particularize the others, in the supposed order of dates. The porch of
the church of Nôtre Dame de Dom, is said by some antiquaries to be prior
to the church; while others maintain, that the body of the building is
also of the same early date; there is an upright joint in the masonry,
about 15 inches from the main edifice, which appears to me to separate
the erections of two different epochs. It seems quite the general
opinion, but not resting on sufficient authority, that this porch was
part of a Roman temple dedicated to Hercules. It is not in itself a
complete edifice, but forms three sides of a small quadrangular
building, with a Corinthian column at each of the two angles of the
front, and an arch between them. The columns are set on pedestals, but
the pilasters of the arch pass between them to the ground, as is usually
the case in the Roman triumphal arches; so far the whole is correct.
Above the columns there is merely an architrave, whose upper moulding is
very large and solid. It is even finely profiled as a termination, but
would appear rather too massive, if it were surmounted by a frieze and
cornice; I will not assert that this was not the case, though there are
now no vestiges of either: the present termination being a plain gable
end to the roof. Though a little stiff and dry, both the ornaments, and
their disposition, are decidedly Roman. The inner doorway, which is in
the wall of the church tower, is nearly a repetition of the composition
of the entrance to the porch, but instead of a pilaster, there is a
little column under the impost of the arch, which is not brought down so
low as the larger column, and the impost is an entire entablature. The
columns may still be called Corinthian, but the volutes are little more
than curled leaves, and the caulicoles have entirely disappeared.
Instead of the bold and masculine character of the outer architrave, we
find a small detached rectangular block above the capital, supporting a
compressed cornice; and a raking cornice, with two rows of modillions,
forms a very acute pediment. From the porch we enter into the vestibule:
this is square below, octangular above, and is finished, I believe, by a
hemispherical dome, which has eight ribs springing on the faces of the
octagon, and not from the angles. It is in the tower, the whole lower
part of which is likewise attributed to the Romans, but from the
character of the architecture, it appears that the inner doorway, this
vestibule, the nave, and the lantern at the end, are all of the same
date, and though much disturbed by subsequent alterations, they offer
the best specimen I have seen of _cavern-like Gothic_. Here is a new
term for you, but it is also a new style of architecture, and one which
seems nearly peculiar to the south of France. It is principally
characterized by the continued vaulting of the roof, generally pointed,
but without groins, and by the absence of windows in the sides of the
nave, or if any, they were very small. There is no proper transept, but
sometimes there are approaches to one; altogether it has very much the
appearance of a cavern. In the present instance, four semi-circular
arches open under the vaulting of the nave; the fifth division is not
vaulted, but four advancing arches on each side contract it to a square,
which is surmounted by an octagonal lantern with a dome; there have been
eight windows in this drum, but seven are now filled up, and windows
have been opened in the nave. There is also a window on each side below
the lantern, which perhaps existed in the original work. The choir, I
suspect to be somewhat later. In the fourteenth century all the arches
on the south side seem to have been altered to the style of that age,
the semicircular arches having been taken out, and pointed ones
introduced; side chapels of greater extent were also then added, in one
of which is a Gothic tomb of John XXII., of excellent design, but poor
workmanship. Another, called the chapel of the popes, is also attributed
to the fourteenth century, and corresponds in several particulars with
the church of St. Nizier at Lyon, which is of the same period. The bases
are all at the same elevation, but the shafts run up through the
capitals, and are lost among the mouldings of the ribs. The roof of the
earlier part of the building is covered with stone slabs, which I
believe rest on the vaulting without the intervention of any wood-work.
There is a little ridge ornament of intersecting ribs of stone, which
does not seem to be of equal antiquity.
The next subject is the church at Orange. The arch which forms the
western doorway here, is so much like the Roman work of the theatre,
that it might almost be supposed to be of the same age. The church
itself is of very high antiquity, and of a style of architecture very
similar to that of Nôtre Dame de Dom; it is vaulted with a continued
arch, slightly pointed, but without groins; there are no side aisles,
but on each side are four chapels, with semicircular arches; the windows
are small also, with semicircular heads, which enter into the vaulting
of the nave, and are not perhaps as old as the building. At the end of
the church is an apsis. I believe this is a semicircular niche, nearly
as high as the nave, and like that with a pointed arch, but modern
ornaments hide its form; and in the back of it there is a single lancet
window. This I write from memory, as I neglected to note it on the spot;
at any rate I should doubt of its being part of the original
construction; it is rare to find this ancient apsis existing, as it has
usually been pulled down to make room for a more spacious choir.
The nave of the cathedral at Arles, dedicated to St. Trophimus, is said
to have been built by St. Virgil, and consecrated on the 17th May, 626.
I am inclined to believe that we now see the original building. The
vaulting is very obtusely pointed without groins. This church has aisles
and no side chapels, but these aisles are vaulted only in a quarter of a
circle, which forms a counterpoise to the thrust of the great arch of
the nave; the openings into the side aisles are also very obtusely
pointed. The windows are modern, and I suspect that no window was
intended in the nave, except a small circular one over the principal
entrance; how the choir was originally finished, I have not sufficient
evidence to decide, but it is most likely that the building terminated
in an apsis, as in the ancient churches of Rome, with the altar in
front, and an inclosure for the choir before the altar.
Although in all the churches of this style, windows posterior to the
date of the building have been opened into the nave, yet they almost
always feel close, and have a disagreeable smell; this was very strongly
the case at Arles, and perhaps contributed to my illness there. The
bones of St. Trophimus were brought here in 1152, and it is not
improbable that the porch was added on this occasion. It is very
magnificent, consisting of a large and rich semicircular arch, with
multiplied mouldings, supported on slender columns, and the whole
adorned with a profusion of statues. Although of a style which
terminated with the twelfth century, it is evidently an adjunct to the
original building, but one to which it would be I believe, impossible to
find a parallel. It is difficult to explain how it happens, that such a
contradiction to good sense, as supporting a great arch upon little
columns, can produce a pleasing effect, yet I must acknowledge that this
porch is not only singular, but very beautiful. The porch at Tarrascon,
already mentioned, was somewhat similar to this, but greatly inferior,
and it has been much damaged during the Revolution, while that of Arles
remains perfect.
The cathedral at Nismes has a simple nave, with groined and pointed
arches and chapels, with semicircular arches on the sides. The west
front bears evident traces of the Roman style of design; it has a
pediment, and a cornice supported by modillions, with roses in the
intervals, both on the upright face and on the soffite. Under the
cornice is a continued frieze ornamented with a series of figures from
the scripture history. This front has suffered much by repeated
alterations; the part above described is certainly ancient, but lower
down, the original form is become very obscure: it seems to have been a
continued wall, ornamented with very slender shafts supporting small
semicircular arches. The upper part of the western tower, for there is
at present only one, is of the fifteenth century; the lower part is
considerably more ancient. There is a gloomy passage behind the choir,
and a ladies chapel, which is of later date. The church at St. Remi also
partakes of this cavern style, and many of the village churches which I
could not stop to examine seem to exhibit it, and are perhaps of the
same early date.
The church at Valence is a very remarkable example, which must rather be
classed with what is called Norman architecture, than with the edifices
above described. Yet it must be confessed, that if it resemble the
ancient buildings of our own country, in so many particulars as to be
comprehended in the same term, it yet differs in others so much as to
present an appearance by no means exactly similar. The ornaments in
particular are all Roman; the only attempt at novelty in the earlier
buildings of the middle ages, in the south of France, consisting in
placing some of them topsy-turvy. The shape is a Latin cross, of which
the foot is remarkably long, and the head short. The vaulting of the
nave is waggon-headed, that of the side aisles is groined; all the
vaults and arches are semicircular. The capitals are all nearly alike,
and are only a step farther from the Corinthian than those of the inner
archway of the church of Nôtre Dame de Dom. It is amusing to follow the
steps of this degradation of the Roman architecture from one building to
another; and here, though very much altered, there is still much more of
the original form than we find in England, or in the north of France.
The piers consist of four half columns of very slender proportions,
united to a square pillar; and these half columns rise in one height,
without any intermediate bands, from the small plinth on which they
stand, to the underside of the vaulting. The arches of the side aisles
rise nearly to the springing of the vault of the nave. The intersection
of the nave and transept is surmounted with a dome, and the chevet
finishes in a niche-head or semi-dome; it is earlier than any thing I
know in the eleventh century, but the existence of a transept makes me
unwilling to suppose its erection prior to the year 1000. The lower part
of the tower is perhaps older; the upper is certainly more recent than
the body of the church; yet it is still a sort of Norman, but with some
Gothic ornaments, which do not seem to be additions. As the Norman, or
something very like it, appears to have been the architecture of
Charlemagne, it is possible that the cathedral at Valence is of the
eighth century; but I find that I have freed myself from all those
shackles about dates, which I had imbibed in England and strengthened at
Paris; and now ramble through five or six centuries with very little
light to guide me.
The church at Vienne which I have already described, is the last which
retains any trace of this cavern-like style, and that rather in some of
the accessories than in any of the principal parts. There we meet with
something of Norman details, and something of a degraded Roman. The
Norman may perhaps itself be called a degraded Roman, but the
degradation has not always taken place exactly in the same manner. It is
curious enough that in the latter imitations of Roman, they should
frequently have reversed the ornaments, putting the eggs and darts, for
instance, the wrong side uppermost, while at the expiration of the
Gothic in the sixteenth century, we may sometimes find the trefoil
ornament reversed in the same manner.
LETTER XII.
SOUTH OF FRANCE.
_Geneva, 27th August, 1816._
IN my last I ran through the architecture of the middle ages in the
south of France, and have now only a few observations to add of a more
miscellaneous nature. The church of Nôtre Dame de Dom is seated on a
rock which rises immediately from the Rhone, above the rest of the town,
to the height of about 120 feet: all the remainder of the country to the
east of the river, is a plain, bounded at a moderate distance by rugged
hills, and beyond these by Mont Ventou, a bulky mountain, estimated to
rise 6,000 feet above the Mediterranean. On the other side of the river,
rocky hills come down to the water’s edge, crowned in several places
with picturesque ruins. In the middle of the Rhone is a large island
shaded with trees; and extending half way across the nearest branch of
the stream, are the ruins of the ancient bridge of St. Benezet; the
first perhaps of any consequence built by the nations of modern Europe.
It was begun in 1177, during the most flourishing period of Avignon,
when the government of that city was republican. Notwithstanding the
expense of the erection, we are told that in 1179, the magistrates
declared the inhabitants free from all imposts on that account. The
bridge consisted of twenty-two arches, and was 1,200 paces in length;
but like all ancient bridges, very narrow, the road-way not exceeding
nine feet in width. Each arch is composed of four ribs, or series of
vault stones, not bonded together. Like the Pont St. Esprit, it forms an
elbow towards the current. On the first pier of the bridge is a chapel
for the passengers to pay their devotions. This custom was probably
derived from times when there was only a dangerous ferry, and travellers
performed an act of piety, that they might not die unprepared. The old
chapel was entered by a descending flight of steps, but as this was
found inconvenient, a vault was inserted at half the height, and a new
chapel built at the top of the old one; the first has a semicircular
apsis with little columns, much like the Corinthian; the other is
polygonal.
When Louis XIV. visited Avignon, the inhabitants, to do him honour,
spread the whole of the bridge with velvet, and covered it with a canopy
of silk. They did it, perhaps, as sacrifices are performed to evil
deities, in order to avert the mischief they may occasion: but Louis,
struck with this appearance of wealth and prosperity, in a town which
did not belong to him, and not to be propitiated by their hospitality,
destroyed the bridge, surrounded the place with custom-houses, ruined
its trade, and thus drove the manufacturers to other places; and the
city, which once boasted a population of eighty thousand souls, is now
reduced to less than twenty thousand.
Avignon was a republic from 1134 to 1251. The popes came here (Clement
V.) in 1309, and abandoned it in 1376. Two sham popes were here till
1403, from which time Avignon was governed by a vice-legate, deputed by
the popes, till the revolution, when it was finally taken possession of
by the French, and I suppose stands no chance of being restored. Nor is
it desirable that it should, since being inclosed in France, it must
always be in effect, subject to the government of that country. There is
a museum and a public library; and I visited the house of one gentleman
in the place, who has a fine collection of casts, and some pictures; but
I did not find any thing very interesting.
Close by the church of Nôtre Dame de Dom are remains of the palace. It
is said to have existed before the arrival of the popes, but if so, it
was greatly enlarged and embellished by them. It is, or rather it has
been, for great part is now in ruins, an immense, irregular pile of
building, without the least pretension to beauty: one part is now become
the prison of the city; another is converted into barracks; but the
greater part has long ceased to be of any use. Like so many other old
buildings in France, it is deeply stained with blood: the walls of the
hall are still shewn where the antipope Benedict XIII. blew up his
guests, and one of the towers was the scene of a still more horrible
enormity, perpetrated during the bloody era of the revolution, from
which it has received the name of the Tower of Massacre. No less than
sixty-five persons of both sexes, accused of being aristocrats, were
crowded into a little room in the upper part of it, and the ruling party
amused themselves with shooting from the door amongst the prisoners.
When, in this manner, all of them had been more or less disabled, the
ruffians entered the room, and having made a hole in the vaulting which
supported the floor, precipitated the miserable victims one by one to
the bottom of the tower, a height of 80 or 100 feet; for the
intermediate floors, if ever there were any, had all been destroyed. The
cries of the wretched sufferers were still heard, and a quantity of
quick lime was thrown down, at once to stifle them, and to destroy the
bodies. The gratuitous excesses of this period make one shudder for
human nature. History presents nothing to equal them; we find examples
of individuals, indeed, whose highest enjoyment seems to have arisen
from the sufferings of others; but here the mass of the population, a
population professing itself christian, and boasting even of its high
civilization, appear to have had no greater delight than to make their
fellow creatures suffer; and late events shew this most execrable spirit
still to exist in the south of France. The chapel of this place remains
entire; it is a large, and even handsome room, of seven bays with two
windows at each end.
I left Avignon on the evening of the 9th of August for Valence, where
there is a very curious church, which I have already described. Close by
it is a monument, which Millin says would merit an engraving; it did not
strike me as particularly interesting, but the weather was so cold as to
impede my drawing; an inconvenience I certainly did not expect in this
latitude, at this time of year. On the 11th I again resumed my place in
a diligence for Grenoble. The morning was cold, but fine, with clouds
hanging over the distant mountains. The first striking object was
Romans; situated in the valley of the Isere, wild and varied, but
without any mixture of the terrible; in the midst of which the city
occupies a charming situation. Soon after, we approach the mountains,
high, broken, and savage. These and the river were on our right; on the
left were high wooded hills, sometimes rocky, but not rising into
mountains; and our route lay through a delightful valley well wooded,
with vines on high trellises, and corn underneath them, or rather
stubble, for little corn remained on the ground. Where there were no
vines, we found mulberry-trees, and there is very little ground not
shaded in one way or the other. Besides these, the valley produces
abundance of noble walnut trees, and the woods, which are spread over
the hills, contain a considerable quantity of fine timber. As for the
shape of the mountains, those about Settle may give you some notion of
them, only they are I suppose three times as high, and more steep and
abrupt, especially about the entrance of the valley of Grenoble. The
Isere there, makes a sudden bend, and the road turning with it, conducts
us between two magnificent rocky masses, with a rich and fertile valley
of about a mile wide between them. Grenoble stands at the edge of a
plain which looks as if it had been a lake, watered by the Isere and the
Drac. The former is still a considerable river, but thick and muddy. In
walking about Grenoble, wherever the street has length enough in a line
nearly straight to give any opening, one is sure to see a mountain or a
precipice, with clouds hanging about it, or with snow lying in its
hollows. The difference of vegetation, between this neighbourhood and
Provence is very striking; the plants are much more like those of
England, and such as I had left in seed at Nismes are here still in
flower. I find again cherries and strawberries, and young peas; none of
which I had seen since leaving Lyon. No figs; and though there are
green-gages in the market, they are not ripe, while at Avignon they are
almost over.
On the morning of the 13th I set off with a guide to the Grande
Chartreuse, going by the longer and more practicable route, and
proposing to return by the shorter. We passed fine cliffs and deep
ravines, such as you would take a long ride to see in England; but one
of the great charms of the scene arises from the noble chesnut and
walnut trees which shade the sloping parts. Even to the mountain tops
there is plenty of wood, and firs are seen crowning the most elevated
precipices. We crossed what is called in Cumberland a hawse, but instead
of finding barren moors at top, as would be the case there, we meet with
farm-houses, meadows, woods, trees, hedges, and even corn-fields; the
wheat, however, was far from ripe, and the oats were quite green. From
the village of St. Laurent our course lies by a little mountain stream,
called the Gaiers Mort. While the horses rested, I walked forward alone,
coasting the stream, sometimes down on the banks, sometimes two or three
hundred feet above them, and seeming to be rather in a rift in the
mountain than in a valley. This opening is entered by a passage, where
there is just room for the road and the river, between perpendicular
rocks. An arch built across the road, marks the limit of the ancient
domain of the Chartreuse. If you can figure to yourself Helkswood, at
Ingleton, immensely magnified, you will have no bad idea of this pass.
Similar scenery, sometimes with a little more space, sometimes with
less, and varied by precipices more or less tremendously magnificent,
accompanies us till nearly the end of our journey. The road descends
sometimes almost to the bottom; at others, carries us on the edge of
slopes, higher and steeper than the steep part of Boxhill, but always
covered with wood; and sometimes we seem to look down quite
perpendicularly on the noisy torrent below. At one point, a sudden turn
in the road, where we cross the stream by a bridge, and begin to ascend
the opposite side of the valley, presents a particularly fine assemblage
of these objects. At last the scene opens, and we behold meadows, and a
number of men employed in mowing them, and soon after, the Grande
Chartreuse itself, an enormous, ugly pile of building, standing on the
slope of a mountain, a situation unavoidable where there is no level
ground. I walked round the lengthened corridors, and examined the
apartments of the monks; each of which contains a sitting-room and
bed-room, a light closet, places for wood, &c., and a little garden; but
after the neglect of twenty-five years, every thing looks forlorn and
desolate. Five old men are returned, more are expected, but the
establishment is at present very poor; they hope however to receive a
grant of the woods immediately about them, and to obtain some revenue
from the sale of charcoal, and from that of planks, all of which must be
sent on the backs of mules to find a market in the lower country.
I walked up among the woods, which are of fir and beech, but mostly of
the first, to the chapel of St. Bruno, and returned to a supper on
_soupe maigre_, an omelet, and bread and cheese. I had taken the
precaution to provide a substantial meat pie at Grenoble, aware that the
cheer here was not very good, but my guide had lost it, together with
his own great coat, by the way. I then retired to sleep on a bag of
straw between two brown blankets, for all the sheets belonging to the
establishment were dirty; and the whole population being employed about
the hay, there was no possibility of washing them. It appears that the
climate of the Grande Chartreuse has not summer enough to ripen corn.
The convent is every where surrounded by mountains and precipices.
Opposite to it is a steep slope covered with wood to an immense height;
in the immediate neighbourhood are meadows and pastures, rising on hills
which are pretty steep, but not rocky. Indeed the soil must be good, for
the vegetation is vigorous. Behind are steep woods; and above these,
lofty precipices form the summit of the Granson, on which there remained
a small portion of the last winter’s snow.
The next morning I returned to Grenoble, among scenery of the same
character. We are so used to the barrenness of the upper parts of our
own mountains, that an Englishman is astonished to observe so much good
land in such elevated situations. From the vegetable productions I might
very well have imagined myself in Surrey, if the occasional appearance
of _Pyrola secunda_, _Saxifraga rotundifolia_, and a few other Alpine
plants had not disturbed the reverie. On a more extensive view indeed
the number of fir trees, mixed with the beech, gave a different
character to the landscape; and towards the summit the woods were almost
all of fir, with only scrubby beeches interspersed, and patches of snow
were still lying among them. My guide made me observe some cattle near
the summit. Here, as in other parts of France, these always have
attendants to take care that they do not trespass, and to drive them
home at night; even if there were hedges or other inclosures, which
there are not, they could not be left out at night on account of the
wolves. During winter, a dog left at night in any court or open place,
among these mountains, is almost certainly destroyed before morning. The
latter part of the journey I performed on foot, and was highly gratified
by my walk.
The view from the descent into the vale of Grenoble is extremely fine,
extending over the rich and fertile plain beneath; the cultivated hills
rising around it, the woody mountains, occupying a still wider circuit,
and the rocky Alps towering above all, and still retaining, and some of
them always retaining, great beds of snow. It was indeed a magnificent
perspective, yet not without some alloy; for the dense clouds and thick
vapour very much obscured the prospect. I only saw at intervals,
sometimes one, sometimes another part of the scene, and was led to
imagine what the glorious whole would be in more favourable weather. The
plain and the lower hills were always visible, sometimes a black mass of
rocks would rise above the clouds, unconnected with any other earthly
object; sometimes nothing was to be seen of a mountain but an illumined
patch of snow shining through the mist. When I reached the bottom, I
began to feel the weather very hot, and found they had been complaining
much at Grenoble of the heat for the last two days.
Grenoble contains nothing interesting in point of architecture, but the
cathedral claims our attention in another way, by preserving the tomb of
Bayard, the chevalier “_sans peur, et sans reproche_,” a long tasteless
Latin inscription records the fact; it begins,
Hic lapis superbit tumulo non titulo,
Ubi sepultus Heros maximus suo ipsemet
Sepulchro monumentum.
One would have wished something of a very different character.