LES BAUX.
The chain of the Alpines--The promontory of Les Baux--The railway from
Arles to Salon--First sight of Les Baux--The churches of S. Victor,
S. Claude, and S. Andrew--The lords of Les Baux claimed descent from
one of the Magi--The fair maid with golden locks--The chapel of the
White Penitents--The _deïmo_--History of the House of Les Baux--The
barony passes to the Grimaldi.--The ladies of Les Baux and the
troubadours--Fouquet--William de Cabestaing--The morality of the loves
of the troubadours--The Porcelets--Story of a siege--Les Baux a place of
refuge for the citizens of Arles--_Glanum Liviæ_--Its Roman remains--In the
train--Jäger garments.
From east to west runs the chain of Les Alpines, for just twenty miles,
separating the Durance from the plain of the Great Crau. It is of
limestone, and rises to the height of about eight hundred or a thousand
feet, but is remarkable from the abruptness with which it springs out of
the plain, and the fantastic shapes assumed by its crest.
This chain dies into the plain to the west at S. Gabriel, and its extreme
limits to the east are the crags of Orgon, which rise sheer above the
Durance, and the Mont du Defends farther to the south. To the north is the
broad flat valley of the Durance stretching away to Tarascon, to the south
the vast desert of the Crau reaching to the sea.
About twelve miles from S. Gabriel, the chain of the Alpines thrusts forth
an arm to the south that rises sheer from the plain some five hundred feet,
and forms a plateau at the top encrusted with white crags, two thousand
seven hundred feet long, by six hundred feet wide. It is detached from the
main chain by a dip, and on every other side stands up in precipices. This
is Les Baux, the name in Provençal signifies _cliffs_.
There is a little railway from Arles to Salon, by which one travels at a
snail's pace to the station of Paradou, whence a walk of five miles takes
one into a crater-like valley surrounded by bald white limestone crags,
and there, towering overhead, are the walls and towers of Les Baux, in a
position apparently inaccessible. This valley struck me as very much like
one of the Lunar craters, as I had seen it through the Northumberland
telescope, just as white, ghastly and barren. In the bottom were, indeed, a
few patches of green field and a cluster of poplars, but the sides of the
crater were almost wholly devoid of vegetation; and the white stone where
quarried, and it was quarried extensively, glistened like sugar, with a
greenish white lustre. In coming from Arles I had travelled third class, in
a compartment on top of the second and first class carriages; for on these
little lines the carriages are of two storeys; the upper storey commands
the best view; and in the compartment with me was an intelligent postman.
We got into conversation about Les Baux. He told me that he had lived
there, and had found there a considerable number of flint and bronze
weapons. He was now stationed at Tarascon, and he invited me to pay him a
visit, when he would show me the weapons he had found on these hills. He
also strongly urged me not to return by the same route, but to strike
across the chain, reach S. Remy, see the Roman remains there, catch the
evening train, and so return to Arles by Tarascon.
[Illustration: Les Baux.]
And now for Les Baux, which is certainly one of the most astounding places
I have ever seen.
Let the reader conceive of a rocky plateau standing up on abrupt precipices
above the plain, with its top not altogether level, but inclined to the
west, and the eastern side fringed with white crags. Let him imagine a
little town clustered on the slope to the west, clinging to the inclined
surface to prevent itself from slipping over the edge and shooting down the
precipice. Then let him imagine the white limestone fringe that rises to
the east some ninety feet above the town, adapted to serve the purpose of a
castle, natural cliffs sculptured and perforated to form window and door,
and vault and hall, and where living rock did not avail, masonry added,
and the whole thrown into ruin. This is what he sees looking up from the
valley. Then let him climb the steep ascent, anciently the only way by
which the town and castle could be approached, and his amazement will
grow with every step he takes. After having passed under a gateway well
defended, he will find himself in the street of a Mediæval Pompeii:
houses--not cottages, but the mansions of nobles--all, or nearly all, in
ruins and uninhabited, some with architectural pretensions; a church, still
in use, dedicated to S. Vincent; another still larger, S. Claude, half
sculptured out of the living rock, half of masonry, beautifully vaulted,
with no glass in the windows, and the doors fallen in; a chapel of S.
Anne, without a roof, and some trees growing out of the floor. Another
church, the second parish church of Les Baux, S. Andrew, crumbled to its
foundations. Further up the ascent, bedded in the ruins of the castle, a
beautiful Gothic chapel with delicate ribbed vaulting of the thirteenth
century, also in ruins. On one portion of the platform to the south the
remains of a great hospital, with the recesses for the beds of the patients
round it. A cemetery enclosed within walls; guard rooms, halls, a mighty
dove-cot hewn out of the rock; galleries and the windows of banqueting
halls cut in the rock; high up, unapproachable, as the masonry has been
blown up and thrown down that formed the western side of the castle. And to
the north, where was the only approach to the castle by the neck of land,
a curved ridge of limestone rock was hewn into a wall of defence. Now a
road has been engineered along this _col_, and the rock wall has been cut
through; not only so, but it has been carried through a nobleman's mansion,
and the sculptured fireplaces overhang the carriage road.
Such, briefly, is the general aspect of Les Baux. Now we will enter into
details. We will begin with the only parish church still in use. This
church consists of nave and side aisles, with lateral chapels. The floor of
the church is honeycombed with graves scooped out of the rock. In one of
these before the high altar, a few years ago, when the slab that covered it
was raised, the body of a man in rich garments was disclosed holding a book
in his hand, that seemed to have escaped the ravages of time. However, on
the first touch, it fell to dust. In another sepulchre was found the body
of a young lady. Singularly enough, her hair, which was of a golden straw
colour, was uninjured, though the rest of her body crumbled to dust in the
air. The innkeeper of the little place managed to possess himself of it,
and at once dubbed his tavern "A la Chevelure d'Or." He was wont to exhibit
the mass of golden locks to the visitor for a consideration. Recently the
tavern has changed hands, and the old innkeeper has carried off with him
the golden locks. Consequently, the inn has changed its name, and is now
the Hotel Monaco.
[Illustration: Les Baux.]
In front of the church is a small platform that overhangs the precipice. On
it is the ruined chapel of the White Penitents, erected in 1659. Over the
door may be read with difficulty the inscription in Latin, "At the name of
Jesus every knee shall bow." Hard by is a cistern, semicircular, dug out of
the living rock; this goes by the name of the _deïmo_--that is to say, the
place of tithe. Into this cistern the farmers of the manor were bound to
pour the tenth of all the wine they made, as the due of the Lord of Les
Baux.
The ruined church of S. Claude has in the bosses of the vaulting the arms
of the Princes of Les Baux, and of other noble families who lived in the
little town and were feudatories of the princes, as well as of some of
the guilds which had chapels in this church. The arms of the princes
represented a star, for these princes claimed descent from Balthazar, one
of the Magi who came from the East to bring gifts to the infant Saviour.
The tomb of Raymond des Baux, grand chamberlain of Queen Jeanne of Naples,
at Casaluccio, bears the inscription, "To the illustrious family of the
Baux, which is held to derive its origin from the ancient kings of Armenia,
to whom, under the guidance of a star, the Saviour of the world manifested
Himself."
The Barony of Les Baux consisted of seventy-nine towns or bourgs, which
formed the territory called La Baussenique. It was confiscated by Louis
III., Duke of Anjou, and Count of Provence in 1414, after having been
governed by one family from Pons des Baux, the first who appears in
history, and who died in 970. The last male representative died in 1374,
and his sister and heiress, Alice, married Conrad, Count of Freiburg, who
died in 1414. She bequeathed the principality to her kinsman, William, Duke
of Andria, but on account of his attachment to the opposed party, Louis
III. seized on Les Baux. In 1642, Louis XIII. erected it into a marquisate,
and gave it to Honoré Grimaldi, Prince of Monaco, and it remained in the
possession of the House of Monaco till the revolution of 1789.
The princes of Baux were podestas of Milan, consul-podestas of Arles, where
they had a castle, were seneschals of Piedmont, grand justiciaries of the
kingdom of Naples, princes of Orange, and viscounts of Marseilles. They
bore also the titles of counts of Provence, kings of Arles and Vienne,
princes of Achaia, counts of Cephalonia, and finally assumed that of
emperors of Constantinople.
The castle was thrice besieged, twice destroyed, and again rebuilt; it
lasted over eleven centuries. The most complete restoration of the castle
and of the town-walls took place in 1444 by Louis III. of Provence; but
when it passed to the Crown of France in 1630, by order of Cardinal
Richelieu, it was destroyed. The strength of the position was such that he
feared it.
In the old days, when the Princes and Princesses des Baux held court in
this eagle's nest, it was a great resort of the troubadours, who came to it
from all quarters. Fouquet, the Provençal poet, celebrated in his verses
Adelasia, wife of Berald, Prince of Baux. He was filled with a romantic
love for this exalted lady, and on her death, in a fit of sorrow, became
monk of Citeaux. Afterwards he became abbot of Thoronêt, bishop of
Marseilles, and finally archbishop of Toulouse.
He was born between 1160 and 1170, and was the son of a merchant of Venice
who had retired from business and settled at Marseilles. When Richard Coeur
de Lion was on his way to Syria, he made some stay at Marseilles before
going on to Genoa, where he was to embark, and there Fouquet insinuated
himself into his good graces. He was married, but his wife was sorely
neglected, and all his devotion was paid to the lady Adelasia des Baux.
Provençal traditions diverge as to the result of his suit. According to one
account, he could "jamais trouver merci, ni obtenir aucun bien en droit
d'amour," from the object of his passion, and, in disgust, he turned to
make love to Laura de S. Jorlan, sister of Berald des Baux. But the other
account is that he made love to both ladies at once, and that Adelasia cast
him off because she found that his fickle heart was turning to the fresher
charms of Laura. Anyhow, he made his rejection by Adelasia the subject of
poetical laments, and prosecuted with vigour his siege of the heart and
virtue of his patron's sister. And then he pursued with the same ardour the
conquest of Eudoxia, wife of William, Count of Montpellier.
As already said, after the death of Adelasia, he assumed the cowl. As
Bishop of Toulouse, he exercised the ferocity of a wolf in his dealings
with the Albigenses. "There is no act of treachery or cruelty throughout
the war," says Dean Milman, "in which the Bishop of Toulouse was not the
most forward, sanguinary, and unscrupulous." The historian of his life, in
the 'Histoire Littéraire de la France,' says of him: "After having given
half his life to gallantry, he gave up, without restraint, the remainder of
his life to the cause of tyranny, murder, and spoliation, and unhappily he
profited by it.... Loving women passionately, a ferocious apostle of the
Inquisition, he did not give up the composition of verses which bore the
impress of his successive passions."
Another troubadour, William de Cabestaing, sang the praises of Berengaria
des Baux. Afterwards he lost his heart to Sermonda, wife of Raymond de
Roussillon, who, not seeing the fun of this romantic spooning of his wife,
waylaid and slew him, then plucked out his heart and had it served up at
table in the evening. After his wife had partaken of the dish he informed
her that what she had tasted was the heart of her admirer. She, full of
horror, threw herself from a window of the castle and was dashed to pieces.
This outrage was the occasion of civil war. The relatives of the lady and
of William de Cabestaing persuaded Alphonso I., King of Aragon, to ravage
the territories of the Count of Roussillon and to destroy his castle.
Again, another troubadour, Sordel, sang the praises of Rambaude des Baux,
but in such enigmatical fashion that his verses may be read as a satire
upon her charms.
The princely family, moreover, had among its members two troubadours,
Berard des Baux in the twelfth century, and in the next Rambaud des Baux,
who in 1236 distinguished himself by his songs in honour of Marie de
Chateauvert and of the Countess of Argeuil.
In 1244 the troubadours vied with each other in lauding Cecilia des Baux,
who was called Passe-Rose, on account of her beauty. Other ladies of the
same family sung by the poets were Clairette in 1270 and 1275 by Pierre
d'Auvergne, and Etiennette de Ganteaume--who shone in the Court of Love in
1332 at Romanil, and Baussette, daughter of Hugh des Baux in 1323, sung by
Roger of Arles. So the family must have been one that in its alliances
and daughters was distinguished by its beauty, or else paid liberally for
flattery.
Vernon Lee, in her Euphorion, passes a severe sentence on the romantic
affection professed by the minstrels of the Middle Ages for noble ladies.
She says it was rank adultery and nothing short. I do not think so. There
may have been cases, there no doubt were instances of criminal passion, but
in nine cases out of ten these troubadours sang for their bread and butter.
They lauded the seigneurs to the skies for their _gestes_ of valour, and
their ladies for their transcendent beauty; they laid on their colours with
a trowel, and were paid for so doing. That some of them burnt their fingers
in playing with fire one cannot doubt, but I hardly think that they set to
work in their trifling with the intent of provoking blisters. The husbands
of the much-lauded ladies were hardly likely to suffer this sort of fun to
proceed beyond romancing. There was always a chance of a minstrel who went
too far with his heart into the flames, getting it roasted on a spit and
served up à la William de Cabestaing.
Besides, a good many of these much-besung ladies were no young brides, but
mature and withering matrons. A troubadour attached himself to a lady as
he attached himself to a seigneur, and, as a client of both, fawned on
and flattered both. I cannot refer to Petrarch, for I believe his Laura
was not a married woman, and the Platonism of his affection is more than
questionable. He was not an acknowledged troubadour, but an exile, whom
the haughty family of Sade would not suffer Laura to marry. But there is
the case of Dante and Beatrice, and of Wolfram of Eschenbach, one of the
noblest and purest of singers, who idealised his lady Elizabeth, wife of
the Baron of Hartenstein, and with him most undoubtedly the devotion was
without tincture of grossness. It is precisely this unreal love, or playing
at love-making, that is scoffed at by Cervantes in Don Quixote and the
peerless Dulcinea del Toboso.
Why, that unfortunate William de Cabestaing, whose heart was offered to his
mistress, sang of her as cold to his suit:--
"Since Adam gathered from the tree
The apple, cause of all our woe,
Christ ne'er inspired so fair a she.
A graceful form, not high nor low,
A model of just symmetry,
A skin whose purity and glow
The rarest amethyst surpass;
So fair is she for whom I sigh.
But vain are all my sighs, alas!
She heeds me not, nor deigns reply."
The Courts of Love held by ladies of high rank were originally courts
in which the rules of minstrelsy were laid down, they pronounced on the
qualifications of a candidate, they polished and cherished the Langue d'oc
in its purity, dictated the subjects upon which the troubadours were to
compose their lays, judged their pretensions, settled their controversies,
recompensed their merits, and punished by disgrace or exclusion those who
violated the laws. In the twelfth century these Courts of Ladies drew up
Provençal grammars, in which the rules of the dialect were laid down. One
of these is the "Donatus provincialis," another was composed by Raimond
Vidal. But these Courts of Love went further. They laid down rules for
love; they allowed married women to receive the homage of lovers, and even
nicely directed all the symptoms they were to exhibit of reciprocation. But
it is quite possible that this was all solemn fooling, and meant no harm.
I wonder whether those golden locks carried off by the taverner had
belonged to one of those queens of beauty sung by the troubadours! Probably
so, for the church of S. Vincent was their mausoleum.
One of the noble families that owed feudal duty to the Lords of Les Baux
was that of Porcelet, and their mansion is one of the very few that is not
deserted and ruinous in the little town. It is now occupied by some Sisters
of Mercy who keep in it an orphanage. The Porcelets were the first nobles
of Arles. King René of Anjou, who was fond of giving nicknames, sometimes
flattering, sometimes the reverse to this, entitled the family Grandeur des
Porcelets. Other of his designations were Inconstance des Baux, Déloyauté
de Beaufort, Envie de Candole, Dissolution de Castelane, Sottise de Grasse,
and Opiniâtreté de Sade.
A story is told of one of the sieges of Les Baux which is found elsewhere.
The garrison of the castle and the inhabitants of the town were reduced
to great straits for food, when orders were issued that everyone should
surrender what he had into a common fund, to be doled out in equal portions
to all. As none complied with this order, a domiciliary visit was made to
every house, when an old woman was found to have a pig, likewise a sack of
barley meal. The Sieur des Baux ordered the pig to be given a feed and then
to be thrown over the precipice. When the besiegers found that the besieged
had a pig so well nourished they thought it was hopeless to reduce the
place, and raised the siege.
In the thirteenth century the little eagle's nest of a town numbered three
thousand six hundred inhabitants. At the present time it cannot count four
hundred. Every two or three years sees another house deserted, and the
tenants migrate to the valley or plain.
The houses are, like the castle, partly scooped out of the rock, and partly
constructed. Whole chambers, kitchens, cellars are veritable caverns. There
can be no doubt that the place has been colonised from prehistoric times,
and that many of these caves are the dwellings of a primitive population in
the Stone period. Vast quantities of Greek Marseilles medals and of coins
of the Empire have been found here, as well as fragments of pottery of
every age. A few years ago a beautiful bronze helmet of Greek shape was
here discovered.
The place has served as a refuge for the inhabitants of Arles at various
periods. Hither they fled before the Teutons and Ambrons in B.C. 102, when
these invaders swept across the south of Gaul on their return from Spain;
and opposite Les Baux, on the heights of Costa Pera, may be traced the
walled camp and cisterns, where they took refuge and remained till the
danger was overpast. Again, in A.D. 480, when Earic, king of the Visigoths,
took possession of Arles, the inhabitants fled to the heights of Les Baux
and constructed dwellings for themselves there in the rock. These chambers,
scooped out of the limestone crag, are locally called Baumes.
Anciently the roofs of the castle caught the rains, and shoots conveyed the
water into great reservoirs that remain, but since the destruction of the
castle the inhabitants have had to pave one whole sweep of the plateau so
as to catch the showers, and convey them away into a subterranean cistern
where the water purifies itself for use.
After the Hôtel Dieu ceased to be used as an hospital, it was converted
into an arena for bull-fights, but as on several occasions the bulls
escaped and fell over the precipices, the utilisation of the great hall for
this purpose was abandoned.
I had a charming walk across the hills to S. Remy, near which are the
remains of the Roman city of Glanum Liviæ. These remains consist of a
triumphal arch, and a lovely monument about fifty feet high, quadrangular
at the base, adorned with well-preserved bas-reliefs representing a
skirmish of cavalry, a combat of infantry, and a sacrifice after a battle.
Above this basement rises a circular temple with Corinthian pillars,
containing in the midst two statues. The triumphal arch is not in equally
good condition. The bas-reliefs on it represent captive barbarians and
their wives. I caught the evening train at S. Remy, and again ascended to
the third-class compartment in the upper storey. Presently after me came
the guard: "Would not Monsieur like to descend? There is female society
downstairs." "But, assuredly--only I have a third-class ticket." "Ça ne
fait rien," replied the guard, "so have the ladies below, but we never
send them up into the attics. Come, monsieur!" Accordingly I descended to
a carriage-load of cheery Arles damsels and matrons in the quaint and
picturesque costume of that town, and to a little French doctor and a
couple of good-natured Zouaves.
"But--this is very remarkable," said the doctor. "Only an hour ago I saw
a monsieur in the same hat and boots as yourself--only the face was not
the same." "Very possibly. Are you a doctor, and do not recognise Jäger
garments? I am not, it is true, in coat and continuations of that sanitary
reformer, because I had to discard them. The fact is, I had a complete
suit, but having been out in the rain in them, they shrank on me to such an
extent that I entered the house contracted like a trussed fowl, and had to
be cut out of the suit with a penknife."
"What countryman are you?" asked the doctor.
When I told him he shook his head. "You have not an English pronunciation.
Are you German?" I also shook my head. Then he attempted some words in
English. I was obliged to laugh: he was unintelligible. As I could not
understand his English--"Mais, Monsieur!" said the Arles women, "you must
be a Swiss."
It was not complimentary, I must admit, to be thought to speak French with
a German accent. It has come about thus, I suppose, that, though as a boy I
lived in France for many years, yet of late I have been, almost annually, a
visitor to Germany.
I only mention this incident, because I got into trouble later through a
similar misapprehension as to my nationality.
[Illustration: Range of the Alpines from Glanum Liviæ.]