The writer will never forget his first impression of Bourges Cathedral,
as, mounted on a bicycle, he approached it over the rolling country that
lies to the east towards Nevers. For a long time it seemed a great rock
rising from the plain, which steadily grew larger and larger until, all
at once, it took on the outlines of a huge cathedral. Fantastic as it
may seem in the telling, this vast bulk looming up against the sky
exactly symbolised for him the word "Bourges." To fully appreciate this
great church one should approach it this way and let it grow before
one's eyes. This is true of but few cathedrals, among which there is an
easily recalled instance in England. No one ever realises all the soft
grey beauty of Ely unless, thanks to his slow progress down the river
Ouse, he has seen it gradually arise from the green setting of fen
lands. Perhaps one reason why Bourges, when viewed from a distance, does
not immediately disclose itself to be a cathedral is because one sees no
perpendicular lines. On one side the great tower so tapers as to seem to
slant inward, while on the other side the flying buttresses present an
even greater divergence from the perpendicular. All this increases the
rock-like appearance and defers the realisation that it is architecture
and not nature until one is so near as to perceive some of the details.
In one respect Bourges is like the town of Amiens, in that nearly all
its architectural beauty is centred in the cathedral and seems to have
been content to bourgeon and blossom there. Bourges has, however, one
advantage in possessing a wonderful "house that Jack built," the
fifteenth century palace of Jacques Coeur, a rich merchant and banker
whose wealth was the cause of his final overthrow and banishment on a
trumped-up charge of debasing the coinage. Even the fact that he had
lent money freely to Charles VII did not save him. Later on (page 151)
we shall consider the cathedral's fifteenth century glass, and we shall
then examine the splendid window given by Jacques Coeur, perhaps the
finest that period can show. Chief among the charms of the cathedral's
exterior are the splendid five-portalled west front, and the lace-like
garment of flying buttresses that gracefully hangs about its sides and
east end. The great apse is built upon the remains of the old Roman
walls, which so elevates it above the neighbouring houses as to provide
a clear view of the flying buttresses. Unfortunately, the west front
does not fare so well. There is hardly a cathedral in Europe so shut in
on the west by adjoining buildings. They huddle so closely about it that
one has no opportunity to stand off and properly observe the elaborate
carvings and other architectural features that unite to make the beauty
of this famous facade. From the way in which each succeeding story
decreases in size, it is easy to see why the big northern tower appeared
to slant inward when viewed from a distance. Like one of the cathedral
towers at Rouen, it is named the Tour du Beurre because it was built
with money received from the sale of indulgences to eat butter during
Lent.
Most Americans have, during the day-dreams of their childhood, conjured
up a mental picture of the vast interior of an ancient cathedral, and of
the mysteriously impressive gloom that would some day there meet their
eyes. It is doubtful if any other church more completely realises this
fancy of our childhood. As one enters the great building he receives an
impression never to be forgotten. A feeling of vastness lays hold upon
one even more strongly than at Beauvais and Amiens, both of which are
actually loftier. Here the seeming height is increased by the five rows
of windows, one above the other. This addition to the usual allotment of
three tiers (lower arches, triforium and clerestory) gives an unusual
number of light apertures. While there are no transepts, their absence
leaves unbroken the lines of the side walls and thus increases the
apparent size of the interior. And what a wealth of thirteenth century
glass! It gleams and glows and glistens on every side, near at hand and
far off in the soft richness of the choir chapels. We find it everywhere
except in the nave chapels, which were glazed in the fifteenth century.
Perhaps if it were not for the increased light which these later panels
admit, we might find the church too much darkened by its sombre earlier
glass. It is clear, however, that care was taken even from the first to
sufficiently illumine the nave, because it possesses a fine series of
thirteenth century grisaille windows, enriched and enlivened by broad
borders of colour. The noble chapels that encircle the choir show us the
effect of mosaic medallions at their best. Above in the clerestory,
"like watchmen on a leaguered wall," are stationed a glorious row of
large figures which are not to be surpassed anywhere. The richness of
their costumes, of the backgrounds, even of the borders, is most
sumptuous. We have already noted the absence of the transepts. On our
travels we shall notice that the north and south ends of transepts
generally contain great rose windows. To compensate the glass artist for
their absence here, the architect gave him an opportunity to glaze an
elaborate series of forty-five small ones. They extend all around the
interior, no two alike, and must be seen for one to appreciate how
greatly they add to the interest and charm of the cathedral. It is
contended by some that Bourges provides the finest field for the study
of thirteenth century glass, but in this opinion we cannot agree,
although gladly admitting everything else claimed for it by its
staunchest adherents. Our reason for preferring Chartres is that it has
more windows, and that they are practically all of the same period, so
that the eye does not there find the distraction caused here by the
fifteenth century glazing of the nave chapels. We prefer to rank the
first four in the following order of excellence: Chartres, Bourges,
Rheims, and Le Mans. It will be interesting to learn whether or not the
reader agrees with us. At any rate he should see them, and now that we
have enticed him so far away from Paris, he will find it as easy to
return by the route that includes them as by any other.