and, although the
appearance of the hotels is not in their favour, there is nothing to
complain of in regard to cleanliness or attention: at least so we found it
at La Croix Blanche, where the singular beauty of our hostess added to
the romance of our position, perched, as we were, on a balcony without
awning, in a building which had evidently been part of an old tower. It
is true that we should have preferred something rather less exposed
when we found ourselves confined for a whole day, in consequence of
the pouring rain, and found that a stream of water had made its way
from our balcony into each of our rooms; whose bricked floors were
little improved by their visit. Our suggestion of covering the way, in
order that, in wet weather, both the dinner and its bearers might be
sheltered, appeared to excite surprise, though our attendants came in
constantly with their high caps wet through and their aprons soaked.
Our nearly exhausted patience, as we gazed hopelessly on the dull sky
of an August day, was at length rewarded; and the sun, which had
obstinately concealed himself for several days, burst forth on the
second morning of our arrival, and changed by its power the whole face
of things at Falaise. We lost no time in taking advantage of the fine day
which invited us, and sallied forth, all expectation, into the streets,
which we found, as well as the walks, as dry as if no rain had fallen for
months; so fresh and bright is the atmosphere in this beautiful place.
The town is clean and neat; most of the ruinous, striped houses, with
projecting stories, such as deform the streets of Lisieux, being cleared
away; leaving wide spaces and pure air, at least in the centre-town,
where the best habitations are situated. There are other divisions, less
airy and more picturesque, called the fauxbourgs of Guibray and St.
Laurent, and le Val d'Ante; where many antique houses are still
standing, fit to engage the pencil of the antiquarian artist.
The churches of Falaise are sadly defaced, but, from their remains,
must have been of great beauty. The Cathedral, or Eglise de St. Laurent,
is partly of the twelfth century; the exterior is adorned with carving,
and gargouilles, and flying-buttresses, of singular grace; but the whole
fabric is so built in with ugly little shops, that all fine effect is
destroyed. The galleries in the church of La Trinité are elaborately
ornamented, as are some of the chapels, whose roofs are studded with
pendants. Much of this adornment is due to the English, under Henry
V., and a good deal is of the period of the renaissance.
The church of Guibray was founded by Duke William, as the Norman
windows and arches testify; but a great deal of bad taste has been
expanded in endeavouring to turn the venerable structure into a Grecian
temple, according to the approved method of the time of Louis XIV. A
statue of the wife of Coeur de Lion was once to be seen here, but has
long disappeared. That princess resided in this part of Falaise, at one
period of her widowhood, and contributed greatly to the embellishment
of the church.
There are many columns and capitals, and arches and ornaments of
interest in the church of St. Gervais, defaced and altered as it is; but it
is impossible to give all the attention they deserve to these buildings,
when the towers of the splendid old castle are wooing you to delay no
longer, but mount at once the steep ascent which leads to its walls.
Rising suddenly from the banks of a brawling crystal stream, a huge
mass of grey rocks, thrown in wild confusion one on the other, sustains
on its summit the imposing remains of the castle, whose high white
tower, alone and in perfect preservation, commands an immense tract
of smiling country, and seems to have defied the attacks of ages, as it
gleams in the sun, the smooth surface of its walls apparently uninjured
and unstained. This mighty donjon is planted in a lower part of the
height; consequently, high as it appears, scarcely half of its real
elevation is visible. Its walls are of prodigious thickness, and seem to
have proved their power through centuries of attack and defence to
which it has been exposed; careless alike of the violence of man and the
fury of the elements. Adjoining the keep are ranges of ruined walls,
pierced with fine windows, whose circular arches, still quite entire,
show their early Norman construction. Close to the last of these, whose
pillars, with wreathed capitals, are as sharp as if just restored, is a low
door, leading to a small chamber in the thickness of the
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