through the town one appears continually to be crossing a succession of
bridges and coming upon fresh pictures of clear green water fringed by
low-roofed houses and dark _lavoirs_ with their curtains of snowy linen.
Outside the town the river winds smoothly away past the cool quiet of
the public gardens, to join its tributaries and cut its silver channels
through the distant water-meadows.
“The route lay along the plateau until the heights were reached which
enclose the valley of the Loir; the road winds down to the river beside
hanging woods, red with autumn leaves not yet fallen, and crowned with a
ridge of firs. A corner is turned and Vendôme comes in sight, lying
beneath the shelter of the old ruined castle on the hill. As the
horsemen enter the town the people all come to the doors of their houses
and gaze with every sign of interested curiosity. There is an anxious
expression in their faces. They do not welcome, though they obey their
visitors with alacrity. They bring forth bread and meat and wine, and
lay the tables for breakfast, but good cheer they have none to
give.”--_The Times_: “Prussian Occupation of Vendôme.”
Chapter Twelve
ORLÉANS, BOURGES, AND NEVERS
“The thought that the name of the city itself is most likely to call up
is that of the Maid who, born far away from Orléans, has taken its name
as a kind of surname.... We have got into a way of thinking ... as if
Orléans had its chief being as the city of the Maid.” Orléans certainly
does share with Rouen the chief honours of association with Joan of Arc,
the “Victrix Anglorum,” as she is described on a memorial tablet in the
Cathedral, and the town is equally full of monuments to her memory,
though the memory in this case is that of a great triumph, whereas at
Rouen it marks the last stage, captivity and death.
Orléans was the key of central and southern France, and if the English
once got possession of it they would certain overrun all the land south
of the Loire; hence its importance to France as a stronghold. Joan set
out from Blois late in April, 1429, in charge of a convoy of provisions
for the beleaguered city, and arrived opposite the town, on the left
bank of the Loire.
From November to the end of April the English had lain before the town,
and, although the inhabitants were not actually starving, provisions
were very scanty, and the bringing in of fresh supplies was practically
an impossibility, since the usual means of approach, the bridge across
the Loire, was blocked by the enemy, who occupied the outstanding
fortress of Les Augustins at the bridge, and on the right bank. On the
Orléans bank the English had built several strong _bastilles_, guarding
the city and effectually preventing any communication by means of the
western highways. The weak spot was on the east side, where the
besiegers had one stronghold only, the fortress of Saint Loup; and from
this point Dunois, the general-in-chief, and La Hire, the leader of
Joan’s army, intended to effect an entrance; but the Maid herself, with
that love of directness which characterises her whole career, desired to
attack the English, not at their strongest, but at their weakest point.
Both wind and stream were against their ferrying over to Saint Loup; and
in the end Joan’s simple tenacity and childish belief in the counsel of
her “voices” carried the day. The army was sent back to Blois, there to
cross to the right bank and attack Orléans from the west, and meanwhile
she herself, the wind having turned, crossed in a boat by night and
entered the town with La Hire and Dunois. She was hailed by the people
of Orléans as an angel of deliverance, and lodged in the house of the
treasurer Boucher, near the Porte Regnart at the north-west angle of the
city walls; and from this vantage point Joan watched the enemy’s
movements, appearing from time to time upon the ramparts and bidding
defiance to the English, who, as was perhaps natural, retorted by
showering insults upon her. On May 4 she rode out in full state to meet
her army which had arrived from Blois. Three days later the great fight
began. All this time the English troops had scarcely moved a finger to
hinder the French operations, but when the enemy crossed the river by a
bridge of boats and made a feint of attacking the fortress on the left
bank, retreating apparently in confusion, the English sallied forth
after them, thus provoking a real attack upon the bridge fort. During
the fray the girl-leader was wounded; never for a moment did she give
in, but stood in the fosse grasping the white banner--sword she would
not wield--and cheering on her companions; with the result that by
nightfall the position was gained, the English were driven out, and Joan
returned in triumph into Orléans by the bridge. The greater part of
her victory was now accomplished. On the following day the French forces
marched outside the walls of the town to meet the English line; but
Talbot and his men had not reckoned with what they, in the superstition
of their time, believed to be “a force not of this world,” and the
morning light shone upon their helmets and spears in full retreat
towards the north. France was saved, and a clear field was left for
Charles the Dauphin--the gates of his kingdom were flung open wide, that
he might enter in and possess it.
[Illustration: ORLÉANS]
But the greatness of Orléans belongs to an earlier day, before Joan
heard the voices in the Domrémy meadows, probably before Domrémy ever
existed. It was Attila the Hun who indirectly brought the town up the
ladder of fame. Aurelianum in the fifth century was a desirable
stronghold, and as such, Attila spied it afar from his Asiatic plains,
and set out to conquer, and, as one authority has it, to “vainly
besiege” it, though Freeman inclines to the opinion that “the business
of West Goth and Roman was, in the end, not to keep them (the Huns) out,
but to drive them out.” However that may be, Attila was eventually
forced to give up his project, and Aurelianum emerged from the struggle
glorious and triumphant, to become the seat and stronghold of kings,
and, until its union with Paris in 613, the capital of a separate
kingdom. Since then it has been the scene of siege, martyrdom and
persecution, down to the days of the Franco-Prussian war, when it
finished an eventful history by a Prussian occupation in October, 1870,
a sequel to the battles of Patay and Bonbay.
Orléans is beautifully placed on a hillside overlooking the Loire. With
this physical advantage, and its long list of historical associations,
one cannot help feeling that it might have done better for itself, and
have become more than just a quiet, unobtrusive and rather dull city,
with all its monuments easily attainable. The Cathedral is an example of
the last lingering phase of Gothic architecture, and was rebuilt, so we
are told--after its destruction by the Huguenots--during the interval
between 1600 and 1829. The building as a mass has great merit, for the
architects have made an effort to clothe it with dignity, and one feels
that the church itself is conceived in a spirit to make it, certainly at
a distance, not unworthy of the stronghold of Clovis and his successors.
[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF JACQUES CŒUR, BOURGES]
The train which we took from Orléans to Bourges was slow enough to
enable us to look out, almost as easily as from a _voiture_, at the
richly wooded country. Here and there a small pyramidal church tower
peeps out from the trees, but, as a rule, there is little sign of
life in this pleasant country, and even the fields and the gorse-covered
commons are bare of sheep and cattle. This _train-d’omnibus_, in
discharge of its functions as a mail train, distributed letter-bags at
every station. Here were waiting young girls acting as postmistresses,
many of whom had come from a considerable distance, having ridden on
bicycles, bare-headed, in the scorching sun, along dusty roads, to
deliver up their heavy loads and to enjoy a chat with the travelling
postman, who was evidently welcomed by them as bringing all the latest
bits of gossip along the line.
About a mile away there is a very beautiful view of the town, and the
general effect is a grey one. Roofs and houses--the latter perhaps
originally built of yellow-white stone--have all weathered to a
beautiful grey, and there is an air of mediævalism about the place.
Bourges, indeed, like many other towns in France, goes back to early
days for its greatness, and belongs far more to the past than to the
present. The fifteenth century saw it at the height of its fame as a
king’s residence; Charles VII., perhaps finding the more northerly towns
too hot for him during the English occupation, took up his abode there
and became for the time being “King of Bourges”; and Louis XI. founded a
university in the town.
Here was born the famous Bourdaloue, and Boucher, the painter of
Versailles before “le Déluge,” Boucher who was
“a Grasshopper, and painted--
Rose-water Raphael--_en couleur de rose_,
The crowned Caprice, whose sceptre, nowise sainted,
Swayed the light realms of ballets and bon-mots;
Ruled the dim boudoir’s _demi-jour_, or drove
Pink-ribboned flocks through some pink-flowered grove,”
and who now, his Grasshopper days ended, lies buried beside his mother
in the Church of Saint Bonnet.
[Illustration: BOURGES]
Perhaps the principal interest of old Bourges centres in the name of
Jacques Cœur, the merchant prince, “a Vanderbilt or a Rothschild of
the fifteenth century,” who in his days of prosperity built a great
house on the hill-side where his native town stands. Cœur, we are
told, founded the trade between France and the Levant; later he became
Master of the Mint in Paris, and one of the Royal Commissioners to the
Languedoc Parliament. He was three times sent on an embassy to foreign
powers, notably to Pope Nicholas V. Charles VII., weak, unstable, and
always in need of money, relied on him absolutely, but with the usual
characteristics of a weak master, was one of the first to desert and
despoil him of his wealth when occasion offered. The beginning of the
end came through a disgraceful and apparently quite unfounded accusation
against Cœur at the time of the death of the famous Agnes Sorel, whom
he was accused of poisoning. Jacques was too prosperous not to have
enemies, and these were, as usual, prompt to use every opportunity
against him. The first steps taken, calumnies of all kind poured in to
defame the man whom France had once delighted to honour, and the rest of
his career is a strange mixture of exile, mysterious captivity, and
equally mysterious escape, honourable reception in Rome, and friendship
with the Pope; the last scene of all, perhaps the strangest and most
foreign to all idea of a peaceful, prosperous merchant--for here we see
him in command, not of a fleet of trading ships laden with merchandise,
but of vessels of war sent against the Turks by Pope Calixtus III.
Rumour has it that, far from dying in poverty and sorrow, Jacques
Cœur, at the end of his life, had acquired greater riches than when
at the zenith of his fame in France, but the fact remains that he died
in exile, with a cloud over his memory which was not cleared away until
many years after, when popular favour again smiled on his name, and he
became, what he remains to this day, the citizen-hero of Bourges.
There is a very charming description--too long to quote here--in Mr.
Henry James’ “Little Tour in France” of the house of Jacques Cœur;
and one point of interest attaching to it is that it is built upon the
old defences of the town, and at the back are many considerable remains
of solid Roman bastions.
It is one of the most beautiful types of a fifteenth-century town-house
that can possibly be imagined--a veritable remnant of the ancient
prosperity of Bourges, of a time when such houses were no uncommon
feature in the streets--when men who had made their fame and fortune
loved to build for themselves a beautiful home in their native town, and
enrich it with every conceivable ornament. Modern _nouveaux riches_
indeed do the same, though perhaps not in their native place, where
their memory as butcher or baker might, in their eyes, tell against
them; but the difference between their “mansions” and the hotel of
Jacques Cœur is the difference between an age when the Renaissance
was in its early freshness and an age when it has suffered the
degradations of many modern horrors in the style that is popularly
designated “handsome.” No one looking upon the delicate sculptures, the
wonderful wood carving, the courtyard with its cloister, the lovely
porticos and galleries, can doubt the taste of the man who built and
lived in this “maison pleine de mystères.”
[Illustration: THE MUSÉE CUJAS, BOURGES]
The Cathedral of Bourges, which, as Freeman points out, is essentially
French, although at the head of the Aquitanian churches, is well seen in
approaching the town, where it rises above a base of grey tiles and warm
white walls--a long flank of choir and nave, unbroken by transepts. The
thrust of the heavy vaulting is stopped by a perfect forest of flying
buttresses, between whose walls are built chapels, either for chantries
or family monuments. From inside the town it is not much in evidence
until one ascends the Rue Royale, where one comes upon it quite
unexpectedly at the end of what Mr. Henry James calls a “short vague
lane,” somewhat in the same manner as one comes upon St. Paul’s bursting
into view at the top of Cheapside.
The absence of transepts accounts naturally for the want of any central
tower or lantern, and as there are no heavy transept pillars supporting
the arches at the crossing, to intercept the view, the elevation of the
Host is visible to every worshipper, and the eye travels in one sweep
through nave and choir to the beautifully jewelled windows of rich old
glass, ranging from the twelfth to the seventeenth century. The east
terminal vaulting springs so low as to mask part of the side-lights of
the apse. This is also very noticeable in the east end of Sens
Cathedral, the beauty of whose windows is marred by the vaults cutting
across the heads of the lights. At Bourges, however, the spandril or
cheek of the vault is pierced by a foliated light, showing a certain
amount of the window behind, and thus taking away the appearance of
depression in the low springing vaulting of the apse.
It is easily recognised that in point of historical importance Nevers,
in comparison with some of its neighbours, dwindles almost into
insignificance, and to the traveller coming from Orléans and Bourges,
fresh from the scene of the triumphs of Joan of Domrémy, and from the
seats of French kings when France was at the height of her power, there
may be a slight sense of disappointment at not finding the same
historical “lions” at Nevers. History, though not passing over the town
entirely, has only touched it with a gentle hand, and Nevers, though
possessed of plenty of material for making itself a name, has never
really risen very far above being the capital of the Nivernais. It
existed in Roman days under the Celtic name of Noviodunum; Cæsar made
use of it as a military depôt in his Gallic campaign, and thought the
town was of sufficient importance to be a storehouse for the imperial
treasure; its countship dates from the tenth century, and it became the
seat of a bishop, although later than many of the Auvergne cities. Yet
the counts of Nevers never made a stir in the world, as did Odo and
Thibaut of Chartres, or the Fulks and Geoffreys of Angers, and nowhere
on its ecclesiastical roll do we find a name like Hilary of Poitiers or
Martin of Tours. Despite these early deficiencies, however, Nevers has
much to interest the casual visitor, and there are four principal
attractions--the Cathedral of St. Cyr, the Romanesque church of St.
Etienne, the ducal palace (now the Palais de Justice), and the Porte du
Croux.
[Illustration: THE HÔTEL-DE-VILLE, NEVERS]
The early church of St. Etienne, begun in 1063, is a fine example of a
Romanesque building. It is also a very severe example, with a nave of
round-headed pier arches, double-arcaded triforium and small clerestory
lights. The bays of the nave are modified in the choir by the pier
arches being stilted, by a small triple-lighted triforium, and by more
importance being given to the clerestory windows. There are, also,
monolithic columns and hollow-necked capitals, which are unusual in
France. The church is covered by a barrel vault, the crossing of the
transepts being crowned by a dome. Mr. Spiers, in his book on
“Architecture East and West,” says: “The French builders of the South of
France have always had the credit of being the originators of the barrel
vault, with its stone or tile roof, absolutely incombustible, lying
direct on the vault; to them also, I contend now, we owe the
development of the dome, with its pendentives set out in a manner
peculiar to themselves, and in no way corresponding to those found in
the East.”
The Cathedral of St. Cyr is the only church in France--with the
exception of Besançon--which possesses an apse at both the east and west
ends. St. Gall in Switzerland, Mittelzall, Laack and many other German
churches show this remarkable plan of a western tribune or paradise. In
some instances it was used as a tomb-house, with entrance from without
by means of a staircase. In the old basilicas, however, the tribune was
not unfrequently at the west end, so that the officiating priest could
at the same time face the east and also his congregation. The crypt at
the west end, with its fine Romanesque capitals, is very interesting,
and dates from the early part of the eleventh century, being about
contemporary with that of the Cathedral of Auxerre. The original church,
with its two transept arches of the same date, was lengthened eastwards
in the thirteenth century, and later on had the further addition made of
a choir with an apsidal termination; the chancel and nave are not
separated by transepts, but the two merge quietly into each other by
simple contact.
[Illustration: PORTE DU CROUX, NEVERS]
One afternoon, while contemplating this strange church, our attention
was diverted from arch and apse by the rustle of a small bridal
procession entering by a side door and being received by a priest who
was waiting at an altar in one of the chapels. After some formalities of
examining the certificate of civil registry, the ceremony began; and it
was very interesting in its brevity and friendliness. In the English
church the priest addresses the principals, with a kind of austere
familiarity, by their Christian names, be they princes or paupers. But
here such a liberty is rendered impossible by the natural social
politeness of the French, and the contracting parties are reminded of
their marriage obligations under the courteous appellations of Monsieur
and Mademoiselle.
The ducal palace is quite close to the Cathedral. “We find,” Freeman
says, “the two great central objects, State and Church, sitting
becomingly side by side.” The ducal days of Nevers date only from the
end of the sixteenth century, when François Ier, with his usual love
of display, bestowed a peerage upon the Nivernais. Before this its
feudal overlords went by the more mediæval title of count, and the
palace (built a century before the count became a duke) has reared
itself upon the foundation of their ancient stronghold. The fourth
attraction of Nevers, the high square gateway tower known as the Porte
du Croux, may also be regarded as a relic of feudal days, seeing that
it dates from 1398, and was evidently part of the town’s defences. It is
a noble specimen of mediæval defence, a tall gateway tower, protected,
like the Porte Guillaume at Chartres, by its ancient fosse--long lancet
openings running up above a low round archway and two pointed turrets
flanking the hatchet-shaped central roof, with the treacherous line of
machicolation below. In the middle of the sixteenth century Nevers
passed to an Italian master, one of the Gonzagas of Mantua, from whom, a
hundred years later, Mazarin bought it back again, and left it at his
death to the Mancini family, who held it until the Revolution.
Most French towns nowadays fill their shops with a display of local
pottery, good, bad and indifferent; the industry of Nevers, however, is
an old-established one, dating from the occupation of these very
Gonzagas, who came from a land where the faïence industry, as well as
glass-blowing, was fully developed as a fine art, and who founded in
their domain a school of artists which should teach their secrets to
France. The industry has remained in the town ever since, and some of
the modern work is very charming, with its curious trade-sign, the
little green arabesque knot or _nœud vert_, which some fanciful
spirit designed for the sign of Nevers.
Chapter Thirteen
MOULINS, LIMOGES, AND PÉRIGUEUX
From Nevers an expedition to Moulins is quite practicable, and the
traveller _en route_ to Limoges may think it worth his while to pay a
visit to this town, which stands as a monument to the fallen house of
Bourbon. In the fourteenth century the dukes of Bourbon made Moulins
their residence, and stayed there until the desertion of the Constable
to the cause of Charles V., when the city was annexed by the French
king, François Ier, in an access of righteous indignation. The “Tour
de l’Horloge,” which is the main feature of the town, and looks more
like a Dutch belfry than a French design, formed part of the old château
belonging to this same Constable; and it may be supposed that not only
were his lands confiscated, but his castle destroyed, by way of
punishment for his alliance with the English king and the German
emperor.