The
land is all open and uninclosed: not a fence is to be seen; nor do there
even appear to be any balks or head-marks. Strangers therefore who come,
like us, from a country entirely inclosed, cannot refrain from frequent
expressions of surprise how it is that every person here is enabled to
tell the limits of his own property.
Moulineaux is a poor village, a mere assemblage of cottages, with mud
walls and thatched roofs. But the church is interesting, though
desecrated and verging to ruin. Even now the outside alone is entire.
The interior is gutted and in a state of absolute neglect.--The building
is of the earliest pointed style: its lancet-windows are of the plainest
kind, being destitute of side pillars: in some of the windows are still
remains of handsome painted glass.--Either the antiquaries in France are
more honest than in England, or they want taste, or objects of this kind
do not find a ready market. We know too well how many an English church,
albeit well guarded by the churchwardens and the parson, has seen its
windows despoiled of every shield, and saint, and motto; and we also
know full well, by whom, and for whom, such ravages are committed. In
France, on the contrary, where painted glass still fills the windows of
sacred buildings, now employed for the meanest purposes, or wholly
deserted, no one will even take the trouble of carrying it away; and the
storied panes are left, as derelicts utterly without value.
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