Among the many beauties of France must certainly be accounted its
"cities built upon a hill." There are a goodly number of them and their
lofty position has tended to preserve them from change more than cities
so placed that their expansion into suburbs was easier. Without doubt
there is something fascinating, something irresistibly dominating about
a town that looks down upon us. Fortunate it is for us lovers of the
picturesque, whom, alas, the uses of modern convenience have made
"dwellers in the plain," that during mediaeval times the vital need of
safety forced its citizens to seek the refuge of heights! No one can
question the right of quaint old Poitiers to be as haughty as hill towns
have always been--nay, haughtier. Think of the days when through the
House of Plantagenet she gave rulers to England--when these same kings
governed not only England but also the whole western half of France! We
do not always remember what a long strip of territory was ruled by the
Angevin dynasty, stretching all the way from the Pyrenees across the
Channel and up to Scotland. One of the greatest encounters that marked
the long and bitter struggle between the English and French was the
Battle of Poitiers, when in 1356 the English under the Black Prince
defeated and took prisoner John the Good of France and slew 11,000
Frenchmen. It was, indeed, a bloody baptism when our hill town stood
sponsor to such a conflict of warring nations.
There are few cities in France which more richly repay a visit than this
rather out-of-the-way place, and fewer still which have so many varied
inducements to offer. The architectural remains are not only interesting
but differ materially in character and epoch. The situation of the city
is most striking. It is perched on the top of a flat-iron shaped hill
upon the point of which the picturesque Jardin de Blossac smiles down
upon the winding river Clain. It is not in this book that you should
look for a description of the wonderful triple interpenetrated chimney
of the Palais de Justice, nor the fourth century church of St. Jean, nor
the ivory-like carvings on the facade of Notre Dame de la Garde. Hie
thee to a guide-book for these, and the like of them, and let us to our
quest! In all glass of this period, nay, of any period or any century,
we shall never find a more splendid window than the Crucifixion at the
east end of the cathedral. In our introduction we said that glass should
not be studied from written description, but that it must be seen. Of
this window this observation is even more true than of any other. Its
breadth and size indicate that it dates from early in the century. The
harmony and the beauty of its colours are beyond words to describe.
Indeed, so ingeniously are they combined to produce their effect, that
the detail is apt to escape the observer. Even after spending some time
before it he may be surprised to learn that the cross is ruby-red and
that the hair of the Saviour is blue. If he had read this in a book it
would have been impossible to convince him that the result could be one
of such great beauty. Unfortunately for the many excellent medallion
windows in this cathedral, there are also a great number of uncoloured
ones. It does not take us long to decide that a medallion window should
never be lighted from within, because that enables one to see the
cumbersome machinery used to produce its effect. One should never become
aware of the numerous small pieces of unevenly surfaced glass and the
vast complexity of leads which in combination produce such glorious
results, but only when the light comes from without. Not only do these
white panes reveal these ugly details, but by their glare they
effectually extinguish the warm glow which we are accustomed to expect
from the richly-coloured mosaics of the medallions. Near the west end
there is a good deal of fine strapwork grisaille evidently put there to
light that end of the church in contrast to the dimmer light which must
have prevailed at the east end when all the medallions were still in
place. Even if there were not many fine thirteenth century panels in
this cathedral, and even if the town itself were not full of many
interesting sights, still we would have been amply repaid for our visit
by the Crucifixion window, the chef d'oeuvre of its time.
Near the cathedral is the church of St. Radegonde. This long narrow
edifice has no transepts, nor, indeed, the usual division into choir and
nave, and yet it boasts of a rose window, and a fine one, too, over its
northern portal. The colour is really delightful and contains much of
the brilliant blue for which Poitiers is famous. Its chief interest is
that instead of having its figures broken up so as to monotonously
radiate from the centre (which is generally true of rose windows) they
are, so to speak, right side up, and all participate in forming the
picture of the "Last Judgment." There is some thirteenth century glass
on the southern side of this church, but not so well preserved or so
good. The windows on the northern side between the north portal and the
east end are of the next century and will be considered later (page
172). We may say, however, in passing, that they are unique in that they
have bright figures distributed upon a grisaille background which is
surrounded by a border of rich colour.