CLUNY'S DAUGHTER
The country, as one travels from Cluny to Paray-le Monial, is varied
and interesting--so were the other passengers. At Charolles, there
entered our compartment two priests, one of whom devoted himself to
his book, while the other, a very tall, spare ecclesiastic, divided
his time evenly between his breviary, the sign of the cross, and a
close scrutiny of my wife. Whether there was any connection in his mind
between the last two occupations, I am unable to determine.
This little incident was sufficient to remind us that Paray--as the
adjunct Le Monial implies--is a town of ecclesiastical origin and
tradition. It was, in fact, a daughter of Cluny, an annexe of the
maison abbatiale, and a place of rest and of villégiature for the
abbots, who had their country seat here. To-day it is the centre of the
cult of the Sacré Cœur, and a favourite place of pilgrimage for the
French peasantry of the district.
On arrival at the station, while I was engaged with the luggage, a
straw-hatted individual, who had been lounging about in the company
of a young woman, drew my wife's attention to the fact that there
was no "plaque" on our bicycles. On being referred to me, he demanded
my permit, which I naturally refused to exhibit, until he had proved
his authority to ask for it. He then produced, from his pocket-book,
a printed paper, which appeared to be the document required. I showed
my permit accordingly; whereupon, with a satirical smile, and the
remark, "Une simple formalité, Monsieur," the insuppressible strolled
off. Insolent officialism is one of the "désagréments" of France, to
which a few more years of democratic supremacy will probably expose
this country also. A breach of that "simple formalité," as he called
it, would inevitably have brought me to the sub-prefecture, and would
have cost me thirty francs and costs, for each machine. Let cyclists in
France see that they comply with all "simples formalités."
Setting out in the morning to explore Paray, we had corroborative
evidence of an impression already formed, concerning the manners--or
want of them--of many Burgundians. Two or three groups of young girls,
passing us in the streets, burst into shrieks of laughter under
our very noses; and a band of school children, who intercepted and
surrounded us at a corner shop, in a narrow lane, could not have shown
deeper interest had we been two teddy bears, or a Punch and Judy show.
They made the street absolutely impassable; we could not move until the
shop-keeper emerged, and drove them away.
[Illustration: Two Priests]
Modesty compels me to add that my wife was always the chief cause
of this hilarity and interest. These public attentions made her so
uneasy that she asked me plaintively, on one occasion, whether she
had grown a hump in the night! Though able to reassure her upon that
point, I could not, nor can I at this moment, satisfactorily account
for the undisguised astonishment her appearance caused; but I lean
to the conclusion that the secret lay mainly in her clothes. My wife
was dressed--quite simply--but she was dressed; whereas the women of
Burgundy merely wore clothes; garments that bore no relation to each
other, nor to the individuality of the wearer. The directors of the
Grands Magazins du Louvre have much to answer for in these matters, and
it was positively refreshing, in the remoter parts of the country,
to see the village women, naturally dressed, walking like goddesses,
freely, and in the shape in which Nature made them.
But to return from flesh and blood to the stones of Paray. Her old
monuments, though few, are choice. The best of them, excepting the
church, is the Hotel de Ville, a building with an exquisite Renaissance
façade, beautifully harmonized, showing Italian influence, and dating
from 1525. The flatness of the elevation is relieved, and the whole
bound together vertically, by three half-round turrets, which spring
from corbels below the sill strings of the first floor windows. Three
moulded courses ornamented with heads and busts in medallion,[109]
and panels in relief, extend right across the building, below the
windows. Several of the heads, including that of Francis I., are still
recognizable portraits. Between the windows, and beside the turrets,
are decorative, sculptured pilasters. There are many figures in niches,
and a profusion of scallop-shell ornament, all showing the transitional
character of the work. The top story, with alternating turrets, and
gables surmounted by statuettes, is extremely effective. All the
windows are beautifully proportioned, and finely, though not deeply,
moulded. As a whole, weathered by time to a rich, warm brown, this is
one of the most effective façades of its kind that I know in France.
The interior, which might easily be restored, has been spoiled by
whitewashing the oak beams of ceilings that shelter many exhibits, of
little interest, excepting some nice tiles from the old house. This
was built by a rich cloth manufacturer, Pierre Jayet, from 1525-1528.
According to Montégut, Pierre's brother was so jealous of the beauty of
the building, that he determined to eclipse it; and accordingly erected
the church of St. Nicholas, which, with the later tower of that name
(1658), still stands opposite to the Hotel de Ville. If the date of
the Church, as given to me, namely 1505, is correct, the legend must
be without foundation; but, whether it be true or false, that lovely
façade has nothing to fear from comparison with any other building in
the town.
Paray-le Monial's church is a splendid and typical example of the
Clunisian school of Burgundian architecture, about contemporary
with the Cathedral of Autun. In fact, you have only to create, in
imagination, a longer nave, transeptal towers, a second transept, and
flying buttresses, to form a very good idea of the appearance of Cluny
abbey in the middle ages.
From the eastern end you get the typical Burgundian effect of a series
of apsidal chapels and collaterals, lifting the eye, stage by stage,
up to the central clock tower, and thus conveying an impression of
dependent solidity unique in architecture, and quite symbolical of
Burgundian character. The apsidal chapels are buttressed by engaged
columns, and lightened by a string, ornamented with a billet, run right
round, to form the drip-stones and the abaci of the capitals, some of
which are very beautiful.
'Tis sad that Cluny's fair daughter is content to keep such ill
company. The approach to, and view of, the church from the north, is
almost completely blocked out by hideous booths filled with tawdry
trinkets, by a "Diorama Musée," and other mean erections, which should
be ruthlessly swept away by the authorities. Visitors may be annoyed,
too, as we were, by the attentions of an imbecile woman, employed by
the hangers-on of the church, to fetch water and run errands for them.
She looked over my shoulder diligently while I took notes, and only
replied with a wild stare, and a "Rien, rien," to my request to know
what I could do for her. A few yards further on, we came upon the
following:--
_Apparition of the Sacred Heart to Blessed Margaret Mary Alacocque._
_The Nusstree and Garden of the Visitation_
_Figures in natural size,_
_Entrance ... Centimes._[110]
On reading this effusion, our first impression was, that there must
be some mental affinity between the dreadful woman who had just been
jibbering at us, and the promoters of this novel entertainment; until
we realized that the wax-works were merely another catch-penny, aimed
at pilgrims' pockets--the invitation I had just read being no more
than a weak attempt to rope in an occasional English enthusiast. The
discovery, not far off, of a similar legend, written in bad German,
revealed the origin of the "Nusstree." It is curious how seldom French
attempts to break out publicly into the English tongue, meet with any
degree of success. From the "High Life Tailor" of Parisian boulevards,
to the "Nusstree" of Paray-le Monial, it is always the same story;
one English word is as good as another to a Frenchman who understands
neither.
The north door of the church, flanked though it be by disreputable
buildings, is a graceful construction, of somewhat unusual classical
design, well harmonized and proportioned, and exquisitely carved. All
the sculpture, from the flowered architrave within the pilasters, to
the ornamentation of the shafts and the shouldered arches, is very
pleasing, as are the doors themselves, with their quatre-foiled iron
ornament, surrounding an inner cross.
The primitive porch, and the western towers of the church are somewhat
remarkable. Murray, on what authority I cannot say, puts their date at
1004, but Viollet-le-Duc contents himself with admitting this portion
to be earlier than the remainder of the Church. The northern tower is
the later of the two. The porch is arched, and of two bays, forming six
quadripartite vaults between the arches. The weight of the towers above
was originally taken by two central clusters of stone columns, which
proved quite inadequate for the purpose, and were replaced--in the
19th century, I think--by a granite column.[111] The western precincts
of the Church exhibit the usual signs of decadence of ecclesiastical
power and influence. Dead leaves littering the porch, mercifully screen
the "choses immondes" and the building materials with which the floor
is scattered; and as though the building were not yet sufficiently
defiled, a board invites the public to deposit its rubbish between the
porch and the river, on a site at present in the occupation of noisy
children.
Seen from within, the church is noble and impressive; but the eye at
once notices a want of proportion; the height of the first storey
being too great for that of the triforium and clerestories. This is
due, in part, to the shortness of the nave, which might be three
times as long, and, in part, to the flatness of the triforium, a true
blind-story, rendered mean for lack of shadow to break up the flatness
of the arcades. The supports for the vaulting take the form of fluted
pilasters, which rise to the capitals, on a level with the sill string,
below the triforium; whence the thrust is taken by half round vaulting
shafts.
[Illustration: THE CHURCH DOOR ·PARAY-LE-MONIAL·]
Here, as elsewhere in Burgundy and Southern France, the pointed arch
is obviously used as a necessity of construction, rather than for any
inherent love the builders bore it. Before the art of buttressing had
developed, no other method was open to them.[112]
Grateful memories still linger of that vista--down the wide-aisled nave
to the well-proportioned columns of the apse, bathed in rich colours
from the stained glass, which, modern though it be, is worthy, when
compared with our recollections of Notre Dame de Cluny. The interior
has not many decorative features, except the fluted pilasters, and the
archivolts, somewhat in the Lombard style, in which the lozenge and the
billet ornament are effectively used. Very local, on the contrary, and
very characteristic are the Byzantine beasts carved among the foliage
on the capitals of the ambulatory.
'Tis a pity that the crossings are so prominent; their nudity enhances
the ill-effect of the debauch of whitewash that renders the interior
so cold. One of the few good monuments is a fifteenth-century,
south-eastern, transeptal chapel, with the remains of the gothic
canopied tomb of the Seigneurs of Digoin. The windows, doors and niches
of the chapel are satisfactory, but the ribbed vaulting is clumsy, and
much too heavy for so small a roof. I believe that the figures are all
modern.
As we left by the north transept, we noticed a lady standing before the
statue of St. Peter. Rising upon her toes until her bonnet feathers
nodded, she was just able, with an effort, to kiss the toe of the
Saint. I examined that toe; it was bright with the salutes of the
faithful.
Nowhere do I remember to have seen so many appeals and warnings against
blasphemy and desecration as are displayed in the church of Paray. No
doubt they are needful and salutary; but it struck us, that, before
enforcing too severely their observance, the ecclesiastical authorities
would do well to set their own house in order, and, once for all, to
sweep the precincts of their basilica clear of all rubbish, human and
inanimate, that now defiles it. I wonder, sometimes, whether those who
are responsible for the condition of affairs at Paray, and other great
French churches, have ever seen the close of Salisbury, or of Wells,
or can ever have realized how enhancing to the dignity and grandeur
of mediæval architecture, and how seemly, as settings to a sacred
building, are the delicious haunts of peace, upon whose trim, green
lawns and ancestral elms, those ancient cathedrals look down. That,
having done so, they can be content to let the towers of Paray rise
from among tawdry booths and a howling wilderness of filth and débris,
is something I do not care to believe. That is why, having visited in
hope Cluny's lovely daughter, we left her with little other feeling
than one of sadness that such things should be.
* * * * *
The country around Paray is not particularly interesting; but some fine
views of the Church are to be had from the other side of the Bourbince.
Having set forth on bicycles to explore the land, we halted on a little
bridge that crosses the Canal du Centre. The waterway was lined, on
our side, for about a hundred yards, with small tumble-down cottages
and sheds. The other bank was alive with washerwomen all thumping
mercilessly at soapy garments. As we appeared, the thumping ceased.
Every scrubbing-brush was put down, or remained poised in mid-air, and
all eyes turned towards the two figures, who, even at that distance,
bore the stamp of aliens.
We approached a cottage labelled "Café." Before it was a perambulator
containing a howling baby, whom a very serious little maid of about
fourteen was trying unsuccessfully to hush. We sat down on a rickety
bench, and ordered things. The little maid was so shy that her lips
refused to part; but her ears were open; she fetched and carried
willingly, though dumbly. We sat sipping, and contemplating nature. The
washers returned to their thumping; the baby howled.
Presently a lanky mule, into whom the spirit of devilment had entered,
broke from a neighbouring shed, and made for the bridge. The girl left
her charge, and endeavoured to "shoo" the beast to his stall again. He
would neither be coerced nor cajoled, but, with a wicked gleam in his
eye, turned his back upon her blandishments, and, to the great peril of
the baby, lashed out fiercely with both heels. The girl rushed to the
perambulator. Conscious of victory, the ass lay down upon the towing
path, and rolled and kicked, until the washers across the water were
screened from us by clouds of dust. Then, in due season, he arose and
walked quietly back to his stable. As my wife observed: "He is a very
young mule; and there is no fun in being naughty, if nobody minds."
A moment later, we saw coming towards us with swinging strides over
the bridge, a tall, swarthy, handsome figure, dressed as a stage
bandit, in copper-coloured leather coat, of the same tint as his face,
a dark slouch hat, and black leather gaiters. From each capacious
side pocket projected the neck of a large, white-glass, wine bottle.
He called for a drink, and sat down near us on a bench before the
café; then, removing one of the bottles from his coat, he revealed two
snakes wriggling within it. Holding the bottle by the neck, he shook it
before the eyes of the howling baby, who promptly fell into such strong
convulsions that my wife feared for its life.
"What are those?" I asked, pointing to the bottle.
"Vipers," said the bandit, "'Tis my trade." Diving into the coat again,
he produced a metal armlet inscribed "Charmeur de Vipères." Thence
followed, one by one, all his certificates of efficiency, signed by
the mayors of places in the neighbourhood--Digoin, Mâcon, and Paray.
Here were forty-six killed in one day; thirty-five more in the woods of
Charolles; "Et il y en a encore." He did not stay long enough for us to
question him concerning his methods of procedure; but, rising abruptly
from the wooden bench, strode off, a great, bronzed figure, and was
soon lost among the coppery tints of the Burgundian forest.
I have often wondered since, whether he worked solely by close
observation, or whether he had developed that supernormal or subnormal
faculty, withheld from most, but granted often to undeveloped minds, as
it was to the boy in Rollinat's song:--
When Autumn has tinted the boughs and the brakes,
With fixed eyes, sadly and sweetly asway,
The wandering idiot who charms the snakes,
Wearying never, hobbles all day.
The vipers asleep on the marge of their lakes,
In chorus awaken at sound of his song;
And, shrilling thin hisses, they follow along--
A crowd of old gossips--each path that takes
The wandering idiot who charms the snakes.[113]
We saw the mysterious snake-charmer once more in Paray. He raised the
wide, slouch hat, and saluted with all the dignity of a forest king.
FOOTNOTES:
[109] Hence the original name, "Maison des Pompons."
[110] The Reference is to the alleged apparition of Christ, revealing
His Bleeding Heart, to a young girl, Marguerite Marie Alacocque,
in 1690, beneath a nut-tree, the site of which is now marked
by the Chapelle de la Visitation. It was this vision which
established in Paray the "Culte du Sacré Cœur," now common
throughout France.
[111] Viollet le Duc. "Dictionnaire Raisonné" Tome vii. p. 283.
[112] Bond's "Gothic Architecture in England," p. 265.
[113] "Songs of old France," Percy Allen.
[Illustration: Heading, chapter IX; Gontran and Bertille]