MÂCON, CLUNY AND THE CHAROLLAIS
Mâcon is a name well known to travellers across France, but its
immediate environs are scarcely known at all save as they are recognized
as a region devoted to the product of the vine. For a fact the romantic
and historic lore which abounds within a short radius of the capital of
the Mâconnais makes it one of the most interesting regions of
mid-France.
Lying just to the westward is the Charollais, whose capital, Charolles,
the ancient fortress of the Comtes de Charolles, is surrounded by a
veritable girdle of castles and donjons, the nearest two kilometres
beyond the town. They formed in their prime an outer line of defence
behind which the counts lived in comparative safety. Montersine, the
nearest of these works, a vast rectangular donjon with _echauguettes_,
must certainly have been the most formidable. Within ten leagues are the
chateaux of Lugny, Rambeauteau and Corcheval--one of the most ancient
of the Charollais. There are also Terreaux-à-Verostres, the Renaissance
Chaumont at Saint-Bonnet-de-Joux and, finally, the fortress of
Commune-sur-Martigny-le-Comte.
Of these, that of Chaumont-la-Guiche, two kilometres from
Saint-Bonnet-de-Joux, is quite the most splendid when it comes to best
fulfilling the mission of a luxurious Renaissance _maison de campagne_.
It is to-day the magnificent twentieth century residence of the Marquis
de la Guiche, but is a lineal descendant of the edifice built in the
reign of François Premier and terminated by Philibert de Guiche, who
died in 1607. At the time of the Saint Bartholomew massacre he was
Bailli de Mâcon, and, throughout, the Mâconnais and the Charollais took
a firm stand against the killing off of the Protestants as an unholy
means to a Christian end.
Before the chateau is an equestrian statue of its sixteenth century
chatelain, and the stables, a great vaulted hall whose ceiling is upheld
by more than fifty svelt colonnettes, are in no small way reminiscent of
the still more extensive Écuries at Chantilly. There is also, as a
dependency of the chateau, a remarkably beautiful Gothic chapel with
fine old glass in its windows--Gothic of a late construction, be it
understood, but acceptable Gothic nevertheless.
At Paray-le-Monail--a place of sainted pilgrimage, because of the
miracle of the Sacré Coeur which took place here--is to be seen the
luxurious dwelling of a local seigneur who was closely allied to the
Comte de Charolles. It is a palace in all but name, and were it on the
well-worn travel track in Touraine would be accounted one of the marvels
of the brilliant array of Renaissance dwellings there. It holds this
distinction to-day among the comparatively few who know it, and, as it
serves the public functions of a Hôtel de Ville, its future as a
"monument historique" worthy of preservation seems assured. Chateau or
palace it may not be; it may be only a luxurious town house; who shall
make the distinction after all? Let the reader, or better yet, the
visitor, to this admirable Renaissance wonder-work be assured that it is
more royally palatial than many which have sheltered the heads and
persons of the most fastidious of monarchs.
South from Charolles, behind the hills of the Brionnais, almost on the
edge of the ancient Forez, in part only Burgundian, is the _coquette
bourgade_ (a French expression absolutely untranslatable) of Marcigny,
all ochre and brown after the local colouring. It is a town of a great
tree-bordered Place, or Square, with decrepit old houses overhanging
its narrow streets, made famous in the past by a celebrated Benedictine
priory which received only the daughters of the nobility. Of this
monastery there remains only the prior's palace, a princely sort of
abode which to-day has been turned into a hotel. Here one may experience
one of the greatest and most joyful surprises of French travel, and pick
up his historical lore on the spot.
Leaving Marcigny for Semur-en-Brionnais, one passes a vestige of the
feudal past in the shape of an elaborately decorated feudal tower. At a
distance this decorative effect seems to be produced by shot still
clinging to the walls, an effect that may be seen also at Arques in
Normandy and at Tarascon in the Midi. Here this is an illusion. As one
approaches nearer it is easy to see these round bosses transform
themselves into _mascarons_, or sculptured decorative details, like the
escutcheons and plaques so frequently seen stuck into the walls of so
many civic edifices in Italy. This old tower is of a different species,
but manifestly it is a memorial of some sort. Its peaked head rises
above a sort of _pavillon_, or loft, like a gigantic pigeon-house. There
is a diminutive barbican on one side, and on the other are narrow slits
of Gothic
[Illustration: _Hôtel de Ville, Paray-le-Monail_]
windows, as if for defence rather than as a means of letting light and
air within.
"This is some ancient historic monument, no doubt?" you query of some
passing peasant. And to be precise he answers: "Yes, a tower." That is
all the information you can get beneath its shadow, but you are content
and go your way. It fulfils exactly your idea of what a mediæval donjon
should be, and what it lacks in apparent authenticated history can be
readily enough imagined by anyone with a predilection for such musings.
Leaving the Charollais and the Brionnais, one turns toward Mâcon by the
gateway of Cluny. Mediævalism here is rampant in memory, song and story,
though the monuments are unfamiliar ones. It is an echo of the days when
abbots and priors were often barons, and barons were magistrates who
held the keys of life and death over other of mankind. These were the
days, too, when the Pope was the real ruler of many a kingdom with
another titular head. Large parcels of land, from the Black Sea to
Brittany, fiefs, countships and even dukedoms, were church property, and
others held their brief sway therein only by the tolerance of the
Pontiff.
Seemingly exempt from this domination, the powerful monks of Cluny knew
no lord nor master. On one occasion a Pope and a King of France, with
numberless prelates and nobles in their train, took refuge in the old
abbey, but not a brother put himself out in the least to do them honour.
By the fifteenth century, the hour of decadence had rung out for Cluny;
no more was it true
"_En tout pays où vent vente_
_L'Abbe de Cluni à rente._"
It was at this time that the "_arbitres des rois_" lost their power.
The great Abbey of Cluny may readily enough be included in any
contemplation of the great civic and domestic establishments of these
parts. The only difference is that in some cases the chatelains or
chatelaines were princes or princesses instead of abbés or abbesses.
Cluny's destinies were presided over by an abbé, but kings and cardinals
and popes all, at one time or another, came to dwell within its walls.
When Cluny was but a mere hamlet, in the year 910 A.D., Guillaume, Duc
d'Aquitaine et Comte d'Auvergne, founded this abbey, which became one of
the most celebrated in the universe. From the first its abbés were
cardinals and princes of Church and State.
In 1245 Pope Innocent IV. visited the abbey with a train of twelve
cardinals and scores of minor churchmen. The Sainted Louis and the
queen, his mother, enjoyed hospitality within its walls, and the Emperor
of Constantinople, and a throng of followers, all found a welcome here;
and this without incommoding the four hundred monks who were attached to
the foundation. Pope Gelasse II died at the abbey, and the Archbishop
Guy of Vienne was here elected Pope, under the name of Calixtus II, by a
conclave assembled within its halls. To-day the pride of the former
powerful abbey rests only on its laurels of other days. Its superb
basilica has practically disappeared. Only its foundations, five hundred
and fifty feet in length, are to be traced. The extensive library has
disappeared, and only certain of the walls and roofs and a few minor
apartments of the former palatial conventual buildings remain to suggest
the one time glory.
The rich plain of Cluny was, in 910 A.D., but a forest called the "Vallé
Noire" when the Abbé Bernon with a dozen brothers founded the celebrated
Abbey of Cluny, called the "cradle of modern civilization."
Of the conventual buildings the most remarkable features still standing
are the south arm of the great transept of the abbey church, the massive
octagonal tower, of a height of sixty metres, another slighter octagonal
_clocher_, and the Chapelle des Bourbons.
Cluny's old houses, or such of them as remain, have been to a large
extent rebuilt and remodelled, but still enough remains to suggest that
the old monastic city was a place of luxury-loving and worldly citizens
as well as monks. Here and there a flying stair, a balcony, a loggia, or
a _rez-de-Chaussée_ arcade suggests a detail almost Italian in its
motive. Colonnettes divide a range of windows and pilasters support
stone balconies and terraces here and there in a most pleasing manner,
and with a most surprising frequency,--a frequency which is the more
pleasing, since, as has been said, scarcely anything of the sort is to
be seen here in more than fragmentary form, though indeed all the
architectural orders and devices of the ingenious mediæval builder are
to be noted. The Revolution respected Cluny, but the Empire and "La
Bande Noire" condemned it to destruction.
The Abbatial Palace, a palatial dependence of the abbey, where lodged
visiting potentates and prelates, escaped entire destruction, and is
to-day the chief ornament of the town. A national educational
institution now occupies the halls and apartments of this great building
where lords and seigneurs and churchmen once held their conclaves.
A fine Gothic portal leads to the inner court of this magnificent
edifice, which was erected by two abbés, Jean de Bourbon and Jacques
d'Amboise. Each had built a separate dwelling on either side of the
great portal. That of the Cardinal de Bourbon is unlovely enough, as
such edifices go, but has an air of a certain sumptuousness
notwithstanding. That of Jacques d'Amboise is a highly ornate work of
the Renaissance, and now serves as the Hôtel de Ville, whilst the other
houses a local museum and library.
A garden of the formal order surrounds the two edifices and covers a
goodly bit of the ground formerly occupied by the other buildings
attached to the abbey. Entrance to this garden, and its Palais Abbatial,
as the ensemble is officially known, is through a double Romanesque
portal, as much a militant note as the rest is religious.
Cluny's Hôtel Dieu is another remarkable souvenir of old. Within are
various monuments and statues of churchmen and nobles which give it at
once a lien on one's regard. There is a luxurious monument to one of the
Abbés of Cluny; another, that the Cardinal de Bouillon erected to his
father, Maurice de la Tour d'Auvergne, Duc Souverain de Bouillon, Prince
Souverain de Sedan.
Here and there about the town an old feudal tower or house-front juts
out in close communion with some banal modern façade, but the whole
aspect of the city of some four thousand inhabitants to-day is, when
viewed from a distant approach, as of a feudal city with no modernities
whatever. Near acquaintance disabuses one of this idea, but, regardless
of this, the aspect of Cluny, the monastery and the city, is one of
imposing and harmonious grandeur, hardly to be likened to any similar
ensemble in France or beyond the frontiers.
Near Cluny, in the heart of the "Black Valley," is the Chateau de
Cormatin, belonging to a M. Gunsbourg, and containing an important
collection of pictures and furniture, all of them antique, which are
cordially submitted to the gaze of the curious upon a diplomatic
request.
Rising from the plain, on the road to Tournus, is the Chateau de
Brançion, a feudal relic and not much more, but proclaiming its former
military glory as if its history had been epoch-making, which it
probably was not, as there is but scant reference to it in local annals.
As one approaches Mâcon by road from the north or west, great villas and
"_chateaux de commerce_" line every kilometre of the way. Some are
ancient and historic, though in no really great sense; others are modern
and banally, painfully, well-kept and whitewashed--only the _badigeon_
is pink or blue or green, painted one can readily believe by the artist
(_sic_) descendants of the Italians who once inhabited the region in
large numbers. There are overhanging balconies on all sides;
balustrades, terraces and loggias relieve the monotony of most of the
façades, and indeed, it is as if a corner of Italy had been transported
to mid-France.
Mâcon is a picturesque ensemble of much that is ancient, but the
smugness of the place, its undeniable air of modernity and prosperity,
have done much to discount what few well conserved architectural charms
it still possesses. This is true of great churches and palatial
dwellings alike, though there are many undeniably fine bits here and
there which, if one only knew, perhaps possess a history as thrilling
as that enjoyed by many more noble edifices.
For one of the best impressions of Mâcon it is possible to have, there
is nothing better than Turner's painting "Mâcon," or a photographic copy
thereof. It is a drawing which until recently was never engraved. Turner
and his engravers never dared attempt it, so complex was the light and
shadow of the vintage sun shining on the hillsides and valleys of the
Côte d'Or. Recently Frank Short made a mezzotint of it, and it stands
to-day as one of the most expressive topographical drawings extant.
Mâcon was originally the capital of a _petit pays_, the Mâconnais, and
is to-day, in local parlance. In former times it was the governmental
seat of a line of petty sovereigns, from the day of Louis-le-Débonnaire
until the country passed into the hands of the ducal Burgundians. From
this time forth, though forming a component part of the great duchy, the
region was settled frequently upon various members of the parent house
as a vassal state where the younger branch might wield a little power of
its own without complicating the affairs of the greater government.
In Revolutionary times Mâcon was considered by the Republicans as "a
hateful aristocratic hole." This being so, one wonders that more
souvenirs of royalty have not remained.
In feudal times the city was enclosed by an _enceinte_ cut with six
great gates, supported by an inner citadel. These walls and bastions
were demolished later, and the city was almost alone among those of
Burgundy to freely open its doors to the Ligueurs and Henri IV. From
this time on important historical events seem to have avoided Mâcon.
The site of Mâcon's ancient citadel is now occupied by the Préfecture.
It was formerly the Episcopal Palace, a regal dwelling which the bishops
of other days must have found greatly to their liking. It is the nearest
thing to a chateau which Mâcon possesses to-day.
The Hôtel de Ville is a banal structure of the eighteenth century, the
gift of the Comte de Montreval, formerly his family residence. The
Palais de Justice is also a made-over _hôtel-privée_ and has some
architectural distinctions, but there is nothing here to take rank among
the castles and chateaux of the rest of the Burgundian countryside.
Southwest from Mâcon, scarce thirty kilometres away, is a romantic
little corner of old France known to the French themselves--those who
know it at all--as the Pays de Lamartine. The little townlets of Milly
and Saint-Pont were the cradle and the refuge of Lamartine, who so loved
this part of France extending from the Loire to Lac Leman and the Alps.
The political world of the capital, into whose vortex the great
litterateur was irresistibly drawn, had not a tithe of the effect upon
his character as compared with that evoked by the solitudes of his
Burgundian _patrie_ and his Alpes de Chambéry.
Milly, here in the midst of the opulent plains and hillsides of
Burgundy, is a spot so calm and so simply environed that one can not but
feel somewhat of the inspiration of the man who called it his "_chère
maison_."
A half a dozen kilometres from Milly is Saint-Pont surrounded by a
magnificent framing of rounded summits forming one of those grandiose
landscapes of which Lamartine so often wrote:
"_Oui, l'homme est trop petit, ce spectacle l'écrase._"
Here is the Chateau de Lamartine, not a tourist sight by any means, at
least not an over-done one, but a shrine as worthy of contemplation and
admiration as many another more grand and more popular.
Seated snugly at the foot of a wooded slope, the chateau, flanked with
two great towers, lifts its serrated sky-line proudly above the reddish,
ochre-washed walls (a colour dear to the folk of the Mâconnais) high
above the level of the roofs of the town below.
A more massive square tower sets further to the rear, and a _tourelle_,
with a pointed candle-snuffer roof, accentuates the militant aspect of
the edifice, though indeed its claims rest entirely on the arts of peace
to the exclusion of those of war.
Here, in the family chateau, Alphonse-Marie-Louis-de-Lamartine passed
the happiest years of his life. This was at a time when the pomp of
power which he afterwards tasted as Minister of Foreign Affairs, after
the abdication of Louis Philippe, had no attraction for him.
"_Il est sur la colline_
_Une blanche maison,_
_Une tour la domine,_
_Un buisson d'aubepine_
_Est tout son horizon._"
As Lamartine himself wrote: "Nothing here will remind one of luxury; it
is simply the aspect of a great farm where the owners live the simple
life in a great block of a silent dwelling." These words describe the
Chateau de Lamartine very well to-day.
Saint-Pont and the Chateau de Lamartine are well worth half a day of
anyone who is found at Mâcon and not hard pressed to move on.
Near Saint-Pont is the ancient Chateau de Noble, belonging, in 1558, to
Nicolas de Pisa, and, in 1789, to Claude de la Beaune. It is not a
splendid structure in any architectural sense, but a most curious and
appealing one. Its chief distinction comes from its two pointed coiffed
towers, one at either end of a high sloping gable.
Repairs and restorations made since the Revolution have deprived it of
the ancient ramparts which once entirely surrounded it, but the romantic
and curious aspect of the main body of the structure, and those
all-impressive, svelt, sky-piercing towers, make it seem too quaint to
be real. Certainly no more remarkable use of such adjuncts to a
seigneurial chateau has ever been made than these towers. Here they are
not massive, nor particularly tall, but their proportions are seemingly
just what they ought to be. They are, at any rate, entirely in accord
with the rest of the structure, and that is what much modern
architecture lacks.
[Illustration]