONTAINES DE ROUEN," DRAWN BY JACQUES LELIEUR IN 1525]

Once his prisoner was safe within the castle, the Bishop of Beauvais
proceeded to "pack his jury," and choose his companions for the trial.
His right hand man was Jean d'Estivet (or "Benedicite"). From Paris
arrived Jean Beaupere, who took Gerson's place as Chancellor, with
Jacques de Touraine, Nicole Midi, and Thomas de Courcelles, all
brilliant and authoritative theologians. From Normandy itself came the
Prior of Longueville, the Abbe of Jumieges, Gilles, Abbe of Fecamp and
councillor to the English King, Nicolas Loyseleur, a canon of Rouen,
and others. One alone of those invited, Nicolas de Houppeville,
objected to serving, because his direct superior, the Archbishop of
Reims, had already disapproved. He was only just saved from being
murdered. No one else dared to differ with Pierre Cauchon, and several
affirmed later on that they had voted in fear of their lives. Both the
clerk of the court, Manchon, and Massieu, the doorkeeper, found their
sympathies too perilous to express. This was because, though scarcely
an Englishman was actually a member of the Court, the English kept the
whole proceeding directly under their thumb, and to every appeal the
same answer was returned--"The King (of England) has ordered it." The
King's two uncles, of Bedford and of Winchester, watched that the
orders were carried out; and the price of every one is still recorded
in the exact account-books of the time. The English never let her
leave their castle till the end, so that any slight "judicial error"
might always be corrected if need were.

They kept her first in an iron cage, then in one of the castle towers,
with irons upon her feet, chained to a log of wood, and guarded night
and day by four common soldiers. On the 9th of January 1431 the Bishop
of Beauvais summoned in Rouen the council chosen for the trial, and
appointed its officials. On the 20th, Jeanne, being summoned to make
her appearance before the court at eight next morning, begged that her
judges might be more fairly chosen, and that she might hear Mass. She
was refused both, and appeared on the 21st, in the chapel of the
castle. Asked to answer truly upon oath all the questions put to her,
Jeanne replied--"I do not know on what points you wish to question
me. You might perhaps ask me things which I will not tell you." After
this she told how she was called "Jeannette" at home, and Jeanne "in
France," and knew no surname; how she was baptised and born at
Domremy, of Jacques d'Arc and his wife Isabel about nineteen years
ago; she refused to promise not to escape if she could; and would only
recite the Lord's Prayer in confession to a priest. After Cauchon had
begun, the next day's questioning was more gently taken by Jean
Beaupere, to whom she told of her care of the house at home, and of
her skill in needlework, "as good as any in Rouen." The inquirers then
went on to reveal the story of her "voices," and she firmly repeated
her refusal to bind herself by a general oath as to every answer,
saying that she had more fear of God and of her "voices," than of her
conduct in that trial. Asked whether she was sure of the favour of God
(a double-edged question at which some even of her judges murmured)
she passed the danger by saying, "If I am not, may God help me to it;
and if I am, may God preserve me in it."

Baffled at this point by the innocent faith of this country girl, the
university professor changed the attack, and approached questions of a
more political importance, cleverly interwoven with the first
appearance of her "voices" when she was a girl of thirteen at Domremy.
But neither of treasonable partisanship nor of local superstitions
could he convict her. She gave the names of her heavenly councillors
as St. Catherine, St. Margaret, and St. Michael, the same saint whose
fortress held out inviolable against every English attack among the
quicksands and the rushing tides of the north coast. Unable to find
anything heretic or infidel in her replies on religious subjects, and
only getting candid common sense in return for their suspicions, her
judges turned to the idea of satanic inspiration and support. But it
proved equally useless. Her patriotism shone clear above every trivial
element in her long examination.

The last public hearing of her evidence before all her judges was on
the 3rd of March. The result of the inquiry was then collected to form
the basis of a fresh interrogation in her prison, which was conducted
on the 10th by Jean de la Fontaine for a whole week. At the end of it
Jean Lemaitre himself arrived by order of the Chief Inquisitor.
Nothing was added to the information already gathered, and nothing
shook the firmness of the girl's replies. For only explanation she
repeated, "It pleased God to do this by means of a simple maid, in
order to rebuff the enemies of the King." Throughout, her negligence
of trifles, her insistence upon the important points, her swift common
sense, were the more conspicuous, because her judges persisted in
reading their own meaning into all she answered to their subtle
questions. Did they ask her, for instance, "Does God hate the
English?" she would reply, "I know nothing of the hatred or the love
of God for Englishmen, but this I know, that they will soon be all
thrust out of France, save those of them who leave their bodies here."

On the much-disputed question of her masculine attire, she said she
would wear woman's dress only when she heard Mass, and woman's
clothing at her execution, if it came to that. The judges were
perfectly well aware of her proved maidenhood, and of the real reason
for her dress, but they persisted--without result--in trying to trap
her into dangerous replies. She was far too direct and simple to be
caught, just because she saw no "heresy" in an act of simple prudence.

Her judges, strong and clever men as most of them were, themselves
were tired out by the closeness and the duration of the trial. Yet
this young girl, fasting even from her prison-fare, was resolute
enough to keep her head, and reply steadily through it all. But she
refused to be troubled with unnecessary or merely reiterated
questions, and claimed her right to feel as tired as were her judges
when she felt it necessary. She was in fact perfectly natural and
frank throughout, even when the open expression of her thoughts was
hardly politic for one in her position. Without the help of counsel,
or of any to assist her, French or English, layman or ecclesiastic,
she was even deprived of the friendly countenance or signs of anyone
whose sympathy overcame for the moment his very justifiable fear of
her persecutors. Even the consolations of her religion were denied
her. The only semblance of advice she got was in the base and
hypocritical attempts of a scoundrelly canon of Rouen Cathedral to
teach her certain answers which might afterwards be used against her
by her accusers.[50] It is a shameful thing to have to record that the
Earl of Warwick helped the Bishop of Beauvais to complete this
villainy, and took clerks with him to listen at the door, but they
refused to lend themselves to such dishonourable methods.

[Footnote 50: There is a quaint suggestion of repentance for all this
in the cathedral of to-day. If you enter by the Portail des Libraires
and stand beside the north-east pillar of the great lantern, at your
feet is the tombstone of one of these unjust judges, Denis Gastinel,
and beneath it is the great Calorifere that warms the building, a
suggestively gruesome foretaste of the punishment which the modern
canons evidently think his conduct towards Jeanne d'Arc deserves.]

Early in the week of Palm Sunday she was formally summoned to the
great hall of the castle to hear the seventy articles of the Act of
Accusation against her. The web of calumny that had been spun out of
her replies then first must have been apparent to her, and though
silent for the most part, she quickly contradicted some statements,
and pointed out the fallacy of others. Reproached for her unwomanly
behaviour, she replied at once, "As for woman's work, there are plenty
of other women who can do that"; and asserted that before fighting at
all, she had made every effort to obtain her wishes peacefully. She
even recited the short prayer it was her custom to make when she
needed the counsel of her heavenly visitors.

After this the seventy articles were reduced to twelve, which resumed
the whole accusation, and became the pivot of the prosecution. They
were never communicated at all to the prisoner. They were based on her
visions, her wearing of a man's dress, her attitude towards the
Church, which meant, in fact, her obedience to Poitiers and to the
Archbishop of Reims, instead of to Pierre Cauchon, his subordinate.

On Thursday the 6th of April Erard Emengard held a meeting in the
chapel of the Archbishop's Palace at Rouen to deliberate over the
twelve articles. You may still see the place where this went on. As
you enter the gateway of the Screen to the Portail des Libraires from
the Rue St. Romain, on the left of the forecourt before the great
carved door, you will see an old building which in the August of 1897
was being repaired and reconstructed to provide a school for the
children of the Cathedral choir. This house forms itself the western
side of a courtyard into which a door has no doubt by this time
(December 1898) been opened from the Rue St. Romain, between the large
turret that projects on the left of the old screened entrance in the
street and the next octagonal turret with a sharply pointed roof that
is built on the wall of the Cathedral buildings. By whatever entrance
practicable, you must go into this courtyard and see the private
chapel of the Archbishop, the old "Chapelle des Ordres" which touches
the north wall of the Cathedral choir. Within this chapel the council
was held, that by its approval of the Twelve Articles of Accusation
pronounced the death-warrant of Jeanne d'Arc.[51]

[Footnote 51: The actual death-sentence, pronounced on the 29th of May
by the forty-two judges in full council ran as follows:--

"Mandons ... que vous citiez ladite Jeanne a comparaitre en personne
devant nous demain, heure de huit heures du matin, au lieu dit Le
Vieux Marche, pour se voir par nous declaree relapse, excommuniee,
heretique, avec l'intimation a lui faire en pareil cas--Donne en la
Chapelle du Manoir archiepiscopal de Rouen, le mardi 29 mai, l'an du
Seigneur 1431, apres la fete de la Trinite de notre Seigneur."

Yet there is not a single mark or inscription to record the fact of
which this lonely and neglected chapel was the scene.]

In the midst of all these machinations the prisoner herself fell ill.
Doctors were hurried to her cell to save her for the vengeance of her
judges, and the "processes of law" were pushed forward more hastily
than ever. On the 2nd of May she was once more confronted with the
accusations made against her, in a long speech by the Archdeacon. She
would add nothing to what had been already said. "Even if I saw the
flames before me I should say what I have already told you, and do
what I have done;" and the clerk writes "Superba Responsio" opposite
the entry.

Determined to leave no means untried to overcome this resistance, her
judges summoned her on Wednesday the 9th of May into the "Grosse Tour
du chateau de Rouen," the donjon which you can visit in the Rouen of
to-day, by turning to the left as you go northward up the Rue
Bouvreuil (see Map D). The room in which Jeanne stood to answer her
accusers has been carefully restored, but it is obscured by the huge
plaster cast of a statue by Mercie. The vaulting is the original work
intact, and on the keystone is carved the oldest existing shield of
the arms of France, the six truncated Fleurs de Lys of Philip
Augustus, which are reproduced more clearly on the huge and lofty cowl
above the chimney. Beneath the floor there is still the old well that
supplied the garrison, a little to the left of the entrance, and
rather further round is the small spiral staircase leading to the
upper rooms, which are not so large.

She was brought here because there was no room in her former prison
for the instruments of torture, and the executioners' gear with which
her courage was finally to be tested. Pierre Cauchon directed the
proceedings, with Lemaitre and nine others, of whom three were members
of the Chapterhouse of Rouen, and one was Massieu the clerk. Besides
these, the ushers and the guard of English soldiers lined the walls.
Here it is recorded how she was threatened with torture "if she did
not avow the truth," and shown the instruments and the officials who
were ready to administer it. I will not attempt to translate the few
words Jeanne d'Arc ever uttered whose echoes we may still imagine
beneath the very roof that heard them. There is hardly a single
other[52] place of which the same thing can be said.

[Footnote 52: With all that happened before Jeanne came to Rouen I
have no concern here, and I must take it for granted that you know at
least the outlines. But to confirm the sentence to which this note
refers, I may add that they still point out to you at Chinon the well
where she alighted off her horse, and the house of the "bonne femme"
who sheltered her. Of the Tour du Coudray in the Castle of Chinon, as
of the great hall on the first floor where she met the King, little
save ruined stones remain. And it is not often that even so much as
that is left of other places in which she is known to have stayed,
such as the chamber in the Castle of Crotoy, the tower at Beaurevoir,
the gate-tower of Compiegne, or any of the cells in which she was
confined within the Castle of Rouen itself.]

In answer to the first threatening question the manuscript gives her
reply as follows:--

"Vraiement, se vous me deviez faire detraire les membres et faire
partir l'ame hors du corps, si ne vous diray-je autre chose; et se
aucune chose vous en disoye-je, apres si diroye-je tousjours que vous
le me auries fait dire par force.

"_Item_, dit que, a la Sainte-Croix, oult le confort de Saint Gabriel:
'Et croiez que ce fust sainct Gabriel;' et l'a sceu par les voix que
c'estoit Saint Gabriel.

"_Item_, dit qu'elle (a) demande conseil a ses voix s'elle se
submectroit a l'Eglise, pour ce que les gens d'eglise la pressoient
fort de se submectre a l'Eglise, et ils lui ont dit que s'elle veult
que nostre Seigneur luy aide, qu'elle s'actende a luy de tous ses
fais.

"_Item_, dit qu'elle scait bien que nostre Seigneur a este toujours
maistre de ses fais, et que l'ennemy n'avait oncques eu puissance sur
ses faits.

"_Item_, dit qu'elle a demande a ses voix s'elle sera arse, et que les
dictes voix luy ont repondu que elle se actende a nostre sire, et il
luy aidera.

"_Item_, du signe de la couronne qu'elle dit avoir este baille a
l'arcevesque de Reims, interoguee s'elle s'en veult rapporter a luy,
respond; 'Faictes le y venir, et que je l'oe parler, et puis je vous
respondray; ne il ne oseroit dire le contraire de ce que je vous en ay
dit.'"

In 1455 the "Proces de rehabilitation" recorded the testimony of
Mauger Separmentier, the executioner, who saw her during this scene in
the donjon, whither he had been summoned, with his assistant, to
administer the torture, if necessary. "She showed great prudence in
her replies," he affirmed, "so that those who heard were astonished;
and this deponent retired with his assistant without touching her"
(see Quicherat, "Proces," vols. i., ii., iii.). It is evident that if
she had given them the least excuse, by any mistake in her replies,
her judges would not have allowed the executioner to depart idle.

There are very few other places to which I can point you as witnesses
of her tragedy. But, besides that chapel you have already visited,
there is in the same district, between the north side of the Cathedral
and the Rue de la Chaine, a whole labyrinth of twisting streets
wherein lived the ecclesiastics who plotted her death.[53]

[Footnote 53: See Map C.]

In the Rue St. Nicolas (which turns eastward after the Cathedral
Parvis from the Rue des Carmes) there is a small open square just
opposite the opening of the Rue Croix de Fer; within the walls of a
house there are still preserved a few ruined stones of the Church of
St. Nicolas le Paincteur, at the end of a courtyard. If you go round
into the Place des Carmes, it is still possible to trace (at Nos. 27
and 31) some old vaults beneath the soil, by the ventilation holes
just above the pavement. Close to this Church of St. Nicolas was the
house of Jean Rube, Canon of Rouen, with whom lodged Pierre Cauchon
when he came to preside over the trial. It was there that, with
Nicolas Loyseleur and others, those sinister discussions went on
between every public examination of the prisoner. And in the house
that rose above those vaults lived Loyseleur himself. The present
facade has been so altered since 1818 that only in the interior
courtyard (if M. Laurent, Mayor of Rouen in 1897, and M. Sarrasin, the
historian of Jeanne d'Arc, are kind enough to allow it) can you
realise the age of the building. The thick walls and deep-set windows
leave no doubt of the age of their construction. The vaults beneath
are still more extraordinary relics of antiquity, with their massive
round arches and double sets of substructures. The house itself was
most probably given to the Cathedral in those days by the Duke of
Bedford, who had already done much in the same direction; and it was
therefore very appropriately allotted as a lodging to that one of the
canons who was helping the English most effectually in their
iniquitous task.

[Illustration: THE COUR D'ALBANE, ROUEN CATHEDRAL]

After the canons left the main block of Cathedral-buildings to go into
lodgings in this quarter so near at hand, they still kept their oven,
their granary, and their common cellar in the Cour d'Albane. This
quiet little quadrangle is one of the prettiest nooks of old Rouen,
and I am fortunate enough to be able to show in the drawing on p. 218
how well worth while it is to find the entrance to it just north of
the Tour St. Romain in the angle of the Rue des Quatre Vents. It was
probably first built for cloisters and a cemetery, and afterwards used
merely as a "deambulatorium." But the bakery of the chapterhouse,
which remained here for so long, was always renowned for the purity
and goodness of its bread, and loaves from it were often presented to
distinguished visitors on occasions when the civic authorities were
obliged either to rise to jewellery or to descend to nuts. The "Salle
Capitulaire," now being restored from M. Sauvageot's designs, used
also to open on the cloister, and in it the canons transacted their
temporal and spiritual business, including their famous choice for the
Fierte St. Romain, and their trials of ecclesiastical prisoners.
Crimes of "outsiders" committed within the Cathedral limits were tried
by a special tribunal in the Porter's Lodge, and he guarded the
prisoners in the dungeon beneath the Tour St. Romain. Another more
interesting duty of the same official was to care, during daytime, for
the dogs who were loosed in the Cathedral at night to keep out
sacrilegious robbers, a custom which lasted down to 1760. But the Cour
d'Albane took its name from the founder of that school for choir-boys
with which it is most intimately associated now. Pierre de Colmieu,
the Archbishop from 1236 to 1245, was also Cardinal d'Albano, and from
him was named the institution he endowed to educate three priests,
three deacons, and four subdeacons. Paid singers were unknown at that
time; the services were long and pompous, and it took some time to
learn them, so these men, all over twenty-one, were chosen as much for
their ability to read and sing as for their good conduct. They
benefited again in 1401 by the bequests of Jacques Cave, who is buried
beneath the Tour de Beurre. There were seven of these singers in 1440,
and it was one of Jeanne d'Arc's judges, Gilles Deschamps, who left
money to provide the little choir-boys with the red caps they wear to
this day to keep their little shaved heads from the cold. In 1459
painters and sculptors were allowed to exhibit some of their work in
this beautiful courtyard, "if it was decent"; and every year the
canons and the clerks lit in this open space the "Feu de la St. Jean,"
and even planted their pious Maypole.

But the memories of this quarter are not exhausted yet. Turn down into
the Rue St. Romain. From No. 8 to No. 14 are the old canons' lodgings,
where more of Jeanne's judges lived, and especially Canon Guillaume
le Desert, who survived the trial longer than any of his companions.
Near No. 28 is the Rue des Chanoines. Close by, at the "Ecu de
France," lived Jehan Salvart, the architect who built the palace for
Henry V. near Mal s'y Frotte. Within his house a workman saw, it is
recorded, the iron cage made by Etienne Castille, in which Jeanne was
chained by hands and feet and neck. At the tavern called "Maison de
Pierre"[54] Manchon, the clerk of the court, used to take his wine of
an afternoon. On the side next the Cathedral were the ecclesiastical
prisons, whose deepest dungeon was beneath the Tour St. Romain. Just
opposite the screen of the Portail des Libraires is No. 74, a strange
old house, carved with two bishops on the beams of the first floor,
and three more upon the brackets above. The door may well be original,
and the whole house is as old as the fifteenth century. On the other
side again, and just in face of the opening of the Rue Croix de Fer,
is the "Maison Jeanne d'Arc," which has no right to that name beyond
the possibility of her having seen it. For this strange remnant of
Gothic woodwork that juts out above the pavement is no doubt
contemporaneous with the trial that we are following out now. In
August 1897 the Municipal Council announced its determination to pull
it down. The _Journal de Rouen_, which deserves well of every honest
lover of antiquity, at once published a letter from M. Paul Dubosc, in
which that zealous writer pointed out the unnecessary vandalism of the
proposal; Englishmen in Rouen at the time were not afraid to add their
protests even in an alien tongue; when I left it last year it had, at
least, been standing long enough for Miss James to draw it (see p.
206) on the left hand side of an illustration that gives a very good
idea of the Rouen of the fifteenth century. The little Renaissance
doorway in the distance, at the angle of the Rue des Quatre Vents, is
an entrance to the Cour des Comptes, which at the same date had just
been freed from ruined encumbrances, and its lovely courtyard opened
to the Rue des Carmes on the other side (see p. 288).

[Footnote 54: Most of the dwelling-houses were of wood, which explains
why so few are left.]

This same old house was a canon's residence, and the property of the
Chapter of the Cathedral before the Revolution. Some furniture-dealers
bought it at the general sale of ecclesiastical effects. In 1893 it
was sold to the State for 36,000 francs by Mr Dumont, to whom the
Civil Tribunal had awarded it. The loss to the Rue St. Romain would be
a serious one, if the house were finally pulled down. A fatal passion
for "alignement" has Haussmannised Rouen quite enough already, and to
strip the Cathedral bare of all appendages would be to forget the main
object of mediaeval architecture in France. I have pointed out
elsewhere that it was owing to a more settled state of society that
the English Cathedral rose from the turf of a broad quiet close, as at
Salisbury. In France the houses of the Cathedral towns crowded close
round the walls that were their temporal safety as well as their
spiritual salvation. The Parvis of Notre Dame is a creation of modern
Paris. Many a church in Provence still shows by the machicolations and
loopholes on its walls and towers that it could have played the
fortress with a good grace whenever necessary. And it was no doubt
because a French cathedral rose above the clustered houses round its
base that its lines of architecture spring so boldly to the sky, and
that its detailed carving within easy vision was so close and
excellent.

This old Rue St. Romain may have received its name from the Hotel St.
Romain mentioned in it in 1466. In any case the name of the city's
patron saint could hardly have been given to a more characteristic
thoroughfare. By 1423 it seems to have been called the Rue
Feronnerie, which is interesting, because the workers in metal (whose
trade is preserved in their old quarter of the Rue Dinanderie) were
not natives of Rouen, but all came from Lorraine, and especially from
Urville, a town within a few leagues of Domremy. So that Jean Moreau,
a maker of copper flagons in the Rue Ecuyere, was especially chosen by
Pierre Cauchon to go to his native place and make inquiries as to the
truth of Jeanne d'Arc's statement about her birth and upbringing.

[Illustration: CENTRAL TOWER OF ST. OUEN FROM THE SOUTH-EAST]

The next place in Rouen that actually saw Jeanne herself was the open
space round the rising nave of St. Ouen, then called the Cemetery,
where we have already watched the farcical royalty of the Revolte de
la Harelle (p. 152). In thus tracing her footsteps, where we may still
find them, I shall be showing you what little is left of the Rouen of
the English occupation. Few of the towers and spires that rise now
above the roofs of Rouen were standing then. "Rouvel" indeed was in
the Town-Belfry, but uttered never a sound in his captivity. Of the
Cathedral the Tour de Beurre did not exist, the Tour St. Romain was
scarce two-thirds its present height, the western facade was far
simpler and smaller. St. Maclou was not completed when Jeanne d'Arc
died, nor the Palais de Justice begun. Of St. Ouen only the eastern
end of the nave, the apse and the choir, with the far older Tour aux
Clercs beside them, were being built; neither its central crown nor
its rose windows yet existed. The French architect chosen by the
English was at this time Alexander de Berneval, who had carried on the
work of Jean de Bayeux and his son, the architects from 1378 to 1421.
And you may still see where Jacques Theroulde (for Antoine Bohier)
carried on the work which Berneval's son left unfinished in 1441.

From their scaffolding round the uncompleted arches the architect and
his apprentices must have had a good view, on the Thursday after
Pentecost in 1431, of those other scaffoldings erected in the Cemetery
below them, on one of which sat Pierre Cauchon with the Cardinal of
Winchester, while on the other stood Jeanne d'Arc. The ceremony,
called the Abjuration, was a last attempt to frighten Jeanne into
confessing that her "Voices" had deceived her, and her mission was
untrue. It succeeded only because of her physical weakness, and in
forty-eight hours her moral courage repudiated it entirely.
Proceedings began by a long sermon from Guillaume Erard, a celebrated
preacher. When he called the King of France "heretic and schismatic"
she interrupted him at once to contradict. When he commanded her own
submission to the Church, she replied that she was ready to answer to
God and to the Pope for all, and that for all she was herself alone
responsible. This was a confusing reply for her judges, when made
before the great concourse of people who had assembled to witness this
young girl's examination. They could only retort that the
ecclesiastics there present were the representatives both of God and
of the Pope, and that she must submit to them. They then ordered her
"to abjure" publicly the various things of which she was accused. She
did not understand what was required of her. Erard exclaimed that she
must "abjure" or be burnt at once. At last he began to read her
sentence of condemnation. Then, though she was conscious of no evil,
she at last said, "I submit myself to the Church." They hastened to
read over the twelve articles of accusation already given, and the
poor girl agreed to them, promising never to sin again and to submit
herself to the justice of the Church. Massieu read to her a formula
"of some eight lines," according to his testimony afterwards.

There was some murmuring among the crowd during this long ceremony;
for while Jeanne was alive the English soldiery dared attempt nothing
fresh; and they only saw in her refusals to "abjure" an immediate
reason for handing her over from the ecclesiastical justice to the
secular, whose ways were swifter. But merely burning Jeanne would not
have been enough. She had to confess her sins, to disavow her mission,
to be received into the bosom of the Church and pardoned, and
then--_to be discovered in fresh crime_. One of the consequences of
her "abjuration" was that she was wearing woman's dress that very
afternoon. Two days afterwards (on Sunday) the ecclesiastics heard
that she had changed to masculine attire again. They rushed to the
castle to verify the "relapse" they were so ardently expecting, but
the English soldiers drove them out again, being very tired by this
time of their unintelligible delays. On May 28th Pierre Cauchon
questioned her, and she said that if they kept their word, to free her
and let her hear mass, she would keep hers and change her dress, but
that among men a man's dress suited her best.[55] Asked if she had
heard her "voices" again--a deliberate trap to secure the certainty of
proved "relapse"--she replied, "God has told me by Saint Catherine and
Saint Margaret of the pity and the betrayal that I have wrought in
making abjuration to save my life, and that I lost my soul to save my
life." To this the clerk added the fatal comment, "RESPONSIO
MORTIFERA." Jeanne realised now what her "abjuration" had really
meant. The fear that had inspired it had passed, and she boldly
reaffirmed her mission and her faith. It was all her judges needed.
"Farewell," cried Pierre Cauchon to Warwick and his English who waited
in the castle-yard, "be of good cheer, for it is done."

[Footnote 55: The "Proces de Rehabilitation" reveals, on the testimony
of Manchon the clerk, that her reply as recorded in the "Proces de
condemnation" was not correctly set down with reference to her change
of attire. She resumed her male dress, though it meant her
death-sentence, because, as both Massieu and Ladvenu swore, several
gross attempts had been made upon her honour since the scene in the
Cemetery of St. Ouen; and Pierre Cauchon cannot have been unaware that
this would certainly occur.]

By orders of the meeting of the 29th of May, already mentioned as held
in the Chapelle des Ordres, Martin Ladvenu and Jean Toutmouille came
to her cell early in the morning of the next day, and announced that
she was to be handed over to the Secular Justice and burnt. "Helas!"
she cried, with all the natural terror of a woman, "me traite-t-on si
horriblement et cruellement, qu'il faille que mon corps net et entier,
qui ne fut jamais corrompu, soit aujourd'hui consume et rendu en
cendres!" She then confessed to Ladvenu, and after some discussion the
sacred elements were brought to her, without any of the usual
ceremonial accompaniments, and she received them with deep devotion.

The last scene in her life now drew near. That you may understand it,
you must realise that the present Place du Vieux Marche has little
except its name in common with the Vieux Marche where Jeanne was
burnt. The map I have reproduced from Jacques Lelieur's plan of 1525
will show you very much what it was like in the fifteenth century (see
map F), and will prove not only that it was far smaller in extent, but
that many buildings round it then have now disappeared without a trace
of them remaining. In this old map the "Rue Massacre" must be
understood as representing that part of the Rue de la Grosse Horloge
which extended from the Porte Massacre (see p. 135) to the Place du
Vieux Marche. When you stand in the Vieux Marche now, if you imagine
that the houses of the Rue Cauchoise extended across the open square
to the beginning of the Rue de la Grosse Horloge, you may realise how
much less space there was in the fifteenth century. In those days,
too, it must be remembered that what is now the Place Verdrel was
called the Marche Neuf, and that the old Marche aux Veaux has now
become quite wrongly the Place de la Pucelle. How this mistake arose
will soon be clear.

M. Charles de Beaurepaire's untiring researches have established from
recorded documents every house that stood round the Vieux Marche. The
map shows that the Church of St. Sauveur (now vanished) stood near the
Rue du Vieux Palais and the Rue de la Pie, with its apse turned
towards the Grosse Horloge. Within its cemetery was erected the
scaffolding beyond the east end of the church on which Jeanne's judges
stood at her execution. Near it was another stage at the end of the
Market-Hall, and in sight of both was the place where she was burnt,
marked by the "Escharfaut," recorded by Lelieur, and known to have
been in the same place since 1233. It was well within the view not
only of the judges but of a crowd in the Vieux Marche and the Rue
Cauchoise, and its place is commemorated by the tablet you can now
read at the corner of the new Market-Hall.

The mistake of the "Place de la Pucelle" arose because a monumental
fountain was erected there for the first time, when Cardinal Georges
d'Amboise, who really started the waterworks of Rouen on a proper
basis, used the Fontaine St. Filleul for the benefit of the Quartier
Cauchoise. The pipe was brought into the Marche aux Veaux because the
level of the ground permitted a better fall for the water, and the
town took advantage of the opportunity to turn the new fountain into a
memorial of Jeanne d'Arc. The actual spot where she was burnt was
never marked at all, until the tablet of to-day was set up; for
although the "Proces de Rehabilitation" decreed that the scene of her
execution should be consecrated with a cross, that cross was placed on
the point of the wall of the Cemetery of St. Sauveur, which was
nearest to her scaffold; and this for the very good reason that the
English (if for no other motive) would not allow another "sanctuary"
(as all crosses were in the fifteenth century) to be erected so near
to the cemetery which was already holy ground itself. It was this
commemorative cross which was replaced by the Fountain of St. Sauveur
just before the larger monumental fountain was erected in the more
convenient (though less appropriate) situation of the Marche aux
Veaux, now the Place de la Pucelle.

Over the hideous tragedy of the Vieux Marche I have neither space nor
inclination to linger. At nine o'clock on the 30th of May 1431 she
left the chateau of Philip Augustus in woman's dress, wearing a mitre
on which was written, "Heretique, Relapse, Apostate, Idolatre," with
Ladvenu and Massieu beside her, and seven or eight hundred men-at-arms
accompanying them. She wept bitterly as she went, and the people wept
to see her sobbing in the cart. Even Loyseleur was overcome by his
remorse, and was bidden to leave Rouen. In the Vieux Marche she had
first to listen to the sermon of Nicole Midi, who formally delivered
her to the Secular Justice. The Bishop of Beauvais then pronounced her
sentence of excommunication. When Jeanne rose to implore the pardon of
the people and the prayers of the Church, insisting to the end on the
sincerity of her cause and of her King, there was hardly even an
English soldier who was not touched with some compassion after the six
hours of her suspense. Massieu handed her a roughly-fashioned cross
which she placed in her bosom. She begged Isambard de la Pierre to
hold another before her eyes until the end. The delay of the
ecclesiastics had been long, but the civil powers were short. "Do your
duty" was the only sentence she heard in the short command[56] to the
executioner. Then she wept again, crying, "Rouen, Rouen, mourrai-je
ici, seras-tu ma maison? Ah Rouen, j'ai grand peur que tu n'aies a
souffrir de ma mort." The slow flames mounted from the scaffold which
had been built to burn her slowly, and with the last word, "Jesus," on
her lips, she died.

[Footnote 56: As a matter of recorded fact no sentence was then
pronounced on her save by the impatient soldiers. The Bailli of Rouen,
Messire Raoul le Bouteiller, only said the words I have given above,
as his lieutenant swore in the second Proces, and this is why the
sentence is not recorded in the minutes of the Baillage.]

Her ashes were cast into the Seine. They were scarcely cold before the
rumour of her saintliness, and the miracles of her passing spread
through Rouen and through France. Soon afterwards Pierre Cauchon,
Bishop of Beauvais, died of apoplexy. Nicole Midi was struck with
leprosy within a few days of her death. Loyseleur died suddenly at
Bale. The corpse of d'Estivet was found in a gutter outside the gates
of Rouen.

Not a single attempt was made to rescue her in Rouen at the last, not
a solitary effort had been made before to save her by the French.
Judged by the Church, and appealing for fair hearing, Jeanne was not
supported in her trial by a single French ecclesiastic. Not a single
reference to her death occurs on subsequent occasions, when the Court
of France had official opportunity to make it. An age still so
strongly imbued with the principles of feudalism could not believe in
that intense patriotism and worship of nationality which was as
foreign to their instincts as was the doctrine of liberty of
conscience. This peasant-girl personified them both. "Il y a es livres
de nostre Seigneur plus que es vostres," she had said in her first
questioning at Chinon; and laymen and ecclesiastics alike were unable
to reconcile her with any scheme of philosophy they knew. In English
writings there is no contemporary mention of her except a line in
William of Worcester. Caxton's English Chronicles only give the lie
that Shakespeare has preserved against her tainted purity. Thomas
Fuller classed her with the Witch of Endor. It was not for twenty-four
years that the very town which saw her martyrdom was moved to declare
judicially her innocence. In the "Proces de Rehabilitation," begun on
the first of June 1456, everyone who had known her came forward--too
late--to testify to her innocence. On the seventh of July, in the
presence of her brother and her mother's representative in the great
hall of the palace of the Archbishop of Rouen, it was ordered that her
memory should be publicly reinstated both in the Cemetery of St. Ouen
and in the Vieux Marche.

The most astonishing thing in the whole story is, not that the
prophecies were fulfilled, not what she did before her death, not even
the memory of how she died, but the woman herself, and that is why I
have reproduced as far as was possible, from the text of Quicherat's
volumes, all that she is known certainly to have said and done in
Rouen, as is recorded in the contemporary manuscripts which he has
reproduced from the minutes of her "Trials." The donjon of the castle,
where she stood before her judges, is for this reason the best memory
of her that could possibly have been preserved. No other monument will
ever be so appropriate, and in their patriotic and successful efforts
to preserve this building, the citizens of modern Rouen have done much
to wipe out the shame of other days. It preserves not merely the
heroism of Jeanne. She had scarcely left it when the brave
Xaintrailles was imprisoned within its walls, but he must have escaped
or been exchanged very soon, for at the end of December in the same
year he was fighting the English again at Lagny. In February of the
following year, 1432, another famous name is connected with the
donjon, for in that month Ricarville with scarcely a hundred men
behind him was let in by Pierre Audeboeuf, and killed every one of
the English garrison except the Earl of Arundel, who was governor,
with his immediate bodyguard.

[Illustration: THE DONJON OF PHILIPPE AUGUSTE, KNOWN AS THE TOUR
JEANNE D'ARC]

This remnant barricaded themselves in the Tour Carree, which Henry the
Fifth had built to the north-west of the old fort, after the siege of
Rouen. Ricarville hastily retired for help to Marshal de Boussac, and
during his absence his companions, attacked by reinforcements of the
English, were obliged to take refuge in the donjon, where they were
hotly besieged by artillery which seriously damaged the second storey
of the tower. Forced to surrender after three weeks of heroic
resistance, the whole hundred were beheaded in the Vieux Marche. For
fifty days this handful of men had held the entire English garrison in
check, and yet not a man had thought of rescuing Jeanne d'Arc scarcely
a year ago.

Jacques Lelieur's map shows that by 1525 a new roof had been put on
the donjon, in the shape of a platform with embrasures. By 1591
Valdory, whose account of the siege by Henri Quatre I shall mention
later, records that it was almost ruined. In 1610 its remnants were
spared, when the rest of the castle was demolished to make a
practice-ground for the arquebusiers of the town. After passing into
private hands, the tower became the property of a convent in the
eighteenth century. In 1796 it was sold to another private owner, who
was warned to be careful of the well within the walls that was
supplied by the spring Gaalor. By 1809 some nuns bought it again, and
for long the old donjon decorated incongruously a portion of the
garden in the Ursuline Convent. In 1842 M. Deville, Inspecteur des
Monuments Historiques, drew public attention to its value, and was
supported by M. Barthelemy the municipal architect. The publication of
M. Quicherat's five volumes of the "Trials," in 1849, renewed the
interest in all that had to do with Jeanne d'Arc. After a long and
most creditable agitation, a committee, on which M. F. Bouquet served
as secretary, was formed under the presidency of the mayor, M.
Verdrel. The ground was bought from the Ursuline nuns, the trained
advice of M. Viollet le Duc was solicited, and by the active
assistance of MM. Desmarest and Durand the tower was finally restored
as you may see it now.

Though the filling up of the moat makes it look shorter than it really
is, a great deal of the old masonry remains intact, and so carefully
has the restoring work been done that in the embrasures and recesses
on both first and second floors you may still see the scratches and
inscriptions of prisoners or sentinels, much as they are preserved in
our own Tower of London. On Wednesday, the 18th of February 1874, the
work of reconstruction was finished by the placing of the iron vane
with its great fleur-de-lys upon the summit of the conical roof. It is
the fourth floor, just beneath this vane, that is the most interesting
of all the new work, as it presents a complete and accurate picture of
mediaeval defences, showing both the wooden hoarding which projected
beyond the walls in order to give space to hurl down stones and
boiling lead, and the guard's chemin-de-ronde cut in the solid wall
with its openings that communicate with each side. Its walls conjure
up a flood of memories of the men and women who saw those solid cliffs
of masonry before they fell into ruin and restoration:--

     "Berthe au grand pied, Bietris, Allys
     Harembourges, qui tint le Mayne,
     Et Jehanne la bonne Lorraine
     Qu'Anglois bruslerent a Rouen:
     Ou sont-ilz, Vierge Souveraine?
       Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?"

On the 10th of November 1449 Charles the Seventh of France was riding
through his own good town of Rouen; by his side were Jacques Coeur,
Rene d'Anjou, King of Sicily, and Pierre de Breze. The English had
surrendered Rouen, and all of them were on their way home again who
had not left their bones in France.




CHAPTER X

_A City of Churches_

     Et concupiscet Rex decorem tuum quoniam ipse est Dominus
     Deus et adorabunt eum. Et filiae Tyri in muneribus vultum
     tuum deprecabuntur; omnes divites plebis. Omnis gloria ejus
     filiae regis ab intus, in fimbreis aureis, circumamicta
     varietatibus.


A walk from Rouen to St. Sever will leave you with the impression that
Rouen has so many churches that she has to turn many of them into
shops, while St. Sever has so many shops that several of them have had
to masquerade as churches. But the many "sacred buildings" you may see
to-day are not much more than half of the churches and chapels of the
sixteenth century which rose after the English garrison had
disappeared. With the few exceptions I have already noted, Rouen has
been almost entirely reconstructed since 1450, and in nothing can this
be realised so well as in its churches. When Charles VII. first rode
into Rouen, of the greater churches only the Cathedral was within a
little of completion. St. Ouen hardly suggested yet the building that
appears to-day.

As I have said, it was during the English occupation that the nave was
begun. The beautiful central tower was only finished by Antoine
Bohier, who did much to make perfect the building that we see to-day
as the fifth church on the same site. It received its name from St.
Ouen, who was buried in the second church in 689. The monastery which
was added to the third church was under the rule of Nicolas de
Normandie, son of the second Duke Richard, in 1042. This was destroyed
by the usual fire, and the rebuilding was assisted by the Empress
Matilda and Richard Coeur de Lion. The little remnant of beautiful
Romanesque called the Tour aux Clercs, probably formed the northern
apse of its transept. When this church in turn was burnt in the same
fire that destroyed the original churches of St. Godard and St.
Laurent, the monks fled to Bihorel with what could be rescued of their
archives and their "treasure." At last, Abbe Jean Roussel, called Marc
d'Argent, started the noble fabric that, mutilated as it is, is still
one of the finest monuments of later "Gothic" in existence. His first
meeting of architects and master-masons was called in 1321, and then
was in all likelihood decided the outlines of that mighty plan which
took a century and a half to approach completion--and well-nigh half a
hundred architects.

From the ancient refuge of his monks, the land on which their feudal
justice was administered, from the <DW72>s above Bihorel, Marc d'Argent
looked down and watched the first walls and buttresses of his Abbey
rise from the soil. In that valley the quarries from which he drew his
stone could still be seen scarce twenty years ago, with huge blocks of
stone, rough-hewn nearly five centuries before, still resting upon
mouldering rollers. He gathered funds from the Abbey Forests (which
gave their timbers too) and from the generous donations of the pious.
After twenty-one years of work, in which all his monks assisted the
masons, he had spent about five million francs (in modern values), and
by 1339 had finished the choir and chapels, the huge pillars beneath
the central tower, and part of the transept. Of the first real "Maitre
d'oeuvre," as so often happens in the tale of the Cathedrals,
nothing is known. But the monks carved the clear keen features of his
face upon the funeral stone, 7-1/2 feet high and 4 feet broad, that is
in the Chapelle St. Cecile, and beside it is a detailed drawing of one
of the arches of the choir. Jean de Bayeux went on with the work from
1378 to 1398, and his son Jean was Master Architect from 1411 to 1421.
How intensely enthusiastic the monks were to complete their Abbey may
be seen from their quarrel with the Town Authorities in 1412 and 1415,
when every workman and every penny in the town was gathered to help
strengthen the fortifications against the English. But the monks of
St. Ouen refused assistance in money or in kind, lest by so doing they
should <DW36> their beloved building. And their confidence was
perhaps justified in that Alexandre de Berneval, who was the architect
from 1422 to 1441, worked under the deliberate encouragement of the
English garrison. His tomb is near that of the first unknown Master,
and the plan of his famous Rose window for the south transept is
carved as his most fitting epitaph.

The two Bayeux had done the interior of the south door of the
transept, but it was Berneval who did the chapel of SS. Peter and
Paul, and his son who, after 1441, worked at the central tower, the
gem of the exterior. This younger Berneval lies buried near his
father, and the plan of his octagonal "drum" is set above his grave.
To that first magnificent conception the crown was not added until
Antoine Bohier's days, between 1490 and 1515, for whom Jacques
Theroulde worked chiefly. The same Abbot completed the Sacristy, but
the rest of his additions were not so fortunate in their execution,
for the style of the end of the fifteenth century did not mate happily
with the earlier work. The carvings and general style of the south
portal, called "des Marmousets," is for instance a striking
deterioration from the bold conceptions and brilliant handiwork upon
the great transept gateways of the Cathedral. He added four more bays
to the nave, using simple instead of double buttresses, flamboyant
work instead of rose windows, longer arches, and a lower line of
capitals. Under Cibo, his successor, the last four bays of the nave
were finished, and a splendid beginning made to the west front that
has perished utterly, and been replaced by the miserable monstrosity
of a frigid and ill-proportioned "restoration." Seldom has that
much-abused word so richly deserved all the invective that could be
heaped upon it. By Lelieur's plan we know that in 1525 the western
front of Cibo scarcely can be said to have existed. But it cannot
have been long after the reign of Francis I. that Cibo's architect
carried his west front between 40 and 50 metres high, because the
crest and devices of that monarch were preserved in the old work. In
1846 it will hardly be credited that so much of that old work still
remained as may be seen in the drawing, copied from the sketch of a
contemporary architect, which I have reproduced on page 236. From this
it will be observed that one of the most ingenious and original
devices of the Middle Ages at their close had been developed for the
entrance to St. Ouen.

[Illustration: THE ORIGINAL WEST FRONT OF ST. OUEN WHICH WAS PULLED
DOWN TO ERECT THE MODERN FACADE]

A glance at the western facades of the Cathedral and of St. Maclou
will make clearer what I have to say. For the Cathedral is in almost a
straight line along its west front, though the two towers at each end
give almost a suggestion of a retreating curve. St. Maclou, on the
other hand, shaped like the eastern apse of most churches, has a bold
curve forwards from north and south, meeting in the central door which
projects some way beyond the side doors on its own facade, as may be
seen from Miss James's particularly instructive drawing in the
frontispiece. St. Ouen presented the only remaining third possibility,
a curve inwards, in which the central door was pushed back, and at an
angle on each side of it the arched portals of the aisles curved
forwards, and above them rose two towers, each a reduced copy of that
larger exquisite central tower which crowns the Abbey. Though the old
masonry remained, and though a complete working drawing of the whole
facade was discovered in the archives of the town, the job of pulling
everything down and building the new and horrible spires was given to
an architect who had already destroyed an old tower in the angle of
the courtyard of the Palais de Justice, and had made a "grille" for
its facade filled with inconsequent anachronisms and errors.

After this, your only consolation will be to pass through the western
gates as swiftly as may be to the interior. Its whole length is 416
feet 8 inches, and the vault is 100 feet high; the nave is 34 feet
broad, and the aisles 22 feet. This magnificent fabric has had hard
usage. After being sacked when it was scarce completed, by the
Protestants in 1562, it was turned into a museum by the Revolution,
and in 1793 was used as a blacksmith's shop for making arms. Yet
nothing can efface that first breathless sense of soaring height and
beauty which impresses you on your first entrance as you look up to
the great windows of the clerestory, with the saints upon their
silvery glass, set between the long slender shafts of columns that
spring straight from the ground, and leap upwards like a fountain
clear and undivided to the keystone of the roof. Though I was
unwillingly bound to confess that even the old Rose windows
disappointed me, the bunch of glaring cauliflowers which is the new
western Rose is worse than anything in any building of this size and
general beauty. But the other windows are an abiding joy, made of that
exquisite moonlit glass, in which the colours shine like jewels, and
are set as rarely.

Nor is the Church without its claim to right of place in history as
well as art. For the old Abbey of St. Ouen was one of the most
considerable in Normandy. It held fiefs not only in the city, but in
the Foret Verte outside, and lands all over the province, with the
right of nomination to very many livings. From the Pope himself the
Abbot held, since 1256, certain valuable privileges in conferring
minor dignities, and in the list of those who held that splendid post
after the uncle of the Conqueror, are the names of d'Estouteville, de
Lorraine, de Bourbon, de Vendome, de la Tour d'Auvergne, and lastly
Etienne Charles de Lomenie de Brienne, who was found dead in his bed
when the warrant had gone out for his arrest in 1794. In 1602 only was
the ceremony of the "Oison bride" given up, which commemorated the old
privileges of the Abbot's Mills. Even longer lasted the ancient
ceremony by which the monks received every archbishop on his entrance
into Rouen, and on his death watched for the first night by his bier
in their own abbey. In their cemetery you have already seen Jeanne
d'Arc go through her mockery of "abjuration." Within it, too, her
memory was "rehabilitated." In this church young Talbot was laid to
rest, who fell in the English wars. In its cemetery was received James
II. of Gt. Britain, who was escorted, on his flight from England, by
armed citizens of Rouen from the Chartreuse of St. Julien to the
Abbey.

[Illustration: THE NAVE OF ST. OUEN]

And it may be that the old Sacristan, for your good fortune, will be
living still to tell you of the greatest Englishman he has ever heard
of, John Ruskin, who often looked into that quaint mirror of Holy
Water, and watched the strange reflection of the arches soaring
upwards in the nave.

It was in the Abbey of St. Ouen that on a May Day of 1485, Charles
VIII. held a great assembly to deliberate over the concessions to the
town after his famous entry into Rouen. To welcome him, poets,
machinists, actors, tableaux vivants, marionettes, songs, comedies,
and "mysteries," were gathered together regardless of expense. The
Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon had arrived before him, and on the
twelfth of April they were presented by the Chapterhouse with six
gallons of wine of two sorts, and with loaves of the famous bread,[57]
in return for which each gave a golden crown to the Cathedral
Offertory. Two days afterwards arrived the King himself from Pont de
l'Arche with a large and brilliant suite, including the second Louis
de la Tremouille, who fought on every battlefield from St. Aubin du
Cormier to Pavia, Philippe de Commines the historian, the "Comte de
Richemont," soon to be King of England, and many others.

[Footnote 57: Perhaps it was in honour of these legendary loaves that
the acrostic of SAC BLE was composed from the six dioceses dependent
on the archbishopric of Rouen; Seez, Alencon, Coutances, Bayeux,
Lisieux, Evreux.]

On his way from the Faubourg St. Sever to his lodgings in the Chateau
de Bouvreuil, five stages greeted his progress with loyal allegories.
Each bore its title written above in letters of gold or blue or rose
upon tin plates. The first was labelled "Repos Pacificque," and
represented by means of seven personages an acrostic on the royal name
of Charles. The second was "Ordre Politique," and was of a most
amazing ingenuity, for no less than forty-four persons were shown on
three stages one above the other which all turned round slowly on one
piece of timber. On the lowest appeared John the Evangelist with a
little angel by his side pointing him upwards to the splendours of the
Apocalypse; in the middle twenty-four aged harpers sat and harped,
with "lutes and rebecqs" in their hands; at the top shone the "Agnus
Dei," the lamb of Rouen from the civic arms, amidst a cloud of
evangelists and rainbows. On the third stage, labelled "Uncion des
Rois," was figured, with divers changes of scene, the coronation and
anointing of David, all arranged by Master David Pinel in token of the
joy of Rouen that Charles VIII. had been anointed with the holy oil at
Reims which had given strength to Charles VII. to turn out the hated
English. "Espoir en la croix" was represented on the fourth by the
victory of Constantine over Maxentius, with several "tirements de
courtines" or changes of scene. The fifth, styled "Nouvelle Eau
Celique," showed the blessings of the new reign after the sufferings
of the old one by a fountain which watered the Tree of the People, so
that leaves by a marvellous device appeared to flourish naturally
upon it, while wine was poured out from beneath for every passer-by to
drink, and five fair damsels sang harmoniously. That evening all the
shepherds and shepherdesses and other characters in these moving
"histories" came down and played a "mystery" before the King. But
perhaps the thing that pleased the young Charles most of all, was that
gay procession of young gentlemen of Rouen which caracoled before him
on horseback, under the leadership of no less a personage than his
majesty the King of Yvetot, the captain of the City Bridge. (See
footnote on page 36.)

In the next days he promised to confirm the charters of the town,
assured the canons in the exercise of the Privilege St. Romain, and
asked that the procession of the prisoner might pass by his chateau,
which was the more appropriate as the man released had been condemned
to death for killing a groom attached to one of the royal suite, who
had given wanton and continued provocation. Not till the seventeenth
of May were the requests both of the ecclesiastical and the civic
authorities fully granted at St. Ouen; the spokesman for each had been
Maitre Michel Petit, the "chantre" of the Chapterhouse, and by that
one fact, if by no other, King Charles must have been properly
impressed with the importance of the Church in Rouen.

Before he left the city, he could have seen the exquisite little
shrine of St. Maclou in all the fresh untainted delicacy of its first
achievement. "The eldest daughter of the Archbishop of Rouen," this
marvellous church was the result of one perfect and harmonious plan,
and inasmuch as the design of its originator has been faithfully
completed, it is far more of an architectural unity than its larger
rivals, the Cathedral or St. Ouen. Of these three either one would
make the reputation of an English town alone, and the jewelled
chiselling and admirable proportions of the smallest of them make a
fitting complement to the heavy splendour of the Cathedral on the one
hand, and to the dizzy altitudes of the Abbey on the other.

The first Maclou, as may be imagined, was a Scotchman. He fled to
Brittany, became Bishop of Aleth, and died in the Saintonge in 561.
Ever since the tenth century a shrine had been erected to his memory
outside the earliest walls of Rouen, in that morass which gives its
name to the Rue Malpalu in front of the present church. Twice burnt
and twice rebuilt, it became a parish church within the walls by 1250.
A larger building was soon necessary; even during the miseries of the
English Occupation it was determined to make the new church worthy of
the town that already held the Cathedral and part of St. Ouen; and
before 1500 indulgences had been granted by Hugues, the Archbishop, by
Cardinal d'Estouteville, and by twenty Cardinals of Rome, to raise
sufficient sums of money. In 1437 Pierre Robin, one of the royal
architects from Paris, was paid 43 livres 10 sols for a plan and work
that must have been begun some eighteen months previously with stone
quarried in Val des Leux and Vernon. In 1470 Ambroise Harel was
"Maitre de l'oeuvre," and in 1480 the same Jacques le Roux finished
it who worked in the Cathedral. Of individual bequests that of Jean de
Grenouville, who was buried in the Chapelle de la St. Vierge in 1466,
gave most help. From 1432, when the irreparable ruin of the old church
was first recognised, until 1514, the accounts for only seven years
have been preserved. In 1520 the spire of wood and lead above
Gringoire's lantern was placed on Martin Duperrois' platform, to which
a man might ascend without the help of any ladder. In 1735 this was
removed, and in 1795 the lead was melted into bullets, and the six
bells of 1529 were recast into cannon. In 1868 M. Barthelemy erected
the stone Pyramid 83 metres high to hold the fine new bells.[58]

[Footnote 58: M. de Beaurepaire has collected a few other names
connected with the building. It was first dedicated when Arthur Fillon
was the vicar, who was a friend of Cardinal d'Amboise and afterwards
Bishop of Senlis. After the disappearance of Pierre Robin, the first
architect mentioned, another stranger called Oudin de Mantes is given
control, with lodgings provided for him in the Rue du Bac. In 1446
Simon Lenoir of Rouen (who took Berneval's place under the English)
worked at this church.]

The famous carved doors have been attributed to Jean Goujon, though
there is only one figure (the "Caritas" on the left panel of the
central porch) that I can believe to be his own workmanship. In all
the idea of plan is much the same. There are two divisions, of which
the lower contains the "practicable entrance," and is guarded by a
caryatid on each side supporting two male figures. Along the lintel
runs a line of brackets alternating with cherubs' heads supporting
seven figures, four males in high relief with three females in low
relief behind them. These figures in turn carry a square panel, carved
in high relief above them, representing different scenes on each door,
chiefly suggested by the story of the Good Shepherd which is so
appropriate to the staple industry of the town. They were begun by
1527 and finished before 1560. Jean Goujon was born in 1520, and was
killed during the Massacre of St. Bartholomew while carving on the
Louvre. In 1540 he is known to have been at Rouen, and in the next
year he worked both here and in the Cathedral. So that he may well
have given the design for what he did not personally execute, though
no documents exist to prove either.

[Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. MACLOU

STAIRCASE TO THE ORGAN LOFT]

But if the doors are a trifle disappointing, though only so because of
their great reputation, they certainly did not deserve to be mutilated
by the Huguenots in 1562; and in 1793 when a barrelmaker's child was
slashing the heads of the statues with an axe, the crowd could think
of no better comment than "Celui-la sera un fameux patriote!" Of the
facade they were intended to adorn, which was probably the work of
Ambroise Harel, I have already spoken in describing the exactly
reverse plan of the original west front of St. Ouen. It is one of the
most delightful tours de force I know in architecture, and when Miss
James was drawing for me the frontispiece which adorns this volume,
she pointed out that the idea of the curve had been deliberately
emphasised to the spectator's eye by building the side porches
narrower, and crowning them with lower crests than is the case in the
central entrance. The central tympanum represents the Last Judgment,
with the Pelican above it that typifies the Resurrection. You may
appreciate at once the delicate tracery of lacework in stone which
covers this exterior and also the affection felt for its beauties by
their guardians, if you will examine the model laboriously built up in
wood and paper by an old vicar in the sixteenth century. His ten years
of loving toil have been preserved in the Musee des Antiquites, and
few better proofs exist of contemporary appreciation of the fine arts.

[Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. MACLOU. CARVED OAK PANEL FROM THE CENTRAL
DOORS]

The interior is scarcely less interesting, though it has suffered very
much from modern religiosity. Only forty-seven and a half metres long,
by scarcely twenty-five in width, its height is nearly twenty-three
metres in the three bays of the nave, rising to thirty-nine at the
lantern. Its greatest treasure now is the exquisite Escalier des
Orgues, from which the staircase to the organ loft at Ely was
imitated. This was built in 1519 for two hundred and five livres by
Pierre Gringoire, "Maistre Machon de Rouen." In examining more closely
that fragment of it, of which a plaster cast has been made for the
Musee du Trocadero in Paris, I could not help being struck with the
general resemblance of its plan to the more famous staircase which
adorns the exterior of the wing of Francis I. at the great chateau of
Blois in Touraine, which was built almost at the same time, from the
designs (as I have attempted to prove elsewhere) of Leonardo da Vinci,
and was decorated later on with statues by Jean Goujon. This sculptor
was only born the year after St. Maclou's staircase was finished, but
the main lines of the structure are so suggestive of the earlier work
that I cannot but imagine this fine piece of French Renaissance to be
a deliberate copy, by a master strong enough to retain his own
originality of treatment, of the main design that appears in the
courtyard of Blois.

[Illustration: TOUR ST. ANDRE]

Not all the churches of which Rouen is so full can boast even that
measure of preservation which storm and time and the more devastating
hands of man have spared to the three noblest of her religious
monuments. Of St. Andre, for instance, only the tower remains, that
stands alone above the Rue Jeanne d'Arc, like the Tour St. Jacques in
Paris, as an admirable specimen of the later Gothic architecture. A
still finer relic of an older past is that old church of St. Pierre du
Chastel, which is now turned into a stable and coach-house at No. 41
Rue Nationale. Unless you look for it, you will miss altogether the
great statue of David and his harp, which is the one massive
decoration of its strong and simple tower, and the carvings which may
still be traced through the neglect and mutilation of centuries upon
its western door. More degraded still, to even baser uses, is the
Church of St. Cande le Jeune, which has become some kind of an
electric manufactory, and may now be chiefly traced by the huge
chimney which obstructs the sky as you look up the Impasse Petit Salut
towards the Tour de Beurre of the Cathedral. Just opposite the
entrance to the public library is another instance of barbarous
neglect: the Church of St. Laurent. Once used as a magazine of shops
of every kind, sometimes a lost home for decrepit carriages, sometimes
a drying-house for laundry-women, these exquisite ruins of Renaissance
architecture have at last been rescued by the civic authorities, if
not from evident decay, at any rate from further mutilation. The tower
alone--but one among so many in Rouen--would be the proudest
possession of many a larger English town. The balustrade is decorated
by a pattern of letters, which pathetically express their hope of
better treatment in the battered legend: "Post Tenebras Spero Lucem."

Close to these eloquent ruins is a church that has had a somewhat
better fate, for if St. Godard has been rather roughly treated, the
beauty of its stained-glass windows has saved it from absolute
destruction. In the chapel of St. Peter, due east at the end of the
north aisle, is the great window that was made in 1555 to represent
St. Romain, who is shown at the top, on the left hand, dragging the
Gargouille of Rouen to destruction with his sacred stole (see p. 39).
Lower down, on the right, you must look at the King seated in his
royal chair, and the hounds at play before him on the carpet. In the
south aisle the corresponding window to the east has a tree of Jesse
in its upper part, and beneath is one of the finest examples of
sixteenth century painting in Rouen, work that reminds you of the work
of Rembrandt. Of these five figures of old men, the last two on the
right are especially worthy of attentive study. They were done in
1535. To the right of this window in the same chapel, looking
southwards, is another fine window of about the same date, said to be
copied from a design by Raphael and his school, of the life and
genealogy of the Blessed Virgin; but it is not so strong or original
in treatment as the last. Beneath it are two kneeling figures carved
upon the tomb of the family of Bec de Lievre.

[Illustration: EGLISE ST. LAURENT]

In the Rue Jeanne d'Arc is another church, St. Vincent, that must be
visited. I have spoken already of the little labourer in tunic and
breeches, with a sack of salt upon his back, who stands upon the
outside of the buttress to the south of the choir, and looks towards
the river. It commemorates the fact that, by letters patent delivered
by Charles VI. in 1409, the church (which was then much nearer to the
river) was allowed to take toll of every cargo of salt which came into
the port, a privilege which was exchanged in 1649 for an annual
payment of 140 livres. Begun in 1511--or, as some say, 1480--after the
plans of Guillaume Touchet, St. Vincent certainly comes after St.
Maclou in order of merit. Its choir alone is a magnificent specimen of
the architectural possibilities of the smaller churches, and must have
been finished before 1530, when Touchet's supervision ended. The
splendid flamboyant western porch is not shown in Lelieur's plan of
1525, and was probably a later addition. The name of Ambroise Harel
has also been connected with the work, but I have been unable to
satisfy myself of the exact portions for which he may have been
responsible.

It is chiefly admired, and wrongly so to my mind, for the treasures of
its interior. These consist not merely in the wonderful series of
sixteenth century tapestries, of which M. Paul Lafond has published a
detailed description, but in the stained-glass windows, of which the
most celebrated represents the ass of St. Anthony of Padua kneeling
before the Holy Sacrament. The design is taken, it is said, from a
drawing of Duerer, to whom also is ascribed the original suggestion for
the window at the west end of the first aisle, of the Virgin and
Apostles. North of the choir is an interesting glass-painting of the
buildings of Rouen.

But slightly west of the northern end of the same street you will find
windows in the Church of St. Patrice which I think infinitely
preferable, of their kind, to those which are the especial pride of
St. Vincent. They are very justly placed in the first class of the
"monuments historiques" de France. As you enter the transept, turn due
south, and the first window on your right is the "Woman taken in
Adultery," which was moved here from the old church of St. Godard.
The inscription on it is "Honorable homme maitre Nicole Leroux
licentie es loix advocant et Marie Bunel sa feme ont donne ceste
vitreau moys de may lan de grace 1549 priez dieu pour eulx." In the
right hand corner you may see the good William praying with his son
behind him, and his wife in black is further off to the left with her
six daughters behind her, two of them in "cramoisy taffetas, trimmed
with northern peltry." In the Chapel of the Virgin in the north
transept, the left hand window of the three over the altar depicts the
life of St. Fiacre and St. Firmin, and was put up in 1540 in the days
when Pierre Deforestier was in office, and Francois Baudoin was
prevot. Of the three you see when looking due north, the farthest to
the right in the transept was placed there in 1583, "a l'honneur du
grand roy des roys de St. Louis roy de France;" the middle window
shows St. Eustace suffering martyrdom in the brazen bull which is
being heated red hot, while above St. Hubert meets his miraculous
stag. The farthest window to the left is dated 1538; it is the best,
and Jean Cousin has been suggested as its designer. The donor prays in
the right hand corner, and his wife with a daughter behind her is in
the left. A well-drawn figure of an angel announces his message to the
Blessed Virgin who is reading, and in the middle of the composition,
near the bottom, lies a corpse in a winding-sheet.

The large window at the extreme end of the north aisle is also very
fine. At the top is a woman in a car triumphing. Below, on the left,
are Adam and Eve. Next to them is the Devil, and Death, whose swarthy
skin is wrapped in a winding-sheet that seems to belly in the blasts
of Hell. The story of Job that is painted in the first window on the
left in the north aisle, also came from old St. Godard. And all this
wealth of stained glass is shown off wonderfully well in a church
that is not too large to lose its full effect, and is planned with
only a few light columns in the interior to impede the view of all of
them from the centre of the nave.

To three other of the many ecclesiastical buildings of Rouen can I
direct you before closing this Chapter of Churches with the Cathedral
that is mother of them all: St. Eloi, St. Vivien, and the Abbaye de
St. Amand. As you walk northwards from the river into the town up the
Rue St. Eloi, the church from which it takes its name shows a fine
south door that closes the perspective of the street. The design of
the west entrance is bold and good, but the queerly mathematical plan
of the Rose window above it, with its three triangles crossing in the
circle, has not a very happy effect. The church now is little but the
ruins of what was once a magnificent building and is used as the
"Protestant Temple." The whole of the Place St. Eloi is worthy of a
closer inspection than can be gained by merely walking through it,
which you will be tempted to do at much too fast a pace on learning
that the Rue du Panneret at its north-east angle leads directly to the
Maison Bourgtheroulde in the Place de la Pucelle. Another
characteristic little square is the Place St. Vivien which cuts the
Rue Eau de Robec in two portions. If you are lucky enough to be there
on a twenty-ninth of August you will see the famous Fete St. Vivien in
full blast, with booths and merry-go-rounds, and travelling theatres,
even a "Theatre Garric a 8 heures, Nouveau Spectacle!" But do not go
on into the further recesses of the Eau de Robec without looking at
the church, and give your keenest glances to the fine square tower
with its octagonal spire that is classed among the Monuments
Historiques. Of the ancient Abbaye de St. Amand there is perhaps less
left than of any of the ecclesiastical buildings in this chapter. Its
origin has been described already (see p. 71), and the gable with its
buttressed wall that you can see best in the Rue St. Amand from the
Place des Carmes are almost the only stones remaining of an
institution that once took a very prominent part in the ecclesiastical
ceremonies of Rouen.

For when an Archbishop died, the Abbess of St. Amand took from his
dead finger, as the funeral procession passed her gates, the ring that
she had placed upon it at his installation. On the 19th of July 1493,
that ring still shone upon the hand of Robert de Croixmare, whose
corpse had just been brought into the Cathedral choir, arrayed in
state, with mitre on head, and crosier in hand, with all his robes of
office on him. That night the bier rested in the Abbey of St. Ouen,
and as it passed the Abbey of St. Amand on its way back to burial, the
Abbess must have wondered, as she claimed her ring, on whom she would
bestow it next. The canons of the Cathedral were even more hasty in
their eagerness to settle the important question, and the body of
their late superior had been scarcely laid in state within their choir
before they were deliberating in the Chapterhouse about his probable
successor. As a mere matter of form--and we know how tenacious were
these canons of their rights and usages--they had sent word to the
King that the election of the next Archbishop was proceeding; and
their dismayed astonishment may be imagined when a message came from
Charles VIII. that he "neither admitted nor denied their privilege to
re-elect."

The King was not long in enlightening his faithful subjects as to his
wishes in the matter. Georges d'Amboise, Archbishop of Narbonne, and
lieutenant to his friend Louis of Orleans in the Governorship of
Normandy, was clearly pointed out as the royal candidate, without any
room for misunderstanding. The Duke of Orleans himself joined in the
"request" that savoured far too much of a command for ecclesiastical
independence. As if this were not enough, messengers from the Court
arrived post-haste; Baudricourt, a Marshal of France, no less; Jean du
Vergier, a financial officer of the town; and M. de Clerieu, the royal
chamberlain; all these actually arrived to "negotiate" (presumptuous
word!) with the free and independent Chapterhouse. In great perplexity
were both the canons and the town officials, upon whom commands, no
less imperative, had also been laid; for the Chapterhouse would
naturally not hear one single word from the civic officials on the
subject of their election, and even to the royal messengers they would
only reply that, at the election-day, some three weeks hence, "His
Majesty should have no just cause for complaint."

Three weeks, however, gave them time for profitable reflections. When
next the royal messengers appeared in the Chapterhouse, in the persons
of the President of the Parliament of Paris, and the Grand Seneschal
de Breze, their reception was not so chilling as before. Every
preacher in the town had exhorted his congregation to pray that God
would direct their proper choice. The revered shrine of St. Romain,
that Fierte which represented the proudest token of ecclesiastical
liberty, had been borne in solemn procession round the town. Public
sentiment had been intensely agitated by the unwonted course events
had taken. On the fateful 21st of August the Cathedral was packed with
hundreds of the faithful, eager to be first to hear the decision of
the canons. By three o'clock the ten bells of the Cathedral had
summoned the canons to the matins which preceded the election that was
to release the Church from widowhood, and give to Rouen a new
archbishop. At last the Chapter assembled, the doors were shut, and
every avenue to the Chapterhouse was strictly guarded. At the last
moment an aged canon, rising from his death-bed to exercise his most
cherished privilege, tottered into the assembly to select a friend to
vote for him, and went back to die.

Suddenly the door of the Chapterhouse opened again, and Etienne
Tuvache the Chancellor uttered in a loud voice his last summons to all
those who had the right to vote that they should forthwith enter. When
it had closed again--for there was no reply--the solemn oath was
administered to every canon that he would rightly and reverently
choose the candidate he honestly thought best. Any excommunicated
person was warned to retire, and Masselin the Dean began his
exhortation on the importance of their choice. When he had finished,
all save the electors themselves withdrew, and on the flagged floor of
the Chapterhouse the canons knelt to the singing of the "Veni
Creator," and prayed for inspiration. Suddenly all leapt to their feet
at once with one united shout of "Georges d'Amboise shall be
Archbishop!"

At once the great bells rang out to the town that the election had
been made, while within the Cathedral every wall re-echoed with the
shouts of "Noel, Noel!" as the people heard that Georges d'Amboise had
been elected. A few days afterwards a still larger throng assembled in
the Parvis to watch the great ecclesiastic of their choice advance on
bare feet from the Church of St. Herbland and receive the episcopal
ring from the Abbess of St. Amand, with the words, "Messire, je le
donne a vous vivant, vous me le rendrez mort." As he came nearer to
the western gates, Masselin, the "Grand Doyen," formally presented to
him the Cathedral, and received his promise of loyalty and honest
government, sworn on the books of the evangelists, and not till then
did Georges d'Amboise mount his episcopal chair and give his first
blessing to the people of Rouen as their Archbishop.

How well he fulfilled his vow, there are many things in Rouen to this
day to tell, and the blessing that he gave his congregation was not
limited to things spiritual and unseen. His splendid public
benefactions in regulating the water-supply of the town have been
already noticed, and may be better realised in Lelieur's careful
drawings. His Cathedral remembers him by her western facade, by the
rich balustrades around the choir, now vanished, by numerous costly
shrines and jewels in the Tresor, by that Tour de Beurre[59] which
held "Georges d'Amboise" the greatest bell outside of Russia, that
every outlying parish could hear, by the magnificent building which
future archbishops justly called their palace. And the Province of
which he became governor when Louis d'Orleans rose to be Louis XII.,
"avec le titre effrayant de reformateur-general," owed him the
blessings of peace from brigandage and prosperity in commerce; owed
him, better than all, the firm and permanent establishment of the
Courts of Justice. By all these, and more, he worthily has won the
right to be considered by far the strongest and ablest Archbishop
Rouen ever had. After his election, his nephew, the second Georges
d'Amboise, was the only other primate the Chapterhouse was ever
permitted to elect. The tomb of both is in the Chapelle de la Vierge
of the Cathedral.

[Footnote 59: The name is said to have arisen from the fact that it
was chiefly built by the fines paid by those of the faithful who ate
butter during Lent.]

I have but too short space or time wherein to tell you more of the
interior of that great edifice, whose building I described when Philip
Augustus made Normandy a part of France. But out of the multitude of
interests that will stay your every step beneath its arches, there are
a few things I must point out now, and leave the most famous of its
tombs till later.

[Illustration: WESTERN PORCH OF ST. VINCENT]

As you enter by the western door, turn southwards into the Chapelle
St. Etienne beneath the Tour de Beurre. The second monumental stone
on the right is in memory of Nicole Gibouin, and it is one of the most
exquisitely drawn faces that you will see in all Rouen. This face and
both hands are incised in white marble, the rest of the body and dress
is indicated by red lines cut lightly in the stone. At his feet lies a
dog holding a bone. After this, there is scarcely a monument worth
looking at that can elude your notice; but as my business is to omit
the obvious and point out the beauties which might escape unwarned
attention, I shall direct you straightway to the choir, and more
particularly to the carved oak stalls. The seats, as is usually the
case, turn up to form an additional rest for priests who had to stand
through long and numerous services, and upon these under surfaces
(called misericordes) is an extraordinary series of carvings which you
must look at, every one.

They were made between the years of 1457 and 1469, and are in part
owing to the munificence of Cardinal Guillaume d'Estouteville. The
stalls as a whole are much deteriorated from their originally perfect
beauty. The work at Amiens will suggest how much of the stalls of
Rouen has been lost or wantonly mutilated. Without the Archbishop's
throne, which has been replaced by a heavy modern structure, the whole
eighty-eight, of which two have disappeared, cost 6961 livres to make,
and the greater part of the figures were done by Pol Mosselmen (whose
Flemish name was a terrible puzzle to mediaeval scribes) and Francois
Trubert. Two other Flemish carvers, Laurens Hisbre and Gillet
Duchastel, occur in the complete list of eleven sculptors who were
paid by the piece as recorded in the Chapterhouse accounts. The
designs were made by Philippot Viart, "maistre huchier" de Rouen, who
received 5 sous 10 deniers a day for his work, and employed workmen so
nearly his equals in skill that they got from 4s. 6d. to 5s. for their
time. The names of the sixteen "carpenters" he had with him are all
preserved with the weekly account of their payments; and though most
of the work of the Flemish "sculptors" on the larger statues has
entirely disappeared, the more modest position of the little carvings
beneath the seats has probably saved them; and these are the work, as
I believe to be most probable, of the Rouen "carpenters" whom
Philippot Viart collected.

Their names are very ordinary ones; such as Eustache, Baudichon,
Lefevre, Fontaine, Lemarie, and the like; and their work is nearly all
dedicated to perpetuating either those arts and crafts of Rouen with
which they would be most familiar, or subjects similar to the
medallions on the north and south portals which I have already shown
to be the stock-in-trade of the mediaeval workman. Many of the
misericordes indeed are no doubt taken from the stone-work outside. As
you turn one seat after another to the light, the life and habits and
costume of four hundred years ago stand clear before you. There are
the musicians with their cymbals, drums, and stringed instruments; the
wool-combers with their teasels; the sheep-shearers and cloth-makers;
the cobblers and leather-sellers and patten-makers; the barbers and
surgeons; the schoolmaster with his pupils; the carver at work upon a
stall; the mason chiselling a Gothic arch or modelling a statue; the
blacksmith, the carpenter, the shepherd, the fisherman, the gardener
in his vineyard, the midwife, the chemist at work among his test-tubes
and alembics, the chambermaid cleaning up her rooms.

Besides these records of the different trades, in one of the
confreries of which every workman on these stalls must have been a
member,[60] there are many subjects more fanciful or grotesque which
urged the sculptor's chisel to its work. Harpies and sirens and lions
with human faces; Melusina's gracious body ending in a serpent's tail;
all the characters of the famous "Fete des Fous" to the very "Abbe des
Cornards" himself; all the strange beasts of travellers' tales, and
many a dream from vanishing mythologies. Ever since pagan times, the
custom of disguising the dancing worshipper in a more or less hideous
mask, had steadily persisted in certain of the more licentious
festivals, and the riotous horseplay of the Middle Ages was the direct
descendant of the Saturnalia of Rome. Too often, as I have pointed out
before, the churches themselves were the scene of these abuses, which
took the form not merely of bestial travesties, but of diabolical
disguises in which Satan and his imps were represented with all the
vigour of an intensely imaginative age. These were some of the sources
of the grotesque carvings. For they were not symbolical. When they did
not represent a concrete fact seen by the sculptor, they essayed to
represent a composite thought by clapping together two forms
suggesting opposite qualities, and leaving the gap in their union to
be supplied by the spectator. That gap in continuity is very
noticeable in every real "grotesque."

[Footnote 60: For the beginning of these confreries, see chapter v. p.
85.]

The "Lai d'Aristote," which occurred in the exterior carvings, is
repeated here on the misericorde which is the ninth of the top row on
the southern side. The gay young lady seated upon Aristotle's back
wears the high two-horned headdress of the fifteenth century, and a
long closely-fitting gown, with the open bodice that was the mark of
the oldest profession in the world. She is controlling the philosopher
with a bridle and a most murderous-looking bit between his teeth. I
have already explained that Socrates and Xantippe are by no means
intended here, and that the tale is represented of the downfall of
Aristotle in his attempts to prove to Alexander the Great how easily
the charms of woman might be resisted. The subject seems to have
tickled the Middle Ages immensely, and was especially likely to be
popular in Normandy, where Henry d'Andelys, the author of the poem
called "Lai d'Aristote," was born. A very similar tale of the gallant
adventures of the poet Virgil occupied one of the lost stalls of this
Cathedral, and in St. Pierre de Caen both were represented among the
carvings of the church.

There is one more tomb that you must see--among the things that may
most easily be omitted--before you end a visit to the Cathedral, that
is meant to remind you of what is usually forgotten. It is the small
monument in the Chapelle de la Vierge, opposite the great tomb of the
d'Amboises, and next to the magnificent sepulchre on which Diane de
Poitiers mourns for her lost husband. It is generally passed over
because its neighbour's grandeur overshadows it, and it has very
little left to show its value except the beautifully sculptured canopy
and the exquisite carvings and initials on the columns at the side.
This is the tomb of Pierre de Breze, Seneschal of Normandy, who
married Jeanne de Bec Crespin, with a dowry of 90,000 crowns; and it
is he who entered Rouen with the King of France in November 1449, when
the English occupation ceased. He was a brave soldier and a bold
adventurer, both then and afterwards. In 1457, filibustering on the
English coast, he captured Sandwich and took a heavy ransom for the
port. Six years afterwards Louis XI. sent him across the channel again
to fight on the side of Margaret of Anjou. In the war of the League of
Public Weal, he stayed loyal to his master, and was killed by the
rebels at Montlhery in 1465. "Pierre de Breze tomba au premier rang,"
writes Commines, "de la mort des braves. Le premier homme qui y mourut
ce fut luy." The friend of Dunois and Xaintrailles could have had no
better end. But it is more with the official than the man that I have
here to do.

The Seneschal of Normandy is an official who is found already at the
Court of the Norman dukes when the province was independent. In the
matter of justice and finance, he held supreme power next to his
sovereign, and is called "La Justice de Normandie" by Wace. He also
presided at meetings of the Echiquier de Normandie in both his
capacities, and it is known that such men as Odo of Bayeux and William
Fitzosbern held this honourable office. With the arrival of Philip
Augustus in Normandy, the office falls into abeyance until the
English appeared in the fifteenth century with the Burgundian motto of
freedom for the people, and restoration of the ancient liberties of
government. The English officials were determined to carry out their
projects thoroughly, and when once they were fixed firmly in Rouen
they began to look through the old charters of Normandy to see what
ancient liberties they could restore. The Grand Seneschal of the
Norman dukes (who had also been English kings) was soon discovered,
and his office was promptly revived, and given in turn to Richard
Wideville, William Oldhall, and Thomas, Lord Scales. The title these
men had held as soldiers, with no idea of using it in its legal or
financial sense, Charles VII. continued, on his return to power, as a
suitable recompense for the services such favourites as de Breze had
rendered him in his campaigns, and the sounding name of Grand
Seneschal of Normandy henceforth entirely eclipsed the humbler title
of Captain of the Garrison of Rouen.

In 1457 de Breze was exercising the original functions of the office
in the Echiquier. Six years before, as the commissary of the King in
place of Dunois, he had brought before the Assembly of the Province
the vital questions of the confirmation of the Charte aux Normands, of
the installation of a special financial machinery for the Province,
and other measures necessary at the resumption of authority by the
French. Though he fell temporarily into disfavour with Louis XI., and
was obliged to consent to the marriage of his son Jacques with
Charlotte, daughter of Charles VII. and Agnes Sorel, he resumed his
post of Grand Seneschal on returning from his wars in England, and
died in office.

His son Jacques de Breze, Comte de Maulevrier, inherited the same
distinction; but having killed his wife, whose birth had shown its
unfortunate effects too soon in flagrant infidelity, he was in turn
disgraced and fined, but in turn was also reinstated. His son Louis de
Breze was given the apparently imperishable family heirloom of the
office of Grand Seneschal in August 1490, and the great seal of the
Senechaussee of Normandy was henceforth his coat of arms. More of a
soldier and a courtier than a man of law or of finance, this de Breze
left the duties of his office to a numerous staff, whose names have
been preserved in the registers of Rouen. He married first Catherine
de Dreux, "dame d'Esneval," and left his brother-in-law in charge of
the duties of his office, when he left it. During this period it was
that Cardinal d'Amboise organised the Supreme Court of the Echiquier
de Normandie (of which Antoine Bohier, Abbe of St. Ouen, was a member),
in the last years of Charles VIII., which, when the Duc d'Orleans
became Louis XII., was to blossom into the Perpetual Echiquier in the
new "Palais de Justice."

The organisation of this court did away with any practical necessity
for a Grand Seneschal, but Louis de Breze was still allowed to keep
the honour of the title, and even to take a seat in the court, which
was soon to be called the "Parlement de Normandie" by Francois
Premier. Louis de Breze's second wife was the famous Diane de
Poitiers, who called herself "La Grande Seneschale" until she died,
and who put up the magnificent tomb in alabaster and black marble
which has preserved her husband's memory ever since his death in 1531,
long after the "Palais de Justice" had been built to carry on for ever
those legal functions which had once been a portion of the duties of
his office.




CHAPTER XI

_Justice_

     'Or ca'--nous dit Grippeminaud, au milieu de ses
     Chats-fourrez--'par Stix, puisqu' autre chose ne veux dire,
     or ca, je te monstreray, or ca, que meilleur te seroit estre
     tombe entre les pattes de Lucifer, or ca, et de tous les
     Diables, or ca, qu'entre nos gryphes, or ca; les vois-tu
     bien? Or ca, malautru, nous allegues tu innocence, or ca,
     comme chose digne d'eschapper nos tortures? Or ca, nos Loix
     sont comme toile d'araignes; le grand Diable vous y chantera
     Messe, or ca'.


To appreciate what was involved by the building of the famous "Palais
de Justice," which is perhaps the greatest pride of Rouen, I must
needs bring before you a little more of the social life which made a
court of law and justice necessary; and I can make no better beginning
than by quoting again, from the Record of the Fierte St. Romain, those
instances after 1448 which throw the greatest light upon the manners
and customs of the years when the Echiquier de Rouen first became a
permanent assembly in its own House.

In 1453 occurs an entry which suggests that the modern idiot who plays
with a loaded revolver and shoots his friend "by accident" has been in
existence ever since deadly weapons were invented. A carpenter named
Guillaume le Bouvier drew his bow at a bird which was sitting on a
tree-top. The arrow glanced off a bough, rebounded from a stone, and
killed the son of the Sieur de Savary. Twenty-two years before, a
woman had been killed by a bolt from a crossbow in almost the same
way, and in 1457 a boy was shot by his brother in an exactly similar
manner. In 1474 Bardin Lavalloys provided another particularly
unfortunate example during a game which was in great favour at
Christmas time, and consisted in throwing sticks at a goose which was
tied by the leg to a tall pole. Jehan Baqueler missed his shot, and
hit poor Lavalloys on the temple. A more serious weapon, the
"couleuvrine," a long thin cannon, was responsible for an accidental
death in 1476. Guillaume Bezet had made a bet that he could shoot at a
gate better than his friends. His aim missed, and he killed a man
sitting by a hedge not far off. A case that is still more instructive
of the manners of the time occurred in 1475. Guillaume Morin, who was
apparently making the best of his last chance of a good meal before
Lent, had gone to feast with some neighbours on Shrove Tuesday, and
when they had finished the beef, he threw the bone out of the window.
It happened to be an especially large and heavy bone, and unluckily
his little daughter of seven was just that moment returning from the
tavern with more wine for the company. It fell upon her head from some
distance and killed her. Another curious sidelight is thrown on
fifteenth century society by the record of the next year. During a
wedding-breakfast in Rouen Pierre Rogart upset the mustard-pot over M.
Gossent's clothes. They quarrelled, the other guests took sides,
swords were drawn, and the prime offender's nephew ran a man through;
a crime for which the canons pardoned him.

But these are rather of the nature of the modern "manslaughter." The
"crime passionel" and the downright murder of malice aforethought, are
even more frequent. In 1466 Catherine Leseigneur was scolded and even
threatened with a beating while in bed by her mother-in-law. In a
sudden passion she snatched up a large stone and killed the other
woman with it. How a stone large and heavy enough for the purpose
happened to be in a bedroom we are not told, but it is quite easily
explained in the case of Jehan Vauquelin, who was annoyed while
working in the fields by Lucas le Febure in 1471, and killed him with
the weapon that is as old as the first murder in recorded history, and
seems to have been rather favoured in the fifteenth century. The year
1473 is only notable because Etienne Bandribosc was delivered by the
Chapter contrary to the expressed wish of Louis XI., after he had
killed a man who had insulted him. But in 1483 the element of romance
appears again. A priest called Robert Clerot, with a sword beneath his
cloak, was accustomed to pester with his attentions a pretty
seamstress in the parish of St. Eloi. Her legitimate lover interfered,
and, when the priest drew his sword, called in help and killed him
with his dagger. Twice more in this period is a "couturiere" the
heroine of the Fierte. In the very next year Denise de Gouy, whose
previous history is not pleasant reading, took service with a citizen
of Rouen, and by means of false keys provided by her lover, robbed her
employer of a considerable quantity of linen, using her special
knowledge to pick and choose the best. She only escaped being hanged
with her paramour by being about to give birth to a child, and was
finally pardoned by the Chapterhouse. In 1492 a dressmaker was far
less fortunate. She was unable to satisfy a lady as to the fit of her
stays, and this angry customer, whose name was Marie Mansel, gave her
so shrewd a blow with her fist that the poor little dressmaker died in
a week. The canons apparently so sympathised with the annoyances of a
badly fitting corset, that they gave Marie Mansel her freedom. But the
episode has its value in showing that the modern muscular female is
not so new an apparition as she fancies. Tradesmen did not always get
the worst of it, however, in such disputes as these; for in 1525 a
butcher complained bitterly that his hair had been cut too short, in a
barber's shop near St. Ouen. The mistake so preyed upon his mind that
when he met the barber next day he smote him on the head and ran away
into the cemetery of St. Ouen. But Nicolas Courtil pursued him
valiantly, armed only with the instruments of his calling, and finally
killed the butcher by stabbing him in the neck with a pair of
scissors.

[Illustration: PALAIS DE JUSTICE

TOURELLE IN THE RUE ST. LO]

Priests are almost as interesting as the ladies in this extraordinary
record. In 1520 a curate from Marcilly hired Germain Rou for two
sovereigns to hide a baby in a chalk-pit, and then fled to Rome. The
cries of the child were heard two days afterwards by some travellers,
and Germain Rou, condemned to have his hand cut off and then be
hanged, was pardoned. In 1535 an even more flagrant crime is
registered against an ecclesiastic. Louis de Houdetot, a subdeacon,
had been so successful in his courtship of Madame Tilleren, that the
lady's husband sent her out of the town to her father's house. But
this did not stop the priest from continuing to visit her, and while
M. Tilleren was in Rouen news was brought him that Houdetot had
actually beaten M. de Catheville's servants in trying to get into the
house. This was too much; so Tilleren "took a corselet of beaten iron
(hallecrest) and a crossbow with a long bolt, and took a companion,
named Justin, armed with a helmet and a long-handled axe, with five or
six others." The gang, who evidently meant to make sure of their man,
met Houdetot in a street in Rouen; Tilleren fired his crossbow on
sight and shot him through the body; a piece of summary justice which
evidently appealed to the Canons of the Cathedral, in spite of the
fact that the sufferer was an ecclesiastic.

But in 1501 a gallant priest intervened in the most creditable manner,
and without any bloodshed, in a love-affair that should set all our
promising young historical novelists by the ears to tell it afresh.
There was a certain Jean de Boissey who was much in love with Marie de
Martainville. Her mother was not averse to a wedding, but the father
refused entirely. Luckily for Jean he was on excellent terms with the
lady's cousins, Philippe and Thomas de Martainville; so the three
friends with Pierre de Garsalle and other youthful sympathisers betook
them to the Abbey of St. Pierre-sur-Dives to talk it over. Jean found
an ally he could have hardly expected within the Abbey walls, for
Nicolle de Garsalle, a relation of one of his comrades and a brother
of the House, asked them all to stay to supper with him, and before
the porter let them out again he had arranged a plan for carrying off
the lady. The young men were delighted with this jovial monk's
suggestions, and the next morning the whole company met again with
seven or eight more ardent blades, and entered straightway into the
Manor where the lovely Marie dwelt. Cousin Philippe stayed outside and
kept watch at the drawbridge. In a short time--after adventures which
are discreetly concealed--Jean and his friends came out with the lady,
and the whole party made off to Caulde, where the betrothal was
solemnised. The next day they rode to Cambremer, and the happy pair
were married, "le sieur de Boissey," says the manuscript, "espousa sa
fiancee sans bans," and no doubt Brother Nicolle de Garsalle helped to
tie the knot. No less than sixteen persons being implicated in the
capital charge of abduction which followed, you may imagine how lively
the Procession of the Fierte was that year, and the cheers of the
populace as Jean de Boissey (begarlanded with roses, as all the
prisoners were) moved along, no doubt with Marie on his arm, and the
sturdy monk walked behind him from the Place de la Basse Vieille Tour
to the Cathedral. The de Martainvilles gave the Chapter a large
Turquoise set in gold, in token of their gratitude, and the gem was at
once placed upon the shrine to whose sanctity they owed deliverance.

Few stories have either so romantic a beginning or so fortunate an
end, in this record of the Fierte; but the large number of prisoners
then released has its parallel, is even surpassed indeed, on two
occasions soon afterwards; for in 1522 the whole parish of the village
of Etrepagny received the Fierte as accomplices of a young ruffian
called de Maistreville; though considering that his victim was one of
their own women, their ardent support of the man against all the
officers of justice is somewhat inexplicable. In 1560, when another
whole village was pardoned, their sympathy with a fellow-labourer who
killed a servant of the Overlord is more easily intelligible. But
nearly all of the most prominent cases have a woman at the bottom of
them. One that is especially instructive as to the morals and the
manners of the public occurred in 1524.

Antoine de la Morissiere, Sieur de la Carbonnet, had, it seems,
insulted Mademoiselle d'Ailly, and beaten her so badly that she died a
short time afterwards with five of her ribs broken. So Etienne le
Monnier, her relation, resolved to avenge her, and took out a warrant
against the ruffian who had killed her. Desiring to make quite sure
that justice should not miscarry, he took some fifty gentlemen, all
armed, and accompanied the police-sergeant to the man's house. They
found de la Morissiere[61] in a somewhat compromising position, and he
did not reply to their request for admittance. Le Monnier, determined
to get him out, set fire to the roof in four places. The fellow then
cried out that he would surrender, and trusting to the presence of an
officer of the law he came down. Le Monnier at once wounded him in the
chest with a long pike, and two other relations of Mademoiselle
d'Ailly hit him over the head with clubs, "so that he fell to the
ground as one dead." But le Monnier, seeing that he still showed signs
of life, drove his dagger into his throat and finished him off. Two
accomplices were actually hanged for this crime, but de Monnier, after
paying 1200 livres to the dead man's family, and being unsuccessful in
securing the royal pardon, was given the Fierte with the rest of his
friends by the Chapterhouse of Rouen.

[Footnote 61: In the words of the manuscript the man "estoit couche
avec une femme mariee, autre que la sienne."]

Of the morality of those days you must imagine something from these
instances. There are many more with which I have neither space nor
inclination to shock susceptibilities more delicate than were those of
a Cathedral Chapterhouse in the fifteenth and early sixteenth
centuries. The tale of Jehanne Dantot, for instance, in 1489, is one
of the most astonishing stories of the lengths to which desperation
and wickedness can drive a woman that I have ever read. A queer
glimpse of the economy of certain households is provided by the record
of 1534. Pierre Letellier married the daughter of Maitre Houeel, and by
a clause in the marriage-settlement it was arranged that the
father-in-law should board and lodge the young couple for three
years. They had not lived in the house long before they were
scandalised by the immoral behaviour of the old man, and Pierre
naturally quarrelled with him about it. The ill-feeling between the
two men came to a climax one night when young Letellier had been
supping in the town, and coming back late found that his father-in-law
had bolted the door. At length his wife heard his knocks, and as soon
as she had let him in he roundly abused the servants for keeping him
so long upon the doorstep. The old man at once appeared on the scene,
without much in the way of clothing, it would appear, but waving a
stout club called a "marcus." With this he beat Pierre about the head
and shoulders until the young man lost patience and killed his
father-in-law with his dagger or "sang de dey."

The taverns were of course as frequent a source of crime then as they
are now. But the fashion of wearing swords has made a drunken brawl
less fatal. The records of the Fierte might very well be used as a
dictionary of offensive weapons from the number of swords, daggers,
maces, rapiers, clubs, and pikes their pages contain from year to
year. It was at the double game of rapier and dagger that Marquet
Dubosc wiped off old scores after a quarrel at the Sign of the
Cauldron, near the Church of St. Michel, in 1502. He had been playing
dice with a man named Chouquet, and in the quarrel that followed about
payment, Chouquet had too many friends to be attacked safely. So
Dubosc waited till the next day, gathered a few companions of his own,
and killed his man in the woods near Croisset.

In 1511 the Chapterhouse records a tavern brawl that was settled on
the spot. There had been some dispute about a woman between Le
Monnier, a king's officer, and Jehan Canu, a lacquey. This man
deliberately chose out a few others to help him in the business, and
then went to drink at the "Barge," in the Rue Eau de Robec, on a
night when he knew Le Monnier would come there to supper. The officer
actually took the next table, and in a few moments swords were drawn,
and Le Monnier was killed. Why Canu and his nine accomplices were
pardoned is one of the mysteries of the Fierte which I suppose no one
will ever be able to unravel.

[Illustration: COURTYARD OF PALAIS DE JUSTICE]

If this somewhat dismal catalogue of crimes has not yet fully
acquainted you with the state of society with which the "Palais de
Justice" was first built to deal, the shortest glance at some of the
sentences inflicted upon criminals who were not fortunate enough to
bear the Fierte will be sufficient to show that the judges were almost
as far behind our modern notions of propriety as were their prisoners.
And it must be remembered that the criminals I have just mentioned are
far from being the worst of those brought up before the Courts of
Rouen; they are indeed those persons picked out by the assembled body
of trained ecclesiastics in the Cathedral Chapterhouse as worthy to
escape from the horrors which a sentence in the fifteenth or
sixteenth century involved.

What these sentences were may be gathered from such examples as the
following. In 1506 a man surprised picking pockets in the Court-room
was taken into the great open space before the entrance and soundly
flogged upon the spot. Few men escaped so fortunately. Assassins
nearly always suffered the loss of a limb before the final mercy of
hanging. In the same year several women, convicted of false testimony
and spreading scandals, were stripped naked and beaten with rods in
all the squares of Rouen. A thief suffered the same punishment; his
ear was then cut off, and he was banished from France with a rope
round his neck. On the 19th of March a miserable prisoner was drowned
in boiling water by a sentence of the Bailly confirmed in the higher
courts. In 1507 a murderer was hanged in front of his victim's house.
In 1513 a highway robber had his right arm cut off and placed on a
column by the roadside near the scene of his theft, his head was then
placed opposite to it, and the mutilated body hung upon a gibbet close
by. Forgers had a fleur de lys branded on their foreheads. Sacrilege
was punished by burning the criminal in chains over a slow fire. Some
burglars, in the same year, had their hands cut off, their arms pulled
out with red-hot pincers, and were finally beheaded and cut in pieces.
The next year some wretched coiners were boiled alive. Infanticides
were burnt. Other crimes were punished by searing the tongue with
red-hot iron, or by breaking the prisoner alive upon the wheel, and
leaving him to die without food or water. A parricide was condemned to
this, with still more hideous tortures added, in 1557. In 1524 a
criminal nearly escaped his sentence altogether because his jailor's
daughter fell in love with him, and asked the Court to be allowed to
marry him. The question of sanctuary came up very often, as may be
imagined, and only by very slow degrees were the privileges of the
holy places taken from them.

Though many of these punishments hardly seem to recognise the humanity
of the victim, the privilege of confession to a priest had been
allowed to prisoners condemned to death ever since 1397, at the
instance of a famous preacher named Jean Houard, in years when even
more barbarous tortures were still practised, though the strength of
sanctuaries was, as some compensation, at its height. Judicial ideas,
however, took a long time to become civilised; for in 1408 a pig was
solemnly hanged for having killed a little child. The invention of
printing[62] no doubt did some good in this direction, and by 1490 the
first printer in Rouen, Martin Morin, was established in the Rue St.
Lo, close by the spot where the lawcourts soon appeared. Lest you
should think that the Palais de Justice of sixteenth century Rouen was
even worse than the terrible chapters in Rabelais would lead his
readers to imagine, I must tell you here the story of an advocate of
Rouen that may in part make up for the gruesome pages which precede
it.

[Footnote 62: Mr Gosse records in his "Modern English Literature" that
it was a citizen of Rouen (Andrew Miller by name) who introduced
printing into Scotland in 1507.]

The Parliament of Normandy, as the Echiquier was called in 1558, had
assembled in the Palais de Justice on the morning of the 26th of
August, to discuss a case which involved the interpretation, if not
the actual integrity, of the famous code known as the "Grand Coutumier
de Normandie"; and representatives of every court had been summoned to
the hearing. A certain burgess of Rouen, Guillaume Laurent by name,
convicted of murder, had had his hand cut off before the west facade
of the Cathedral, and was then beheaded in the Vieux Marche. His goods
and property had, as a matter of course, been confiscated by the
State. His destitute orphans went to live with their grandfather, who
soon died of grief. The terrible spectacle then followed of this old
man's daughter trying to drive the children out of the house, because
they could inherit nothing from a murderer. "Aulcun" ran the law, "qui
soit engendre de _sang damne_ ne peut avoir, comme hoir, aulcune
succession d'heritage." Against this clear decree the magistrates were
powerless to help the orphans, indignant as they were at the
inhumanity of their aunt. But the children appealed to the Higher
Court. A brilliant advocate, Bretignieres by name, had decided to
oppose the "Coutumier" on their behalf, and the mass of people who had
thronged the Parvis to see the father punished now crowded the Palais
de Justice to see the children saved.

The Court assembled more slowly to hear his arguments, with the
President St. Anthot at their head, a strong, wise, and enlightened
man, after Bretignieres' own heart. The advocate waited for the
supporter of the law to open his case. The precedents went back to
Ogier the Dane, to Ragnar, to Rollo the founder of the town itself,
who strove to put down the crime of murder by extending the punishment
beyond the criminal himself to his descendants, and thus appealing to
the paternal instincts of the rough warriors they had to rule.

Bretignieres rose suddenly from his seat, crying that in Normandy
alone was this inhuman decree allowed, that Rome herself had never
dared to stain the statute book with such a penalty. The extension of
the punishment to the children, far from proving a deterrent, actually
encouraged these hopeless and destitute orphans to exist by crime,
since every avenue of honest livelihood was barred to them. Deprived
of all their father had possessed, they saw their relations in the
enjoyment of an increased inheritance. Ruined by punishment for a
crime in which they had had no share, they saw the prosperity of
others increased by the operations of an unjust law, a law that might
have served the turn of a more barbarous people, but which was now far
more the relic of an ancient ignorance than a symbol of modern
enlightenment. In an age when the judicial combat of the old code had
been abolished with the trial by fire, the changing customs and
growing ideas of the people in the rest of Normandy were not likely to
preserve a custom so inhuman as that which the Court of Rouen alone
still exercised.

Amid a scene of intense excitement, as Bretignieres ceased, all the
king's officers in every other court in Normandy stood up, and in
answer to the President, asserted that the law had never been carried
out under their jurisdiction. It remained only for the President St.
Anthot to withdraw with his judges, and, as the Sovereign Senate of
the Province, not merely to interpret law, but to make it. There was a
long pause before they returned into the great hall, this time all
dressed in their red robes bound with ermine. In the solemn silence
that ensued, St. Anthot declared the law null and void from disusage,
restored the children to the inheritance of Guillaume Laurent, and
reinstated them in the house from which their aunt had driven them.

The people rushed into the courtyard carrying the orphans with them,
and while the barristers were congratulating Bretignieres, his little
clients were borne on the shoulders of a cheering mob through the
streets of Rouen to their home; and from that day ceased the cruel law
known as the "Arret du Sang Damne."

It was in the hope, no doubt, that benefits of this nature would be
conferred upon the Province, that the great Cardinal d'Amboise and
Louis XII. made the Echiquier de Normandie perpetual, and gave it the
great Palais de Justice in Rouen for its home. During the English
occupation the damage done to the Chateau de Bouvreuil had
necessitated moving the Easter sessions of the Echiquier to the
archbishop's lodgings in 1423, and on five subsequent occasions the
Court (composed half of English and half of Frenchmen) had to hold its
sittings in that part of the halls (on the Place de la Vieille Tour),
where the weavers usually carried on their commerce. By the time of
Louis XII. the Chateau de Bouvreuil was in better repair, but it was
evident that worthier quarters were needed the moment Cardinal
d'Amboise had obtained the immense advantage of making the courts
perpetual. Its new home was soon decided upon. Already on part of the
Clos des Juifs a large common hall had been erected, in which the
merchants gathered to discuss their business instead of using the nave
of the Cathedral; and in 1499 this hall was made into the west wing of
the new palace, and called first the Salle des Procureurs, and now the
Salle des Pas Perdus; it is the great building on the left of the
courtyard as you enter from the Rue aux Juifs. Its roof is like the
upturned hull of some great ocean-galley, and all round the timbers,
where the upper line of walls meets the vault above, a company of
queer grotesques are carved which Rabelais himself might have
suggested. You will notice especially the twisted spire upon the
outward turret that overhangs the Rue aux Juifs, the broad sweep of
the entrance stairway, and the admirable proportions of the arch above
it. At the south end used to be the beautiful little chapel in which
the Messe Rouge was sung for the "Rentree de la St. Martin," and in
which St. Romain's chosen prisoner knelt before he went out to the
procession of the Fierte. Beneath are the prisons and dungeons of the
High Court of Rouen. This is the building that Louis XII. ordered to
be set up, and into which he transferred the Echiquier from the
Chateau de Rouen on the 11th of March, 1511; the first "Messe Rouge"
was sung here to celebrate that opening, and the custom is preserved
to this day.

[Illustration: PALAIS DE JUSTICE. THE OCTAGON ROOM OF LOUIS XII.]

In 1508 Louis XII. established in his new palace the jurisdiction
known as that of the "Table de Marbre," because the Cathedral
Chapterhouse sold for the use of this new Admiralty Court an old
marble tomb, round which the members sat in the great hall. Corneille
and his father were both officers of this jurisdiction later on. In
the same year was begun the "Grand Chambre" in which the President
held his High Court, called now the Cour d'Assises, and decorated with
a magnificently carved ceiling in panels of polished wood. It is just
behind that octagonal turret which juts from the centre of the main
building exactly opposite the entrance from the Rue aux Juifs. Within
this turret is the lovely little circular chamber which was reserved
for the King's own use. Its beautiful proportions break the symmetry
of the long front wall, yet are clasped to the building by the cornice
whence the line of gargoyles spring; and in the same way the long and
steep rise of the roof is broken up by the crests above each window
that rise into the air in a pinnacled tracery of fretwork filled with
carved arabesques and statues. Among them are the arms of France,
supported by two stags, a memorial of the badge used by Charles VI.
according to the story told by de la Mer. It is this central block of
buildings that contains most of the original work of Roger Ango and
Rouland Leroux. The wing on the right of the entrance from the Rue aux
Juifs is modern, and though that part of the left wing which faces the
courtyard is old, the facade upon the Rue Jeanne d'Arc at the Place
Verdrel was rebuilt in 1842. The courtyard was originally enclosed by
a fine crenulated wall like that round the Hotel de Cluny in Paris.
This has been replaced by a badly designed iron railing. But as a
civic building, in spite of its railing and its new Cour d' Appel, the
Palais de Justice remains the finest of its kind in Europe, and is
superior to the Hotel de Ville both of Brussels and of Louvain.

Of many famous ceremonies were these great Halls the scene after Louis
XII. had built them. In the next reign Francis I. held a solemn "Lit
de Justice" here, in order to do at Rouen as he had done at Paris, and
ask the Parliament of Normandy to register the Concordat which Duprat,
Boisy, and others in his suite had helped to frame. His entry into the
city had been especially brilliant, not only because the King himself
desired to impress the occasion on his faithful subjects, but because
in the first prosperous years of a reign that seemed so full of
promise, the citizens of Rouen were even readier than usual to give
the loyal reception to their sovereign for which the town was famous.
The officers and councillors of the city were clad in velvet, and the
burgesses in camlet and satin, and all were very anxious indeed to see
the King, and get what was possible out of the visit. The Italian
victories, brilliant as they were, had not been without their expense
to Rouen as to every other town in France, not in money merely but in
the caring for hundreds of disbanded soldiers. Besides this the
especial privileges of the city had to be upheld and confirmed, and
particularly those appeals from the maritime courts which were settled
by the jurisdiction of the "Table de Marbre."

Those who were inclined to pessimism were reminded that at Lyons, at
Amboise, at Paris, and at Compiegne, Francis had already favourably
received the representations of the town, and had even told them: "Si
vous avez este bien traictez par mes predecesseurs, j'entens et veux
vous traicter encore mieux." So that when the King had reached the
Priory of Grandmont, the deputies sent out to meet him were in
excellent spirits. They were de Breze, Captain of the Town and Grand
Seneschal; the Bailli, Jean de la Barre; the President of the
Financial Court, Jean Auber; and the President of Parliament, Jean de
Brinon. By three o'clock these gentlemen joined the royal cortege and
advanced towards Rouen itself, being met at the bridge by the Town
Councillors bearing above the King's head a great and spacious canopy
of cloth of gold, the highest mark of honour that the town could
render.

Before His Majesty rode the "Grand Ecuyer," Galeas de Severin, bearing
the sword of state on a great white horse. On his right was Cardinal
de Boisy, brother of Admiral Bonivet, and on his left Cardinal Antoine
Bohier, the nephew of Chancellor Duprat. Next to the King was Monsieur
d'Alencon, whose powers as Lieutenant-Governor of Normandy were
wielded by d'Amboise during his absence at the Italian wars. Behind
him came Charles de Bourbon the Constable, who was to die as a rebel
in Rome two years later. With them were John Stuart, Duke of Albany,
nephew of James III. of Scotland; the Comte de St. Pol; Louis de la
Tremouille, the most brilliant knight of his time; Maximilian Sforza,
the eldest son of that Il Moro who had been imprisoned in the dungeons
of Loches; Jacques de Chabannes; Anne de Montmorency, who had been one
of the King's playfellows and grew up into the sternest Constable
France ever had; Guillaume, Sieur de St. Vallier, the father of Diane
de Poitiers, who also learnt the horrors of Loches for his share in
Bourbon's wild conspiracy; the second Georges d'Amboise, himself
Archbishop of Rouen, with their Lordships of Lisieux, Avranches,
Evreux, and Paris; Antoine Duprat, the Chancellor; and Florimond
Robertet, the King's Treasurer, whose house is still at Blois.

Men were thinking little of the future of this brilliant company as
they passed through Rouen in the summer sunshine, and even on the
south side of the river the welcoming pageantry began. For at the
first "theatre" the King beheld a great Fleur de Lys, which opened and
slowly displayed three damsels representing the virtues of His
Majesty, of the Queen, and of Madame la Regente. The stream itself, on
each side of the bridge, was gay with the flags and sails of every
craft along the quays. Beyond it was a group of Titans, thunderstruck
by Jupiter amid the stupor of the other gods in a dismayed Olympus.
The next stage showed Theseus welcomed by Thalia, Euphrosyne and
Aglaia, who led the hero to Pallas to receive from her the shield of
Prudence, and take his place among the starry divinities. Need it be
added that both Jupiter and Theseus were the King? Within the
cemetery of St. Ouen three martial monks were storming the semblance
of a guarded tower. At the Ponts de Robec appeared a wondrous
similitude of the sky upheld by Hercules and Atlas, in the midst
whereof disported a bellicose and most lively salamander, slaying a
bull and a bear, in graceful reference to the victory of the
Marignano, with this astonishing quatrain:--

     "La Salamandre en vertu singuliere
     Lors estaignit l'horrible feu de Mars
     Quant au grant ours emporta la baniere
     Et du thoreau rompit cornes et dardz."

At the Parvis Notre Dame appeared the image of a marvellous great
horse, rearing up his forefeet into the air, on which sat the effigy
of the King, of so natural a mould that breath alone was wanting to
its life, an ostentatious decoration which was done, say the Town
Accounts with some pride, "pour ancunement ensuyvir et emuler le
triumphe des Romains." All the streets were hung with gaily-
cloths, and tapestries fell gracefully in glowing folds from every
window. All the church-doors, opened to the widest, displayed their
ornaments and shrines in bewildering profusion. All the church bells,
which had their signal from "Georges d'Amboise" and "Marie
d'Estouteville" in the Cathedral, were ringing lustily. And at last,
his official reception over, Francois I. was able to go to the
lodgings prepared for him in the palace of the Archbishop. Neither he
nor any of his suite were allowed to forget the welcome of the Town;
for, after the Chapterhouse had presented their traditional and proper
loaves of bread and wine, His Majesty was offered a great golden
salamander ("assise sur une terrasse," whatever that may mean) by the
Town, who must have wished that they had got off as easily as the
canons; for, in addition to this, the councillors gave to the Queen a
golden cup, to Louise de Savoie a pair of silver-gilt goblets, to
Princess Marguerite a silver-gilt image of St. Francis, to M. de Boisy
two great ewers and basins, to Chancellor Du Prat six silver "hanaps"
and five great dishes, all richly gilt. And no doubt both gifts and
recipients had been carefully chosen with a view to securing an
impartial consideration for the claims made by the Town.

On the next afternoon, from the Priory of Bonne Nouvelle, rode in
Queen Claude, dressed in a white robe of cloth of silver, on a white
hackney, with Louise de Savoie, her mother-in-law, on one side, and
Marguerite d'Alencon (afterwards Queen of Navarre) upon the other. And
for the Queen was prepared at the Portail des Libraires a special
"theatre," wherein was represented a garden, and the Virgin Mary clad
all in white damask, with a lamb beside her, feeding upon grapes and
rosebuds, at which the clever Princess Marguerite must have laughed
almost as much as at the clumsy quatrains. Every prisoner in the
dungeon of the new "Palais de Justice" and in every prison of the town
was set free, except three especially "bad cases," who were hurried to
Louviers before Francis reached Rouen, and brought back to Rouen when
he had got to Louviers. As a contrast to this unfortunate greediness
of the law, it is recorded that many persons hastened to confess their
crimes, got imprisoned just before he arrived, and were joyfully
delivered at his entry, all of which satisfied justice in 1517 very
thoroughly indeed.

Some substantial results soon began to reward the Town and the
Chapterhouse for all their loyalty, in the subscription of 10,000
livres from His Majesty (in yearly instalments) to the Cathedral Fund
for restoring the central spire which had just been burnt. Most of
what the Town Councillors desired was also granted. So that everybody
was thoroughly well satisfied with the royal visit, and some little
choir-boys were so fascinated with the royal escort that when the King
went to Louviers and Gaillon, these little runaways marched off with
Lautrec's troops, and I regret to relate that the priests caught them
at the next halt, and not only soundly flogged the truants, but took
away all their holidays as well.

[Illustration: BUREAU DES FINANCES, FROM THE PARVIS]

But it must not be thought that the King had come to Rouen merely to
delight his subjects with the sun of his presence and the favours of
his consent. He had certain business of his own to transact, of a
financial nature; and for raising the various sums he needed, both for
personal and patriotic reasons, there was already in existence certain
financial machinery which was housed in very fair quarters in Rouen.
Two of the most beautiful of the sixteenth century buildings have to
do with finance. One of them is the "Bureau des Finances" (as its
latest title ran), opposite the Cathedral at the corner of the Rue
Ampere; the other is the "Cour des Comptes," whose Eastern facade and
courtyard has just been opened to the Rue des Carmes, north-west of
the Tour St. Romain.

With the first of these the same King had to do who built the "Palais
de Justice." It was during his visit in 1508 that Louis XII., shocked
with the narrow crowded streets all round the Parvis, destroyed the
various money-changers' hovels, and ordered the building of a "Hotel
des Generaux de Finance" on the spot where these had stood. The Church
of St. Herbland was only just finished at the corner of the Rue de la
Grosse Horloge, and in 1510, Thomas Bohier asked the canons to allow a
hut to be built in the Parvis for the convenience of his masons, just
as the Church had done. In 1512 the neighbouring citizens petitioned
the Chapterhouse that this hut should be removed. It was between these
dates, therefore, that Rouland le Roux, whose work on the Cathedral
facade you will remember (p. 130), began the building of this
exquisite house. It was certainly completed by 1541, and was probably
used some time before that date.

Mutilated and degraded to base uses as this fine piece of French
Renaissance has now become, it is still possible to realise what Le
Roux first built; and in his heavy cornice I cannot help imagining a
suggestion of Italian feeling made by that same King whose wars in
Italy had given him a sense of proportion and of beauty that may be
seen again in his desire to clear the surroundings of the Cathedral,
an idea quite contrary to French mediaeval notions, and in his spacious
plans for the great Palace of the Law. Be that as it may, nothing
could well be more appropriate than the whole decoration of this
corner house. Before shops had invaded its ground-floor, and
advertisements had defaced the exquisite line of carvings just above,
the Rez de chaussee had seven low arcades whose pilasters and windows
were carved with medallions, candelabra, and "grotesques" in low
relief. Over the vaulted entrance was the shield of France, borne by
the Porcupines of Louis XII. Above this is an "entresol" of tiny
circular windows alternating with medallions of crowns held up by
genii. The next storey has seven windows with beautifully carved
pilasters. It is far better preserved than the rest, but the two
niches have lost their statues, and a corbelled tower was destroyed in
1827, when shops were first put in.

The first General des Finances for Normandy was Thomas Bohier, whose
fortunes I have traced at his Chateau of Chenonceaux in Touraine. He
was as unfortunate as every other great financier of these centuries,
and though his end was less ignominious than the disgracefully unjust
punishment which Louise de Savoie inflicted on his relation, Jacques
de Beaune Semblancay, his life was scarcely less troubled; and after
leaving his bones in Italy with so many of the best of Francois'
courtiers, he bequeathed little but embarrassment to his son, and
Diane de Poitiers took his chateau. His office in Rouen he held from
1494, in the town where his brother Antoine had done so much for St.
Ouen. Indeed every one of these "Surintendants," even to Fouquet of
more modern memory, is associated either personally or indirectly with
so much of the beautiful in architecture and art that posterity has
almost forgiven them mistakes which were due more to the regime they
lived under than to their own shortcomings.

After 1587 the prisons of the Hotel des Generaux were changed from the
ordinary criminal cells to separate dungeons in the Rue du Petit
Salut, where I have fancied I could still trace them in the gloomy
cells at the back of No. 13 Rue Ampere, which tradition assigns to the
"Filles Repenties" of the eighteenth century. In 1554 the Hotel des
Generaux was called Cour des Aides, and by the changes of 1705 it was
joined to the Cour des Comptes in the Rue des Carmes, and the new
Bureau des Finances took the house in the Parvis I have just
described, which still preserves its name. In the general destruction
of 1796 the house was sold to a private owner.

The second Financial building you must see is the Cour des Comptes,
whose courtyard opens on the Rue des Carmes,[63] with another entrance
on the Rue des Quatre Vents. This was originally the property of M.
Rome, Sieur de Fresquiennes and Baron du Bec Crespin, who received
there the Duc de Joyeuse, Governor of Normandy. The large square which
originally composed it was built about 1525, and its beauty may be
imagined from the eastern facade and the southern wing (containing the
Chapel) which still remain. On this eastern front, the two stages
above the ground-floor are of equal height, each with six windows,
separated by pilasters of several different orders, decorated with
capitals and candelabras and groups of mythological subjects, such as
Mars, Venus, the Muses, and various instruments. The south wing is
built in four round-arched arcades with flat Corinthian pilasters,
three of which are in the nave of the Chapel, and two in its
Sanctuary. The second floor has square windows.

[Footnote 63: This clearance was effected in August 1897, and Miss
James took advantage of it to make her drawing from a point of view
which has been invisible for centuries and may soon be lost again.]

What Rouen had asked from Charles VII. a century before she only
obtained when Francis I. gave her a Cour des Comptes separate from the
Financial Committee in Paris; but the boon was scarcely appreciated
when it was discovered that the King not only levied taxes on local
merchandise to pay his new judges, but also made quite a good thing
out of selling the offices to the highest bidder. In 1580 the need of
this Court began to be felt again, in a town which possessed its own
High Court of Justice, suitably housed, and also its Financial Bureau
in the Parvis. But all receivers of taxes had to go to Paris to settle
their accounts, so had all proprietors of fiefs, all men who wished to
register their letters of naturalisation, nobility, exemption, or
enfranchisement, and many others. So in December of that year the
Sieur de Bourdemy, then President of Parliament, established a
separate Cour des Comptes at Rouen, modelled upon the Court in Paris,
and held its first meetings in the Priory of St. Lo. In 1589 the house
just described in the Rue des Carmes was bought by Tanneguy le Veneur
for eight thousand crowns, and the arcaded wing was consecrated as a
chapel in 1593. In 1790 it was swept away like every similar
organisation in France, and to the fact that it was probably forgotten
and built over, we owe the preservation even of what little still
remains.

[Illustration: COUR DES COMPTES, FROM THE RUE DES CARMES]

Before you leave the atmosphere of Finance and Justice, which in this
chapter I have striven to realise for you round those monuments that
alone recall the spirit of the age which built them, there is one more
tale of Justice in Rouen which may perhaps leave a more charitable
impression of the Palais de Justice and its officials. It has been
told before by Etienne Pasquier, but it will bear translation (and
even shortening) for an English audience. In the days when Laurent
Bigot de Thibermesnil was first King's Advocate in the Parliament of
Normandy, one of those brilliant intellects of which the sixteenth
century was so full, it chanced that a merchant of Lucca, who had
lived long and prosperously in England, desired to come home and die
in Italy. So he wrote to his relations to prepare a house for him in
six months' time, and started from England with his servant, carrying
his money and bonds with him. On his way to Paris he was known to have
stopped at Rouen, but he was never heard of again.

His servant, however, appeared in Paris, cashed his master's papers,
and returned. Meanwhile the family at Lucca waited for a whole year
and heard nothing. At last they sent a messenger for news to London,
who was told that the merchant was known to have started for Rouen,
and traces of the man were also found at the hotel in Rouen, where he
had lodged before setting out for Paris. Then all searches and
inquiries proved useless; the merchant seemed to have vanished into
thin air; and in despair the messenger applied for help to the High
Court in the Palais de Justice of Rouen. An officer was at once
appointed to conduct investigations in the town, while Laurent Bigot
searched for evidence outside. The first thing the officer found out
was that a new shop had been started in Rouen soon after Zambelli the
Italian had disappeared. He at once determined to examine its owner,
who was a stranger in the town, named Francois; and with this object
he had him arrested on a trumped-up charge and put in custody. On his
way to prison the man denied the charge, but asked, "Is there anything
else you have against me?" The officer at once went a little further,
and taking the prisoner apart he roundly charged him with having
robbed and murdered Zambelli, but intimated at the same time that
"the matter might be arranged quietly."

Francois evidently imagined this to be a hint that a bribe might not
be unsuccessful, and admitted that his crime must have been
discovered, but by what miracle he could not understand, for he had
been alone at the time. However, when he was asked to swear to this,
he withdrew hastily, recognising his mistake. The officer then
remanded him, and searched for further evidence. Bigot meanwhile had
been making inquiries all along the road from Rouen to Paris, until at
Argenteuil he found a Bailly who had held an inquest over a dead body
found among the vineyards. While Bigot was taking a copy of the
minutes of this inquest, a blind man came up to the hotel where he was
lodged asking for alms, and, as he listened to their conversation,
asserted that he had heard a man crying out on the <DW72>s above
Argenteuil, and that when he had tried to find out what was happening,
a second voice had told him it was a sick man in pain, and he had
therefore gone on his way thinking no more about it.

Bigot took him back to Rouen forthwith, and made him give the same
story on oath before a justice, with the addition that he would
certainly be able to recognise the second of the two voices he had
heard. The new shopkeeper, Francois, was then brought into Court, and
after twenty other men had spoken, the blind man picked out his voice
among them all, as that which had spoken to him on the <DW72>s above
Argenteuil. The test was repeated again and again, and invariably the
blind man picked out the same voice. Francois, who had weakened
visibly as each test proved successful, at last fell on his knees and
confessed that he had murdered his master and taken the papers to
Paris; and the Court immediately condemned him to be broken on the
wheel.

I have been able to suggest but a very few of the thoughts which the
Palais de Justice of Rouen should arouse in you; and of many points in
its history I have no space to tell; as of the "Clercs de l'Echiquier"
called the "Basoche," a merry company established in 1430, and
enlivening the records of the law for many centuries afterwards, as
you will see at the visit of Henri II. But after all, the main
impression is a very sombre one. The bitter sarcasms of Rabelais are
but too well founded. Mediaeval justice was almost as terrible as
mediaeval crime, and both were followed only too frequently by death.
For these old judges let no money go, however prodigal they were of
life and suffering; they scarcely ever let a prisoner go who had once
got into the grim machinery of their courts; and any miserable victim
who was once cast into one of their many dungeons must have welcomed
his release from lingering agony in death.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: THE DEAD BODY OF DE BREZE, FROM HIS TOMB IN ROUEN
CATHEDRAL]




CHAPTER XII

_Death_

     Sedentes in tenebris et in umbra mortis, vinctos in
     mendicitate.

       ... Comme sur un drap noir
     Sur la tristesse immense et sombre
       Le blanc squelette se fait voir....
     ... Des cercueils leve le couvercle
       Avec ses bras aux os pointus,
     Dessine ses cotes en cercle
       Et rit de son large rictus.


The artist who first truly understood the rendering of light is also
the workman whose shadows are the deepest in every scene he drew. If I
were to leave you with an impression of the sixteenth century either
in Rouen or elsewhere--that was composed of gorgeous ceremonial, of
exquisite architecture, of superabundant energy and life, and of these
only, you would neither appreciate the many influences which wrought
upon the men and women of those days, nor estimate at their true worth
the changing events, on which we now look back in the large
perspective of so many generations. And in that strange century the
sorrow and the pain of a world in travail are as evident as its joy.
The feverish excitement with which it grasped at life and pleasure is
counterbalanced, and explained by the ever-present horror of death in
its most ghastly forms.

When a fact of this eternal and natural significance is once frankly
recognised and bravely faced, men do not think much about it
afterwards, and say less. In the ages when the greatest of the
cathedrals were built the personification of death is practically
unknown. Archaeologists may imagine they discover it; but I shall never
believe that a single carving of it existed before the close of the
fifteenth century. Life they knew, not only in all its varied forms,
but as the soul. Sin they knew, and carved not merely in the full
shame of the act but in the person of the father of sin, the devil,
bat-winged and taloned, hovering over his prey on earth, or driving
his victims after death into gaping Hellmouth where his torturers
awaited them. But it was only when printing excited men's
imaginations, when the first discovery of the ancient classics roused
their emulation and stimulated their unrest, when the Renaissance in
art increased their eagerness to express their thoughts and multiplied
their methods of expression, when the Reformation turned their
conscience to the latter end and to the unseen world--only at such a
time of speculation and disquiet did Death himself appear, personified
and hideously exultant. The waters were troubled and the slime beneath
them came up to the surface. Instead of the bold imaginations of God
or man or beast which the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries knew,
you find a crowd of tiny imps and monkeys, like the verminous throng
upon the Portail des Marmousets at St. Ouen; the higher forms of
creation disappeared before the presence of the Arch-Enemy.

There arose not only a great contempt for the value of human life, but
a gross familiarity with death. The poor man, dying in his unregarded
thousands, clutched to his starved heart the one consolation that the
rich could not escape contagion. To the judge upon his bench, to the
queen in her palace, to the cardinal in his state, to the king at his
high festival, to the very Pope himself, death came as unerringly as
to the ploughman sweating in his furrow. And the rich made haste to
enjoy the little time they had. The best of that old life which
remains to us is its buildings. From them and from the carvings on
them we can imagine the fruitful, busy, breeding existence of that
hurrying sixteenth century. Painters and sculptors worked as in a
frenzy, covering canvas by the acre and striking whole armies of
statues into serried ranks of stone. Men fought with swords that
weaker generations can with difficulty flourish in the air; they wore
armour that would make a cart-horse stagger. Quarrels, duels, riots,
rapes, drinking-bouts, gallantries, and murders followed one another
in a hot succession that takes away the breath of modern strait-laced
commentators. Life that came easily into the world was spent as
recklessly, and blood flowed as plentifully as wine. Rough horseplay
and rude practical joking were of the essence of humorous courtliness.
Immense processions filled with life and colour, jesting at everything
sacred or profane, crowded with symbols decent and indecent, made up
the sum of public happiness. Close at men's elbow lay the heavy hand
of a merciless and blood-stained law. Once beneath the power of
"Justice" the miserable prisoner had little hope of escaping before
the legal Juggernaut had crushed him, and he was lucky who died
quickest at the executioner's hands. The very criminals themselves
sinned in a more stupendous fashion than they have had the courage to
do since.

If I have not wearied you with quotations from the record of the
Fierte St. Romain, I will pick out but two more instances in this
century to show you that I do not speak without book at Rouen. In
1516, Nicolas de la Rue, whose sister had been married in Guernsey,
discovered her in an intrigue with the commandant's son, and slew them
both with one stroke of his sword. Thereon the commandant of the
island called out 120 foot-soldiers, but De la Rue armed the crew of
his vessel, drove them off, killed two with his own hand and sailed
away to Normandy. There he fell desperately in love with a lady near
Surville-sur-Mer, and taking his men with him carried her off from the
Chateau de Commare. After keeping her with him for some time under
promise of marriage, he captured an English vessel on the high seas
after peace had been declared on both sides of the Channel, and was
condemned to two years' banishment. At the end of this time he
returned to Harfleur to recover some twenty thousand livres (the
produce of former piracies in the English Channel) which he had left
in the keeping of Mademoiselle de Commare.

But the lady had returned to her own family and carried off his money
with her. When he followed to her house, she offered him only ten
crowns, so he stayed in the village near by until he could devise a
plan to get back his treasure. The lady called her friends and
relations, and they tried to arrest De la Rue one morning in the
market, with the result that several of them were badly wounded. At
last a larger force managed to secure him, and threw him into a prison
at Rouen on the capital charge of abduction. While there it was proved
that he had stabbed a man to death in Harfleur in a quarrel about a
woman; that at Janval, near Arques, he had punished a fellow called
Bonnetot for insulting a comrade, by running him through with a
rapier, from which Bonnetot died; and that in a quarrel about another
woman he had dangerously wounded a naval officer with his dagger; and
in these little escapades no mention is made of the countless acts of
piracy on the high seas, which can seldom have been accomplished
without considerable loss of life.

But this record is nothing to the second and last example which I
shall take from the prisoners of the "Fierte." In 1541 a young
gentleman named Francois de Fontenay, Sieur de Saint-Remy, aged
twenty-nine, was pardoned by the canons after a career which I can
only sketch in the roughest outlines. When he was only fifteen, he got
some friends to help him and killed a sergeant who had displeased him
by carrying stories of his behaviour to his mother. When a little
older, in a village of the Cotentin, at the request of a young lady he
professed to love, he laid an ambush with some friends for a Monsieur
des Mostiers, but only succeeded in wounding him severely, and barely
escaped the execution that punished one of his comrades in the same
affair. Developing rapidly into a bravo of the first water, he
attacked a man "at the request of le sieur de Danmesnil," and wounded
him mortally with his rapier in the thigh. Being at a house in
Montgardon with his mother and brother, he held it against forty armed
men who had come in the name of the law to arrest them both, shot an
arquebusier with his own hand, and beat the troop off before the help
for which he managed to send had had time to arrive. Nor was he
without friends who were quite worthy of their company.

In the year before de Fontenay himself enjoyed the Privilege de St.
Romain, it had been extended, at the express wish of several members
of the royal family, to four sons of the Baron d'Aunay, the Duke of
Orleans being especially urgent in pointing out that these poor
fellows had done nothing in his opinion that should debar them from
the privilege. They were, as a matter of fact, merely charged with the
following peccadilloes, among others. In the course of rescuing a
friend from the Communal authorities at Saint-Avon, they used the
town-folk so roughly that a man and a woman fell into a well during
the dispute, and were drowned. On their way to the wars they met a man
with his wife upon the bridge near their home, and annoyed at not
having enough room left for their horses, they dismounted, tied up the
man's hands and feet, and beat the woman cruelly before her husband's
eyes. On the death of their grandmother, who had married twice, they
visited her second husband to get possession of certain legal papers,
and when he resisted they ran him through the stomach with a rapier.
Enlisted for once upon the side of justice, they were clamouring at a
house for the surrender of a murderer who had taken refuge there, and
when the owner opened the door they killed him with a slash across the
body. Pursued themselves by the officers, they waited till they were
on their own land, then turned and charged the men, sword in hand,
secured their horses, and thrashed one of them with knotted thorns.
Before they were finally taken by the sergeants of Rouen they had
thrown themselves into the church of Aulnay and defended it against
forty armed men, wounding several of them with crossbow-bolts before
they surrendered.

Our friend Francois de Fontenay was acquainted with this gallant band
of brothers through the house of Creance, with which both were
connected; and their sturdy resistance to the law of the land must
have soon created a strong feeling of sympathy and admiration; for the
five men are found all joined together to accomplish the murder of one
Boullart near Caen. Wherever de Fontenay went it soon became the
fashion among the villages to oppose his progress; but this made
little difference, for both at Neufbourg and at Fert-Mace, either by
his own hand or by his servants, several "common people," who were so
ill-advised as to get in the way were killed, and at Dun-le-Roy he
was compelled to fight his way out, using the edge of his rapier right
and left, "with considerable loss of life among the peasants." They
had been the centre (and their swords were never idle) of similar
riots, near Bourges, in the streets of Falaise, at Lisieux, and
elsewhere. More high-born foes were treated in just as summary a
fashion. With his brother Jehan, Francois attacked his enemy St.
Germain (a Cotentin magistrate) on the bridge at Lyons, wounded him
four times, and left him dead. His shoemaker was late in delivering
some boots, so Francois visited him, sword-in-hand, carried off two
other pairs, and "has not yet been known to pay for them." Other
necessities he had not scrupled to provide himself with in a similar
way. Oxen and sheep from a farmer called Lemoyne, chickens from a
priory near Bayeux, more sheep from the Sieur de Grosparmy, horses
from another farmer, flour from a third. A husband who objected to
giving up his wife at St. Lo was promptly wounded, so severely that he
could only watch her helplessly as she was carried off.

Such are a few of the crimes, of which Monsieur de Fontenay confessed
the astonishing number of forty-two. After his acquittal of them all,
by virtue of the Fierte, the canons were for some six months kept hard
at work dealing out similar deliverances to the crowd of his
accomplices who kept on appearing from every side, and clamouring for
the mercy of the Chapterhouse. Though I can conceive no worse
precedent for the future of the Fierte, I need make no further comment
upon the fact of de Fontenay's deliverance, except that he was so well
aware of the detestation he had inspired in many of his victims that
he was afraid to make any public appearance in the streets of Rouen
for fear of assassination.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO THE AITRE ST. MACLOU]

Remembering this man's career, turn out of the Place des Ponts de
Robec, down the Rue Damiette, southwards, and I will show you the
spot in Rouen that has made me tell you something of his history as a
type of the young gallant of the sixteenth century. As you pass the
"Rue du Rosier" (on your left at No. 54), the "Impasse des Hauts
Mariages" appears a little further on. Any budding romance the name
may suggest will not survive a walk of a few yards up its narrow and
noisome recesses. But at the end of the Rue Damiette, behind the vista
of old houses, the arches of St. Maclou will tempt you irresistibly
towards the end of the road that curves out at the north-west corner
of the church, just opposite the famous fountain which has been so
mutilated by the Huguenots. At this point turn sharply to the left,
down the Rue Martainville eastwards. To the south the Rue Moliere
flings its quaint legendary shadows towards the river. A little
further on, a dark square opening makes a patch of black beneath the
gabled windows of No. 190. That is the entrance to the Aitre St.
Maclou, the oldest cemetery in Rouen, and one of the most interesting
in Europe. Pass through the dark passage into the open space beyond
that is surrounded by old timbered houses, and go straight through to
the little stairway that is opposite the entrance. From that slight
eminence you may look back upon the strangest scene you have yet
visited; if it is an autumn afternoon the little charity children will
be running to and fro beneath the emblems of death carved on the
timbers above their heads, while the religious sisters, in their grey
gowns and wide white head-dresses move slowly to and fro beside them.
It is the picture of another century, in its appropriate setting.

As the sun sets slowly and the shadows gather, this aged sepulchre of
the dead of Rouen gradually gives up its secrets, and the ancient city
of past centuries reappears to the grating of the rebec of the "Danse
Macabre." The broad boulevards of the morning sink into the soil, and
in their place there gapes a mighty moat with massive buttresses above
it. The Seine of yesterday grows wider, pushing the Quais back to the
foot of the town walls, and above his youthful waters <DW72> the
rounded arches built by the Empress Matilda, wife of Geoffrey
Plantagenet. The streets and houses shrink into a narrower limit,
bounded by a line of bastions, with crenelated towers at intervals,
and eight gates each with its watch-tower and drawbridge and
portcullis.

Above the battlemented walls, the airy spires and mighty pyramids of
the City of Churches rise from thirty-five parishes, and from four and
thirty monasteries. Three donjon keeps dominate the town. Upon the St.
Catherine's Mount a fortress holds the hill, and above it rise the
towers of the Abbey of St. Trinite du Mont. Within every church the
monuments and carvings are still fresh and unmutilated. The royal
statues, long since lost, sleep peacefully in the Cathedral choir, and
the pomp of death spreads its sombre magnificence in every sacred
building. The old fountains are playing in the squares and streets.
The fountain of St. Maclou, which had two figures like the Mannekin of
Brussels; the Croix de Pierre, with statues in every niche; the St.
Vincent, with its great dais overshadowing a group of the Nativity,
and water spouting from the mouths of oxen in the manger; the Lacrosse
with the Virgin and her Child; the Lisieux, whereon was carved the
Mount Parnassus with Apollo and the Muses, Pegasus too, and a great
triple-headed matron for Philosophy, and two bronze salamanders
vomiting streams of water; all the fountains that Jacques Lelieur has
traced for us are perfect and are playing in the town whose streets he
drew in 1525.

The sky grows darker, and the rain falls, as it fell then, even more
frequently than now; but we can pass beneath the "avant-soliers,"
those covered galleries that line the squares and market-places to
give shade or shelter to the merchant and his purchasers, and behind
their heavy timbers we shall be safe from the great wains of country
produce, or the lumbering chariots of the town, with their leather
hangings stamped in gold, dragged by the heavy Norman horses. The
streets are as narrow as they were first built in Pompeii; sixteen
feet is thought enough for the principal arteries of traffic, others
measure but ten feet, or even six, across. They are so crooked and the
line of houses on each side is often so uneven that it seems as if the
windings of some country footpath have been left in all their
primitive irregularity, and decorated here and there with casual
dwellings, while the gaps are filled in roughly as time goes on and
space grows more precious every year. This haphazard arrangement has
no doubt resulted in a certain picturesqueness of disposition and
perspective, and even in a tortuous maze of buildings very difficult
for any foreign enemy to assault; but it is obvious that the city's
internal plan has owed nothing either to military or aesthetic
considerations at the outset. For these streets that were not paved at
all until the fifteenth century, are only covered with rude stones,
and look more like the interior of a vast open drain than anything;
pigs and other animals stroll into them from the open doorways of the
commoner houses, and even the richer families seem to consider that
the highway is little more than a commodious dust-bin.

Above the mire and stench of the street rise houses which seem to
topple forward into the morass beneath; each storey overhangs the
last, until the trowsy gables almost rub against each other at the
top, and nearly shut out every breath of air or glimpse of sky. Close
above the pavement, and swinging in the rain, a multitude of signs and
strange carvings blot out the little light remaining; Tritons, sirens
and satyrs are cheek by jowl with dragons, open-mouthed, their tails
in monstrous curves. Vast gilded barrels, bunches of grapes as huge as
ever came out of the Promised Land, images of the Three Kings of the
East, six-pointed stars, enormous fleurs de lys, great pillars painted
blue or red, cockatrices and popinjays and bears and elephants; a
whole menagerie of fabulous creatures hang over the lintels of almost
every house; for in the days when numbers are not, many habitations
have to be distinguished by a sign besides the taverns and the
hostelries and shops. Higher up still the long thin gargoyles peer
into the clouded air; clutching at the outmost edge of wall, they
stretch as far forward as they may and are every one in actual
service, spouting showers of rain and refuse from the roof into the
crowded road. Upon the walls themselves, in low relief, every panel
has its medallion, a classical head within a wreath of bay-leaves, a
more modern celebrity ringed by the mottoes and emblems of his
lineage. Above the doorway of the merchant is carved his galleon in
full sail; the armourer displays a brave scene, of a soldier hacking
his way with an irresistible rapier through the mob of caitiffs who
had been so foolish as to buy their swords at other shops; over the
next porch is carved a horse without a rider, hastening across the
bridge to bring the tidings of the murder of his master in the
suburbs; elsewhere is sculptured the Holy City with a humble wayfarer
approaching from one side, and a noble from the other. Every building
has a character of its own, a personality apart from other houses in
the street, and nearly all are gay with paint and gilding, and
instinct with a natural feeling for artistic decoration that was only
appreciated at its true worth after the Huguenot iconoclasts had
wrecked it.

Amid all this life and colour death and the taint of death are ever
present, for every church is little better than a charnel-house, and
in the crowded city nearly eighty cemeteries are packed with dead.
Magnificent processions of princes and of great prelates march through
the town by day; they are followed by the riot of the Mascarade des
Conards, a burlesque throng of some two thousand fantastic dresses
careering madly up and down the streets, chased by the "Clercs de la
Basoche," or racing after every sober citizen in sight. It is lucky if
the Huguenots have not seized the town and filled the churches with a
mob of fanatics, smashing everything with hammers, and making bonfires
of the sacred vestments in the streets, or if the Catholics are not
just taking their revenge by burning their enemies alive or murdering
Protestant children in their little beds. Even on ordinary days there
is horror enough only too visible. You need not go so far as the
gibbets just above the town where corpses are clattering in chains
beneath the wind; on the Place du Vieux Marche a sacrilegious priest
is being slowly strangled; in the Parvis Notre Dame a blasphemer's
throat is cut; close by the churchyard, a murderer's hand is chopped
off, and he is hurried away to execution on the scaffold by the
Halles. From a by-street the leper's bell sounds fitfully, and out of
the darkened house beyond, men in St. Michael's livery are bearing the
last victims of the Plague to burial within the city walls. In 1522
there were 50,000 of such burials in Rouen alone in six months. Every
gallant who goes by with his feathered cap and velvet cloak, his
tightly-fitting hose and slashed shoes, every lady in her purple hat
and stiff-starched ruff, her gold-brocaded stomacher, and her sweeping
skirt, every soldier swaggering his rapier, every sailor rolling home
from sea, every monk mumbling his prayers over a rosary--all alike are
breathing an infected poisonous air. The young girls from the country
feel it most and fly from it the quickest, coming in to sell their
eggs and chickens, with their woollen petticoats and gaily 
headdress, or meeting some lover of the town at a dark corner in the
narrow, damp, ill-ventilated streets. Here and there a silent figure
clad in blue stalks from one house to another and leaves the mark of a
great white cross upon the fast-shut door or shutters, for within
there is the Plague. And upon every passer-by outside there blows
continually the invisible blast of pestilence from the countless
graveyards pent up in the choking circuit of the walls. From the
thirteenth century onwards the city has been swept with the desolating
scourge of hideous disease. It was in 1348, when the ravages of the
Black Death were at their highest and 100,000 persons died of it in
Rouen that this cemetery of St. Maclou was founded.

[Illustration: THE CEMETERY OF ST. MACLOU]

Within the central space of the square court that you can see to-day
is the actual ground which formed this ancient graveyard. Formerly
there were two altars in it, one to the Slayer of the infernal Dragon,
the mighty Saint of Sepulchres, the protector of the dead, St.
Michael; the other to the souls of the dead themselves. In many a
country churchyard in France at the present day you may see a tall
lonely shaft that rises above the tombs, generally with a tiny belfry
at its summit, which holds the bell that rings at midnight to call the
wandering ghosts to rest; and at its base this "Lanterne des Morts"
carries a small slab of stone on which offerings were placed at night.
It was the Confrerie de St. Michel who had charge of this, and of the
burying arrangements of the city, and they bore upon their hats the
image of their patron-saint as a badge of their sad calling. Twice
before 1505 this graveyard had to be enlarged; by 1526 three of the
galleries that now surround it had been built, those to the west and
south and east. The northern side was finished only in 1640. Of the
older work there are still thirty-one columns standing, some eleven
feet apart, carved with subjects from the famous "Dance of Death," the
"Danse Macabre" of Rouen.

But these curtains that circumscribe the Bed of Death have other
emblems carved upon them too; there is a double frieze of oak above
the pillars, and on it appears the skull and crossbones, the spade and
mattock, the fragments of pitiful anatomy that marked the ghastly
trade of sexton in the sixteenth century. In the covered galleries, as
they were originally, the richer burgesses were buried, though not one
of their memorial stones remains; into the open space were flung the
poor proletariat, who had gone through life marked with a yellow cross
upon their arms, and found in death an undistinguished and promiscuous
burial. Looking down upon them all in their last troubled sleep, were
the figures carved in high relief upon each pillar, groups that are so
mutilated now that only by the careful drawings and descriptions left
by M. Langlois long ago can we trace faintly what was placed there by
Denys Leselin the carver and his brother Adam, and by Gaultier
Leprevost, whose names are preserved in the church registers of St.
Maclou.

Each relief showed a group in which some living figure is dragged to
death by a triumphant skeleton, and chief among them were our first
parents Adam and Eve, the origins of death for every generation after.

     "Mors qui venis de mors de pome
     Primes en feme et puis en home
     Tu bats le siecle comme toile."

On other pillars were an emperor, a king, a high constable, a duke, a
courtier, a pope, a cardinal, a bishop, and an abbot. They seem to
cry, like Villon, with a phrase that is especially appropriate to a
Rouen cemetery:

     "Haro, haro, le grand et le mineur,
     Et qu'est cecy--mourray, sans coup ferir?"

Without the power to struggle, they are haled from their high places
to the levelling tomb.

Reproductions of the first Todtentanz of Hans Holbein the younger are
now within the reach of everyone, and they have made these terrible
imaginations of the early sixteenth century the common property of all
who care to look at them. Designed just before 1526, when the horrors
of the Peasants' War and of innumerable outbreaks of pestilence and
famine had left fresh traces in the minds of everyone, they were not
published until 1538 at Lyons by Melchoir and Gaspar Trechsel. After
the sixth edition of 1562 no further addition to the plates is known.
They were cut with a knife upon wood, and not with the ordinary
graver, in 1527, or a little earlier, by Hans of Luxemburg, sometimes
called Franck, whose full signature is on Holbein's Alphabet in the
British Museum, which contains several sets of the impressions,
believed to be engraver's proofs from the original blocks, such as
exist also in Berlin, at Basle, in Paris, and at Carlsruhe. They have
been frequently copied, but the best modern imitations in wood
engraving are those made in 1833 for Douce's "Holbein's Dance of
Death," which come nearest to the incomparable skill of Hans of
Luxemburg, and have been reproduced again, only in this last year, by
George Bell of London.

The oldest representation of this idea is probably to be found at
Minden in Westphalia, and bears the date of 1383. But it was known
also at Dresden, at Lubeck, in Lucerne, in the chateau of Blois, in
Auvergne, and elsewhere in France. In all these places Death is shown
dancing with men of every age and condition, and carrying them off
with him to the grave. There is no doubt that the scene had its origin
not merely in the imagination of the sixteenth century, but reached
further back to the hideous "Danse Macabre" of the fourteenth century,
when the Black Death was slaying high and low so fast that men were
seized with a panic of hysterical convulsion and leaped frenziedly
about the streets and churches, even in the cemeteries themselves. The
numberless carvings on the cathedrals, representing the Devil and his
myrmidons struggling for mastery with a living soul, provided an easy
and instant suggestion. But by degrees the religious quality of the
mania lessened and grew weaker. At last the purely material horror of
extinction overcame everything else. It was no longer the Devil who
seized a maddened ring of men and women and danced them screaming into
hell. Now it was Death himself who clutched every man by the sleeve
and hurried him into the over-crowded ever-hungry sepulchre. If this
was one thought of the rich who thought at all, it was also the only
consolation of the poor, and therefore no more appropriate carvings
for the poor man's cemetery of St. Maclou could be imagined by the
workman of the sixteenth century.

But if the poor had their Danse Macabre, the great ones of the city
spared nothing to impress on their survivors that the magnificence of
their lives should follow them even to the tomb. In the Chapelle de la
Vierge of Rouen Cathedral are two of the most famous funereal
monuments of the sixteenth century, and in one of these you will
notice a very remarkable example of the way in which the sculptors of
the rich understood their task. Their orders, no doubt, were to give
of their best to celebrate the dead man's greatness; their designs
were evidently as unfettered by suggestion as by expense; and they had
their inevitable revenge. Beneath the magnificent figure of the knight
in armour lies the corpse, naked in death and as poor as the beggar in
the street. In the Louvre you may see a monument by Germain Pilon that
is even more suggestive of this feeling on the part of the artist. It
is the tomb of Madame de Birague, Valentina Balbiani.[64] Under a
sumptuous dress, covered with sculpture so delicate that the marble
looks like lace, a thin and shrunken form can be distinguished. The
wasted hand holds a tiny book whose pages it has no strength to turn.
Her little dog tries vainly to awake her from a slumber that is
eternal. A corpse that is almost a skeleton lies beneath. This is not
the sincere expression of the sorrow Villon knew; for we can easily
imagine the unhappy Valentina's fate from our knowledge of her
husband, one of the hell-hounds of Catherine de Medicis, who was
foremost in the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. This is not the old
longing of the lover for his mistress:--

     Mort, j'appelle de ta rigueur,
     Qui m'as ma maistresse ravie,
     Et n'est pas encore assouvie
     Si tu ne me tiens en langueur.
     Onc puis n'euz force ne vigneur;
     Mais que te nuysoit-elle en vie
               Mort?

     Deux estions, et n'avions qu'ung cueur;
     S'il est mort, force est que devie,
     Voire, ou que je vive sans vie,
     Comme les images, par cueur,
               Mort!

[Footnote 64: This has been admirably described in Mrs Mark Pattison's
volumes on the "Renaissance of Art in France," though the authoress
refuses to admit that Michelet's view of Pilon's motive is correct.
But in Vol. I. compare pp. 236 and 21.]

It is the changed note of Ronsard's passionate regret that every
lovely feature must be marred by Death:--

     "Pour qui gardes-tu tes yeux
     Et ton sein delicieux
       Ta joue et ta bouche belle
     En veux-tu baiser Platon
     La-bas apres que Charon
       T'aura mise en sa nacelle?"

The work of Germain Pilon at the Louvre, and of the sculptor of the
dead de Breze in Rouen Cathedral, whether that were Pilon himself, or
Jean Cousin, or Goujon, has none of the gentle regret that reverences
what it has once loved in life. There is in it all the fierce desire
for personified destruction, all the hideous mockery of the rich man
levelled with the poorest in a common corruption, which inspired the
"Danse Macabre"; but the sculptor's thought is expressed with the
subtle handicraft of a supersensitive age, with a fury of achievement
and a triumph over technical difficulties that is the very essence of
the best French Renaissance. In the same spirit Ronsard continues his
relentless comparison of the dead woman with the living mistress:--

     "Ton teste n'aura plus de peau
     Ny ton visaige tant beau
       N'aura veines ny arteres
     Tu n'auras plus que des dents
     Telles qu'on les voit dedans
       Les testes des cimeteres."

This complicated mental attitude had evidently not been reached when
Rouland Leroux carved the great mausoleum for Cardinal d'Amboise,
which is on the south side of this chapel, or if it had been attained
by some men, neither Leroux himself nor Pierre Desaubeaulx his
fellow-workman had been touched by it. The very inscription proclaims
the exact reverse of that grisly triumph which is celebrated so
clearly on the opposite tomb; for the virtues of Georges d'Amboise are
said to be superior to death:--

     "Pastor eram cleri populi pater aurea sese
       Lilia subdebant quercus et ipsa mihi
     Mortuus en jaceo morte extinguuntur honores
       _At virtus mortis nescia morte viret_."

[Illustration: TOMB OF THE TWO CARDINALS D'AMBOISE IN THE CHAPELLE DE
LA SAINTE VIERGE IN ROUEN CATHEDRAL]

An optimism that may have been foreign to his age is appropriate to
this sturdy and ambitious ecclesiastic, who did not forget to do so
much material good for his town of Rouen, with waterworks, and even
drainage, and fair new buildings spaciously designed; all this in
spite of wider interests which did not stop at the tiara itself, of
which all men said the great cardinal was worthy. Of the two statues
that are now within the arched recess, the one on the right represents
him, and it must have been an excellent likeness. It has been called a
peasant face; and it is certainly no courtier who kneels there before
the carving of his patron saint slaying the dragon. The square head,
the deep brows, the heavy jaw and firm mouth, are not beautiful, but
they are impressive, and they show a character as far removed from the
peasant as it was from the voluptuary, as near akin to the
administrator of Normandy as to the Cardinal of the Holy Church. I
have little doubt that this was the handiwork of the Rouland Leroux
who must have often seen him in the Cathedral, and who helped to build
the great Palais de Justice, which was given to Rouen at his request.

In the statue on the left hand, it is more possible that Jean Goujon
(to whom so many things are ascribed without foundation) may have had
a hand. For this was put up in 1541, at least sixteen years after the
first one, in memory of the second Georges d'Amboise, the nephew of
the greater cardinal, and the last archbishop freely elected by the
Chapterhouse. Of the multitude of carvings that are in the alabaster
and marble round these statues, it is scarcely possible to give any
description that will be intelligible, and if their value in history
does not tempt you to visit them yourself, I can only point you to the
drawing that Miss James has done to make these pages more
intelligible. The niches on each side of the dragon contain six
statuettes; a bishop, a Virgin and child, St. John the Baptist, St.
Romain, a saint, and an archbishop blessing. Above them curves a
large arch, with three pierced pendentives and a frieze delicately
carved with birds and angels. Above this rises the highest division of
the monument, on the same plane as the sarcophagus below; seven small
niches of the prophets and sibyls divide the six larger panels, in
which the Apostles are shown in pairs. Beyond these again is a crown
of pinnacles in open-work, alternating with statuettes in smaller
niches. The lowest portion, the sarcophagus itself, is divided by
seven pilasters, each adorned with the figure of a monk, with six
compartments holding the statuettes of Faith, Charity, Prudence,
Strength, Temperance, and Justice. All this amazing complication of
delicate handiwork was done for the sum of 6952 livres, 16 sols, 4
deniers, which represents about 60,000 francs, or L2400 to-day.

[Illustration: TOMB OF LOUIS DE BREZE IN ROUEN CATHEDRAL]

On the opposite side of this chapel is the great tomb of Louis de
Breze, Grand Seneschal of Normandy, of which I have already spoken. As
an architectural composition it is, to my mind, infinitely finer than
the other, though there is not only a lack of the obvious sincerity
that inspired Leroux, but there is also the too evident appearance of
that triumph of Death which has been described in this chapter. Nor
can I help fancying that it represents too the somewhat sinister
triumph of a widow's cunning. For as I have drawn elsewhere the life
and the ambitions of Georges d'Amboise as the owner of Chaumont on the
Loire, so I have become acquainted with that typical figure of the
sixteenth century, Diane de Poitiers, at the home she took from Bohier
at Chenonceaux; and therefore her kneeling figure in the widow's weeds
of a conventional sorrow suggests nothing better to me than the
fashionable grief of the mistress of Henri II., the ostentation in
mourning of the most rapacious and unfeeling woman of her time.

Though the magnificent workmanship of the dead man at whose head she
kneels reminds me more of Germain Pilon's methods, I can well believe
that Jean Goujon may have been responsible for the general design of
the whole monument during the year we know he spent at Rouen in 1540,
when he was twenty years of age. Men seem to have matured more quickly
in those days than is possible in the slower generations that we know.
But even if the graceful caryatides and every other carving is his
work, I must still ascribe the strong treatment of the massive knight
in armour on his war horse to the same artist who conceived the dead
figure lying in its shroud beneath; and whether that artist were
Pilon or Jean Cousin, it is most improbable that it should have been
Goujon, for whom the work would have been just as much too early for
his own age, as that of Pilon would have been too late for the
suggested date of the entire monument. That the contrast of the dead
and living Seneschal was more than a mere court fashion of the time, I
have, of course, only advanced my own opinion; but even if it were not
so, in this case and in that of the Balbiani monument and many others,
the fact that so gruesome a custom should have prevailed at all is
even more significant than if it were the result of the imagination of
some few of the greatest sculptors.

[Illustration: A MONK PRAYING, FROM THE TOMB OF CARDINAL D'AMBOISE IN
ROUEN CATHEDRAL]

In sketching the more sombre features of this extraordinary century,
it is impossible to omit any reference to those religious troubles
which may have been already suggested to you by the kneeling monks
upon the tomb of Georges d'Amboise. They were as terrible in Rouen as
in almost every other town in France; the violent deaths and tortures
they made so common in the city cannot be omitted in any estimate of
the horrors of the time; and if I do not dilate upon them as their
importance in history might seem to demand, it is because they are
chiefly responsible for the destruction or debasement of most of those
great architectural monuments which it is my chief business to
describe. They were also responsible for the next two sieges in the
story of the town, and in the first of these there is a tale that I
must tell you, if only to show that if these men had the realisation
of death ever present before their eyes, they were also very hard to
kill, and did not yield to the Arch-Enemy so easily as many of their
descendants in an age which tries its hardest to forget him.

Encouraged by the news of the horrible massacre of Vassy, the
Huguenots under the Prince of Conde seized Rouen on the night of April
15, 1562, pillaged the churches, and stopped the services of the
Catholic religion. A few months afterwards the royal army marched to
the rescue under the Constable Anne de Montmorency, Francois de Guise,
and the father of Henri Quatre, Antoine de Navarre, who was shot in
the shoulder when directing the attack from the trenches, and died at
Andelys a month afterwards. While the Protestants were defending the
walls, a certain Francois de Civille was ordered with his company to
hold the ramparts near the Porte St. Hilaire, not far from the
Fourches de Bihorel. While at his post he was wounded by a shot from
an arquebus, which passed through his cheek and shattered the right
jaw-bone, at eleven in the morning on the 15th October. The bullet
came out behind his collar-bone and tore his ruff to pieces. He fell
down the glacis, and a foraging party stripped him and buried him
hurriedly in a ditch near by, and there he was left till six that
evening. His lacquey, Nicolas de la Barre, searching the ramparts for
his master after the assault had been repulsed, saw a human hand
sticking up out of the mud; his companion, Captain Jean de Clere,
kicked the fingers as he walked, and a peculiar ring de Civille was
known to wear flashed in the light. The body was at once dug up and
carried to the house of the Sieur de Coqueraumont, in the Rue des
Capucins.

There for five days and five nights the servant watched by his master,
"who lay in a lethargy," and was just beginning to show feeble signs
of life when the enemy took the town by assault. On the twenty-eighth,
some Catholic soldiers broke into his place of refuge, and finding a
pestilent heretic lying ill, they threw him out of a window. Being
lucky enough to fall upon one of the many dunghills which were beneath
the windows of Rouen at that time, de Civille lay there in his shirt
and nightcap for three days and nights without food or drink, and no
one discovered him. At last, when the town was a little quieter, a
cousin fetched him away to the Chateau de Croisset, and by July in the
next year he had almost completely recovered his health. Though all
this happened when he was only twenty-six, he lived to write an
account of his adventures when he was seventy-four for the pleasure
and instruction of posterity; and he only expired for the last time at
the ripe age of eighty, from an inflammation of the lungs caught by
making love to a young woman underneath her window during a hard
frost.

The second siege in this century was occasioned by the troubles of the
League. In 1589 public anxiety had increased to such a pitch that the
royalist Court of Justice was removed to Caen, while the "Ligueurs"
held Rouen for the Duc de Mayenne. In July 1590 bands of armed men a
hundred strong went shouting through the streets, and would have
disarmed the town-guard on the Vieux Marche had they not been stopped
by Valdory, the district captain of the Burgess militia, who has left
a detailed account of the disturbances of that unhappy time in Rouen.
From his book it may be learnt that the "Vieux Palais" of the English
kings was still within the city walls by the river to the south-west,
that the fort had not long been rebuilt near the Abbey of St.
Catherine, that the Faubourgs were again destroyed as they were in
1417 to leave no shelter for the enemy, and that the investing troops
tried to cut off the stream of Robec, so as not merely to deprive
that quarter of its water supply, but to stop the public mills. In
November 1591 Henry of Navarre used some ships to help him in his
attack on Rouen, but the townsfolk, who refused to acknowledge a
Protestant as their king, seem to have paid little attention to the
naval demonstration, and finally chased his vessels out of the harbour
and got possession of most of their cargoes of sheep, oxen, wine and
other booty. The defence was brilliantly conducted throughout, and
Valdory relates that when three hundred musketeers were requested for
a forlorn hope, no less than two thousand men thronged to the
officers' houses demanding weapons to join in the sally. "Rouvel" was
very busy all the time in the town belfry, and rang furiously by night
or day whenever the scouts gave notice that the enemy were likely to
attack. Directly his notes were heard, every citizen rushed to his
appointed place upon the ramparts, and waited without confusion for
the enemy. They were good shots with an arquebus, too, for a captain
was reported to Valdory as having killed one of the enemy's sentinels
"at a distance of three hundred paces at least;" and an equally
successful shot is recorded at five hundred paces.

They were even vain-glorious; for Monsieur de Villars, says the same
authority, desirous of a little diversion outside the walls, rode out
with several gentlemen, and tilted at the ring beyond the ramparts
under a hot fire, until he had had his fill of amusement. When the
enemy could get to close quarters with the common folk they found them
no easier to handle; for as some of Henry of Navarre's soldiers were
foraging in a garden for herbs, the gardeners rushed out and "killed
them with large stones." The town never opened its gates until Henry
of Navarre repudiated his religion and became the King of France.
Rouen, as well as Paris, was evidently "well worth a mass."

One of the most interesting things about this fighting is the presence
of a numerous body of Englishmen who had joined Biron and Henry of
Navarre, under the Earl of Essex. Their Queen had offered a special
prize for the first man who should make a successful shot at the
defenders of the town; but they do not seem to have distinguished
themselves particularly, and at last a hundred of them (chiefly
squires) were killed. A hardy specimen of the race, however, is
mentioned by Valdory, who evidently kept his eyes open for good work,
whether of friend or foe. This Englishman, after receiving four wounds
from a cutlass on the head, "pretended to be dead, allowed himself to
be stripped by our soldiers, and dragged naked to the ramparts." While
he lay there, desirous to make quite sure of their man, the Rouen
sentinels (who must have been mariners from Dieppe) dropped a small
cannon ball on his stomach, "but he did not seem to feel it," and
continued obstinately to remain alive. However, when the Sieur de
Canonville took him prisoner and bound up his wounds, with the object,
apparently, of getting a ransom from his friends, he seems to have
determined that no foreigner should make money out of him, and died.

[Illustration: SIR CHRISTOPHER LYTCOT, HIGH SHERIFF OF BERKSHIRE,
KNIGHTED BY HENRI IV. AT THE SIEGE OF ROUEN IN 1591. FROM THE BRASS
UPON HIS TOMB IN WEST HANNEY CHURCH, NEAR WANTAGE, BERKSHIRE]

In the Church of West Hanney, near Wantage, in Berkshire, is the tomb
of one of these Englishmen who fought for Henry of Navarre before the
walls of Rouen, and it will be an appropriate ending to this chapter
of the dead if I close it with his epitaph:--

     "Beneath this stone lyeth enterred the corps of Sir
     Christopher Lytcot, Knight, twice high sheriff of the county
     of Berk (Husband of two wives both in the sayd countye the
     former Jane Essex widdowe of Thomas Essex of Beckett House
     Eq. the later Catherine Young widdowe of Willm Younge of
     Bastledon Eq) Knighted in the campe before Roane the xvi of
     Novemb 1591 by the hands of the French Kinge Henry the
     Fourth of yt name and King of Navarre. Who after his
     travailes in Germany Italy and Fraunce and the execution of
     justice unto the glory of God and the good of his country
     ended his pilgrimage at Bastledon ye xxv of April 1599."

[Illustration: DES TODES WAPPENSCHILD]

[Illustration: VIEW OF ROUEN, DRAWN BY JACQUES LELIEUR IN 1525]




CHAPTER XIII

_Life_

     "Les gens de Rouen sont honnetes,
     Grans entrepreneurs d'edifices
     De theatres et artifices
     Es entrees des grans seigneurs,
     Roy prelatz et aultres greigneurs."


Though Henri Quatre could not get through the gates of Rouen while the
town remained faithful to the League, and considered him a heretic,
the sturdy citizens were ready enough to accept a king of their own
religion, and when the "Vert Galant" made his first solemn entry into
the place in 1596, they welcomed him as heartily as any of his
predecessors. You will remember that there were Englishmen with him
when he was trying to get into Rouen a few years before, and it was to
Rouen again that the Earl of Shrewsbury and a brilliant suite brought
the Queen of England's greeting to her cousin of France, and sent him
the famous Order of the Garter. The Ambassador was most appropriately
lodged in a very famous house in Rouen, which itself formed a
remarkably complete memorial of the friendship between the same two
thrones earlier in the century. The Maison Bourgtheroulde, at the
corner of the Place de la Pucelle and the Rue du Panneret, contains
indeed one of the best pictorial records that exists in Europe, not
only of the meeting of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, but also of the
decorations that were displayed there.

The house is a good example of the transition between "Gothic"
domestic architecture and that of the Renaissance. Built about the
same time as the Palais de Justice and the Bureau de Finances, it
formed a part of that brilliant series of beautiful dwellings in which
the early years of the sixteenth century at Rouen were so fruitful.
Its exterior facade upon the Place de la Pucelle is so terribly
changed and mutilated now, that unless you will refer to Lelieur's
drawing, reproduced with Chapter IX., no view of its present condition
can suggest to you the original design. Of that high roof with lofty
crested windows, of the side-turret at the angle of the street, of the
beautifully carved door, not a trace remains. The principal entrance
built on the old Marche aux Veaux was placed between two heavy
pillars, which had statues on them, and even before the traveller had
passed inside, these suggested to him the motive which underlies the
whole decoration of the house; for these are the two pillars which
were on each side of the English King's pavilion at the Field of the
Cloth of Gold. Whereof the one, in the words of the English
chronicler, was "intrayled with anticke works, the old god of wine
called Bacchus birlyng the wine, which by the conduits in the erthe
ran to all people plenteously with red, white, and claret wine, over
whose head was written in letters of Romayn in gold, 'Faicte bonne
chere qui vouldra.'" The other pillar was "of ancient Romayne work,
borne with four lions of gold ... and on the summit of the said piller
stood an image of the blynde God, Cupid, with his bowe and arrowes of
love, by hys seeming, to stryke the yonge people to love." But these
have gone, and so little is left of the beauty of the facade that it
really will require some courage to believe what I have just said, and
go through the wooden door in search of better fortune.

[Illustration: THE GALLERY OF THE MAISON BOURGTHEROULDE, SHOWING THE
CARVINGS OF THE FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD, AND ABOVE THEM THE
CARVINGS OF PETRARCH'S "TRIUMPH"]

It was the town house of the family of Le Roux,[65] a name which
already has artistic associations for any lover of the architecture of
Rouen, though I have found no trace of relationship between the
architect of the Cathedral facade, the Bureau de Finances, and the
Palais de Justice, and the lawyers who built and decorated this
"hotel." Indeed I cannot imagine it would be likely that a man of so
much originality and power both in architecture and in sculpture would
have lent himself to the methods of decoration employed here, which,
as you will see, are more appropriate to the accurately historical
than to the freely artistic frame of mind. The man who made the
fortune of the family was the second Guillaume Le Roux, husband of
Jeanne Jubert de Vely, and one of the fifteen lay councillors called
to the Perpetual Echiquier created by Louis XII. in 1499. He bought
the estates of Tilly, Lucy, Sainte Beuve, and Bourgtheroulde, and
built the "corps de logis" in the interior courtyard exactly opposite
the entrance. He also began the wings on the north and west, but left
the great southern gallery to be completed by his son Guillaume, "Abbe
d'Aumale et du Val Richer," who held several benefices under the great
Cardinal d'Amboise, and derived his chief claim to importance from
having been employed by Francois I. in the negotiation of the
celebrated Concordat which that king announced with so much solemnity
on his entry into Rouen in 1517.

[Footnote 65: Called Le Roux d'Esneval in a genealogy of 1689, and
perhaps relations of Louis de Breze's first wife, whom he married
before Diane de Poitiers. See the end of Chapter X.]

These two last facts may largely account for the decoration of the new
wing the Abbe built in Rouen, and the carvings he added to the older
walls; for they are mainly suggested by one of the most magnificent
occurrences in the ostentatious reign of a king whose visit to the
town had no doubt enhanced the importance of the Abbe in the eyes of
his fellow-citizens. At any rate he was not likely to let them forget
that the Francois whom he had helped in the matter of the Concordat
was also the hero of the "Champ du Drap d'Or." Though the house may
have been begun as early as 1486, when the second Guillaume Le Roux
was married, it was not finished for some time afterwards, and we may
put 1531 as the latest date, because the Phoenix of Eleanor of
Austria shows beside the Salamander of her husband. Abbe Guillaume
died in 1532, before which year the carvings must have been completed,
and they evidently cannot have been begun before 1520, the date of the
Field of the Cloth of Gold, which was their chief inspiration, so that
the carvings certainly have the value of almost contemporaneous
workmanship, and most probably the authority, either directly or
indirectly, of an eye-witness. It may be as well to remember that to
that gorgeous ceremony there was no possibility of any mere loafer, or
any wandering unauthorised artist being admitted, because it is on
record that everyone without a special permit was cleared out of the
country in a circle of some four leagues; and it is not too much to
imagine that even if one who had had a hand in the important
negotiations of the Concordat four years before were not in the King's
suite, he was at least in a position to see and profit by the work of
the artists who accompanied Francois,[66] to record his splendours and
to make the best use of all their opportunities.

[Footnote 66: There were, of course, men to do the same kind office
for Henry VIII. In the Hampton Court Gallery, see No. 342, and the
notes in Mr Ernest Law's catalogue.]

Since 1820 the Maison Bourgtheroulde has practically been a unique
example of the style of decoration for which it is famous. Before that
year "La Grande Maison" existed at Grand-Andely, not far off, with
much the same kind of ornament upon its Renaissance walls; but that
has now vanished utterly, with the exception of some of the large
statues which were bought at three francs the square foot by an
Englishman,[67] and taken across the Channel to decorate a
country-house. It will therefore be well worth while to consider in
some detail what the Bourgtheroulde carvings are, and how they
originated; for even if they do not appeal to us so much as the
original and thoroughly local work of other Rouen sculptors, they have
a value of their own that may be considered entirely apart from any
aesthetic criticism of the sources of the carver's workmanship.

[Footnote 67: It would be interesting to know whether anything can be
traced of them now. It is rather extraordinary to consider the number
of artistic objects which were carried off from Rouen in exactly this
way. Apart from the windows of St. Herbland, which I mentioned at the
beginning of Chapter VII., a window from Saint Nicolas le Paincteur
called the "Visitation" has been recognised by a canon of Rouen in
York Minster; windows from Saint Jean sur Renelle were brought to
London, and exhibited, with others, about 1810, by Mr Stevenson of
Norwich; and other paintings on glass from the monastery of the
Chartreux du Petit Quevilly also reached our shores. All of which
would seem to indicate that we saw the value of good work earlier in
this century than the French did. But they have had their revenge
since then; and in the carving of the Maison Bourgtheroulde we have
neglected to preserve one of the best memorials of England that exists
in France.]

[Illustration: THE MEETING OF HENRY VIII. AND FRANCOIS I. ON THE FIELD
OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD, FROM THE CARVINGS OF THE MAISON BOURGTHEROULDE]

To begin, then, at the beginning, the entrance-door on the inside of
the court is decorated with medallion portraits, surrounded by
garlands, of Francois I. (whose long nose betrays him) and the stout,
square face of Henry VIII. Both are bearded. The note of historical
suggestion is struck at once. It continues still more unmistakably on
the series of panels immediately beneath the window-sills of the wing
on the left hand as you enter. On these is represented that useless
pageant of the Field of the Cloth of Gold, by which Francois (who
posed as the protector of art and the Renaissance in France, though he
did singularly little for either) tried to obscure the defeat he had
just sustained by the election of his solemn rival Charles V. as
Emperor. The interview lasted from the 7th to the 24th of June 1520,
and there the chronicler describes how the two Kings "se virent et
parlementerent ensemble apres midi environ les vespres, en la terre
dudit Roy d'Angleterre, en une petite vallee nommee le valdore entre
ladite ville d'Ardres et le chateau de Guynes."

The third or central panel (which is the best carved and almost the
best preserved) contains the actual meeting of the Kings. At the first
(beginning from the left) is shown the Chateau of Guynes; from the
windows and galleries men and women are looking out, and on the ground
before the gate are the small saluting-cannon of the period, almost
invisible from the decay of the stone. A few of the last of the
English suite are just issuing from the gates, some a-foot and some on
horseback; both men and horses wear great feathered plumes, and the
men on foot have a circular headdress of feathers like an aureole. In
the second panel, two horsemen bearing maces ride in front of an
ecclesiastic who carries a processional cross. Behind it is the great
Cardinal Wolsey, in violet- velvet, riding on a mule, with
pages. Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, was with him; and the Order of the
Garter, whose motto could be read upon a horseman's knee some sixty
years ago, was worn by Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. It has
disappeared now, and so much has gone with it, owing to the atmosphere
of Rouen, which has more in common with Oxford than its architectural
surroundings, that the careful plaster-casts preserved in Paris (and
photographed by the late M. Paul Robert in his "Trocadero" Series, iv.
29) will soon be the best memorial of sculptures, as valuable to
England as they are to France, and equally neglected by both. In 1821
M. Delaqueriere issued a careful description of them (published by
Firmin Didot, Paris), and to a second edition (published in 1841) he
added a detailed drawing of the whole gallery by Polycles Langlois,
and five larger drawings of each of the panels originally done, in
1823, for Nodier's well-known "Voyages Pittoresques." It is the
central panel from these that I reproduce here, and Miss James's
drawing will show you the relative position of the procession and of
the frieze of the Triumph above it on the left wing of the house. In
1841, plaster-casts could be bought from M. Rossi in Rouen. But these
exist no longer, and, by comparing the drawing made in 1823 with the
carvings themselves, you will be able to appreciate how rapidly the
stone decays. It will still be possible, however (in 1899 at least),
to discover on the mouldering surface of the wall at least a trace of
nearly everything that was originally there; and your appreciation of
the faithfulness of the sculptor to recorded fact will be still
further increased if you can compare his work with the picture in
Hampton Court, with the English contemporary versions from which I
have occasionally quoted, and with such French accounts as that of du
Bellay or Fleurange.

The third and central panel is the culmination of the splendours of
the whole. Each monarch, with his hat in his right hand, bows low in
salutation. You will notice that Francois wears his beard, but Henry
is clean shaved like the majority of those present. This is another
detail that is corroborated elsewhere, for the story is well known how
Francois swore he would not shave till he had seen the English King;
how Henry made a similar oath out of politeness, and broke it in
impatience; how the French ambassadors eagerly enquired whether this
clean chin was to be construed as "an unfriendly act," and were told
that Henry's affection resided not in his beard, but in his heart. The
English King, says the chronicler, on that great occasion "showed
himself some deal forward in beauty and personage, the most goodliest
Prince that ever reigned over the realm of England: his Grace was
apparelled in a garment of cloth of silver of damask, ribbed with
cloth of gold, so thick as might be; the garment was large, and
pleated very thick. The horse which his Grace rode on was trapped in a
marvellous vesture of a new-devised fashion; the trapper was of fine
bullion, curiously wrought, pounced and set with antique work of
Romayne figures." This carving shows that his harness was embroidered
in alternate squares of leopards and roses. Close to him is the
Marquis of Dorset, who bore the sword of State, with the Earls of
Essex and Northumberland and others, besides the pikemen and guards,
and the 400 mounted archers, who were peculiar to the English retinue.

Francois wears embroidered cloth of gold, and bears a cape of heavier
gold thread, sewn with gems. His chest and sleeves are covered with
diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and pearls. His horse has the fleurs de
lys embroidered on saddle and harness. Before him march the Swiss
guard under Fleurange, who has left an account of the whole matter;
close by are Mountjoy and the other heralds, with the High Admiral and
the great nobles. On the back of the last rider is carved the royal
badge, that salamander which was seen miraculously to appear in effigy
among the clouds while the Cardinal was celebrating High Mass. The
English chronicler describes the scene carved upon this panel as
follows:--"Then blew the trumpets, sackbutts, clarions, and all other
minstrelsy on both sides, and the King descended down towards the
bottom of the valley of Ardres in sight of the nations, and on
horseback met and embraced the two Kings each other; then the two
Kings alighted, and after embraced with benign and courteous manner
each other, with sweet and goodly words of greeting; and after few
words these two noble Kings went together into the tent of cloth of
gold that was there set on the ground for such purpose, thus
arm-in-arm went the French King Francis the First of France, and Henry
the Eighth King of England and France, together passing with
communication."

On the fourth panel, behind four mace-bearers, rides an ecclesiastic
bearing what was once a double cross: the dove that flew above his
head has entirely disappeared. Then comes Cardinal de Boissey, the
Papal Legate, and among the other Cardinals (who may be recognised by
their hatstrings falling on their chests) are those of Bourbon,
Albret, and Lorraine. Much of this has been destroyed, but there is
enough left to realise what Du Bellay says about the ruinous
extravagance of the dresses:--"Many of the Frenchmen," he writes,
"carried the price of woodland, watermill, and pasture on their
backs." Yet the taste of the Englishmen, who had not spent so much,
was acknowledged to have produced as splendid an effect as the
gorgeous outlay of the French; as Fleurange particularly records of
the English pavilion made of wood, and drapery and glass, "elle etait
trop plus belle que celle des Francais, et de peu de coutance." In one
point, however, the ladies of Paris asserted a superiority they have
retained almost ever since; the Englishwomen confessed themselves
beaten; but when they followed the fashion of their fair rivals, it
was not much better; for, says the truthful historian, "what they lost
in modesty they did not make up in grace."

Most unfortunately, on the fifth and last panel, though the stair-rail
has preserved some of its details better than any of the rest, the
superiority of these French ladies cannot be sufficiently studied,
though several of their heads may be seen watching the procession from
the windows and balconies of Ardres. The plumed hats and horses of the
escort are particularly clear here, and they are more numerous than in
the famous "Triumph of Maximilian" or in the "Entry of Charles V. into
Bologna." The figure of the courtier just mounting his horse is the
one I like best of all except the dignified personage who bears the
cross before the French ecclesiastics.

If the English ambassador in 1596 was easily able to recognise the
subject of these carvings, no less quickly would the Cardinal de
Florence, the Papal Legate who came to Rouen in the same year, and was
also lodged in this house, remember the originals from which were
taken the carvings on the frieze above the windows on this wall. For
though later generations have misunderstood them, just as they
imagined the lower carvings to be the Council of Trent, it is quite
clear from some words first discovered on the stone in 1875, that the
frieze was inspired by the "Triumphs" of Petrarch. These words are as
follows; and I have added their proper continuation and beginning in
italics:--

     "_Amor vincit mundum
     Pudicitia vincit amorem
     Mors vincit pudicitiam_
     Fama vincit mortem
     Tempus vincit _famam_
     _Divinitas seu Eternitas omnia vincit_."

M. Palustre has pointed out that an edition of these "Triumphs" was
published in Venice in 1545 by Giolito, with woodcuts; and though this
is rather too late for the carvings (unless, as was the case with
Holbein's "Todtentanz," we may imagine the cuts were known long before
the book) it is a matter of common knowledge that the subject was a
favourite one not only for such illustrations but especially for
tapestry; as Agrippa d'Aubigne records of contemporary tapestries at
Lyons: "Elles representent quatre triomphes, chacun de trois
partis...." And it was also by just such chariots, cars, and
elephants, or other animals, that virtues and vices were represented
in the great processions of the kings and queens at Rouen and
elsewhere, processions which of course were often taken as the subject
for tapestries commemorating their magnificence. In Petrarch's verses
you may read:--

     "Quattro destrier via piu che neve bianchi
     Sopr' un carro di foco un garzon crudo
     Con arco in mano, e con saette a' fianchi....
     ... Vidi un vittorioso e sommo duce
     Pur com' un di color, che 'n Campidoglio
     Trionphal carro a gran gloria conduce...."

On the third of these upper panels (just above the meeting of the two
kings), is a great car drawn by oxen, whose wheels are crushing
prostrate bodies in the road beneath them. The fourth carving shows a
stage drawn by two elephants. The fleshless head of Death is in the
front, with a serpent coiling round his leg, and on the car is the
figure of a woman blowing a trumpet, with a banner. This is evidently
the fourth line of the verse just quoted, "_Fama vincit mortem_." On
the fifth car, drawn by four beasts, is a great dais, and personages
beneath it. Before it walks a figure with a turban, beside it another
figure crowned with branches and carrying a tree. Emblems of the
growth of nature dispersed in the design may perhaps suggest the
passage of the seasons and the lapse of time, for "_Tempus vincit
famam_." The last line, "_Divinitas omnia vincit_," is very well
illustrated, over the door. Drawn by a lion, an eagle, an ox and an
angel, to symbolise the four evangelists, a great car supports the
three Persons of the Trinity beneath a dais; and under the wheels are
crushed various uncouth figures representing heresies. Cardinals,
popes, and bishops accompany the procession.

Though I have only mentioned, so far, two of those great royal entries
into Rouen, for which the citizens were especially famous, the details
given in Chapter XI. will alone suggest that the scenes taken from
Petrarch's verses would be very appropriate to a house in this
particular town. The still more gorgeous festivities arranged for
Henri II. and Catherine de Medicis, which I shall mention later on in
this chapter, are even more like the triumphal cars and set pageants
here represented, which have lasted on in England in the somewhat
debased form of our own Lord Mayor's show, and were perhaps themselves
the symbolical descendants of the Triumphs of the ancient Romans.

This gallery of the Cloth of Gold and the Triumphs, is decorated in
every other part with beautifully designed arabesques, and is joined
to the main facade by an exquisite turret, which rises at the corner
near the short flight of steps, and breaks up the straight line of the
walls in a way that the early Renaissance builders were extremely fond
of doing, before the transition period had advanced so far as to make
them forget the principles of the rising line of "Gothic" and adhere
solely to the horizontal line of the Italian. But this turret is even
more remarkable for the carvings it bears than for the delicate taste
which dictated its position in the whole design. Upon the two sides
visible to the spectator from the courtyard it is covered with
representations of the pastoral scenes that might be seen any summer
in the sixteenth century on the hills near Rouen. To see them all upon
these walls you will need a good field-glass, but they deserve the
closest inspection that is possible.

Standing by the door of the gallery, the first relief above the window
in the turret shows a scene by the banks of Seine, in which men are
swimming about and playing various tricks on each other in the
water. On shore some labourers are cutting grass with long scythes
which have only one handle rather low down in their long straight
stem, and women are piling up what has been cut for hay. In the
distance the same scene is continued, a man stops to drink out of his
flask, a hawk is swooping down upon a heron, and trees and towered
houses fill up the further space. Above it, and beneath the next
window higher up the tower, the country grows more mountainous, and
sheep are pasturing among the fields. In front a gallant shepherd ties
his mistress's garter, while she reproves his rustic forwardness.
Behind them a somewhat similar declaration of affection is going on. A
third shepherd quenches his thirst from a round flask. A traveller on
horseback, with a bundle tied behind him, rides up the winding road,
near which stands a rude shepherd's hut on wheels, which is still used
in many an upland pasture to this day. On the other side of the road
is a windmill. Scattered houses rise above the hills, and among the
clouds is seen a flight of birds. Beneath is written the appropriate
legend, "Berger a Bergere pr[=o]ptem[=e]t se ingere." Beneath the
small window at the top of the tower on the same side, the game called
"Mainchaude" is in full progress. A shepherdess blindfolds with her
hand the shepherd whose head is resting in her lap, and his comrades
stand ready to take advantage of his helpless position. Various modest
sheep pretend they are not looking, another man calls to his friend in
the distance, and a fifth is pensively playing a hautbois in the usual
miraculous countryside with artistically disposed tufts of clouds
above it. The motto reads:--

     "Passe temps legers nous valent argent
     Silz ne sont dargent ils sont de bergers."

[Illustration: NOVS SOMES DES FINS: ASPIR[=A]S A FINS

CARVING FROM THE TURRET OF THE MAISON BOURGTHEROULDE]

Turning to the other side of the tower, the carving beneath the
highest window represents a jovial picnic under the same idyllic
conditions. Out of a big bowl placed on a tree-stump, a shepherdess
helps her lover with a spoon, another man makes his dog beg for a
morsel of the food; music is provided behind by a self-sacrificing
person with the bagpipes, and a fourth shepherd stands in the distance
with some sheep, like a martyr to his duty. The window beneath this is
decorated with a sheep-shearing scene, which I have reproduced from
the outline drawing by E.H. Langlois, published by Delaqueriere in his
"Description Historique des Maisons de Rouen" (Paris: Firmin Didot.
1821). The presiding shepherdess carries on her work with the usual
embarrassing distractions. By her side a musician plays his hautbois
to a dancing dog. Just behind them a spirited chase after a marauding
wolf is in full cry; more houses, clouds, and birds complete the
picture. The motto is "Nous somes des fins: aspirans a fins." The last
scene represents men fishing, some with nets out of a boat, others on
land with various uncouth patterns of fishing-rod; everyone appears to
be making a fine catch, but the extraordinary occurrence on the bank
will entirely divert your attention from the fish; for a knight, who
had evidently ridden down to see the sport, has been snatched out of
his saddle by a burly flying griffin, and his servant looks
frantically after his disappearing body in the clouds. Untroubled by
these strange events, a young woman walks calmly towards the castle, a
little further on, carrying a basket of eggs and butter on her head,
and above her some new kind of osprey flies away with a protesting
pike. [See page 361.]

As carvings, these charmingly naive representations of country life
break absolutely every rule that is supposed to govern the art of
sculpture. Their relief is very slight indeed, they have no definite
limits, for they wander vaguely round the windows, with trees and
running water and clouds and birds and houses all on the same plane,
and all with equal "values." I have not the slightest doubt that just
as the Field of the Cloth of Gold was copied from a historical
tapestry of the event, just as the Triumphs of Petrarch were copied
from tapestries that might well have decorated the town of Ardres on
the occasion of the royal meeting, so these window decorations, which
betray their origin even more than the carvings on the other wing,
were taken direct from tapestries which may have been at Ardres in
June 1520, and certainly might have been seen in any great chateau of
the period. Their very position on these walls is very like what
tapestries were so frequently used for in the lavish mural decoration
of the time. Every house hung out its best embroideries and tapestries
and gaily  cloths; and the way in which these windows break
into the background of each design represents the very probable result
of draping a long piece of tapestry round the window of a house. The
Chateau of Blois is known to have contained just such "bergeries" in
the rooms of Anne of Brittany; at another chateau in Touraine, the
Chaumont of Georges d'Amboise (the friend of the builder of this house
in Rouen), may be still seen needlework, in pink and old rose, of
country scenes, in the rooms used by Catherine de Medicis. Finally, in
the inventory of the tapestries of Philip the Bold of Burgundy, drawn
up soon after his death, you may read such entries as the following:--

     "Ung autre petiz tapiz de bergerie, sur champ vert, seme de
     bergiers et de bergieres ... ung autre vielz tapiz de haulte
     lice ouvre de jeunes hommes et femmes jouans de plusieurs
     jeux ... arbres, herbaiges, ciel fait a faucons."

This might really represent the original needlework from which Abbe
Leroux chose the subjects for his carving, and that the origin was
some tapestry of this fashionable kind I see no reason to doubt,
especially in the town which preserves in the Church of St. Vincent
some of the finest sixteenth-century tapestries in France.

[Illustration: INNER FACADE OF THE MAISON BOURGTHEROULDE.]

The flat _textile_ kind of carving all over the house, which rises to
excellence of workmanship in relief only in the meeting of the two
kings, lends itself irresistibly to the same conclusion. And for this
reason I have not that extravagant admiration of it, viewed purely as
work of art, which may be better reserved for conceptions that are
more original in the mind of the sculptor, and of more local interest
in the town for which the work was done. As an example of the passion
for processions and decoration, however, few better could have been
chosen in Rouen than this Maison Bourgtheroulde, and I have therefore
dilated on it at some length, to emphasise the spirit of life and
colour that is the main subject of this chapter. But a far more
important reason for these details is the fact that the Field of the
Cloth of Gold carved on this gallery, is of the greatest value and
interest to all Englishmen as one of the few representations of that
famous pageant which exist either in England or out of it.

The only place near London where it can be conveniently studied is in
the gallery of Hampton Court Palace. In that collection you may see,
in No. 337, Henry's embarkation from Dover on the 31st of May in the
_Great Harry_ or _Henri Grace de Dieu_, as she had been "hallowed" in
1514. And in No. 342 is a large painting 5-1/2 feet high by 13 feet, 3
inches long, of this meeting of the kings between Guinea and Ardres,
which confirms in a very remarkable way many of the details in the
Maison Bourgtheroulde. It is not by Holbein, though he is known to
have done similar work that has not survived, but may have been
painted either by John Browne or Vincent Volpe or John Cruste, all of
whose names are mentioned in connection with court pageants of the
reign. A small outline of this picture is very possibly connected
with our earliest notions of English history, for it is prefixed to
Mr Murray's edition of Mrs Markham's "England." Mr Ernest Law's
catalogue of the Hampton Court pictures gives further details in
connection with it, and for a longer description refers his readers to
the third volume of the State papers of Henry VIII., and to
"Archaeologia," iii. 185-230.[68]

[Footnote 68: In November 1774 the Society of Antiquaries published a
large engraving of this picture (which is still procurable) by James
Basine, after a drawing by E. Edwards from the original then in the
Royal Apartments of Windsor Castle. In this you may see the Fountains
of Bacchus and Cupid running wine, in front of the English Pavilion,
which is full of windows. The Salamander of Francis floats in the air
above. In 1781 the same engraver copied the companion picture of the
embarkation of Henry VIII. from Dover in the "Great Harry," after a
drawing by S.H. Grimm.]

I cannot leave this subject without expressing the earnest hope not
only that our own National Portrait Gallery may soon be able to let
the public see some good reproduction of a scene that is of the
greatest historical interest, but that efforts may be made to secure
the better preservation of the original carvings in Rouen. The
connection between that city and England is of long standing. It was
the capital of those Norman dukes who conquered us at Hastings and
flooded us with their art, their learning, and their civilisation. It
was the most cherished foreign possession of our King Henry the Fifth,
who died too soon to wear the crown in Paris. It has been the especial
pilgrimage of our best historians and archaeologists and artists almost
from that time until the present day. The "Monuments Historiques" in
which it is so rich are being worthily cared for by an enlightened
government, and I must believe that the sympathy and kindness extended
by every authority in Rouen towards a visitor who honestly confessed
his interest and carefully explored many of its inexhaustible
treasures, would be more than doubled if that interest were expressed
by some representative body like our Society of Antiquaries. That
society would once more deserve well of its country, in the interests
of both history and art, if it would come forward with some suggestion
either to the Ministre des Beaux Arts, or to the local authorities.
The Maison Bourgtheroulde is now in the safe hands of the Comptoir
d'Escompte de Rouen. Every English traveller goes there to change his
notes; and every Englishman must see with regret that the English
portion of these valuable carvings is the one that is most damaged.
This was inevitable from their position; but further injury can at
once be prevented by shielding them with glass. If these modest pages
which bring the subject before the notice of a somewhat wider, and
perhaps a more influential public, succeed in suggesting some movement
that will, I am confident, be welcomed in the best spirit by Frenchmen
on the spot, I shall feel that the "Story of Rouen" has not been told
in vain.

There is another house belonging to a famous citizen in Rouen, which
is very different, but perhaps even more characteristic of the place;
and with our walk towards it we may resume that discovery of the life
of the town which I am just now concerned that you should realise. To
reach the Maison Caradas you have a pleasant choice of paths. As you
stand outside the Maison Bourgtheroulde and look east towards the
Cathedral towers, the first street that goes south towards the river
is the Rue Herbiere, on your right out of the Place de la Pucelle, and
that will bring you out by the Douane on the Quais. An even better way
is to take the Rue de la Vicomte, quite parallel to this, but further
east, which passes the western gate of St. Vincent, and is full of
interesting old houses from the Rue de la Grosse Horloge to the
river. As you pass down it now there are some wonderful old houses on
your right, and a fine courtyard at No. 25. Still a third choice is
the Rue Harenguerie, which takes the same direction from the south
door of St. Vincent, and by this I usually passed myself, for the sake
of weaving stories in my mind about No. 21, a house that Balzac would
have delighted to describe, with an open staircase in the corner of
its old courtyard.

The names of streets have often a fascination in themselves, and this
one has probably been called the same ever since the herring market
was set upon the quays in 1408. I wish I had had space to tell you
more of these old names, which nearly all preserve a little local
history, when they have not been stupidly and unnecessarily changed.
But you may take this as a type of what many another will suggest, and
in the laborious pages of the excellent M. Periaux you may discover
much more for yourself. The sale of herrings, which was always a large
and an increasing business on the northern coasts, was organised in
1348, and by 1399 a barrel of "harengs caques" was sold for 110 sols.
"Brusler tout vifz comme harans soretz," says Rabelais, of the poor
regents of Toulouse University; and your salt herring from Guernsey,
Scotland, and Biscay was in much request at the old market on the quay
between the Porte St. Vincent and the Porte du Crucifix, where on
large tables and slabs of stone the fishwives hired places from the
Sergents de la Vicomte d'Eau to sell their eels from the Marne,
congers from La Rochelle, trout from Andelys, fresh herrings from Le
Havre. You may see the scene still in a stained-glass window of the
Cathedral, and you may well imagine the state of mind of the old
poet:--

     "Nul n'orra toute la dyablerie
     Ny le caquet de la Pessonnerie."

Like everything else, it was under holy patronage, and fishwives
prayed at the shrine of St. Julien l'Hospitalier, the saint whose
story Flaubert, another child of Rouen, has so wonderfully told. The
wags of the seventeenth century called these ladies "non angeliques
mais harangeriques"; but on fast-days every burgess and innkeeper and
monk was glad enough to go to them; for was there not even an "Abbaye
aux Harengs" no further off than Mantes, and what better present could
the Archbishop think of sending to his friend the Archdeacon than 2000
salted herrings in a specially holy barrel?

All the sound of the chaffering and howling of prices has gone into
silence long ago in the old Rue Harenguerie of to-day, and you will be
glad to turn into more lively quarters by taking the corner to your
left, eastwards, down the Rue des Charettes. It is lighted up every
now and then by a break in the houses and a glimpse of the river to
your right, though it is more of masts and sails than water you will
see. As you walk along, the name of a street that turns northwards on
your left hand should be familiar if you have followed me thus far;
for it is called Jacques Lelieur, as is only right and proper, to
commemorate the name and fame of one who did a great deal of good in
the Rouen of his own day, and has made it much more interesting to
ours. His house is No. 18 in the Rue Savonnerie, which continues the
Rue des Charettes in the same direction, and you will know it by the
tablet on the wall. It has two fine gables with excellent woodwork
upon the street-facade; though showing slight traces here and there of
restoration, it was well worth keeping in good order as the house of
an artistic burgess of the sixteenth century who lived up to his
position in the town.

To Jacques Lelieur we owe it that I am able to show you part of the
most complete representation of a town in 1525 which is known to
exist. For he drew the course of the various fountains and
water-conduits in Rouen, not only in plan, but adding the elevation of
the various houses, as may be seen on map F in Chapter IX., so that
you may actually walk down every street and see what he saw three
hundred and seventy years ago. All that part which was lucky enough to
be comprised in his plan of the waterworks is accurately preserved in
his naif and faithful drawings, in which the scaffoldings are put in
as carefully as the finished buildings. The rows of gables that occur
so often are not quite planed away into rectilinear dulness yet, as
you may see along the Rue des Faux, or even Eau de Robec here and
there. But the greater part of what he drew is only a melancholy
memory, and the background of the old life of Rouen can only be
recalled from his drawing now to frame some such sketch as the present
one of the inhabitants who have vanished with it. The view of the town
at the end of this chapter contains a little microscopic vignette in
the centre showing the artist presenting his famous Livre des
Fontaines to the civic dignitaries. It is on four long bands of
parchment, of which the Hotel de Ville carefully preserves one, and
the fourth is in the City Library. The drawings are done in black ink,
with the houses  a pale yellow, the roofs shown with red tiles
or bluish slates, the grass touched with yellowish-green. Besides
being a secretary and notary of the Royal Courts, Lelieur held office
in the town as councillor, sheriff, and finally President of the
General Assembly in the absence of the bailli and lieutenant in 1542.
He was crowned for his poem in the famous poetic tourney of the Puy
des Palinods de Rouen, and he owned two or three fine estates outside
the town.

The object of our little pilgrimage is nearly reached now, and after
you have admired the carvings on the front of No. 41, stop at the
quaint dwelling marked 29. This is the Maison Caradas, and its
position at a corner with the open space of the river beyond it
enables you to see it well all round. The <DW72> of the ground upwards,
which I noticed in earlier chapters, is especially pronounced here,
and shows how much embankment had to be done before the town was
really rescued from the swamps and mud-flats of the Seine. The fashion
of building each upper storey to overlap the one beneath is very
evident here, and the effects I suggested in the last chapter may be
vividly realised; as Regnier[69] puts it with his usual frankness:--

     "Et du haut des maisons tomboit un tel degout
     Que les chiens alteres pouvoient boire debout."

[Footnote 69: Regnier had come to Rouen to be treated by Lesonneur, a
famous local specialist; but he unfortunately celebrated his recovery
with a little too much Vin d'Espagne, and died in the Rue de la Prison
in 1613.]

This is one of the houses drawn in Lelieur's book at the corner of the
Rue Tuile, with the Fontaine Lisieux near it, that is now merely a
grotesque ruin of its former splendours. So much uncertainty is
exhibited by the best local authorities as to the real owner of the
Maison Caradas that I shall not pretend to solve the problem here. It
is clear, however, that the word is a surname, or one of the by-names
so common in the first years of the sixteenth century when this was
built; and it is possible that it preserves one more suggestion of the
connection between Rouen and Spain, and means "amiable," as in the
phrase, "Bien o mal carado." For the root of the word is evidently in
the Greek [Greek: charis], and is found in the Gaelic "cara" (the
friend or ally), and the Breton "Caradoc," who was the Caractacus of
Roman days.

[Illustration: THE MAISON CARADAS IN THE RUE SAVONNERIE]

If you will follow me a little further in the same direction, as the
Rue de la Savonnerie becomes the Rue des Tapissiers, you will find the
corner of the aged Rue du Hallage on your left marked by an ancient
parrot in a decrepit cage. He has been living there for so long that
he is certain to be there to blink at any new arrival in the next half
century, and as you pass him you will remember the parrot who was
discovered in Central America, full of years and knowledge, in a
village where not a single inhabitant understood what the bird said.
He had been found among the ruined houses of a people who had vanished
utterly, and he had become the sole repository of syllables that have
been never heard elsewhere. If anyone could really understand him, I
have often fancied that this faded bag of feathers at the corner of
the Rue du Hallage could use the most astonishing language about the
things that he has seen, for he could hardly be in a better place in
Rouen than this strange street that crawls beneath shadowed archways
to the Marche aux Balais and the Rue de l'Epicerie. It takes its name
from the Maison du Haulage, where the merchants paid town dues upon
their goods, and a few steps further in the Rue des Tapissiers will
bring you to the Halles themselves, to which you enter through a huge
black archway that gapes upon the Place de la Basse Vieille Tour. Upon
the left are some of those old "avant soliers" which you have seen in
Jacques Lelieur's drawing of the Place du Vieux Marche, the covered
causeways formed by projecting walls propped up by heavy timbers.
There is much hideously vulgar modern decoration to spoil the full
effect, but the main outlines of the old building are all there, and
you may imagine what it looked like for yourself.

On each side, as you enter the dark tunnel, great warehouses stretch
out to right and left, still on the same spot where Charles V. gave
Rouen the Halle aux Drapiers in 1367. Since then they have been
constantly filled and constantly rebuilt. Beneath your feet are
immense vaults that have been used since 1857 for storing oil and
goods under warrant, and in the South Hall are piled the famous
"Rouenneries" and  cottons, and those "draperies" which have
been famous almost since Edward the Confessor allowed the Rouen
merchants to use his Port of Dungeness, and the town was granted the
monopoly of the Irish trade, with the exception of one ship a year
from Cherbourg.

When Warwick the Kingmaker made a memorable visit to Rouen in 1467 as
an ambassador, King Louis XI. ordered the town to furnish the English
with all they wanted at his expense, with the result that "tous les
gens de l'ambassade s'en retournerent chez eux, vetus de damas et de
velours, et de ces draps fins et precieux qui asseurent au commerce de
Rouen la superiorite sur toutes les villes du royaume." That
"superiority" lasted well through the sixteenth century, and when
Huguenots fled from Rouen to Westminster and Rye and Winchester, they
were nearly all cloth-makers and silk-weavers. Such names as the Rue
aux Anglais, the Rue aux Espagnols and others preserve the memory of
commercial ventures that are even more picturesquely suggested by the
ships carved here and there upon old house-fronts in the town. Nor did
Rouen commerce stop at England, Spain, Portugal, Ireland, Flanders, or
other countries of the old world. Her citizens, as we have seen, had
known long ago a "King of the Canaries," and it was no doubt at the
suggestion of either Spanish or Portuguese companions that Rouen ships
sailed on towards the Guinea Coast, to the Cape Verde Islands, and
"the Indies," even across the Atlantic to Brazil, whence they brought
back the rare wood called by Jean de Lery "araboutan."[70]

[Footnote 70: The native name for this staple of trade was
"ibirapitanga," and with it they shipped across monkeys and parroquets
for the ladies of the French Court. That there was a considerable
rivalry with Portugal in these matters may be gathered from the remark
in Marino Cavalli (Venetian Ambassador to the Court of France) that a
Portuguese vessel was burnt off Brazil in 1546. But the first document
on Brazil ever published in France was the account of the savages
exhibited before Henri II. in 1550. It is probably written by Maurice
Seve and Claude de Tillemont and was published in 1551. Before that
year it will be remembered that the only works about America known
were the book of Fernandez in Spanish, Ramusio's account in Italian,
and the letters of Cortes in German. After it, Thevet's "France
Antarticque" appeared in 1558, and Nicolas Barre's letters in 1557. So
that the book of the entry of Henri II. has the importance of filling
a gap in "American Literature."]

Though various "savages" were seen there earlier, the most famous
occasion of the appearance of real Brazilians in the streets of Rouen
was the particularly magnificent reception given by the citizens to
Henri II. and Catherine de Medicis in October 1550. They were
accompanied by Marie de Lorraine, daughter of the Duc de Guise and
Queen-Dowager of Scotland, who met at Rouen her little daughter Marie
Stuart then eight years old and receiving a perilous education at the
French Court which she was soon to rule during the short reign of
Francois II. Marguerite de France, daughter of Francois I. was there
too, and Diane de Poitiers, just over fifty years of age, who
maintained over the King the same influence she had exercised over the
Dauphin when she first came to Court from Normandy. It is interesting
to note that her nephew Louis d'Auzebosc was pardoned by the Fierte
St. Romain seven years afterwards.

Besides the "theatres" and "Mysteres," which you will remember were
presented to Francois I., the citizens determined that in case
mythology and symbolism had lost their pristine charms, an absolutely
novel entertainment should be given to the King on this occasion. So
on the fields between the Couvent des Emmurees and the left bank of
the Seine a great sham fight was arranged between a number of Norman
sailors and fifty "Brazilian savages" of the newly discovered tribe of
Tupinambas, "naivement depinct au naturel," which may be understood as
"clad only in their own skins and a few stripes of paint." They must
have felt the climate of Rouen in October slightly raw, but no doubt
the sham fight kept them warm, and everything seems to have gone off
very pleasantly. The ladies were especially interested in these
unknown creatures, and the King devotedly displayed the triple
crescent of his lady Diana throughout the entire performance. There
was much singing of anthems and decoration of the streets, but the
Indians were evidently the "piece de resistance."[71]

[Footnote 71: In that year was carved for No. 17 Rue Malpalu the
"enseigne" of the Brazilian savages, which has only disappeared in the
last few years. It is difficult to say that any ecclesiastical
carvings are meant for Indians, for I have seen figures with plumes
and tattooing and tomahawks in a French church of the thirteenth
century which were merely meant for peculiarly gruesome devils; but
the feathered dresses and bow and arrows of the figures in the Church
of St. Jacques at Dieppe are of an age that may very well agree with
this appearance of Brazilians as public characters in France.

In 1565 Godefroy's "Ceremonial de France" records that they were again
shown to Charles IX. at Troyes, and Montaigne's questions to them in
1563 will be remembered. They replied that what astonished them most
was (Essais I. xxx.) to see so many strong men armed and bearded
(meaning the Swiss guard probably) obeying a puny little person like
the King. They were also fairly puzzled at seeing men gorged with
plenty and living in ostentation on one side of the road, and
starveling ruffians begging their bread in the gutter on the other
without attempting to take the rich men by the throat, or even burn
their houses. On which the essayist's comment is "Tout cela ne va pas
trop mal; mais quoy! ils ne portent point de hault de chausses," a
truly Rabelaisian reason for their want of intellect!]

Besides the music in the town, of which I reproduce an example at the
end of this chapter, an entertainment was provided for the King and
Queen and all the ladies in the great Palais de Justice, with which
those rogues, the gay members of the "Basoche," must have been
heartily in sympathy. For Brusquet, the Court jester, went into the
Advocate's Box, and before the Queen upon the seat of justice, with
all her ladies round her, he pleaded several important causes both for
the prosecution and for the defence, "et faisait rage d'alleguer loix,
chapitres, et decisions, et luy croissoit le latin en la bouche comme
le cresson a la guelle d'un four," the whole being a satire on the
well-known Norman passion for a lawsuit, which was appreciated as
much by the good people of Rouen as by their royal visitors.

But to finish this chapter with a glimpse of the people themselves, I
must take you back to that old Rue du Hallage, in which our memories
of Rouen's trading voyages suggested the festivities of this royal
entry. And I can imagine few greater contrasts than that from the
spacious courtyard of the Palais de Justice to the view of the queer
twisting streets and common habitations that you will get by standing
in the Place de la Calende and looking down the Rue de l'Epicerie
towards the river. As you wander down it you must look at No. 14, an
excellent type of early sixteenth-century building, with its old
figured tiles and high gable, and the division between the ground
floor and the next storey strongly marked by carvings and brackets.
You are now not only in a typical part of the old city, but on ground
that has borne the name since the fourteenth century, and earned it
(as did the Rue Harenguerie) from the kind of commerce carried on
there. You have already passed the Rue des Fourchettes on your right,
and a little further on is a still more fascinating name, the Marche
aux Balais, where brooms were sold in 1644, after their modest
commerce had been forbidden near St. Martin sur Renelle. On one of the
small houses round it is the date 1602, and near it the carving of a
salamander, which evidently gave its name to the Rue de la Salamandre,
which had originally been known as "Mauconseil" ever since 1280, a
name that is almost as appropriate to its darkness now as "Salamandre"
must have been suggestive of its condition in the sixteenth century.
It needs very little imagination to conceive amid these surroundings
just such a "Cour de Miracle" in Rouen as Victor Hugo described in
Paris. And, indeed, it is but quite lately that a conglomeration of
tottering and leprous houses, without owners, and never entered by the
police, was torn down. The Rue Coupe-Gorge, the Rue de l'Aumone,
especially the horrible Clos St. Marc, have not long been swept away.
Every cellar and every attic seemed to communicate by tortuous and
filthy passages with the next. No visitor was admitted who had not the
hallmark of crime visibly upon him, or was not a member of that
loathsome confraternity of thieves and beggars who lived by their
raids upon society at large.

[Illustration: RUE DE L'EPICERIE WITH PORTAIL DE LA CALENDE IN THE
DISTANCE]

Straight out of the Marche aux Balais the Rue du Hallage burrows under
the ancient houses towards the river, hemmed in by walls on all sides,
that catch up every breath of air that moves, and shut out nearly all
the light. The backs of its crowded dwellings you can see from the
great square into which the Rue de l'Epicerie directly leads, the
Place de la Haute Vieille Tour, where you must go forthwith and see
the beautiful little building that was set up for the great ceremony
of the Fierte St. Romain.

This was the ceremony that gave their one great day in all the year to
the drowsy archways of the Rue du Hallage; for the Marche aux Balais
and the Rue Salamandre and the Rue de l'Epicerie itself, were all
crowded to suffocation. Every Ascension-tide, from the reign of the
Norman dukes until the Revolution, not these streets only, but every
window in the houses, and the very roofs above, were crammed with
people waiting for the great annual procession in which the prisoner
was set free. I have quoted many extracts from the records kept by the
Chapterhouse of these occasions, because the list has provided typical
instances of men and manners in Rouen from the thirteenth century
onwards. And I can close my tale of the most brilliant portion of
Rouen's history in no better way than by suggesting to you something
of the interest and the excitement created by a processional ceremony,
which may itself be taken as typical of the people's life.

From the earliest hour at the breaking of the dawn of Ascension Day,
the whole of Rouen was thinking and talking of nothing else except the
prisoner, and in every quarter of the city the interest in him took a
different form. All the countryside of Vexin and of Caux had trooped
into the town with women and children in their Sunday best. From the
attic windows of the Rue de l'Epicerie girls in flapping white
head-dresses leant across the road and screamed their good fortune to
the neighbours opposite; for these were some of the best places to see
the ceremony, and in 1504 the crowd who scrambled for them was so
great that the roofs fell in. The open square itself was gradually
filling up; the gay Cauchoises who were chambermaids at the Auberge de
la Herche were doing a roaring trade; soldiers of the Cinquantaine in
green velvet doublets were taking their morning draught at the Trois
Coulombs, before each man shouldered his arquebus and went off to keep
his guard; even the Crieurs des Trepasses had come out into the light,
their strange black cloaks all sewn with silver skulls. At last eight
o'clock struck, and there was a general movement towards the Parvis,
for the luckiest in the front rows of the crowd could look through the
Chapterhouse door and actually see the preliminary meeting of the
canons about the choice of their prisoner. But the door was soon shut,
and at last the crowd could only hear the solemn notes of the "Veni
Creator" sounding from within, as the good ecclesiastics prayed for
divine direction in their solemn office. At last a name was written
down, sealed up and given to the Chaplain de la Confrerie de St.
Romain, who passed solemnly out with the fatal missive in his hand,
and the canons at once proceeded to fill up the interval of waiting
with a huge dinner.

Followed by a number of the citizens the chaplain took his way towards
the Palais de Justice. There, too, ever since eight o'clock everyone
had been extremely busy. Two by two the members of the High Court of
Parliament in their scarlet robes had marched out of the Council
Chamber, with their four state officials in violet preceding them, and
a guard of the Cinquantaine before. In this chapel they all heard the
"Messe du Prisonnier," and then sat down to the enormous repast called
the "Festin du cochon," with which (on a smaller scale), every public
body and every household in Rouen fortified themselves for the doings
of that splendid day. By the end of dinner the chaplain and his cartel
had arrived, and the whole courtyard of the Palais was ringed with
crowds of people. Accompanied by his Prevot and four other members of
the Confrerie St. Romain, the chaplain was escorted into the great
hall, the name was solemnly read out, and the officials of the
Parliament went to the particular gaol in which the prisoner happened
to be kept. Bareheaded, with his irons still upon one leg, the man was
brought quickly to the Conciergerie, that his name might be
enregistered as a formal prisoner of the Palais; for all the legal
bodies were particularly touchy about their own prerogatives. When a
man could not walk he was carried, as was Antoine de Lespine in 1602,
who had been wounded in a duel two days before, and could only be got
to the Conciergerie in a clothes-basket.

After certain solemn preliminaries the prisoner was brought into the
great hall, and while all the councillors stood up he knelt before the
president to receive admonition for his past sins and pardon for the
future. Still bareheaded, he was then led out by the "huissiers" of
the court through the great open space in front, and as his foot
touched the pavement of the street beyond, a signal set the great bell
Georges d'Amboise ringing from the Cathedral tower. At the sound,
every steeple in Rouen rocked with answering salutations. "_Rura jam
late venerantur omen._" From every parish church for miles round the
ringers, waiting for the "bourdon's" note, sent out a joyful peal in
chorus, and every villager drank bumpers to the prisoner's health.
Himself, a little dazed we may imagine with this sudden tumult in the
streets and in his heart too at deliverance from death, he marched
along with the arquebusiers beside him, through a cheering crowd
towards the old Halles. There the authority of the law let go its
grip, and he was handed over to the chaplain and the deputies of the
Confrerie St. Romain, who took him to an inner room. There he was
given refreshment, his chains were struck off and wound round one arm,
and he was dressed in fresh clothes.

Meanwhile, after the Cathedral choir had sung a solemn Te Deum, the
great procession of the church had moved out of the Portail des
Libraires, chanting in mighty unison "Christe quem sedes revocant
paternae," down the Rue St. Romain to the western gate of St. Maclou,
where choir-boys met them bearing lighted candles and swinging
incense. And the chaplain brought the prisoner out into the Place de
la Haute Vieille Tour, and leading him up the right-hand steps of the
Chapelle de la Fierte, presented him to the mass of people in front
just before the procession arrived from the Cathedral. So he knelt
bareheaded and kissed the holy shrine which two priests had borne up
to its place; the Archbishop addressed him in the hearing of his
fellow citizens, and before them all he made confession, receiving his
absolution as he raised the shrine of St. Romain thrice by its bars
upon his shoulders, while all the people cried "Noel! Noel!" Then a
confrere de St. Romain put a garland of white flowers upon the
prisoner's head, and holding one end of the shrine himself he gave the
prisoner the other, and all men put themselves in order for the march
back up the Rue de l'Epicerie to the Place de la Calende and so to the
Parvis and the western gate of the Cathedral.

As the first notes of the "Felix Dies Mortalibus" were chanted by the
priests, a hundred and twenty poor orphans moved forward, each
carrying in one hand a wooden cross all wreathed with flowers and in
the other a great loaf of bread. Behind them came the shrines of all
the saints whose churches guarded Rouen, each with the Confrerie over
whose interests they watched; St. Blaise with his wool-merchants, St.
Jean with the orange-sellers, St. Sebastien with the hatters, and many
more; each marching confrere wreathed in flowers, and every shrine
attended with its special banner and its priests and candles. These
were followed by the archers of the Cinquantaine, and the banner of
their great Dragon, who appeared again upon a lofty pole, swallowing a
fish; by a band of sweet music and of singers chanting melodiously
their "cantiques and motets"; by all the burgesses of Rouen walking
decorously two by two; by the choir-boys of the Cathedral and two
hundred of the clergy, the canons in violet, and the greater
dignitaries in soutanes of red silk; by the officiating canon, and
lastly by the Archbishop himself, blessing the people as he went
along.

As the chanting died away, after a short interval came the beadle all
in violet livery bearing the great "Gargouille" of the town, and
followed by a rabble of laughing, screaming lads in motley, swinging
bladders, and throwing flowers and cakes about the street--that note
of ribaldry without which no such procession was complete--and then
came suddenly a silence, for the most holy shrine of St. Romain passed
by, borne by the prisoner and a priest. The last seven prisoners
followed him, bareheaded and with torches. And then the laughter and
the cheering broke out again as more burgesses tramped along with
bouquets in their hands, and young girls all in white with garlands of
flowers about their bosoms scattered blossoms on the bystanders, and
more guards and soldiers closed up the procession and kept the crowd
from breaking through its ranks.

By this time the first line had reached the Parvis, and as the voices
of two priests singing on the summit of the Tour St. Romain floated
down upon the people, all men passed in through the Portail de St.
Romain of the Western Front, under the great shrine held crosswise, so
that all who went beneath received the blessed influence. When
everyone had entered, and the shrine was once more on the High Altar,
the Grand Mass was sung, and the prisoner was once more publicly
exhorted by the Archbishop, before he was taken away again by the
Confrerie St. Romain to a great feast in the Master's House which was
the real celebration of his return to freedom.

The life of a sixteenth-century French town has often been described
before, but I am particularly fortunate in being able to sketch you
something of what went on in Rouen, not merely with the background of
Lelieur's drawing, but even with the sound of the music which was
heard in her streets; and, if I mistake not, the one is as unknown to
English readers as the other. It has been said that Guillaume le
Franc, a musician of Rouen, actually composed the tune known as the
"Old Hundredth," originally set to the 134th Psalm in the Geneva
Psalter, and used by English Protestants for the 100th about 1562. It
was Haendel's opinion that Luther composed it, and to Claude Goudimel,
who was assassinated in the St. Bartholomew of Lyons, the honour has
also been attributed; but local patriotism insists upon le Franc, and
after reading the specimen of local musical talent I shall give you, I
believe you will be readier to allow that Guillaume le Franc may have
done what his fellow-citizens believe.

The madrigal I have printed here was written in a rare old book I
found in the Library of Rouen.[72] It was most kindly copied out for
me on the spot by M. Baurain, and Mr J.A. Fuller-Maitland was so good
as to decipher the ancient notation and provide me with a score that
anyone can play and sing to-day. He has also written the last
paragraph of this chapter, and with his learned explanation I may
leave you to the enjoyment of a song that has never been published
since 1551, and that will reproduce for you, for the first time since
then, the sound of the welcome given to Henri II. and Catherine de
Medicis as they entered their good town of Rouen in 1550.

[Footnote 72: Its title-page is too good to be lost, and runs as
follows, without the charming spacing and lettering of the original:--

"Cest La Deduction du sumptueux ordre plaisantz spectacles et
magnificques theatres dresses et exhibes par les citoiens de Rouen
ville Metropolitaine du pays de Normandie, A la sacree Maieste du
Treschristian Roy de France Henry sec[=o]d leur souverain seigneur, Et
a Tresillustre dame, maDame Katharine de Medicis, La Royne son
espouse, lors de leur triumphant joyeux et nouvel advenement en icelle
ville, Qui fut es iours d'Octobre, Mil cinq cens cinquante, Et pour
plus expresse intelligence de ce tant excellent triumphe, Les figures
et pourtraictz des principaulx aornements d'iceluy y sont apposez
chascun en son lieu comme l'on pourra veoir par le discours de
l'histoire.... Avec priuilege du Roy. On les vend a rouen chez Robert
le Hoy Robert et Jehan dictz du Gord tenantz leur Boutique Au portail
des Libraires. 1551."]

In the history of music this four-part song is interesting as giving
evidence of the general cultivation in music that must have prevailed
among the French people at the time. In the present day we are apt to
think of the madrigal or motet writers as a class of specialists
working at elaborate harmonic and contrapuntal problems for their own
delight, but as having little influence on the national acceptance of
music. Nothing could be further from the truth, as far as England, the
Netherlands and Italy were concerned; and in France, where the art of
the simple tunes of the troubadours represents for us the typical
national music of mediaeval times, it is important to have a document
which shows as clearly as this does the kind of music which was
recognized as suitable for a great pageant. In style, the French
school of the sixteenth century differs not at all from that of the
Netherlands, of which it is generally regarded as an off-shoot (see
Grove, "Dict. of Music and Musicians," vol. iii., p. 267). In the
works of Pierre Certon, Claude Goudimel, and others, would be found
many compositions constructed on similar lines to the example here
given; that is to say, that the rules of madrigal writing are strictly
observed, although the preference for massive treatment of the opening
of each line seems to point to the use for which it was intended,
viz., to be sung in the open air. There are not many instances of
works of this class apparently meant for female voices only, and there
may have been some reason for this connected with the general plan of
the ceremony. The little piece is in the Dorian mode, and in the
original is clearly and correctly printed, in four separate parts on
the same double page. In scoring it, the accidentals, which do not
occur in the original, have been added in brackets. It is, of course,
impossible to surmise who may have been the author, but it is certain
that, whoever he was, he had attained to a remarkable skill in writing
effective music. If we consider the prescribed limitations in which he
worked, with nothing lower than the second alto part for his bass, it
is surprising to notice the sonority of sustained tone that is got by
skilful disposition of the harmonies, while the beautiful antiphonal
effect at the point "Vive le Roi" is of a kind that must appeal to
hearers of all classes and periods alike.

[Illustration: A WINDOW IN THE MAISON BOURGTHEROULDE, DESCRIBED ON
PAGE 337]




A SIXTEENTH-CENTURY MADRIGAL


[Music:

     Louange et gloire en action de grace,
     Chantons a Dieu de la paix vray auteur:
     Par qui la France en seur repos embrasse,
     Ses ennemys faictz amys en grand heur.
     Vive son Roy, vive,
     Vive son Roy de ce bien protecteur
     Soubz qui de paix divers peuples jouyssent
     Dont luy est deu cybas joye et honneur,
     Puis que les cielz de la paix s'esiouyssent,
     Puis que les cielz de la paix s'esiouyssent.]

     NOTE.--_For the benefit of those not learned in
     Sixteenth-Century Music, it may be interesting to hint that
     the melody is written here for the Second Soprano, and to
     add, for their encouragement, that the experiment of
     performing this Madrigal, unaccompanied, with two ladies,
     and two male voices in the Alto parts, proved perfectly
     successful, thanks to the science of Mr Fuller-Maitland and
     the goodwill of the singers._

[Illustration: VIEW OF ROUEN, FROM THE ENGRAVING BY MERIAN IN 1620]

[Illustration: THE COMMERCE OF ROUEN, FROM THE BAS-RELIEF BY CONSTON
IN THE BOURSE]




CHAPTER XIV

_Literature and Commerce_

     Rouen est ville bien marchande
     C'est a cause de la mer grande
     Et est ce semble sans doutance
     Quasi la meilleure de France.

     Ouy fameuse cite c'est toy qui prens la peine
     D'aller chercher bien loin l'ambre, la porcelaine,
     Le sucre, la muscade, et tant d'excellents vins....
     ... Soye, oueate, tabac, draps de laine, poisson,
     Bois, bleds, sel, bescars, tout luy vient a foison.


Such popular festivals as that I have just described upon Ascension
Day are of very ancient origin, even if they do not date back to that
earliest "Fete aux Normands," whose institution you will remember in
1070. Two years afterwards began the Confrerie de la Vierge to which
Pierre Dare, Lieutenant-General for the King, gave fresh lustre when
he was elected its Master in 1486. Though older poems (like that of
Robert Wace) are connected with the Confrerie, to him is due the
beginning of those "Palinods" sung in honour of the Virgin in the
Church of St. Jean des Pres, which were called the "Puy de
Conception," like the Puy d'Amour of the Provencal troubadours. The
name probably originated in the refrain which ran through all the
various metres allowed in the poems which were sent in for
competition, as Pierre Grognet describes in 1533--

     "On y presente les rondeaulx
     Beaulx pallinotz et chans royaulx
     Et sappelle celle journee
     La feste du Puy honoree."

In these rhymes are preserved just those details of the people's life
for which we have been looking. Great events and mighty personages in
the world outside are passed unnoticed. The important trivialities of
the householder's existence are the main theme of every verse. The
_Muse Normande_ of David Ferrand is a collection of such fragments of
many "Concours des Palinods" from its beginning till his death in
1660. They are chiefly written in that "langue purinique ou gros
normand" which was the distinctive patois of the working classes, and
especially of those "purins" or "ouvriers de la draperie" who dwelt in
the parishes of Martainville, of St. Vivien, and St. Nicaise in the
city. You may hear it to this day in the villages of Caux. Here the
gossip of the populace is reproduced, and you read of the burdens laid
upon the people, of the abundance of wine (which did away with any
need for beer), of the rivalries of corporations, of the amusements of
the town, the mysteries and Miracle Plays, the Basoche, and the rough
practical joking of the populace.

One of the most important subjects, for our purpose, in all David
Ferrand's verse is that famous "Boise de Saint Nicaise," round which a
seventeenth-century war waged, more bitterly and fiercely disputed
than half the contests which take up the pages of your sober royal
histories. You must know that this "Boise de Saint Nicaise" was an
enormous beam of wood, chained by iron bars and links to the church
walls, where every evening the gossips used to gather in the cemetery
and talk over the scandal of the parish, or regulate the proceedings
of the town. Thrice in 220 years had Rouen been besieged, once by the
English and twice by its own countrymen, and each time the virtues of
the famous "boise" had saved it from pillage and desecration. Upon its
black and shining length the disputes of every century had been heard
and settled: masters had brought up their quarrels with the workmen,
merchants had wrangled over sharp practice in their business, girls
had been summoned to receive a lecture from the elders of the parish
on the flightiness and immodesty of their behaviour. No parish had
ever such a palladium of its dignity. And you can easily conceive the
derision and contempt with which the mighty "boise" was treated by the
boys of the rival and neighbouring parish of St. Godard, who used to
sing--

     "Les habitants de Saint Nicaise
     Ont le coeur haut et fortune basse."

This was a bad pun on the _choeur_, or choir, of the church that was
too good for its worshippers. For there was a great contrast between
the populations on each side of the dividing line. St. Godard was
filled with magistrates and mighty men of law, who lived in sumptuous
houses and carved their coats of arms upon their massive sideboards,
who quoted Malherbe, and approved the early efforts of a young man
called Corneille, and prided themselves upon the delicacy and
scholarship of their speech. In St. Nicaise, on the contrary, you
heard little save the "purinique," or patois of the workmen; in
narrow, dark, and twisting streets the drapers and weavers and dyers
carried on their trades and earned their bread by the sweat of their
brow. Their children had to work early for their living, and helped
the business of their parents when still in the first years of their
youth. No wonder these who "scorned delights and lived laborious days"
laughed at the effeminacy of their neighbours, saying that

     "Aux enfants de Saint Godard
     L'esprit ne venait qu' a trente ans."

By 1632 this feeling of rivalry and mutual distrust had been sharpened
into positive hatred; for, of course, when the troubles of the Ligue
had come, and St. Godard had declared for its old kings and saints,
St. Nicaise had openly professed belief in Villars and Mayenne, and
almost raised a chapel to the memory of Jacques Clement the assassin;
and you may imagine the gibes of Royalist St. Godard when the tide of
fortune turned against the rebel parish. Athens and Sparta were not
more different, or more hostile. One day the smouldering fires broke
into flame. It was the day of a procession when, at the very meeting
line of the two parishes, the clergy of St. Godard, splendid in gold
and embroidery, with a cross of gold before them, and behind them a
line of ladies richly dressed and escorted by red-robed magistrates,
were moving in procession, with the banner at their head presented by
the Lady President of Gremonville, whereon the figure of the patron
saint was embroidered upon crimson velvet hung round with cloth of
gold. Consider the disdain of these fine ladies for the modest little
gathering that walked, across the way, beneath a little banner of
ordinary taffetas bearing a tiny effigy of St. Nicaise, worked in worn
colours of old faded pink, and followed by a crowd of workmen clad in
blouse and sabot and rough woollen caps. At a certain point the
contrast became unbearable. The workmen, with a shout of fury, made a
sudden rush upon that hateful new banner of St. Godard, tore it from
the standard-bearer's hands, and threw it in the muddy waters of the
boundary-stream. How the two processions got home after that you may
imagine for yourself. It says much for the control of the respective
clergy that there were no open blows at once. But that night St.
Nicaise was vulgarly merry, and St. Godard wrapped its wrongs in
ominous and aristocratic silence. What the songs were that those
workmen sang in the cemetery of St. Nicaise you can read in a queer
little book written by one "Abbe Raillard" in 1557, an "Abbe des
Conards," who imitates Rabelais when he tries to be original, but is
of far more value when he merely reproduces what he heard, to wit, "la
fleur des plus ingenieux jeux chansons et menus flaiollements d'icelle
jeunesse puerille, receuilly de plusieurs rues lieux et passages ou il
estoit repandu depuis la primitive recreation, aaze, jeunesse et
adolescence Normande rouennoise."

Here is a chorus which no doubt resounded on that night of victory
over St. Godard--

     "Jay menge un oeuf
     La lange dun boeuf
     Quatre vingt moutons
     Autant de chapons
     Vingt cougnons de pain
     Ancore ayge faim,"

or this, again--

         "Gloria patri ma mere a petri
         Elle a faict une gallette
     Houppegay, Houppegay j'ay bu du cidre Alotel (_bis_)."

Unfortunately, after having gone shouting to bed, the men of St.
Nicaise slept sound without a thought of possible reprisals. But the
young bloods "across the way" were all alert. Waiting till the change
of guard at St. Hilaire should make that customary noise of clinking
arms and tramping feet which every citizen would recognise and forget,
sixty of the bravest champions crossed the Rubicon and advanced in the
depth of the darkness to the cemetery of St. Nicaise. With heavy
labour they broke up the sacred chains, detached the time-worn rivets,
and dragged off the famous timber, the "_Boise_" of St. Nicaise, the
palladium of the obnoxious parish. The next morning the gossips
discovered to their stupefaction that there was no log to sit upon!
Following a few traces that were left here and there, the horrified
drapers and tanners found the smoking remnants of their cherished wood
scattered in the square of St. Hilaire, surrounded by a laughing crowd
of the children and young men of St. Godard. Vengeance was plotted on
that very evening, and a smart skirmish took place up and down the
streets of the aristocratic quarter, in which the victory of the
velvet doublets only roused redoubled ardour in the men of smocks and
leather aprons. The Palais de Justice and the majesty of the Law was
obliged to intervene. The Duc de Longueville, Governor of the
Province, tried to smooth over the crisis with the gift of a new and
most enormous log; but nothing could replace the relic that was gone.
At last the good priests of each parish set to work to heal the
breach, and soundly damned each hardened sinner who attempted to break
the good peace of the town with further quarrels. Messire Francois de
Harlai, Archbishop of Rouen, aided their efforts, and at last the feud
died down; but the event was never forgotten:

     "Donc qu'o mette o calendrier
     Qu'o dix huitiesme de Janvier
     Fut pris et ravy notte BOISE
     Boise dont j'etions pu jaloux
     Et pu glorieux entre nous
     Que Rouen n'est de Georg d'Amboise."

David Ferrand's "patois" has preserved a good deal of the life and
humour--racy of the soil--that gave Rouen her character, even after
the sixteenth century was over. Something of the old life and its
bravery lingered a little longer, and in the more pretentious Latin
poems of Hercule Grisel you see how all these fetes and jollities
lasted on till well into the seventeenth century. The Fete St. Anne,
when boys dressed as angels and girls as virgins ran about the
streets; the St. Vivien, which was a great popular fair in Bois
Guillaume and in the city; the Festin du Cochon, when Parliament was
dined; the Pentecost, when birds and leaves and flowers were rained
upon the congregation from the roof of the Cathedral; the Feast of the
Farmers, in November, when the principal dish of roast goose was
provided by a crowd of boys who had to kill the wretched bird by
throwing sticks at it, as it fluttered helplessly at the end of a high
pole; the Papegault, when the Cinquantaine, or Company of
Arquebusiers, went a-shooting to settle who should be the Roi
d'Oiseau, very much as it is described in Germany in the pages of Jean
Paul Richter; the Jeu d'Anguille in May, when there was a jousting
match upon the river like the water tournaments of Provence; the
jollities of Easter Eve, when bands of children went about the streets
shouting derision at the now dishonoured herring, and pitching barrels
and fish-barrows into the river; the greatest and most impressive
ceremony of all, the Levee de la Fierte, upon Ascension Day--all these
festivities made up a large part of the life of the real Rouennais of
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, which was so narrowed and
restricted in itself that it took every opportunity of expanding into
a common gaiety shared by all the neighbours and the countryside.

The river was a scene of far greater bustle and activity and
picturesqueness than it is now. Like the Thames, the Seine lost half
its beauty when the old watermen disappeared. The harbour of the
sixteenth century was always full of movement: sailors were always
spreading over the riverside streets into the countless inns and
drinking-places; the river was full of boats going to and fro; the
bank upon the farther side was the fashionable promenade of all the
ladies of the town; the bridges were filled with idlers who had no
better business than to look on. At the fete called the Gateau des
Rois all the ships were lit up in the port, and every tradesman in the
town sent presents to his customers: the druggists gave gifts of
liqueurs and condiments; the bakers brought cakes to every door; the
chandlers brought the "chandelles des Rois" to every household. At the
favourite meeting-places of Ponts de Robec, or the Parvis Notre Dame,
or the Eglise St. Vivien, the housewives gathered to watch their
husbands drink and gamble, or bought flowers from the open stalls, or
chaffered with the apprentices who stood ready for the bargain.
Meanwhile, from all the forests near, the children of the poor were
coming in with bundles of the <DW19>s they were allowed to gather
free; at every large house parties were gathering, each guest with her
special contribution to the common fund of sweetmeats and of fruit,
some even had brought bottles of the famous mineral water sold at the
Church of St. Paul, and the Confrerie de St. Cecile was hard-worked
distributing its musicians broadcast to the many private gatherings
that called for pipe and tabour. Then as the evening lowered, men told
stories over the hearth of the girl who had seen three suns at once
upon the morn of Holy Trinity from a neighbouring hill-top, or of the
luck of their compere Jehan, whose boy, born on the day of the
conversion of St. Paul, was safe for all his life from danger of
poison or of snake-bite. All these customs and superstitions are
reflected in Hercule Grisel's Latin verses, which he begins with a
needless apology--

     "Rotomagi patriae versu volo pandere mores,
     Quis captum patriae damnet amore suae?"

No one will blame his patriotic love of every detail of the life
around him; and though the Latin that he uses might well have been
exchanged for his own language, it must be remembered that even when
Malherbe and Corneille, Racine and Boileau, were writing French, the
older language kept a firm hold on such men as de Thou, Descartes,
Bossuet, Arnauld, and Nicole, who desired to appeal to European
audiences. "Victurus Latium debet habere liber" was their motto; and
by Jesuits and Oratorians, University dignitaries and ecclesiastics,
lawyers and doctors, the same language was used as that in which
Hercule Grisel has preserved the life of the town from 1615 to 1657.

[Illustration: PIERRE CORNEILLE, FROM THE ENGRAVING BY LASNE]

The greatest name of seventeenth-century Rouen is Pierre
Corneille,[73] "ce vieux Romain parmi les francais" as Voltaire called
him; and we may be grateful that after getting the second prize for
Latin verses in the third class of the Jesuit College,[74] he gave up
stilted affectations for the vigorous phrases of his mother-tongue.
Though his brother Thomas passes over the little episode in silence,
his nephew Fontenelle lets us into a literary secret which reveals
Corneille's first love affair in Rouen. In the comedy of "Melite," the
heroine is Catherine the daughter of the Receveur des Aides, Eraste is
the poet himself. In real life, Thomas du Pont, the Tircis of the
play, supplanted his friend and married the lady. It was to another
Rouen acquaintance that Corneille owed the advice to study Spanish
plays, which resulted in his imitations of de Castro, and no doubt the
many Spanish families then settled, for commercial reasons, in the Rue
des Espagnols and elsewhere, helped to turn the young poet's thoughts
in the same direction. His evident knowledge of the details of legal
procedure, when it cannot be ascribed to the natural Norman turn for
lawsuits, is accounted for by his position as Avocat du Roi and one of
the Admiralty Court (called the "Marble Table") of Rouen. Though in
the "Cid" his law is Spanish, and in "Horace" it is a paraphrase of
Livy, yet Corneille was the first to realise that the speeches of
lawyers, which were then little known to the general public, would
form a very interesting scene upon the stage. His immediate success
proved the worth of the idea. But that such success was possible at
all is even more extraordinary than any particular form it may have
taken. He created types for well-nigh every kind of dramatic
literature in France, in the midst of his work as an advocate, among
serious family troubles, through years of plague, of popular riots, of
military occupations.

[Footnote 73: The portrait of him reproduced in this chapter was
etched on steel in 1644, from a drawing by Michel Lasne of Caen.]

[Footnote 74: The fine chapel of the Lycee Corneille, with its facade
upon the Rue Bourg l'Abbe, is well worth visiting.]

His house in the Rue Corneille, formerly the Rue de la Pie, is still
preserved, though the front has been damaged by the widening of the
street, and it is marked by a bust of the poet over the entrance. In
the last few months it has been put up for auction, and it may be
hoped that the town authorities have taken advantage of the
opportunity to secure it from further mutilation. For it has been not
merely the home of Pierre Corneille and his brother Thomas, but the
meeting-place of several other men distinguished in French literature.
In the summer of 1658, for instance, Moliere brought his travelling
troupe to Rouen, and set up his theatre at the bottom of the Rue du
Vieux Palais. There he played in "L'Etourdi" and "Le Depit Amoureux,"
which Corneille went to see, and tradition says that the most
distinguished of her audience fell in love with du Parc, the pretty
actress, from the spectators' seats, not improbably on the occasion
when his own play of "Nicomede" was being performed. It is certain at
any rate that Moliere, who was then some thirty-six years old, visited
Corneille, who was sixteen years his senior, and already famous in the
wider world of literature. And it is at least curious that only after
the six months during which his visits to the elder poet must have
been both frequent and fruitful, did Jean Baptiste Poquelin become
recognised as the Moliere of "Le Malade Imaginaire," a play, which I
confess I would rather hear to-day than anything Corneille ever wrote,
even though Parisian audiences can still patriotically endure almost
the whole series of his heroic dramas. This was not Moliere's first
visit to Rouen, where a peculiarly dark and dirty street preserves the
memory of his light-hearted appearances. For there is his signature in
the town registers of 1643, when he was only twenty-one, and as the
date is November 3, the coincidence of time has tempted patriotic
antiquarians to suggest that his first _debut_ in public was at the
famous Foire du Pardon. What Rouen looked like at this time you may
see in the view, reproduced from Merian's engraving of 1620, printed
with this chapter.

Even if the language and ideas of Corneille's plays do not touch a
sympathetic chord in these days when the musketeers of Dumas and the
bravery of Cyrano de Bergerac hold the stage on both sides of the
Channel, it is impossible to refuse to Corneille a very high position
in any estimate of French dramatic literature. With that estimate I am
not here concerned, but in sketching the history of his birthplace, I
may be permitted to suggest some of the influences which may be
traced from it upon his work. And in addition to those already
mentioned, I would especially refer to an occurrence some time
previously, which left its undoubted marks upon the writing of
Corneille, and may also serve to introduce you to yet another
interesting figure in the tale of Rouen. For when he was only
thirty-three, when he had won fame with the "Cid," and had followed up
his success by "Horace" and by "Cinna," Corneille had the advantage of
meeting a family of particular distinction.

In 1639 the father of Blaise Pascal was sent down to Rouen as an
"Intendant du Roi." Though but sixteen, the youth had already
attracted the notice of the mathematical world by his treatise on
conic sections. Even when only twelve the precocious boy had worked
out the solutions of the first thirty-two propositions of Euclid
unaided. While at Rouen he invented a calculating machine, and got a
workman in the town to set it up. In 1646 he made his famous
experiments on the vacuum before more than five hundred people,
including half a dozen sceptical Jesuit fathers. Though his famous
letters on the burning question of Jansenism were not written until
1656, after he had returned to Paris, yet the religious influence of
the family must have been a strong one upon all their intimate
friends, and it is hardly too much to suggest that under this
influence Corneille wrote "Polyeucte" and "Theodore," even if it be
too great an extension of the idea to suggest that Racine's "Esther"
and "Athalie," even Voltaire's "Zaire," were also due to the same
impressions.

It is pleasant to imagine that cultured circle, conversing over the
troubles of the time or arguing on literary and scientific subjects.
There were two girls in the Pascal family, the pretty Gilberte, who
very soon married a young councillor of Rouen at twenty-one, and
Jacqueline, five years her junior, who won the prize at the Puy des
Palonods, and had the honour of an ode from Corneille on her literary
success. There was Berthe Corneille too, the mother of Fontenelle, and
though Thomas was but young, he may well have had his share in a
friendship which must have been very attractive to his older brother.
This house of theirs in the Rue Corneille was not the only one in
which Pierre wrote his tragedies. Indeed, I imagine it was more the
town-lodgings of his legal father, and only used by the sons when
business kept them near the Law-courts. In the country outside, at
Petit-Couronne south of the Seine, Corneille did nearly all his best
work; and in estimating that work it is well to remember that he was
not merely born at Rouen, but that he lived and wrote there till he
was fifty-six.

[Illustration: EAU DE ROBEC]

The Pascals left Rouen in 1648 during the disturbances of the Fronde.
They had come there in even more troublous times, for the riots called
the "Revolte des Va-nu-Pieds" had only just been quelled before their
arrival. The salt-tax had already created strong discontent in
Southern Normandy, and in August 1639 a tax on the dyers roused the
men of the Rue Eau de Robec into such hot rebellion, that they killed
the King's officer and burnt the tax-gatherer's house. In the same
street to-day, which must be but little changed, you may still imagine
the furious assemblages by those black dye-stained waters that flow
muddily beneath their multitude of bridges from the Place des Ponts de
Robec to the eastern confines of the town. Chancellor Seguier was sent
down with several thousand infantry and 1200 horse, called the "Fleaux
de Dieu," and kept the gallows as busy as at any Black Assizes for
some three months.

One sad result of all this was that many of the festivities described
in the earlier pages of this chapter never came off at all in 1640.
"En ceste annee," says the local chronicler sadly, "il n'y a point eu
d'estrennes, ny chante 'Le Roy Boit.' En la maison de Ville n'y eust
point de gasteau party, ni le lendemain a disner." And the loss of the
famous "Fete des Rois" at the Hotel de Ville was something more than
ordinarily unfortunate. For it was celebrated each year with much
pomposity, to the sound of all the carillons of the town ringing
lustily while every member of the Council "tirait le roi de la feve,"
and the lucky winner of the Bean, after being presented with a wax
basket of artificial fruit (for the sixteenth century is over now), at
once gave his comrades an enormous feast, at which the toast of the
evening was received with loud cries of "Le Roy Boit." Nor was this
the only festivity indulged in by the City Fathers. The "Feu St. Jean"
was solemnly lit by the senior sheriff, to the sound of pipe and
tabour. The "Buche de Noel," or Yule log, was burnt in the Grande
Salle. Here the different members of the Estates of Normandy were
feasted, here the civic ceremonials were conducted with many presents,
speeches, and "toasts." And the industries of the town seemed to
flourish, in spite of the miseries suffered under Richelieu. Trade
spread to England, Spain, Africa, Florida, Brazil; even with Canada a
brisk bartering of furs went on, and in 1627 the baptism is registered
in the Cathedral, early in December, of Amantacha, a native of Canada,
who was "held at the font" by Madame de Villars, and the Duc de
Longueville, to be blessed by Monseigneur Francois de Harlay. Half a
century later, it was from Rouen that Rene Cavalier de la Salle set
out to explore the Mississippi and the Gulf of Mexico; and by a Rouen
diplomat, Menager, was drawn up in 1713 the Treaty of Utrecht, against
which modern British inhabitants of Newfoundland are complaining so
bitterly in 1898.

But for Englishmen a far more interesting fact in seventeenth-century
Rouen is that Lord Clarendon died at No. 30 Rue Damiette on December
7, 1674. The house is standing still, behind a garden that is shut off
from the street by high gates, and is not open to the public, though
by a fortunate accident I was enabled to see it in the August of 1897.
It is known as the Hotel d'Aligre, and as the property of Mademoiselle
Le Verdier is almost unchanged since the great exile lived in it two
centuries ago. There are three windows on the ground floor and a
basement. Between the two windows of the first floor is a medallion
held by two figures. On each side of the circular pediment is a little
"Mansard" window in the roof, and on the pediment itself are two
statues. The windows are all decorated with carved flowers and
wreaths, and the cornice beneath the eaves is prettily ornamented.
This is the main facade looking out on the interior court. The garden
front has less decoration, but is an extremely elegant example of the
simple town house of the period. Among the shrubs the fountain for
which Lord Clarendon especially asked still plays in its old stone
basin, and beyond the trees is the Cemetery of St. Maclou.

He had lived, during his exile, in Montpelier, Moulins, and Evreux,
and at last he moved nearer to England and wrote pathetically asking
to be recalled. Seven years, his letter says, was the term of God's
displeasure, yet for more than seven had he borne the displeasure of
the King. A longer life no man could grant him, he asked only that
death might not come to him in a foreign land, but in England near his
children. His prayer was not granted, and in 1674 the archives of the
Hotel de Ville in Rouen record that the King of France had allowed
"Monsieur le Comte de Clarendon, Chancelier de l'Angleterre" to live
where he pleased within the kingdom by consent of His Majesty of Great
Britain. The house now leased by Monsieur le Comte (goes on this sad
little record) used to have a small lake in the garden, and Monsieur
desired that water might again be directed into it. The request was
granted that same month at a meeting held in the Town Hall.

The first mention of a building on this spot is in the Town Records of
October 1448, when it is called "Hostel des Presses de la Rue de la
Miette," a name for the street which seems to show that this
"Damiette" is at any rate not of eastern origin. The word "Presses" is
connected with the story of Rouen trade by the fact that it
commemorates the presses set up for pressing and finishing cloth by
one of that family of Dufour who did so much towards the decoration of
their parish church of St. Maclou. The house that is standing now was
built (though without its later seventeenth-century ornaments) by
Guillaume le Fieu, who had been treasurer of the Stables of Catherine
de Medicis, or "Receveur de l'Ecurie de la Reine" in 1558, and the
Archives of the Department now possess, by the gift of later occupants
of the house, a very interesting manuscript of his accounts for a year
in this capacity. By the untiring diligence of M. Ch. de Beaurepaire
these have been analysed, and his paper describing them, though too
detailed to be reproduced here, is of the highest importance for any
writer attempting to describe the habits of a queen whose abilities as
a horsewoman were so highly praised by Brantome. Guillaume le Fieu had
evidently considerable financial abilities, for we find him promoted,
later on, to be "Receveur General de la Generalite de Rouen," and
finally "Maitre Ordinaire de la Chambre des Comptes de Normandie," so
that he is also connected with the two beautiful buildings, so
different in style and date, which were described in Chapter XI.

In No. 30 Rue Damiette he died in 1584, having scarcely completed the
house before his daughter married one of the King's secretaries. In
January 1646, an old lease shows that the house was owned by Henry
Dambray, "Conseiller au Parlement," and it was by him let for a year
to Lord Clarendon. It was called the Hotel de Senneville until the
Revolution, when it became the property of the families of Pommereux
and d'Alligre. Though Lord Clarendon was first buried in Rouen, when
his grand-daughters (through the marriage of the Duke of York, brother
of Charles II., with his elder daughter) became Queens of England, his
remains were transported from Rouen to Westminster Abbey, where they
now are.

The last scene by which this tale of Rouen was connected with the
history of France was when Captain Valdory held the town against Henri
IV. And in leaving for a moment more domestic details of the city's
story, I can suggest the transition no better than by telling you of
another literary claim which Rouen archaeologists will not permit a
visitor to forget, the authorship of the famous "Satyre Menippee,"
which did as much as any political pamphlet could ever do to reveal to
the people the true character of the Ligue, and to restore their
affection to that King Henri whom for so long they had refused within
their gates. This immortal piece of sarcasm and good sense was written
after the Etats de la Ligue of January 1593. De Thou said, "le premier
auteur de l'ecrit est, croit-on, un pretre du pays de Normandie, homme
de bien...." And the edition of 1677 gives his name as "Monsieur
LeRoy, chanoine de Rouen, qui avoit este aumosnier du Cardinal de
Bourbon." In the portions before each harangue, he mentions the
tapestry in Rouen Cathedral, the Revolte de la Harelle, the Foire St.
Romain, and other details, with an accuracy and affection which betray
the citizen. He went blind in 1620, and died in penury in 1627.

The troubles of the League had barely died away before the agitation
of the Fronde began, and after the Fronde princes had been arrested
in January 1650, the Duchesse de Longueville tried to continue the
role of her husband, though his party had fairly been laughed out of
Rouen. Her own attempts were thwarted by Mazarin, who brought the
little Louis XIV., then only twelve years old, to Rouen for fifteen
days in February 1650. The Revocation of the Edict of Nantes repaid
this hospitality in somewhat untoward fashion, for it reduced the
population of the town by 20,000 souls (of whom many carried their
trade to England or the Low Countries), and commerce almost
disappeared. "Men live," cried St. Simon, "on the grass of the field
in Normandy."

Yet the exhaustless vitality of the town was not easily tapped. In
1723 Voltaire found nothing to complain of, and in the Rue aux Juifs
the first edition of his "Henriade" was printed by Robert Viret. In
1731 he came back, and in the Rue du Bec, or the Rue Ganterie, had
many pleasant conversations with M. de Bourgtheroulde, M. de
Fresquienne, and others, but he left his little sting behind him as
usual, and it remains so true that I must reproduce it here, on the
theme--"Vous n'avez point de mai en Normandie."

     "Vos climats ont produit d'assez rares merveilles
     C'est le pays des grands talents
     Des Fontenelle des Corneilles
     Mais ce ne fut jamais l'asile du printemps."

[Illustration: HOUSE IN RUE PETIT SALUT. (RUE AMPERE 13.)]

As the eighteenth century progressed, commercial prosperity returned
with extraordinary rapidity, and the town shows every sign of making
an intelligent use of its opportunities. A mission is sent to Smyrna
and Adrianople to learn the textile methods of the East; dyers in the
Rue Eau de Robec are busier than ever; the Quartier Cauchoise is set
apart for industrial work, for silk and wools and linens; there is a
great storehouse for grain, a huge "Halle des Toiles"; a Bourse for
business men. In 1723 a new "Romaine," or Custom-House, was built,
which involved the destruction of the Porte Haranguerie and the Porte
de la Viconte, and upon its triangular pediment was placed Coustou's
beautiful carving of "Commerce," of which I reproduce a drawing in
these pages. After the Revolution the "Tribunal des Douanes" was held
in the Maison Bourgtheroulde, until in 1838 the present "Douane" was
built by Isabelle, and Coustou's relief was set beneath its rotunda
inside. The various fortunes of the Custom-House of Rouen have been
described by M. Georges Dubosc, another of those patriotic antiquarian
writers, in whom Rouen is richer than any provincial town I know. His
large volume on the architecture of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries gives so complete and accurate a list that I am fortunately
relieved from any discussion of a period with which I must confess an
uninstructed want of sympathy. But I owe it to his insight that the
beautiful courtyard (illustrated in this chapter) in the Rue Petit
Salut (now No. 13 Rue Ampere) was not put down as sixteenth century in
my notes, a date to which I was inclined by the fine open staircase
and doorway on the right of the courtyard. On its left is an undoubted
Renaissance pillar, probably taken from its original position in
another place, and high above you rises a gabled window with carved
sides.

The only historical event I have been tempted to connect with this
spot is the entry of Louis d'Orleans in 1452, who is said to have
lodged in the "Hotel d'Estellan, Rue Petit Salut." But the house is
worth visiting if only to speculate on the dungeon windows in the
corner of the little street outside, and to look up the Impasse Petit
Salut a little further on, where the Tour de Beurre rises with an
extraordinary effect of solitary beauty above the twisted roof trees
into the sky.

By the time of Louis XV. it becomes somewhat difficult to find the
interesting men of this or any other French city; you must look for
them in the anti-chambers of the Duc de Choiseul, in the robing-rooms
of the Pompadour or the Du Barry. In 1774 Rouen saw the typical sight
of the Duchesse de Vauguyon reviewing her husband's troops. When Louis
XV. passed through the town, and the Pompadour was seen smiling by his
side, the citizens' reception of the doubtful honour was a very cold
one. And when Louis XVI. paid his call of ceremony upon the Mayor, a
still more melancholy presage broke the harmony of the peal that
welcomed him from the Cathedral belfry, for the great bell Georges
d'Amboise--which weighed 36,000 pounds, and had rung in every century
since the great minister of Louis XII. gave him to the town--cracked
suddenly, and was never heard again. He has a successor now, but his
own metal was used for quite another purpose. When the Revolution
broke out, the bronze that had served to call the faithful from all
the countryside to prayer was melted into cannon and roundshot that
were to send the Royalists to heaven by much quicker methods.

Rouen passed comparatively lightly through the Reign of Terror. Only
322 persons were guillotined in the whole of Normandy, and the local
justices beheaded nearly as many in suppressing the disorders that
followed the general disorganisation of society. Even on the 1st of
November 1793 we hear of the first night of Boieldieu's "La Belle
Coupable" performed at the Theatre de la Montagne. And though Thouret
is sent up as Deputy to Paris (and afterwards to draw up the
Constitution), though the irascible Marquis d'Herbouville is always
making a disturbance, though the "Carabots" revolt and break out into
pillage, it is only when "Anarchists" from Paris come down to trouble
them that the good folk of Rouen "draw the line." In fact, they
hanged the over-zealous Bourdier and Jourdain upon the quay just by
the bridge.

It is interesting that no less a personage than Marat, then plain Dr
Marat, had several Memoires crowned by the Academy of Rouen, one of
them on Mesmerism. Voltaire thought little of his capabilities then,
but the "ami du peuple" left a gentle reputation in the town, and is
even credited with having preserved an old illuminated manuscript
under his mattress during some riots that threatened its safety. A
more authenticated fact is that Charlotte Corday came from Caen, and
popular tradition insists still that it was from the carving of
Herodias on the facade of Rouen Cathedral (which the townsfolk call
"La Marianne dansant," for some unknown reason) that the suggestion
came to her of saving the People from their Friend.

The great Napoleon first saw Rouen in its capacity as a trading
centre. Its industry very soon recovered after the Revolution, and an
actual "Exposition" was organised in the Tribunal de Commerce, which
was inspected by Josephine and the First Consul Bonaparte. He returned
as Emperor, and in 1840 the city solemnly received him for the last
time, when his body was brought back from St. Helena and passed
beneath the first bridge across the Seine at Rouen.

The kings who had been deposed with so much bloodshed and fanfaronade,
reappeared as if nothing had happened when Louis Philippe laid the
first stone for the pedestal of Corneille's statue carved by David
d'Angers. In 1871 that statue was all draped in black. The streets of
Rouen, hung with funereal emblems, were all in the deepest mourning,
every shop was closed and every window shuttered. Upon the plain of
Sotteville a great army was manoeuvring to and fro to the sound of
words of command in a strange tongue. General Manteuffel, the Duke of
Mecklenburgh, and "Prince Fritz" had led the German army of invasion
into Rouen, and from December till July they occupied the town and its
surrounding villages. For the last time Rouen was in the hands of
foreigners. But the traces of this catastrophe have absolutely
disappeared. The ruin of the Revolution and the iconoclasm of the
religious struggles have left far deeper marks; and Rouen, sacked by
the English, and occupied by the Germans, suffered more injury at the
hands of her own citizens, than either from Time or from any foreign
foe.

In the last half of the eighteenth century it was that Rouen lost most
of her mediaeval characteristics, under the levelling regime of
Intendant de Crosne, whose one good work was the building of the
boulevards. Hardly as much change was wrought when the great new
streets of 1859 were cut that swept away the old infected quarters of
the fifteenth century. The Revolution, that is responsible for the
debasement of St. Laurent and St. Ouen, among many other atrocities,
did most injury in abolishing those picturesque local bodies, like the
"Cinquantaine" and the "Arquebusiers," and substituting for them a
meaningless "Garde Nationale." Its efforts at "national" nomenclature
were fortunately in most cases abortive.

The Rouen of to-day, though so much taken up with commerce, is not
unworthy of her great traditions. A town that in art can show the
names of Poussin, Jouvenet, and Gericault; and in letters, Gustave
Flaubert, Maupassant, and Hector Malot, has not been left too far
behind by older memories. But it is in the number of its citizens who
have devoted themselves to the history and the archaeology of their own
town, their "Ville Musee," that Rouen has been especially blest. In
Farin the historian, in M. de Caumont the archaeologist, in Langlois,
de la Queriere, Deville, Pottier, Bouquet, Periaux; above all, in
Floquet, the town can point to a band of chroniclers of which any
city might be proud. To all of them I have been indebted. And no less
does this sketch of their city's story owe to those who are still
living within its streets, and still ready to point the visitor to
their greatest beauties: M. Charles de Beaurepaire, whose work in the
Archives is of the highest value, and to whom I am indebted for nearly
every reference to the records of the town; MM. Noel and Beaurain, who
preside over the Library; M. Georges Dubosc, M. Jules Adeline, and
many more.

Scarcely a year before these lines were written one more link between
Rouen and the literature of the world was lost. In August 1896 died a
"Professor of German" in the Lycee de Rouen, who had held her post
since 1882. There had lived Camille Selden, in a quiet seclusion, from
which she published the "Memoires de la Mouche." Universally beloved
for her sweetness, her simplicity, her gentle nobility of soul, she
was the unobtrusive friend of all the best spirits of the day. Upon
her there seemed to have fallen some few mild rays from the genius of
Heine, whom she loved so well. Her last days were spent in studying
the correspondence of two great citizens of the town which sheltered
her, Bouilhet and Flaubert.

My task is over; and I can but leave you now to discover for yourself
the many details, which, for lack of space and leisure, I have
perforce omitted. Yet in this "Story of Rouen" you will find, if you
read it where it should be read, all the typical occurrences which
have made the city what she is, strong in commerce, strong in
traditions, strong above all in the memories of her sons.

     "Strength is not won by miracle or rape.
     It is the offspring of the modest years,
     The gift of sire to son, thro' these firm laws
     Which we name Gods; which are the righteous cause,
     The cause of man, and manhood's ministers."




APPENDIX


I

_A few more interesting walks in Rouen_

It was in my mind at first to place here an itinerary I had planned by
which it would be possible to visit everything of interest in Rouen in
six days, starting from the Hotel du Nord near the Grosse Horloge, and
returning to the same spot. But it is perhaps better after all that
you should visit the places mentioned in my chapters as the spirit
moves you, and that I should merely set down in these last pages a few
old streets or houses which you must not miss, merely because I have
had no space to speak of them before.

Returning from the _Chartreuse de la Rose_, it will be good to take
the Route de Lyons la Foret past the chateau called _Nid de chiens_ (a
name which preserves the memory of the old Dukes' Kennels) where Henri
IV. was entertained. You will see the seventeenth-century house on
your left, between two railway bridges which cross the road, just
before the Caserne Trupel. Continue by the same road, keeping the
_Aubette_ on your right, and turn round the wall of the great Hospital
enclosure till you reach the _Rue Edouard Adam_, and pass the Rue Eau
de Robec which is beautiful on each side of you. Pass the new
_Fontaine Croix de Pierre_, and as you turn down the _Rue Orbe_ look
quickly at the backs of the houses on the Robec, and then swing to the
right up the _Rue des Champs_. At the _Rue Matelas_ you must stop.
_St. Vivien's_ Church closes the quaint vista of the street, and at
No. 19 is an aged doorway to a dark courtyard, and beyond that, a
charming turret staircase on the roadway with a gallery outside all
wreathed in roses. The gables and the woodwork and the shadowed
windows make up an exquisite little picture of mediaeval domesticity.
When you return again to the Rue Orbe, look down the Rue _Pomme d'Or_
to your left, and then turn up the Rue Poisson and admire the
beautiful choir of _St. Nicaise_, remembering the story of the famous
"boise" I told you in the last chapter. Up the Rue St. Nicaise, past
the Rue Floquet, the hideous slit of the _Rue d'Enfer_ opens on the
left, so you turn away to the Rue Roche opposite, and keep swinging to
the left up the _Rue de la Cage_ and so on to the _Boulevard
Beauvoisine_. The _Place du Boulingrin_, where I have no doubt the
English garrison of 1420 played at bowls, is still green and inviting
a little to your right. But pushing on still westwards to the left you
come to the _Boulevard Jeanne d'Arc_, and pass the road that leads
northwards to a fascinating Cider-tavern in the _Champs des Oiseaux_.
A little further on is the Rue Verte (leading northwards to the
Railway Station and southwards to the Rue Jeanne d'Arc and the river)
and at last you reach the _Place Cauchoise_ and the _Rue St. Gervais_
which mounts to the north-west. Look at No. 31 (the Menuiserie Briere)
as you pass, for the sake of the charming old wooden gallery in its
courtyard, and then at No. 71 with its pretty eighteenth-century
panels like plaques of Wedgewood, an ornament which is closely
imitated in the medallions on the wall at the corner of the _Rue
Chasselievre_. After visiting St. Gervais come back to the Place
Cauchoise and take the Rue Cauchoise until you reach the _Rue des Bons
Enfants_, where at No. 134 died Fontenelle. As you pass the _Rue
Etoupee_ stop to look at the sign of the house at No. 4, built in
1580. If you are wise you will lunch at the old inn at No. 41 Rue des
Bons Enfants, admire the stables, and inspect Room No. 10. Refreshed
and fortified, go straight on, across the Rue Jeanne d'Arc into the
_Rue Ganterie_ and so by way of the Rue de l'Hopital to the crossing
of the Rue de la Republique. Almost in front of you on the other side
is the queer little alley called the _Rue Petit Mouton_, and as you
pass down it you will see how much bigger the streets look on my Maps
(for the sake of being clear) than they are in reality. This leads you
across the Place des Ponts de Robec to the beginning of the _Rue Eau
de Robec_ where you will notice at once, on the left, the house at No.
186, with the sign which shows the faithful horse returning from the
scene of his master's murder to bring the news into the town. No. 223
on the other side at the corner of the Rue de la Grande Mesme is fine,
and so is No. 187 at the angle of the _Rue du Ruissel_. All the while
the inky water is trickling under countless bridges on your left hand
("Ignoble little Venice" Flaubert calls it all in "Madame Bovary,"
which gives you, otherwise, the worst impression of Rouen in any book
I know), and swarms of little children chatter and play about the
cobblestones, while women throng the countless dens and cubbyholes,
until you fly for shelter into one of the numerous curiosity shops and
buy a fifteenth-century door-knocker manufactured expressly for your
visit. Past the Place St. Vivien and the Church, the Eau de Robec
still continues; and, as the Rue du Pont a Dame Renaude opens on your
left, there is a good house at the corner of the opposite street.
Further on to the left a great building with overhanging eaves
stretches from 34 to 30. Then, over a broader bridge, the Rue des
Celestins goes northwards, and this street of bridges ends in the
green trees of the Boulevard, with a lovely view of that Maison des
Celestins which the Duke of Bedford endowed, far to your right in the
distant corner of the old wall of the Hospital.

Coming back by the Robec (for it well deserves looking at from each
end), when you reach the Rue de la Republique turn northwards for a
sight of the south front of St. Ouen, and then leave the Place de
l'Hotel de Ville by way of the _Rue de l'Hopital_ due west. No. 1 is
an exquisite Renaissance house with its colonnade and arches and
carved capitals. In the courtyard within is a beautiful doorway of the
same period set at right angles to the street facade. Upon its
entrance columns (which are double, one set above another) two
delicately moulded statuettes of women are placed on each side of the
slender upper shaft. Over the door is the motto--"DomiNuS MICHI
ADIUTOR," the same which occurs above the arms of Cardinal Wolsey on
the terra-cotta plaque at Hampton Court. This fine house extends some
way down the street, and leads you pleasantly onwards till the Rue
Socrate opens to your left. Go down it and glance on each side as the
_Rue des Fosses Louis VIII._ crosses your path. At the end is the
great Palais de Justice. Beyond that (you may go through Louis XII.'s
archway or keep the Palace wall upon your right) is the _Rue aux
Juifs_, in which No. 35 is an exact model of its ancient predecessor.
In the _Rue du Bec_ there are remains of fine houses and spacious
courtyards, and through it you arrive at the Rue de la Grosse Horloge
and the great archway that holds the famous clock of Rouen.

The only other houses I can remember as worthy of a special visit are
Nos. 5, 7, and 18 in the _Rue St. Etienne des Tonneliers_, which opens
out of the Rue du Grand Pont just before the quays. Where the Rue
Jacques Lelieur enters it are the ruins of a lovely church fallen upon
very evil days. All over Rouen you may find walks equally interesting,
but I have done enough in suggesting a few of the most typical.


II

_Monuments classes parmi les Monuments Historiques de France_

HORS CLASSE.  Cathedrale (Etat).
              Maison Corneille, Petit Couronne (Depart.).

  I. CLASSE.  Chapelle de St. Julien des Chartreux a Petit Quevilly.
              St. Godard (verrieres).
              St. Maclou.
              St. Ouen.
              St. Ouen (Chambre ou Tour aux Clercs).
              St. Patrice.
              St. Vincent.

 II. CLASSE.  Tour St. Andre.
              Cathedrale, Salle Capitulaire et Cloitre.
              Fontaine Croix de Pierre (Musee des Antiquites).
              St. Gervais (Crypte et Abside).
              Aitre St. Maclou.
              Choeur de St. Nicaise.
              Chapelle de la Fierte St. Romain, a la Vieille Tour.

III. CLASSE.  Eglise Mont aux Malades.
              Eglise St. Paul (abside).
              St. Vivien (clocher).


III

_Museums and Libraries_

The _Musee des Antiquites_ at the northern end of the Rue de la
Republique contains some very interesting prehistoric remains; a
quantity of Merovingian relics, such as axe-heads, finger-rings,
lance-points, necklaces, buttons, buckles, needles, combs, and
pottery; the standard measures of Rouen from the sixteenth to the
eighteenth century; lead crosses with formulas of absolution stamped
upon them from the eleventh to the thirteenth century; medals and
tokens of many local abbeys and confreries; coins of the Dukes of
Normandy from 911 to 1216; an eleventh-century Oliphant; some glass
mosaics; and the statue of Henri Court Mantel from his tomb in the
Cathedral. All these are in the first room. In the next are Roman
vases and glassware; some fine bronze weapons; and a large Gallo-Roman
mosaic; also "La Capucine," as the first municipal fire-engine was
called, which was only instituted in 1719. It was only in 1686 that
any organisation at all was made to prevent fires, and the first
"Pompiers de Rouen" were created in 1800. These facts, in connection
with the general use of wood for common houses even till late in the
sixteenth century, explain a great deal of the terrible destruction by
fire in every quarter of the town. In a third room are gathered
together some good examples of tapestry and furniture, and in a room
by itself is a magnificent mosaic from Lillebonne. Of the inner
quadrangle and the front courtyard I have spoken already in earlier
pages.

       *       *       *       *       *

The _Musee de Rouen_ in the Rue Thiers has four separate divisions
each worthy of your attention. The _first_ is the beautiful garden
which stretches westward to the Rue Jeanne d'Arc. The _second_ is the
_Town Library_, which is entered by its own door opposite the Eglise
St. Laurent. In my list of authorities I have mentioned books which
can all be obtained in the Library, where there are excellent
arrangements for the student to work and take notes from as many books
as he likes, and keep them together from day to day. Among its more
remarkable manuscripts are Anglo-Saxon writings of the tenth century,
illuminated "Heures" of the fifteenth century, the "Missel" of Georges
d'Amboise; there are also several "incunables d'imprimerie de Rouen,"
and other rare works; by the help of M. Noel, M. Beaurain, and their
capable assistants, no student of civic or departmental history can
fail to find all he desires. For more careful researches into original
authorities he will do well to consult M. Charles de Beaurepaire, who
presides of the _Archives_, near the Prefecture in the Rue Fontenelle;
and he will find further documents of interest in the _Hotel de Ville_
and the _Library of the Chapterhouse_, which is reached by way of the
staircase out of the north transept in the Cathedral. The _third_
division of the Musee de Rouen is the _Gallery of Faience and
Ceramics_. The enamelled tiles for Constable Montmorency, called the
"carrelages d'Ecouen," which bear the mark, "Rouen, 1542," were not
made by Bernard Palissy, but by the man of whom a record exists in May
24, 1545, "Masseot Abaquesne, esmailleur en terre demeurant en la
paroisse St. Vincent de Rouen." After 1565 this "terre emaillee" is
not made here any more, but in 1645 Esme Poterat is the best maker of
porcelain in France, and was the founder of the famous Rouen school of
the "fond jaune ocre," in which Guilleband and Levavasseur were
conspicuous for their "style rayonnant" in the seventeenth century. On
the right of this gallery is a very fine example of this style, with
blue arabesques, and in the same room a queer mixture of localities is
observable in the Chinese figures dancing the dances of Normandy, to
the tune of Norman bagpipes, in a queerly Celestial atmosphere. There
is also the famous "violon de faience" to be seen. The _fourth_ and
most important division is, of course, that which contains the
pictures, and by a very sensible arrangement those which have
especially to do with the ancient or modern history of the town are
usually gathered into one gallery, which is of the highest interest to
any student of the history of Rouen. Some two hundred and fifty
prints, drawings, and paintings of local interest may often here be
studied. In the galleries themselves, No. 413 is a view of Rouen taken
from St. Sever by Jean Baptiste Martin who died in 1735. It shows the
gates of the town, even the Vieux Palais on the left, the wooden
bridge, the Ile St. Croix full of trees, the old piers still standing
of the Empress Matilda's Bridge, and a fashionable assemblage on the
Cours la Reine, by the St. Sever bank. After reading this book, you
will find few pictures more interesting as a reproduction of the
various pieces of architecture now vanished.

Out of a list of pictures most kindly made for me by M. Edmond Lebel,
the keeper of the Museum, I will select a few which must on no account
be missed.


EARLY WORK.--

No. 421. Ecce <DW25>                                    Mignard.
 "   34. Concert sur une place publique               Berghem.
         Paysage                                      Ruydael.
 "  570. Portrait                                   Velasquez.
 "  494. Le Bon Samaritain                             Ribera.
 "  536. Chasse au Sanglier                          Sneyders.
 "  285. Portrait de l'auteur                        Jouvenet.
 "  481. Venus et Enee                                Poussin.
 "   54. Vierge et Enfant                   Sandro Botticelli.
 "  210. Vierge et Enfant (avec portraits)     Gerard (David).
 "  573. Vision                                      Veronese.
 "  316. Baigneuses                                   Lancret.

AFTER 1800.--

No. 265. La belle Zelie                                Ingres.
 "  115. Paysages                                       Corot.
         Etudes Diverses                            Gericault.
 "  152. La Justice de Trajan.                      Delacroix.
 "  544. Un metier de chien                  Stevens (Joseph).
 "  239. Etudes Diverses                           Meissonier.
 "   97. Portrait                             Francois Millet.
 "   "   Tete                                       Bonington.
 "  489. Le Pilote                                     Renouf.

DRAWINGS.--

No. 811. Etude                                         Lebrun.
 "  833. Figures                                    Rembrandt.
 "  795. Visite de Bonaparte a Rouen                   Isabey.
 "  737. Vue de Rouen in 1777                          Cochin.
 "  796. Etude                                       Jouvenet.
 "  856. Diverses Etudes                            Gericault.
         Etudes                                     Delacroix.

SCULPTURE.--

No. 937. Napoleon (marbre)                             Canova.
 "  959. Gericault (tombeau, marbre)                     Etex.
 "  946. Armand Carrel (bronze)                David d'Angers.
 "  934. Pierre Corneille (terre cuite)              Caffieri.
 "  941. Boieldieu (marbre)                      Dantan Jeune.
 "  985. Fontenelle (marbre)                        Romagnesi.


IV

_Authorities_

Though I desire to express my indebtedness to all the works mentioned
in these pages, the books given in the list that follows are those
which should be first consulted by anyone who wishes to follow on
completer lines the story of the town which I have been obliged to
shorten. The commonplace of artistic, or historical, or architectural
literature I have omitted. Those who know it will easily recognise the
passages in which I have made use of Freeman, of Ruskin, of Viollet le
Duc, of Michelet, of many other standard works. Those who yet have it
to discover can find it for themselves in any library.

But the undermentioned works, some of them only to be found in Rouen
itself, are worthy of the attention of any student who wishes to carry
his researches further into one of the most interesting of French
mediaeval cities. All the publications of the "Societe Rouennaise des
Bibliophiles" and of the "Societe des Bibliophiles des Normandes" may
be consulted with advantage, and every volume of "Normannia" issued by
the "Photo Club Rouennais."

     Histoire du Parlement de Normandie--_A. Floquet_, 1840, 7
     vols.

     Histoire du Privilege de St. Romain--_A. Floquet_, 1833, 2
     vols.

     Anecdotes Normandes--_A. Floquet_, second edition, 1883.

     Rouen Monumental au XVIIme et XVIIIme siecle--_Georges
     Dubosc_, 1897.

     Dictionnaire des Rues de Rouen--_Nicetas Periaux_, 1871.

     Histoire Chronologique de Rouen--_Nicetas Periaux_, 1874.

     Sculptures Grotesques de Rouen--_Jules Adeline_, 1878
     (illus.).

     Description Historique des Maisons de Rouen--_E.
     Delaqueriere_, 1821 (illus.).

     Description, etc., vol. ii., 1841 (illus.).

     Siege de Rouen (1418-19)--_M.L. Puiseux_, 1867.

     La Danse des Morts du cimetiere St. Maclou--_E.H. Langlois_,
     1832 (illus.).

     Stalles de la Cathedrale de Rouen--_E.H. Langlois_, 1838
     (illus.).

     Rouen, Rouennais, Rouenneries--_Eugene Noel_, 1894.

     Rouen, Promenades et Causeries--_Eugene Noel_, 1872.

     L'Ancien Bureau des Finances--_Georges et Andre Dubosc_,
     1895.

     Peintures Murales du XIIme siecle--_G.A. Le Roy_, 1895.

     Tapisseries de Saint-Vincent--_Paul Lafond_, 1894 (illus.).

     Le Donjon du Chateau (Tour Jeanne d'Arc)--_F. Bouquet_, 1877.

     La Muse Normande (_David Ferrand_, 1625-1653), 5 vols.,
     Rouen, 1891.

     Mystere de l'Incarnation, etc., avec introduction, etc.--_P.
     le Verdier_, 1886.

     Description des Antiquites de Rouen--_Jacques Gomboust_,
     1655.

     Roman de Rou (by Robert Wace), edited by _F. Pluquet_, 2
     vols., 1827.

     Le Livre des Fontaines (J. Lelieur), edited by _T. de
     Jolimont_, 1845 (illus.).

     Les Quais de Rouen--_Jules Adeline_, 1879 (illus.).

     Les Fastes de Rouen (H. Grisel), edited by _F. Bouquet_,
     1870.

     Eloges de Rouen (P. Grognet, etc.), edited by _Ed. Frere_,
     1872.

     La Friquassee Crotestyllonnee--"_Abbe Raillard_," 1604.

     Rouen Pittoresque, drawings by _Lalanne_, text by various
     hands, 1886 (illus.).

     Rouen qui s'en va--_Jules Adeline_, 1876 (illus.).

     Rouen Disparu--_Jules Adeline_, 1876 (illus.).

     Rouen Illustre, drawings by _Allard_, text by various hands,
     2 vols., 1880 (illus.).

     La Tapisserie de Bayeux--_H.F. Delaunay_, 1824.

     Une Fete Bresilienne a Rouen en 1550--_F. Denis_, 1851.

     Rouen au XVIe siecle (d'apres J. Lelieur, 1525)--_Jules
     Adeline_, 1892 (illus.).

     Tombeaux de la Cathedrale de Rouen--_A. Deville_, 1881.

The works published by M. Charles Robillard de Beaurepaire deserve
special mention by themselves. The student should consult every one he
can discover. They are chiefly in the shape of paper pamphlets,
containing invaluable reprints from the manuscripts of the town, with
notes and introductions. Published, as they ought to be, in several
collected volumes, they would make an extraordinary contribution to
the history of Northern France from Norman times to the present day. I
have consulted and quoted so many, that I have no space to give all
their titles, but the few which follow are merely those which were of
the greatest importance to me in the pages which have gone before:--

     Memoire sur le lieu du supplice de Jeanne d'Arc, 1867.
     Don Pedro Nino en Normandie, 1872.
     Duc de Bedford a Rouen.
     Accord conclu par Robert de Braquemont, etc.
     La Senechaussee de Normandie, 1883.
     Les Etats de Normandie sous Charles VII., 1875.
     L'Ecurie de Catherine de Medicis.
     Notes sur les Lepreux.
     Notice sur une Maison de la rue de la Grosse Horloge.
     Les Architectes de Saint Maclou.
     Logis de Lord Clarendon en 1674, Rue Damiette.
     L'Ancien Clos des Galees, 1869.
     Charles VIII. a Rouen, 1853.
     Les Tavernes de Rouen au XVI siecle, 1867.




INDEX


A

ABBAYE de St. Amand, 15; 71; 85.

ABINGDON, 76.

"ABJURATION" of Jeanne d'Arc, 223.

AITRE St. Maclou, 299 etc.

ALAIN Blanchart, 194.

ALIGRE (Hotel d'), 384 etc.

AMPERE (No. 13 Rue), 389.

ANDRE (St.), 247.

ANGLO-SAXON Architecture, 100.

ANSELM, 40; 63; 77.

ANTIQUARIES (Society of), 341; 342.

ANTIQUITES (Musee des), 7; 12 etc.; 23; 397.

ARCHITECTS (of Cathedral), 126 etc.; 129 etc.

ARGENTEUIL (Tale of the murder at), 288 etc.

ARISTOTE (lai d'), 260.

ARMAGNACS, 174.

ARPENTS (Rue des), 4.

ARRET du Sang Damne, 275.

ATHANAGILD, 26.

AUBETTE, 2; 70.

AUDOWERE, 25; 29.

AUTHORITIES, 400.


B

BAC (Rue du), 15.

BALAIS (Marche aux), 352.

BAPAUME, 2.

BASSE Vieille Tour, 5.

BATAILLE (Pre de la), 52.

BAYEUX Tapestry, 66; 78.

BEAUREPAIRE (Charles Robillard de), 402.

BEAURAIN, 359.

BEAUVAIS (Bishop of), 206 etc.

BEAUVOISINE (Porte), 54.

BEC (Hotel du), 172.

BEDFORD (Duke of), 197; 198.

BELFRY of the town, 139.

BELLENGUES (The Story of Jeanne de), 172.

BERGERIES carved on Maison Bourgtheroulde, 334.

BERNARD the Dane, 52.

BERTRAND du Guesclin, 149.

BIGOT (Laurent), 289 etc.

BLIND man of Argenteuil, 288 etc.

BLOIS (Theobald of), 46.

BOHIER (Thomas), 286.

BOISE de St. Nicaise, 370 etc.

BOIS Guillaume, 2.

BONNE Ame (Bishop Guillaume), 69.

---- Nouvelle (Church), 68.

BONSECOURS, 2.

BONS Enfants (Hotel des), 161.

BOULINGRIN (Place du), 6.

BOURGTHEROULDE (Maison), 9; 83; 321 etc.

BOURSE (Quai de la), 48.

BOUVREUIL (Castle of), 5.

---- (Porte), 91.

BRAZIL, 349.

BRAZILIAN Fete, 350.

BRAZILIANS, 351.

BREZE (Jacques de), 263.

---- (Tomb of Louis de), 314.

---- (Pierre de), 261.

BRUNHILDA, 24 etc.

BUREAU des Finances, 285.

BURGUNDIANS, 175.

BURNING of Jeanne d'Arc, 228.


C

CACHE Ribaut (bell), 9; 137.

CALENDE (Place de la), 42; 48; 70.

CANADA, 383.

CANARIES (King of the), 150.

CANTELEU, 2.

CARADAS (Maison), 346.

CARMES (Rue des), 7; 90; 114.

CARVINGS of Maison Bourgtheroulde, 338 etc.

CATHEDRAL, 115 etc.; 256 etc.

---- Architects, 126 etc.

CATHERINE de Medicis, 350.

CATHERINE (Mont Ste.), 2.

CAUCHOISE (Place), 6.

---- (Rue), 6.

CAUCHON (Pierre), 206 etc.

CAUDEBEC, 186.

CELESTINS (Couvent des), 197.

CELESTIN (Joyeux), 198.

CEMETERY of St. Maclou, 299 etc.

---- of St. Ouen, 222.

CHAMP du Pardon, 69.

CHANNEL ISLANDS, 52.

CHAPEL of the Archbishop, 213.

CHAPELLE de la Fierte, 5; 37; 108; 357.

---- St. Julien, 96.

---- des Ordres, 214.

CHARLES V., 129.

---- VI., 155.

---- VII., 232.

---- VIII., 40.

---- VIII. in Rouen, 240 etc.

---- le Mauvais, 148.

CHARTREUSE de la Rose, 182.

CHARTREUX, 95.

CHASSELIEVRE (Rue), 17.

CHASTEL (St. Pierre du), 5.

CHATEAU, Gaillard, 87.

CHURCHES of Rouen, 233 etc.

CIVILLE (Francois de), 316.

CLARENDON'S House at Rouen, 383 etc.

CLEMENT (St.), 42; 48.

CLERCS (Tour aux), 71.

CLOCK of the Town, 139.

CLOS AUX GALEES, 112.

CLOS AUX JUIFS, 70.

CLOVIS, 21.

COMMERCE, 85; 112; 349; 369 etc.

COMMUNE (of Rouen), 110.

CONAN, 80.

CONCEPTION (Confrerie de la), 69.

CONFRERIES, 79; 85.

---- (carvings), 259.

CONFRERIE de la Conception, 69.

---- de la Passion, 168.

CONFRERIE de St. Michel, 305.

---- St. Romain, 356 etc.

CORDAY (Charlotte), 391.

CORDELIERS (Rue des), 5; 48.

CORNEILLE, 377 etc.

---- (Pont de Pierre), 7.

COUR d'Albane, 218.

---- des Comptes, 287.

COUSTOU'S Bas Relief, 389.

CREPIN (St.), 85.

CRIMES. See RECORDS of the Fierte.

CROIX (Ile St.), 3.

---- (St., des Pelletiers), 85.

CROSNE (Intendant de), 392.

CRYPTE, St. Gervais, 9; 18 etc.

CUSTOM-HOUSE, 389.


D

D'AMBOISE (Tomb of the Cardinals), 310.

DAMIETTE (No. 29 Rue), 12.

---- (No. 30 Rue), 384 etc.

---- (Rue), 299.

DANSE Macabre, 306 etc.

DARE (Pierre), 369.

DARNETAL, 2.

DEATH, 292 etc.

---- personified, 293.

DEMOCRATIC Architecture, 119.

DENIS (Rue St.), 15; 48.

DETANCOURT (Maison), 140.

DONJON of Chateau de Bouvreuil, 208 etc.

DUDO of St. Quentin, 40.


E

EAU DE ROBEC (Rue de l'), 6.

EDWARD the Confessor, 66.

EGLISE St. Paul, 99.

ELECTION of Georges d'Amboise, 253 etc.

ELOI (St.), 23; 42; 48.

EMENDREVILLE (St. Sever), 68.

ENFANTS (Hotellerie des Bons), 9.

ENGLISH Army of 1418, 179.

ENGLISHMEN and Rouen, 326.

ENGLISH Palace, 196.

ENGLISHMEN with Henry of Navarre, 319.

ENTRY of Francis I., 280 etc.

EPEE (Rue de l'), 6.

EPICERIE (Rue de l'), 9; 352; 353.

EPTE, 48.

ERMONDEVILLE (St. Sever), 55.

ESPAGNOLS (Rue des), 6.

ETIENNE des Tonneliers (St.), 70.

EURE (river), 2.


F

FACADE of St. Ouen, 237.

FACADES of Rouen churches, 237.

FAIENCE and Ceramics, 398.

FEAST of the Farmers, 375.

FERRAND (David), 370.

FESTIN du Cochon, 375.

FETE St. Anne, 375.

---- aux Normands, 69; 369.

---- des Rois, 383.

---- St. Vivien, 375.

FIELD of the Cloth of Gold, 326.

FIERTE (Chapelle de la), 5.

---- (Levee de la), 69.

---- (Prisoners released by), 163.

---- (Prisoners of the), 200 etc.

---- (Procession of the), 354 etc.

---- (Record of the), 264 etc.; 295.

FINANCES (Bureau des), 285.

FITZOSBERN (William), 62; 66.

FOIRE du Pardon, 69.

---- du Pre, 68.

FONTAINE Croix de Pierre, 13.

---- de la Grosse Horloge, 111.

FONTENELLE, 377 etc.

FORTIN (Mont), 2.

FOSSES Louis VIII. (Rue aux), 15.

FRANCE (Hotel de), 15.

FRANCIS I. (Entry), 279 etc.

FRANCO, 47.

FREDEGOND, 24 etc.

FRIDEGODE, 35.

FULLER-MAITLAND, 359.


G

GALESWINTHA, 26.

GARGOUILLE, 39.

GARRISON of Rouen in 1418, 178.

GASTINEL (Tomb of Denis), 212.

GATEAU des Rois, 376.

GEORGES d'Amboise (Election), 253 etc.

GEORGES d'Amboise, 256; 390.

---- (bell), 9; 129; 356.

GERMAN Invasion, 391.

GERVAIS (St.), 5.

GERVAIS (Crypte St.), 9; 18 etc.

---- (Fair of St.), 68.

---- (Priory of St.), 17; 77.

GISELA, 49; 51.

GODARD (St.), 21; 48.

GOSSE (Edmond), 274.

GOTHIC Architecture, 102; 116.

GOUJON (Jean), 244.

GRAND Pont (Rue), 7.

GREGORY of Tours, 31.

GRISEL (Hercule), 375; 377.

GROSSE Horloge (Rue de la), 6.

GROTESQUE carvings, 124 etc.

GUISCARD (Robert), 61.


H

HALLAGE (Rue du), 159; 353.

HALLES, 91; 112; 348.

HARELLE (Revolte de la), 150 etc.

HARENGUERIE (Rue), 343.

HARO (Clameur de), 146.

HAROLD BLACKTOOTH, 53.

HASTINGS the Dane, 47.

HAUTE Vieille Tour, 5.

HENRI BEAUCLERC, 77; 80.

HENRY II., 95.

HENRI II. (Entry), 350.

HENRY V.'S plan of invasion, 177.

HERBLAND (Eglise St.), 16; 22.

---- (St.), 41.

HERLWIN, 77.

HILAIRE (St.), 2.

---- (Place St.), 6.

HILDESWINDA; 25.

HILPERIK, 25 etc.

HLODOWIG (Clovis), 21; 24.

HLOTHAIR, 24.

HOLBEIN, 307.

HORLOGE de la Ville, 138.

---- (Rue de la Grosse), 6.

HOTEL Bourgtheroulde, 321.

HOTEL d'Aligre, 384 etc.

HOTEL de France, 15.

HOTEL des Bons Enfants, 161.

HOTEL de Ville (Place de l'), 6.

HOTEL de Ville, 84; 110; 144.

HOTEL du Bec, 172.

HUGH II. (Archbishop), 58.


I

ILE, St. Croix, 3.

INNS, 160.


J

JEANNE D'ARC, 6; 200 etc.

---- (Rue), 7; 15.

---- (Tour), 5; 6; 208.

JOHN LACKLAND, 87.

JUIFS (Clos aux), 70.

---- (Rue aux), 90.

JULIEN (St. J. Petit Quevilly), 95 etc.

JUMIEGES (William of), 40

JUSTICE (Mediaeval), 264 etc.

---- (Palais de), 15; 277.


L

LAI d'Aristote, 260.

LANFRANC, 63; 64; 67; 75; 77.

LATIN Language, 377.

LAURENT (St.), 85; 248.

LECOINTE (Guillaume), 97.

LELIEUR (Jacques), 5; 16; 40; 344; 345.

LE PUY (des Palinods), 69.

LEROUX (Rouland), 130.

LE ROUX, 322.

LESTRANGE (Archbishop Guillaume de), 155.

LEVEE de la Fierte St. Romain, 69; 104 etc.

LIBRARY, 398.

LION (Porte Guillaume), 4; 6. Lo (Parish of St.), 90.

---- (Priory St.), 15.

LONDON, 16; 21; 88.

LOTHAIR (of France), 57.

LOUIS (of France), 53.

LOUIS d'Outremer, 52.

LOUIS VII., 85.

---- VIII. (Rue aux Fosses), 15; 42.

---- (St.), 115.

---- XI., 157.

---- XII., 40.

---- XIV., 387.

---- XV., 390.

---- XVI., 390.

---- Philippe, 391.


M

MACABRE (Danse), 306 etc.

MACLOU (Eglise St.), 15.

---- (St.), 243 etc.

MADELEINE (Rue de la), 48.

MADRIGAL sung in 1550, 360 etc.

MAISON Bourgtheroulde, 321.

MAISON des Celestins, 197.

MAISON de Diane de Poitiers, 136.

---- Jeanne d'Arc, 220.

MALADES (Mont aux), 2.

MALPALU (Rue), 15; 80.

MAL S'Y FROTTE, 6.

MALSIFROTTE, 196.

MARAT, 391.

MARC D'ARGENT, 234.

MARCHE aux Balais, 352.

MARCHE Neuf, 42.

---- (Place du Vieux), 6.

---- VIEUX (Place du), 51.

MARIE D'ESTOUTEVILLE (bell), 9.

MARTAINVILLE (Place), 6.

MARTIN (St., of Tours), 18; 45.

---- (St.), 30; 48.

---- (St. M. de la Roquette), 22; 47.

---- (St., Sur Renelle), 85.

MASSACRE (Porte), 84; 90.

---- (Rue), 42; 82; 135.

MATILDA (Empress), 68; 82; 98.

MATILDA of Flanders, 63; 76.

MAUGER, 63.

MAUPERTUIS, 56.

MAURILIUS, 64; 70; 91.

MEDIAEVAL Workmen, 118.

MELANTIUS, 33; 34.

MELLON (St.), 17; 18.

MEREDITH (George), 169; 393.

MEROWIG, 25; 28 etc.

MESSE du Prisonnier, 355.

MICHEL (Confrerie de St.), 305.

MILITIA of Rouen, 147.

MINT, 162.

MIRACLE PLAYS, 105.

MISERICORDES, 258.

MOLIERE, 378 etc.

---- (Rue), 299.

MONT FORTIN, 2.

MONT AUX MALADES, 2; 92; 93 etc.

MONT RIBOUDET, 2.

MONT SAINT AIGNAN, 2.

MONT STE. CATHERINE, 2; 99; 176.

MONTAIGNE, 351.

MONUMENTS Historiques, 39.

MOSSELMEN (Pol), 258.

"MOUCHE," 393.

MUSEE des Antiquites, 7; 12; 23; 397.

MUSEE DE ROUEN, 398.

MUSEUM, 6.

MUSIC sung in 1550, 362.

MYSTERY Plays, 105; 167.


N

NAPOLEON (the Great), 391.

NATIONALE (No. 41 Rue), 48.

NEWFOUNDLAND, 383.

NICAISE (St.), 17.

---- (story of St.), 371.

NID DE CHIENS, 182; 394.

NORMAN Architecture, 101.

NORMANDS (Fete aux), 69.


O

ODO of Bayeux, 63; 78.

OLD Houses, 394 etc.

OLD Hundredth, 359.

ORDERIC Vital, 40.

OSMOND, 53.

OUEN (St.), 5; 6; 17; 35; 48; 152; 233 etc.

---- (Cemetery of St.), 222.

OURS (Rue aux), 15; 42; 48.


P

PALAIS (Rue du Vieux), 6.

---- de Justice, 15; 42; 277 etc.; 351.

PALINODS (Puy des), 69.

PANTAGRUEL, 149.

PAPEGAULT, 375.

PARDON (Champ du), 69.

---- (Foire du), 69.

PARVIS of Cathedral, 4; 6; 16; 42; 70; 86.

PASCAL, 380.

PASTOUREAUX, 114.

PECQUIGNY, 52.

PEDRO NINO, 170.

PETIT Quevilly, 3; 95 etc.; 97.

---- Salut, 389.

PETRARCH'S "Triumphs," 332.

PHILIP AUGUSTUS, 6; 90.

PICTURES, 399.

PIERRE DE BREZE, 261.

---- (Eglise St., du chastel), 48.

---- (Fontaine Croix de), 13.

PILON (Germain), 308.

PLACE de la Calende, 42; 48; 70.

PLACE de la Haute Vieille Tour 38.

---- du Marche Vieux, 51.

---- de la Pucelle, 226; 227; 321.

---- de la Rougemare, 56.

---- Verdrel, 42.

---- de la Vieille Tour, 354.

---- du Vieux Marche, 226 etc.

PONT Boieldieu, 96.

---- de Pierre Corneille, 7; 68.

---- de l'Arche, 46.

---- (Rue Grand), 7.

---- de Robec (Place des), 6; 16; 42.

PONTIFZ (Guillaume), 129.

PORTAIL de la Calende, 126.

---- des Libraires, 6; 70.

---- aux Libraires, 121 etc.

PORT Morant, 16.

PORTE Beauvoisine, 54.

---- Guillaume Lion, 4.

POTERNE, 42.

PRE de la Bataille, 52.

PRETEXTATUS, 25; 29; 31; 32; 33.

PRISONERS released by the Fierte, 264 etc.

---- released by the Privilege St. Romain, 295 etc.

PRIORY of St. Gervais, 17.

---- St. Lo, 15.

PRIVILEGE St. Romain, 37; 104 etc.

---- St. Romain (Prisoners of), 163 etc.

---- St. Romain (Records of the), 295 etc.

PROCESSION of the Fierte, 354 etc.

PUNISHMENTS of the XVIth century, 273.

PUY de Conception, 370.

PUY des Palinods, 69.


Q

Quentin (Dudo of St.), 40.

Quevilly, 66.

---- (Petit), 3; 95 etc.


R

RABELAIS, 149.

RAGNAR LODBROG, 45.

RECORDS of the Fierte St. Romain, 163 etc.; 200 etc.; 264 etc.; 295 etc.

REHABILITATION of Jeanne d'Arc, 229.

REIGN of Terror, 390.

RELIGIOUS Wars, 315.

REPUBLIQUE (Rue de la), 7.

REVOLTE de la Harelle, 150 etc.

---- des Va-nu-Pieds, 382.

RICHARD (the Fearless), 52; 58.

RICHARD II. (Duke), 68.

RICHARD COEUR DE LION, 86; 87; 98.

RIBOUDET (Mont), 2.

RICARVILLE, 230.

ROBEC, 2; 15; 48; 70.

---- (Eau de), 48.

---- (Ponts de), 15; 42.

ROBERT (The Devil), 62.

---- (Duke of the Franks), 49.

---- (The Magnificent), 62.

---- Short Hose, 75; 81.

---- (Son of the Conqueror), 78.

ROLLO (Rolf), 45.

ROLF the Ganger, 46.

ROMAIN (St.), 37 etc.; 41; 69.

---- (St., his shrine), 98.

---- (Privilege of St.), 37 etc.; 104 etc.

---- (Rue St.), 6.

---- (Tour St.), 71.

ROMAINE, 389.

ROMAN DE ROU, 69.

ROMANESQUE, 18.

RONSARD, 309.

ROTOMAGOS, 14.

ROU (Rollo), 45.

ROUGEMARE (Place de la), 56.

ROUMARE, 2.

ROUVEL (bell), 9; 86; 137.

ROUVRAY, 3.

RUE des Chanoines, 220.

---- des Charettes, 113.

---- Croix de Fer, 217.

---- St. Denis, 48.

---- Dinanderie, 222.

---- St. Eloi, 162.

---- de l'Epicerie, 352.

---- de la Grosse Horloge, 134 etc.

---- des Fosses Louis VIII., 42; 113.

---- de l'Hopital No. 1, 396.

---- Massacre, 42.

---- St. Nicolas, 217.

---- aux Ours, 42.

---- St. Romain, 219 etc.

---- de la Salamandre, 352.

RUISSEAU (Rue du), 6.

RUSKIN, 121; 122.


S

SACRISTAN of St. Ouen, 58; 240.

SAINT Denis (Rue), 15.

---- Marie (Place), 16.

SALAMANDRE (Rue de la), 352.

SANG Damne, 275.

SATYRE Menippee, 386.

SAUT de Conan, 80.

SAVONNERIE (Rue), 344.

"SEGE of Roan" (Poem), 132.

SELDEN (Camille), 393.

SENESCHAL, 261 etc.

SERIFONTAINE (Chateau de), 172.

SEVER (St.), 3; 17; 68.

SIEGE of 946, 53.

---- of Rouen by Henry V., 169 etc.

SIEGES of Sixteenth Century, 315 etc.

SIGEBERT, 25; 27.

SIXTEENTH Century, 294; 300 etc.

SOTTEVILLE, 3.

SPAIN and Rouen, 173.

STAIRCASE of St. Maclou, 245.

STARVATION in Rouen, 188.

ST. AMAND (Abbess of), 253.

ST. ANDRE, 247.

ST. CATHERINE'S Mount, 99.

ST. CLEMENT, 42.

ST. ELOI, 42; 252.

ST. GERVAIS, 5.

ST. GODARD (Windows), 248.

ST. HERBLAND, 41; 135.

ST. HILAIRE, 2.

ST. JULIEN (frescoes), 95 etc.

ST. LAURENT, 248.

ST. LOUIS, 114.

ST. MARTIN, 30.

ST. MACLOU, 243 etc.

ST. OUEN, 5; 35; 48; 55; 152; 233 etc.

ST. PATRICE (Windows), 250.

ST. PAUL (Church), 99.

ST. PIERRE DU CHASTEL, 5.

ST. QUENTIN, 84.

ST. ROMAIN, 37 etc.; 41; 69.

---- (Fete), 107.

---- (Record of the Privilege), 163 etc.; 200 etc.; 264 etc.; 295 etc.

---- (Shrine), 98.

ST. SEVER, 2.

ST. VINCENT (Eglise), 147.

---- 249; 250.

ST. VIVIEN, 252.


T

TALBOT, 205.

TAPISSIERS (Rue des), 15.

TESTIMONY of Jeanne d'Arc, 216.

THIERS (Rue), 6.

THOURET, 390.

TOMB of the Cardinals d'Amboise, 310.

---- of Louis de Breze, 314.

TONNELIERS (St. Etienne des), 70.

TOUR (Place de la Haute Vieille), 38.

---- (Basse Vieille), 5.

---- de Beurre, 129; 256.

---- aux Clercs, 71.

---- du Colombier, 197.

---- (Haute Vieille), 5.

---- Jeanne d'Arc, 5; 205; 207; 214 etc.; 230 etc.

---- de Rouen, 57; 81.

---- St. Andre, 247.

---- St. Romain, 91; 71.


V

VALDORY (Captain), 317.

VELOCASSES, 14.

VERDREL (Place), 15.

VEXIN, 14.

VICOMTE DE L'EAU, 84; 86.

VIEUX Marche (Place du), 6.

---- Palais (Rue du), 6.

VITAL (Orderic), 40.

VOLTAIRE, 387.


W

WACE (Robert), 57; 69.

WALLINGFORD, 76.

WANTAGE, 80; 319.

WEST HANNEY, 319.

WHITE SHIP, 82.

WILLIAM THE BASTARD, 62; 72.

WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, 72 etc.

WILLIAM OF JUMIEGES, 40.

WILLIAM LONGSWORD, 50.

WILLIAM RUFUS, 80; 81.

WORKMEN (Mediaeval), 119.


X

XAINTRAILLES, 230.


Y

YVETOT, 36; 24.




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