After two or three days among the relics of Pagan civilization, we were
ready to turn our attention to Christian monuments of the town, and
it was with our expectations fully aroused that we left what might be
described as the neutral ground of the Hôtel St. Louis, and climbed the
busy streets that lead within the castrum to the Cathedral of Saint
Lazarus, in which the relics of the saint are enshrined.
Readers unfamiliar with the Provençal legends will ask, not
unnaturally, how the body of Christ's friend came to the city of Autun.
The answer is that, according to tradition, Lazarus, Martha, Mary, and
others, driven from Palestine after the crucifixion of Christ, and
cast adrift in an open boat, were blown, on the wings of a great wind,
westward across the Mediterranean, and eventually, by miraculous aid,
were cast ashore, unhurt, on the coast of Provence. This land they
proceeded to evangelize, Lazarus finding his way to Marseilles, of
which city he became the first bishop.[50]
Nearly a thousand years later, at the end of the 10th century, the
body was translated to Autun, through the efforts of one Gerrard, the
then bishop, and was housed in the basilica of St. Nazaire. So holy a
relic naturally demanded a worthy shrine, and already, during the first
quarter of the 12th century, we find proposals on foot for the erection
of a new church for the housing of the body.
Hamerton, indeed, says that the work was planned in the 11th century;
the original idea being due to Robert I., Duke of Burgundy.[51] This
building, the existing cathedral of St. Lazarus, begun in 1120, was
ready for consecration by Pope Innocent II. when he passed through
Autun, in 1132.
Although the work was not completed at this time, the porch, in
particular, being wanting, the Bishop of Autun resolved to take
advantage of the great gathering of Vézelay, for the preaching of the
second crusade, to announce the translation of the relics. King Louis
VII. attended in person, and the ceremony was performed with great
éclat, on Sunday, October 20th, 1146. Four weeks of continuous rain
had given place to warm sunshine, and enormous crowds of pilgrims
gathered to celebrate the event, among whom were Eudes II., Duke of
Burgundy, and many bishops and nobles. After the all-night ceremonies
which preceded the principal function, two stonemasons, says the old
chronicle, were taken into the church to effect the opening of the
tomb. The stone was raised, the vault exposed, and, to the sound of the
TE DEUM, those present pressed forward to venerate the relics.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, followed with the fervent religious
emotion characteristic of the time, Humbert de Bage wrapped the body
of St. Lazarus, together with the winding-sheet and the deerskin bag
which covered it, in a silken covering, and with new straps bound
the precious bundle upon a wooden bearer destined for the solemn
translation. Meanwhile, outside the church, an immense crowd was
awaiting admission. Soon the pressure became so great that the gates of
the church were forced, and the mob broke in with such violence that
the iron grill barring the sanctuary would have been broken, had it
not been supported by sheer muscular effort on the part of the clerks.
"Eudes, Duke of Burgundy, William, Count of Chalon, and other brave
nobles, each hurriedly putting down his chlamys, and arming himself
with sword or stick, began to cut and thrust, right and left, among the
crowd, to open a passage for the cortège, which, with great pomp, was
transporting the holy relics to the church of St. Lazarus. This church,
too, was so gorged with humanity, that the bearers, breathless with
fatigue and fright, and despairing of ever reaching the altar, set down
their precious burden upon some wooden planks, where it long remained
in the middle of the nave."[52]
During the whole of the following week, the crowd surged round the
holy relics, and miraculous cures followed one another with such
rapidity that the priests engaged in chanting Te Deums, in gratitude
for each healing, were unable to keep pace with the calls made upon
them. While prayer, praise, and cries of "Miracle!" were resounding
through the church, blood was being shed freely outside. A trivial
quarrel between some nobles had strewn the neighbouring streets with
wounded men.[53] Such contrasts were a common feature of the age.
The tomb of Lazarus occupied a position in the apse, behind the great
altar. According to the evidence of an eye-witness, it was a monument
of unusual magnificence, built in the form of a church, constructed
of porphyry, and black and white marble. Its sculpture comprised a
recumbent figure of Lazarus, in his winding-sheet, with Christ's word,
written below it, "Lazare veni foras (Lazarus, come forth)." Among
other figures were those of Christ, Saint Peter, Saint Paul, and,
before the head of Lazarus, two statues in stone representing Martha
and Mary, one of them lifting to her nose a handkerchief, recalling
the "jam foetet" (by this time he stinketh) of the Gospel story. This
priceless monument, interesting to all, doubly interesting to those
who believe that it did, indeed, house the relics of the friend of
Christ, was destroyed during the course of improvements carried out in
the choir of the cathedral during the 18th century; but three of the
figures--those of St. Andrew, Martha and Mary, are still preserved in
the little Musée Lapidaire of Autun, of which collection they are the
gems. A glance at them reveals the fact that, even at this early epoch,
the art of sculpture was well developed in Autun. The rapt expression
of the countenances, the graceful lines of the draperies, the
comparative delicacy of the execution, without sacrifice of strength,
recall something of the Græco-Roman tradition, that probably had never
perished wholly from the Roman city. That these figures, the work of
one Martin, were the result of no mere sporadic outbreak of genius is
proved, I think, by the rapport they bear with the work of Geraldus,
which, when seen in the apse of the Musée, they instantly recall.
But before succumbing to the attractions of that unique porch of the
cathedral of Autun, we could not resist the temptation to get a first
general impression of a building which, we had always been told, was
one of the best to be found, even in this land of beautiful Romanesque
churches. The exterior effect, however, is not entirely satisfactory,
especially if the approach be made by one of the streets leading up
from the middle of the town. The western towers are, indeed, still
Romanesque; but they have been re-handled, not too happily; and
the unity of the whole has been lost by the substitution, for the
Romanesque work, of Gothic side chapels, and pierced parapets of
varying designs, with a profusion of mediæval and classical ornament,
in the spandrels and below the parapets, all utterly at variance with
the simple grandeur of the original building. Moreover the north-east
door, in the tympanum of which was a magnificent piece of sculpture
representing the raising of Lazarus, has been replaced by a heavy
production, of the revolution period, in the latest and ugliest
classical style. The 15th century spire,--a beautiful piece of work,
somewhat after the manner of that of Lichfield Cathedral,--has a rather
squat appearance from this lower side of the church. Its grace and
lightness, and the harmony of its proportions, are better seen from the
higher lane to the south-east; but the finish of the spire, is not, in
my judgment, wholly successful. The crocketing is somewhat overdone,
and the decoration rather fussy in treatment.
The original Romanesque tower, which was probably in some danger of
collapse, was at last destroyed by fire. Cardinal Rolin, brother of
Nicholas Rolin, whom we shall meet later on, rebuilt the new tower in
1480. The state of the foundations necessitated lightness for the new
work, which relies for its security almost wholly upon excellence of
construction. The spire, built without any internal support whatever,
is said to be only seven inches thick at the base, and six towards the
summit.[54] Towards the close of the 13th century, probably, the walls
of the nave, threatening to collapse under the vault, were supported
by flying buttresses surmounted by heavy pinnacles. These additions,
lightened during the 15th century, almost complete the transformation
of the exterior effect from that of a Romanesque to a late Gothic
church.
The greatest glory of Autun Cathedral, is its magnificent two-storied,
barrel vaulted, open porch with aisled bays, forming the western
entrance. In the tympanum of the door is the famous sculpture by
Geraldus, respresenting the Last Judgment. Standing at the foot of the
noble flight of steps leading up to the stately hall, where of old the
lepers, and the horde of unclean, torn between the love of life and
its miseries, must have trembled and hoped before that awful vision of
judgment, we first realised that here is one of the most majestic and
impressive ante-chambers that Burgundy, or France, ever built at the
gates of her houses of God.
This porch owes its existence indirectly to Clunisian influence,
and directly to the cult of Saint Lazarus. Among the thousands of
pilgrims drawn every year, for solace or for healing, to the sacred
tomb, were many ladres, or lepers, whose admission to the interior
of the church would have been a menace to the public health. Under
these circumstances, the Chapter obtained from Hugues III., Duke of
Burgundy, in 1178, permission to construct a porch, on the condition
that it should not be of a military character.[55] This work was duly
carried out; but it must not be supposed that the original was as we
see it now. The first porch did not extend as far as the two side
doors, but comprised a vault supported on two walls, whose position
is now represented by two pairs of columns. The ground adjoining
was levelled up to the porch, and the entrance was through an arch
pierced in the eastern wall.[56] Some years later, as the cult of
St. Lazarus increased, the porch was modified to its present design.
The magnificent flight of steps, built in the 18th century, was the
only improvement that the colossal foolishness of the revolutionary
iconoclasts succeeded in effecting in the cathedral.
The upper storey of the porch, and the niche in the facade above it, is
also interesting, as being entirely characteristic of the architecture
of this part of France, though limited to a very short period, from
about 1130 to 1200.[57] In the 13th century, with the advent of
developed Gothic, these appendages disappear.
The magnificent central doorway, taken as a whole, is the best example
of its kind, both as regards design and sculpture, to be seen in
Burgundy, with the exception of Vézelay, which, politically, belongs
rather to the Nivernais than to the land of the Dukes.
The God in Judgment of the tympanum, one of the most ancient and
complete of the many examples of the subject to be seen in France, is
striking, terrifying almost, in vigour, in that dramatic power which,
even so early, was one of the marked characteristics of Burgundian
sculpture. With hands outstretched He sits between the elect and the
damned. On His left, in the place of torment, the sinners, weighed in
the angel balance, and found wanting, are handed over, for torment, to
the powers of darkness, whose bony claws, reaching down, fasten upon
more victims from a sinful world. The hideous malignity upon the faces
of these tormentors, the twisted, tortured postures of the despairing
victims, all heighten the effect, and contrast strongly with the still
somewhat rigid, though easier, lines of the other picture, where mighty
angels are lifting into a heavenly mansion the spirits of the redeemed.
[Illustration: ST. LAZARE.]
Not less effective, probably, in execution and symbolism, was the
figure of the door-post upon which rests this early conception of the
world's destiny. Here was Lazarus, who triumphed over death, and beside
him, his sisters, Martha and Mary, symbols of two aspects of personal
service. The original statues were destroyed at the Revolution, but
the lines of their substitutes, among the most successful modern
imitations that I know, have still, in form and drapery, something of
Hellenic delicacy, suggesting that the original sculptor's eye was lit
by the dying radiance of Grecian art, or by the herald beams of an
earlier, unremembered Renaissance. The author of this ancient sculpture
is known. He has written his name above the lintel: "Gisilbertus hoc
fecit."
I need not enumerate all the other subjects of the carvings on
this beautiful porch; the reader will not have any difficulty in
discovering some of them for himself--Jerome and his Lion; Hagar and
Ishmael driven out by Abraham; Balaam and the Ass; the Presentation in
the Temple; and, on the archivolt, the signs of the Zodiac.
It is curious that Voltaire appears to have had some influence, good
and bad--the good was involuntary--over the destiny of this porch of
Autun. While staying at the Château of Montjeu, where he attended
the marriage of the Duc de Richelieu, he condescended to visit the
cathedral, and so ridiculed the barbarism of its architecture, and
especially of its sculptured adornments, that the Canons had the whole
of the great tympanum plastered over, to hide the composition of the
Last Judgment. In doing this, they preserved it from damage during
the Revolution, and it remained so hidden for seventy years.[58]
Eventually, after its existence had been entirely forgotten, an
intelligent inhabitant of the city suspected that there might be
carving beneath the plaster, and made the great discovery.
One glance round the interior of the church is sufficient to show
that, in spite of the loss of unity caused by the addition of a
Flamboyant Gothic Jubé, and Gothic side chapels, we have here the best
of lower Burgundian churches, modelled on Cluny, and comprising all
the characteristics of the classical Romanesque style; although the
pointed arches of the bays of the nave, and of the high vault, not
quite a barrel vault, might lead some people to suppose, wrongly, that
the church is essentially Gothic. The fluted pilasters on the piers, a
feature which we shall see repeated in many a church hereabouts, and
the triforium gallery, imitated obviously from the arcade of the Porte
d'Arroux, with further fluted pillars between pierced arches, and the
cornice above, all show how persistent was the influence of the Roman
tradition. Another feature that strikes one immediately is the stunted
height of the triforium and clerestory, a fact easily accounted for
when we remember that the Burgundians of the 12th century, while they
liked a lofty first storey, had not developed the art of buttressing
sufficiently well to enable them to lift their vaults very high. Even
so the settlement, in an outward direction, above the springing of
the aisle arches, is very noticeable, and, as we have already seen,
necessitated the insertion of flying buttresses to prevent collapse
within two hundred years of their erection.
Yet, despite these drawbacks, an observer, standing in one of the
transepts, and looking across at the other transept, and down the
nave, cannot but be struck by the grandeur of the whole effect;
by the lightened solidity, the well-tempered massiveness which is
characteristic of Burgundian architecture, as it is of Burgundy as a
whole.
I am not one of those who consider that the building art of the 12th
century, here or elsewhere, can ever rival the developed Gothic in
inspiring power, as a setting for, or as a symbol of, the mystical
spirit of Christianity, and I think that this opinion applies
especially to the work of these Burgundian architects, whose adherence
to classic detail must inevitably recall, to cultured minds, the
Hellenic myths with which they are historically associated, and carry
down an architectural tradition of horizontal effect, utterly at
variance with the dominance of vertical line that was to be one of the
main characteristics of 13th century development.
This clashing of two styles, however, has been tempered in Autun
Cathedral by the insertion at the transepts, between the piers, of
round shafts which carry the eye up to the vault, and break the
severity of the square angles of the crossing.
The top of the little spiral staircase in the north transept, is the
best place from which to see the detail of the triforium arcade, the
decoration of the archivolts, and the band of roses above them. Here,
too, is to be had a good view of the domed vault.
The eastern end of the cathedral has no ambulatory, but is in the
form of a circular apse, with eastern chapels. In the 15th and 16th
centuries were carried out the drastic changes that have completely
altered the character of the exterior, and destroyed the unity of the
cathedral. At this time the Romanesque apse underwent considerable
modifications; and, two centuries later, further futile improvements
were made. The western towers were practically rebuilt and domed; the
Last Judgment in the porch was mutilated and covered with plaster,
and--crowning feat of all--the magnificent tomb of Lazarus, by Brother
Martin, which had sheltered for 600 years the relics of Autun's patron
saint, was utterly destroyed. Lastly, these imbecile clergy of the 18th
century, lined the apse, nearly up to the walls of the comparatively
new Gothic windows, with panels of red Sicilian marble, divided by
columns of grey, antique marble, and adorned them with gilded capitals,
fat cherubs, and other utterly incongruous ornaments. It is generally
believed that a portion of this marble was taken from the tomb of
Lazarus, which they used as a quarry, and the remainder from the Roman
ruins.
The capitals of the church,--among the best of their period existing
in France--are typically Burgundian in their animation and vigour,
their richness of detail, and their freedom of treatment, both as
regards figures and foliage. They are at too high an elevation, and
not sufficiently well lighted, to be studied thoroughly from below;
but they are full of interest; and any enthusiast who is well versed
in these matters, can pass a very pleasant hour in making more or less
successful guesses at the subjects illustrated. Here are some of them.
On the south-west side: The body of Saint Vincent guarded by Eagles;
The History of Simon the Magician; The Washing of Feet; The Martyrdom
of Stephen; The Ark on Mount Ararat; The History of Judas. On the
north-east side: The Birth of the Virgin; The Sacrifice of Isaac; Saint
Joakim in the Desert; The Hebrews in the Furnace; Daniel in the Lions'
Den; Christ on the Roof of the Temple; The Resurrection; The Visit of
the Magi to Herod; The Flight into Egypt.[59]
The few monuments to be found in the cathedral are not of great
interest. The best are the kneeling statues which originally formed
part of the Gothic tomb of Pierre Jeannin, the famous Minister of Henry
the Fourth, and of his wife. The tomb, now destroyed, was by Nicolas
Guillain, about the year 1626; but M. de Fontenay thinks that the bust
of Jeannin, much superior to the other, dates, more probably, from
the end of the 16th century. Those who wish to know more than I can
tell them of the subjects of this monument, are referred to Montégut's
charming book, "Souvenirs de Bourgogne," which is well worth reading,
for the aptness of its observation, its many interesting historical and
local references, its delicate wit, and its literary style.
The many Gothic chapels thrown out from the aisle in the 15th and 16th
centuries, and the flamboyant jubé, are not of particular interest,
and, moreover, destroy the unity of the interior. I will, therefore,
pass them by; but, before leaving the church, I must call attention
to what some people consider to be one of its chief treasures,--the
martyrdom of Saint Symphorien, by Ingres--a painting ranked by some
connoisseurs as the masterpiece of the 19th century. It was specially
ordered for the cathedral in 1824, but was not delivered until some
thirty years later.
One cannot pretend to any enthusiasm for the result of those thirty
years of labour. The picture leaves me absolutely cold, as it does
nine out of every ten who see it. The figures are vigorous, and the
colouring is, perhaps, more pleasing than is the case with some
of Ingres' paintings--probably because the canvas is dirty and
ill-lighted--but the picture is overcrowded, and the general effect
theatrical. On the whole I am not disposed to quarrel with the critics
who regretted that ever Ingres forsook the pencil for the brush.
Here, in a few words, is the story of Saint Symphorien which the
reader will find in full in the "Précis Historique" of "Autun et ses
monuments." It appears that, in the middle of the twelfth century,
the gods chiefly favoured by the Autunois, were, Berecynthia--or
Cybele--Apollo, and Diana. One day, when the image of Berecynthia,
accompanied by an enormous crowd, was being wheeled on a cart through
the streets of the city, Symphorien, having refused to do homage to
her, was arrested and brought before the Roman magistrate, Heraclicus,
to whom he boldly confessed his Christian faith. The magistrate,
unwilling to deal harshly with a patrician youth, read to him the
ante-Christian edict of Marcus Aurelius, which decrees the capital
punishment of obstinate heretics, and endeavoured, in vain, to bring
Symphorien to reason. Finally, he gave orders for the prisoner to be
beaten by the lictors, and brought before him again, after passing
three days in prison. Some of the dialogue that took place at the
second interview is worth recording as the _acta sincera_ of Symphorien
probably give it to us in a nearly verbatim form, and support, in
a very interesting way, the other evidence we can produce to show
that the worship of the Romans, as of the Greeks, whose religion
they honoured, was, to our way of thinking, somewhat indecently
commercial--the purchase, for value received, of the divinity's favour.
Thus the magistrate: "How much wiser you would be, Symphorien, by
sacrificing to the immortal gods, to obtain promotion in the army, and
rewards from the public treasury. If to-day you do not bend the knee
before the image of the goddess mother, if you do not practice the
cult due to Apollo and Diana, you will be put to death, and nothing
can prevent it. If you consent, I will have the altar of the gods made
ready; prepare, then, to let the smoke of the incense rise in their
honour, and to render to the divinity the rights which are his due."
Symphorien replied:
[Illustration: FONTAINE ST LAZARE--AUTUN
_Facing page 50_]
"The judge in whom is vested the public authority should not accompany
his sentence with vain and useless words. If it be perilous not to make
every day further progress in the way of perfection, how much more so
to wander from the straight path and to risk foundering upon the reefs
of sin?"
Again the magistrate spoke:
"Sacrifice to the gods, that you may enjoy the honour granted by the
prince to those who serve him." Symphorien replied in the same strain.
"A judge degrades his authority when he thus publicly puts a price upon
the observance of the law. He does irreparable wrong to his soul, and
shames his good name for ever."
Finally, the official, irritated, cut short Symphorien's discourse,
with the following sentence:--"That Symphorien, guilty of public crime,
in having committed sacrilege by refusing to sacrifice to the gods, and
seeking to profane our holy altars, should be struck by the avenging
sword, that the dread effects of his crime may be cancelled, and the
law, human and divine, satisfied."
In Ingres' picture, Symphorien is on his way to execution outside the
town walls, while, from the rampart, his mother is addressing to him
her last words of farewell and encouragement. He was decapitated by
the executioner, and his body buried at night near a fountain "extra
publicum campum," probably one of the vast burial places on the road to
Langres and Besançon.[60]
Here we leave the cathedral of Autun, comforting ourselves with
the assurance that, though we pass no more beneath its magnificent
porch, we shall meet sister churches, not less beautiful, in other
ancient towns of Burgundy. Meanwhile, before descending the steep old
street that leads downwards, by the Hotel Rolin, to the centre of
modern Autun, wander awhile through the narrow ways of the cathedral
precincts, where still, as of old, the priests, living relics of a
shadowy past, muttering into their breviaries, pace up and down before
many a curious Gothic building.
In the sixteenth century--1543, to be precise--the chapter of the
cathedral commissioned an architect unknown, who may possibly have been
Jean Goujon, to erect a fountain which was placed, at first, near the
corner of the Place St. Louis and the Place des Terraces.
In 1784, it was decided that the fountain obstructed the road; and it
was accordingly removed to its present site, where it remains, after
many moving accidents and adventures, and in spite of alterations, a
gem of the Renaissance.[61] No description can convey an idea of the
harmonious and decorative effect of this little fountain, unmatched
for felicity in all France. The design is in two superposed pierced
lanterns, the lower one surrounded by a cupola, and containing a basin
below. The Ionic columns, the pilasters, the vases surmounting the
entablature, and the pelican crowning the whole, are all perfectly
proportioned and harmonized; and enough is left of the original
sculpture to show how exquisite in every detail was the execution of
the original work.
[Illustration: ·AUTUN ·TOUR DES URSULINES·]
Just below the fountain, in the Rue des Bancs, is the Hotel Rolin, the
most interesting of the many museums with which Autun is favoured.
Personally, I must confess to a very lukewarm enthusiasm for the
majority of provincial museums; and I am inclined to wish that Autun
had collected its relics in one good building, instead of having them
in various quarters of the town; but the Hotel Rolin is well worth
a visit for its own sake. It is the annexe of the ancient palace of
the Rolins, the _magna domum Johannis Rolini_, which faced the church
of Notre Dame on the site of the Place St. Louis; and was built by
Guillaume de Beauchamp, son of Nicholas Rolin, the famous chancellor
of Burgundy, to accommodate the numerous members of the suite of that
august personage.
The courtyard and the glimpse it gives of the Hotel, when you have
emerged from the darkness of the gate, is quite characteristic of its
period, though, if nature should have imparted to you the least degree
of timidity, where animals are concerned, you will probably leave that
courtyard without regret, owing to the attentions of the concierge's
very strenuous dog, who will make frantic and disconcerting endeavours
to break out upon you through a frail, ground-floor window, which alone
stands between you and a violent death. But all travellers must be
prepared to face danger, and Cerberus at the gate will enhance your
appreciation of the home of the Eduen Society.
The building contains some stele from the Roman burial grounds, and
numerous interesting relics, collected, for the most part, by M.
Bulliot, from the Oppidum Bibracte. It has also some good recumbent
mediæval statues, Guillaume de Brasey, 1302, Jehan de Brasey, 1305, and
the Sire de Rousillon, of the end of the thirteenth century. There is
a relic of Charles le Téméraire, from Granson, and good portraits of
Nicholas Rolin and his brother.
Just below the Hotel Rolin are the remains of the old tower of the
Porte des Bancs, of the fifth century, part of the rampart surrounding
the Castrum, or upper city of Autun.[62]
The museum which ranks next in interest to the Hotel Rolin, is the
Musée Lapidaire in the Rue St. Nicholas, in the Marchaux, the lower
part of the town. It is housed in a nice little Romanesque chapel of
the twelfth century, once attached to the Hôpital St. Nicholas et St.
Eloi de Marchaux. I found the bell at the entrance broken, and had to
apply for admission at the concierge's cottage, No. 10, on the right.
Knowing what I do of French provincial museums, I have little doubt
that the reader will find the bell in the same condition. But let
him not be deterred. The building, a charming and typical example of
Burgundian Romanesque, on a small scale, is worth seeing. Its walls
still show the remains of some faded frescoes, probably, thinks M.
Fontenay, of late twelfth century, representing Christ in glory.
The chapel is filled with odds and ends of different periods; of the
most important of which, the statues of Martha and Mary, from the
cathedral, we have already spoken. In addition to these, there is, in
the apse, a good Renaissance vierge from Autun, treated in a manner
that contrasts very thoroughly with the saints on the wall behind her.
The Renaissance remains from the chapel of Denis Poillot, ambassador
of Francis I. in England, are of the highest order of merit, and make
one regret much that the building has not survived. On the floor is
a fine Roman mosaic, now covered with a cloth, and, close to it, a
well-executed Roman sarcophagus, from Arles, representing the chase of
the wild-boar of Calydon. The realistic sculpture is typical of much
that is still to be seen in the most interesting Musée Lapidaire of
that provincial town.
Beside the chapel is a pleasant little garden, surrounded by an open
shed which houses numberless relics of Roman and early Christian Autun,
chiefly stele, tombstones, fragments of mosaic, etc. Historically the
most interesting are the débris of the grey marble sarcophagus that
once contained the body of Queen Brunehault, one of the most energetic
and clear-sighted personalities of Merovingian times. In the name
of her grandson, Thierry, she governed Burgundy for fifteen years
(598-613), establishing her court at Autun, and, although more than
sixty years of age, showed a "sagacity in council and administrative
ability" which is noted by Gregory of Tours. Finally, some of the
Burgundian chiefs, who hated her, delivered her over to her enemy, King
Clotaire II. He caused her to be paraded for three days on a camel's
back, in sight of all the army, and then had her tied by her hair, and
by one foot and arm, to the tail of a wild horse, which was then driven
far away. Her remains, buried in the Abbey of St. Martin, at Autun, not
far from the chapel of St. Nicholas, were discovered there in 1632, in
a leaden coffin, which contained, also, among other objects, a spur,
said to be that which was used upon the horse to which the Queen was
bound.
There are worse places to wander in, and to dream in, than these open
galleries, where the silent ones stand, side by side, upon their
funeral stones, and the chickens scratch among Roman capitals. The
gardienne's children are at play on the path, and, in the centre of
the green cloister garth, the ripening pears tremble upon the swaying
branches. The old caretaker--blessed among caretakers--leaves you
alone, until you summon her. She is ready for a chat, but can impart no
information whatever concerning the monuments in her charge.
"Good-bye, Madame; and when I come again, in the spring, I shall expect
to find the bell mended." "Parfaitement, Monsieur; Ha! ha! ha!" and her
gossip friend, across the road, joins in the chorus, "Ha! ha! ha! Ha!
ha! ha!" But the bell will not be mended--and they know it.
The Musée municipal in the Hotel de Ville--the last musée which I shall
inflict upon the reader--is as dreary as a haunted house, and much
less interesting. You wander through gallery after gallery of second
and third rate paintings, to be rewarded, at last, in the end room, by
two little bronze crupellaires, or fighting gladiators of the first
century, so called because, according to Tacitus, they were completely
hidden beneath an iron armour, so thick as to make the wearer as
immune against blows as he was incapable of dealing them.[63] The most
interesting thing in the museum is the famous Greek inscription which
has excited the interest of antiquarians and theologians all over the
world. The stone is a piece of white marble, broken into fragments
which are pieced together again, and on which is a Greek acrostic, and
something supposed to stand for a Sigma. The inscription, believed to
be of the third or fourth century, is as follows. The translation I
give is from the French, as quoted by Hamerton in "The Mount."
"O divine race of heavenly Ιχθυς, receive with a heart full of respect
life immortal among the mortals. Renew thy soul's youth, O my friend!
in the divine waters, by the eternal waves of wisdom that flow from the
true riches. Receive the delicious food of the Saviour of saints. Take,
eat and drink, thou holdest Ιχθυς in thy hands. Ιχθυς grant me this
grace, ardently I desire it, Master and Saviour; may my mother rest in
peace, I conjure thee, light of the dead. Aschandeus, my father, thou
whom I cherish, with my tender mother and all my relations in the peace
of Ιχθυς. remember thy Pectorius."[64]
The Hotel de Ville in which the Musée Municipal is housed, fronts upon
the Champ de Mars, formerly the Champ St. Ladre (campus sancti Lazari)
the centre of the life of the town. It was built over in Roman times,
as proved by the substructures that have been found, but the land was
cleared about the twelfth century. Throughout all the middle ages its
convenient position between the Castrum and the Marchaux rendered it
a kind of forum, or general public meeting place, and the site of the
great fêtes and fairs. During the visit of Charles VIII. to Autun,
in 1516, the inhabitants constructed in St. Ladre an immense wooden
amphitheatre, with a linen velarium as a protection, quite in the old
Roman manner. Here, too, from time immemorial, has been held, and is
still held, in September, the great fête de St. Ladre, and cattle
fair that draws so many traders to Autun, and destroys for a month
the peace of the cathedral city.[65] The wars of religion and the
great revolution have brought their quota of victims to the stake, the
gallows, or the guillotine, that in turn were set up in the centre of
the place. At the north-east corner, opposite the Hotel de Ville, are
the best cafés of the town, where, I remember, we learned the latest
news of the Portuguese Revolution.
Just round the corner, in the Rue de l'Arbalète, is the best Hotel
of Autun, "St. Louis et de la Poste," a great rambling building of
the early seventeenth century, that, in itself, is a lasting souvenir
of great historical events. On the 10th of January, 1802, Napoleon
Buonaparte passed through Autun on the way to Lyons. He stayed one
night, with the Empress Josephine, at the Hotel St. Louis, where he
received the local authorities. Several ladies of the town, eager for a
sight of the great man, obtained the hotelier's permission to officiate
as waitresses, for that night only. Josephine discovered the ruse at
once, and was so amused thereby that she proceeded to play her part in
the game with the utmost grace and charm.
The hundred days saw Napoleon again at the Hotel St. Louis. He had
left Elba on the 26th February, 1815, and arrived at Autun on the 15th
of March. According to the account of an eye witness[66] the troops
accompanying him were utterly exhausted, and could keep no sort of
order; their ranks were broken, and soldiers of all arms were marching
pell-mell. Napoleon was surprised and deeply hurt by his reception at
Autun. No crowds came out to meet him, and scarcely a cry of "Vive
l'Empereur" was heard. The houses were shut, the streets deserted, and
only a small company of nobodies, in blouses and sabots, formed his
cortège.... No sooner had he descended at the Hotel de la Poste, than
he asked for the mayor and the municipal council. They were brought
into a balconied room looking on the street.
The Emperor, attended by Marshal Bertrand, General Brayer, and five or
six other military men, appeared to be in a state of great agitation.
He was pacing up and down, holding in his hand the proclamation of the
night before, stepping at every moment on to the balcony, and leaving
it with angry looks. When all had entered he stood in the middle of the
apartment, and asked which was the mayor of Autun.
"I am," said M. Piquot.
"I know what you are," the Emperor replied, "a man always ready to pay
court to nobles; one who would sacrifice his dignity for a dinner. You
are mayor no longer; only a fanatic and a madman could have drawn up
such an act as this. You dare to treat me as an usurper!"
"Sire," said M. de la Chaise, president of the civil tribunal, "by your
abdication you have freed us from our oaths, and we have sworn fealty
to Louis XVIII."
"I have abdicated, you say. I did it only to assure the happiness of
the French. France is not happy. She recalls me, and you would oppose
her.... Madman! you would have civil war, then!"
"But, enfin, sire, you have abdicated."
"Be silent!" cried Napoleon, angrily, "you are only a wretched
attorney."
We need not follow any further a quarrel which led nowhere. Amid the
same cold silence that had marked his arrival, Napoleon left early the
next morning, to face the last triumphs and the crushing disaster of
those fateful hundred days.[67]
Another visitor to the Hotel St. Louis was George Sand, who came in the
midst of all the bustle and excitement of the fair of St. Ladre, on the
2nd September, 1836, and was served, with two children and a nurse,
under a fruit tree in the garden into which the guests had overflowed.
She must have overheard, at the large table, words which offended her,
for, says St. Fonteney, she left her repast and the hotel in haste,
and, two months afterwards, took a full revenge in the columns of the
"Revue des deux Mondes," in which she referred darkly to the occasion
as an "obscenity" and an "orgie of patricians." One would hardly have
thought George Sand so squeamish.
We, too, being only passers by, must leave Autun in haste. The autumn
sun was setting, and the ruby mists of evening were creeping up the
purple slopes of the Morvan, as the train steamed out of the station.
Our compartment was quite unlit, and gradually, as night fell, darkness
enwrapped us so completely that we could not so much as see a hand held
before the face. When we drew up at Epinac, a bent old woman, standing
huddled up on the platform, peered into the compartment, in a futile
endeavour to see what it might contain. She called the guard. They
both looked in. "Fait ben noir" (very dark), she muttered. He shrugged
his shoulders. The old woman wandered off vacantly. Third class fare
on a monopoly railway does not entitle you to light; and she knew it.
Along the darkened train ran a legend that they were buying oil and
wick in the town. We waited, waited, long enough for them to have
bought up the whole town and the one beyond it. But no light came,
until, southward, I saw a faint, silvery glimmer. Then I knew what we
were waiting for. There is no charge for moonlight--not even on that
railway. But it was still dark as pitch. With a jerk the train began to
move out; a large parcel, the property of a young French girl in front
of me, fell down upon the head of her small and sleepy nephew, Madelon,
who howled plaintively. The soldier in the corner, compelled by the
presence of ladies to refrain, for an hour past, from indulging in his
ruling passion, could contain himself no longer. He spat voluminously,
vociferously, like a hen clucking. Almost as loudly Madelon sucked
at a lozenge bestowed for the soothing of the bruised head. As the
moon rose, the darkness paled. I could just see Madelon regarding
complacently the lozenge that he had removed from his mouth.
"Madelon, Madelon, how many times have I told you not to take things
from your mouth when you are eating? Once in, they must stay in. Veux
tu m'obéir." The rich sucking noise ceased, to be followed by the light
breathing of a child asleep. We stopped at another station. Not content
with the moon, people put their heads out of the windows, and clamoured
for light. They chaffed the station-master; they ragged the guard. Like
rabbits the men ran up and down over the roofs of the carriages. Five
porters gathered in a little woe-begone group, and looked on vacantly.
But no light came. A tin trumpet blew, and the train started. An hour
later we were climbing the hills of the Côte d'Or and dropping down
into the eastern plain. That is how we left Autun.
FOOTNOTES:
[50] "Impressions of Provence," pp. 118-121.
[51] P. G. Hamerton. "The Mount," p. 115.
[52] "Autun et ses Monuments."
[53] "Autun et ses Monuments," pp. 143-147. For full description of
the tomb of Lazarus, see p. 148.
[54] P. G. Hamerton. "The Mount," p. 167.
[55] "Autun et ses Monuments," p. 153.
[56] Dictionnaire Raisonné, V. le Duc, tom: vii., p. 275.
[57] Dictionnaire Raisonné, V. le Duc, tom: vii., p. 278.
[58] P. G. Hamerton. "The Mount," p. 171.
[59] "Autun et ses Monuments," pp. 422-438.
[60] "Autun et ses Monuments," pp. 52-54.
[61] In 1863 it was removed for some years to the Musée Lapidaire.
[62] The Rue des Bancs was so called from the butchers' benches which
once lined it. "Autun et ses Monuments," p. 379.
[63] "Crupellarios vacant, inferendis sitibus inhabilis, accipiendis
impenetrabilis."--Taciti Aun: lib. iii., c. 43, quoted "Autun et
ses Monuments," p. 38
[64] Hamerton. "The Mount," p. 184.
[65] "Autun et ses Monuments," p. 332.
[66] Dr. Guyton. "Mes Souvenirs de Soixante Ans pour servir à
l'Histoire d'Autun," quoted in "Autun et ses Monuments," p. 354.
[67] "Autun et ses Monuments," pp. 354-357.
[Illustration: Heading, chapter V; Cluny Abbey and Gateway, as they
were]