belonged to the Montpensier branch of the Bourbon family, and in 1505
married Suzanne de Beaujeu, heiress of the reigning line, so that the
title of duke and the rich Bourbon estates passed into his possession,
and therewith Charles became one of the most brilliant figures in an age
of brilliancy and magnificence. His handsome person and military talents
had even in early youth gained him a place amongst the foremost
gentlemen of France; but his marriage brought him such an access of
wealth and influence that even Louis XII. trembled for the safety of his
throne, and refused to risk any increase in his popularity by giving him
command of the Italian army. In 1515, however, when the Duc d’Angoulême
came to the throne as François Ier, Bourbon was made Constable of
France, and for a time seemed to have attained to all that Fortune could
give him. He was the close friend of the king, and in an era of lavish
display that came with the first François, and did not wholly disappear
until it was swept away by the hand of the Revolution, no favours seemed
too great, no honours too high, for the brilliant and much-envied
favourite. To such a height did Charles de Bourbon reach, that one can,
indeed, hardly wonder at his fall, which was bound to come sooner or
later, and when it did come was all the greater, all the swifter, from
the very might of his power at court. The mischief arose in the first
place through the jealousy of the king’s mother--reports and scandals
were in the air, and François was not slow to take note of them--and of
the growing distrust of his favourite at court. Quarrels arose between
King and Constable. Presently the evil reports took definite shape, and
grew into the grossest of insults; and as soon as it was seen that
Bourbon had lost the King’s favour all tongues were loosened against
him. Added to these troubles, he was engaged in a lawsuit with the
mother of François, the Duchess d’Angoulême, who on the death of his
wife Suzanne claimed the heirship to all his estates and fortune. As may
be imagined, on the principle of striking a fallen man, the case went
against him, and the great duke found himself friendless and penniless,
with large sums owing to him from the State, but with little hope of
payment. Men in those days were not over-chivalrous, and the idea of
clinging still to an ungrateful, ungenerous sovereign who had cast him
off like an old glove did not commend itself to a nature like that of
Charles de Montpensier. He resolved, since France would have none of
him, to try his fortune with Germany, and accordingly joined the cause
of Charles V., to whom for a time he gave his best service, and then,
finding the imperial promises, too, like the proverbial pie-crust,
determined to carve out honours for himself and find a kingdom in
Italy. He marched to Rome with a division under his command, and made a
bold attack upon the city walls, but an arrow from the ramparts, shot,
so one story goes, by Benvenuto Cellini, the famous sculptor and court
musician to the Pope, put an end to his ambition, and the Constable died
in harness outside the walls of Rome at the very outset of his gallant
attempt to cast off the yoke of kings and make his fortune by his own
sword.
Of Bourbon’s château there remains only the tower bearing the curious
name of the Mal-Coiffée, and a Renaissance pavilion--an appendage found
in the castle of every great noble of this time.
In the eleventh century Moulins was one of the more southerly fortresses
to hold out against William of Normandy. It had been commanded by a
certain Wimund, who surrendered it to Henry, the French king. As an
important outpost it was garrisoned strongly and put under the command
of Guy of Geoffrey, Count of Gascony, presently to become William VIII.
of Aquitaine. The Norman duke, however, was advancing upon Arques, which
was within an ace of surrender from hunger, and with little difficulty
he obtained terms from the garrison. News of this defeat soon flew to
Moulins, and its commander seems to have been instantly seized with an
access either of panic or of prejudice--the two bore a curious
relation in those days--and without giving the Normans time so much as
to come within sight of the town, he withdrew his garrison and left
Moulins with all speed.
[Illustration: MOULINS]
The Cathedral at Moulins has a curious misfit of nave and chancel. The
former is of the thirteenth century, with a high clerestory and rather
low triforium arches; the latter is Flamboyant, with a flat wall
termination to the east end, and seems to have been built without any
regard to the pre-existing nave; at any rate, the main piers do not
meet, and a small bay of no particular style is introduced literally as
a stop-gap.
An excellent hotel--the “Central”--makes Limoges a convenient
stopping-place on the southern road, irrespective of its attractions to
those interested in faïence and enamel work; but there are plenty of
other interests within the town, and Limoges may, indeed, speak for
itself in this respect, by reason of its standing on a hill, overlooking
a river, and containing, in the old quarter at least, ancient houses and
crooked streets enough to satisfy any craving for the picturesque. The
town slopes up a hill rising from the Vienne, and really divides into
two distinct parts, _ville_ and _cité_; the _ville_ is the newer town
straggling up the slope, while the _cité_, the original camping-ground
of the Lemovices, occupies the quarter near the river. So distinct were
these two in the Middle Ages that we even read of war between them as
between two separate states, the _ville_ led by the abbot of Saint
Martial, the _cité_ by the bishop. The great church of the river quarter
is the Cathedral of Saint Etienne, built, so tradition has it, upon the
remains of a former church erected by Saint Martial, and dating from
1273-1327, with a few later alterations. The west end terminates in the
substructure of an old Romanesque campanile, resting on pillars. “The
lowest story,” says Freeman, “after a fashion rare but not unique, stood
open. Four large columns with their round arches supported a kind of
cupola.” Under the choir is a crypt, dating from the eleventh century,
and thus at each end of the later church is a relic of an older time.
Limoges had formerly been favourable to the English, but since the dukes
of Berri and Bourbon had laid siege to the town, and had been aided by
Bertrand du Guesclin, the inhabitants, including the bishop and the
governor, gave up their somewhat wavering allegiance and turned to
France. On hearing of this defection the Prince of Wales flew into a
great passion and “swore by the soul of his father, which he had never
perjured, that he would not attend to anything before he had punished
Limoges; and that he would make the inhabitants pay dearly for their
treachery.” The price they had to give was the safety of their city.
Edward marched upon Limoges from Cognac with a large force; but the new
masters had garrisoned the town so strongly that it was impossible to
take it by assault. He therefore resolved upon another and a more
terrible way. He undermined the fortifications, and set fire to the
mine, so that a great breach was made. Froissart describes the
inhabitants of the town as very repentant of their treachery, but adds
poignantly that their penitence did little good, now that they were no
longer the masters; and certainly it was not rewarded by mercy. The
English troops rushed into the breach and poured down the narrow
streets, massacring right and left, plundering and burning, sparing
neither women nor children; and when the Prince at last turned back to
Cognac, he left behind him ruin and desolation where, a few days before,
had been strength and prosperity. During this terrible time the Church
of Saint Etienne happily escaped from damage, although all the rest of
the old town--“old” even in 1370--seems to have been destroyed. An
interesting reminder of more modern history remains in the name of one
of the streets. The Cathedral is connected with the Place Jourdan by
the “Rue du 71^{ième} Mobiles”; and this street is so named in
recognition of the valour shown by this regiment in the field, and in
the memory of those killed during the Prussian war. It is an assurance
that their heroism and endurance in a hopeless struggle are not
forgotten, and that an equal devotion to their country will be shown,
should the need arise, by succeeding generations of their
fellow-citizens. Monuments are not readily subscribed for, nor are
places where they may be erected easily found. A permanent testimony to
the gallant services of a regiment might be borne by calling a street
after its name. London accorded a great welcome to its volunteers at the
termination of the Boer war. Is there any street or place called after
the name of the City Imperial Volunteers?
[Illustration: LIMOGES]
In a cathedral city like Limoges, where the church itself has a good
deal of interest and the town is not devoid of attraction, one is not
readily inclined to place its industrial interests very high on the list
of things to be seen; yet the fact remains that in this particular place
the chief industry is closely bound up with the town’s history. The
Limoges school of enamel workers had attained celebrity as early as the
twelfth century, when the _champ-levé_, or engraving process, was in
vogue, the ground-work of the plates consisting of graven copper and
the cavities filled in with enamel. This kind of work may well be seen
in Westminster Abbey upon the tomb of Aymer de Valence, Earl of
Pembroke. In the fourteenth century France borrowed from Italy the art
of transparent enamelling, which the artists at Limoges developed into
enamel-painting, and this branch was carried on at Limoges for upwards
of two centuries, until it fell into decay under Louis XIV. and gave
place to the modern miniature style.
Under François Ier this art of enamel-painting attained to a high
degree of perfection. The sixteenth-century taste inclined always
towards the brilliant and magnificent, and the same love of display and
richness which showed both in dress and in architecture found also
expression in the art of enamelling. One of the most famous artists of
this school came from Limoges, whence he was known as Léonard Limousin.
His work became the pattern of excellence after which all lesser artists
strove. “While some of the works were executed in brilliant colours,
most of them were in monochrome. The background was generally dark,
either black or deep purple, and the design was painted _en grisaille_,
relieved, in the case of figure subjects, by delicate carnation. The
effect was occasionally heightened by appropriate touches of gold, and
in many of the coloured enamels brilliancy was obtained by the use of
silver foil, or paillon, placed beneath a transparent enamel.”
At Périgueux we seem to have left Northern France in the far distance
and to have taken the first definite step into the Midi. The
architectural pilgrim as he wanders southward is conscious of the
existence of two distinct styles, possessing features dissimilar in
construction and design; in one case he finds barrel-vaulted churches,
in another large churches roofed with pointed domes, whose origin it is
difficult to determine. Of the latter type the church of Saint Front is
a notable instance. It rises above the old quarter, which occupies the
centre of the town, the modern portion, quite distinct from the rest, as
was the case at Limoges, sloping up the hill, and the remnant of the old
Roman city fronting the river. The original Vesunna of the Petrocorii
stood on the left bank of the Isle; the Roman Vesunna crossed to the
other side, and is now represented by the ruins of an amphitheatre,
dating from the third century, and some second-century baths. The old
Château Barrière is also built on Roman fortifications, and two of the
Roman towers still remain, besides the “Tour de Vésone,” which was
probably part of a pagan temple.
[Illustration: PÉRIGUEUX FROM THE RIVER]
It is a curious fact that here the ancient remains of the Roman city
should be so much more prominent than is usually the case. At Bourges we
saw the house of Jacques Cœur built upon a Roman foundation, and many
other places keep, in part at least, their Roman walls; but Périgueux
has Roman remains which absorb quite half the interest aroused by the
city on the Isle--the other half being devoted to the church. From the
site of the Gallic Vesunna, on the left side of the river, the Tour de
Vésone is the foremost object, so old that, as Freeman says, it looks
almost modern. “It is a singular fact that, while a mediæval building
can scarcely ever be taken for anything modern, buildings of earlier
date often may. The primeval walls of Alatri might at a little distance
be taken for a modern prison, and this huge round, it must be confessed,
has to some not undiscerning eyes suggested the thought of a modern
gasworks.” Then the partly mediæval Château Barrière attracts notice,
dating at its latest from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and by
its name recalling one of the noblest families of mediæval Périgord.
With the rise of the abbey of Saint Front, a new town arose also, and
the old quarter shrank up within itself, remaining still the abode of
the nobles and gentlemen and the clergy of Saint Etienne, but yielding
the real precedence to the vigorous new _puy_ higher up the hill.
“Here, as in some measure at Limoges, the tables are turned. The _ville_
stands apart on the hill, with the air of the original _cité_, while the
real _cité_ abides below, putting on somewhat the look of a suburb.”
Even Saint Etienne, the old Cathedral-church of La Cité, has, owing to
its partially ruined condition, practically renounced its importance
both in intrinsic position and in external appearance. The great tower,
which once stood at the west end, has gone entirely; the cupolas which
crown each bay show the relation to those at Saint Front, and in place
of the eleventh-century apse stands a flat wall, terminating in a choir
of a century later.
The church of St. Front is “the only domed church in France with the
Greek cross for its plan.” The original building is said to have been
consecrated in 1047 by the Archbishop of Bourges and burnt down in a
great fire in 1120. It was not until after this date that the five-domed
church and the tower on the west side were constructed. “By this time
the Church of Saint Mark at Venice was completed, as far as its main
structure was concerned, and already the panelling of the walls with
marble and the decoration of its vaults and arches with mosaic had made
some progress. It was one of the wonders of Europe, and the idea of
copying its plan and general design would appeal at once to a race of
builders who for more than a century, as I shall prove later on, had
been building domed churches throughout Aquitaine, who were perfectly
acquainted with their own methods of building domes and pendentives, and
therefore would not be obliged to trust to foreign workmen to execute
them.”--MR. R. PHENÉ SPIERS.
[Illustration: ST. FRONT, PÉRIGUEUX]
It would be quite out of our province to follow out Mr. Spiers’
arguments in support of this theory, as it would lead us into the
entangled byways of a discourse on methods of “bedding” and centring
arches and pendentives. Suffice it to say that he clearly points out the
difference which exists between French and Byzantine domes, capitals and
voussoirs and the prevalence of the Aquitaine style, and on this
evidence maintains that French, and not Greek or Venetian architects,
built the abbey church of Saint Front. This conclusion is also supported
by Viollet-le-Duc, who expresses his opinion that Saint Front was
undoubtedly built by a Frenchman who had studied either the actual
Church of Saint Mark at Venice or who had had opportunities of seeing
the design of the Venetian architects. Its general conception, it is
true, was Venetian and quasi-Oriental, but its construction and details
do not recall in any way the decorative sculpture or method of building
which obtained at St. Mark’s at Venice. As to the ornament, it belongs
to the late Romanesque style.
Saint Front must indeed have appeared a strange erection and unique in
conception amongst its sister churches, and no doubt exercised a great
influence over the builders of churches north of the Garonne in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries. The infusion of Oriental art into this
part of the country is explained by the distinguished French
archæologist, M. Félix de Verheilh, as partly due to the presence of
Venetian colonies established at Limoges. He says that the commerce of
the Levant was carried into France and into England along trade routes
existing between Marseilles or Narbonne and La Rochelle or Mantes. The
landing of Eastern produce at these ports on the Mediterranean and its
carriage overland to the north-western seaboard of France was rendered
necessary to protect it from the Spanish and Arab pirates who infested
the coasts of Spain and Africa, and also to avoid the risk of storms and
heavy seas of the Straits of Gibraltar.
Chapter Fourteen
ANGOULÊME AND POITIERS
Angoulême has at a distance more the appearance of an Italian than of a
French town. The heavy red pantiles, the campanile and dome of the
Cathedral, the little terraces sloping up the hill, all recall the
southern towns; but the river with its fringing poplars finally
proclaims the city’s nationality. There is nothing of especial interest
to be seen in the town itself. Angoulême--Ecolisma of the Gauls--has of
course had its history; it suffered pillage by Visigoth and Norman, was
annexed by England, re-taken by France, occupied again by the English,
and finally made over to its rightful sovereign in 1369.
During the Hundred Years’ War Angoulême was in the possession of the
English, and under the governorship of Sir John Norwich surrendered to
France. The Duke of Normandy lay, we are told, “for a very considerable
time” before the town, and the inhabitants waited daily for the Earl of
Derby, who was to relieve them, but who showed no signs of approach. The
French made a raid upon the English cattle under the guidance of the
seneschal of Beaucaire and captured not merely the beasts, who--strange
laxity--were pasturing outside the walls of the town, but several of the
English who rushed out to recover their possessions. Finally the
governor began to lose hope; Derby was nowhere within reach, the French
gave no signs of withdrawal, and worse than all, the townsfolk began to
murmur and to declare as far as they dared for the enemy. Norwich and
his immediate followers found themselves in some danger; but by a clever
stratagem they escaped from surrendering themselves to Normandy. A truce
was called, and under cover of this the governor and his friends sallied
quietly forth from the gates, passed through the entire French army,
without hurt, and took the road to Aiguillon before the enemy had
realised what they were about. Meanwhile the disaffected within the town
readily gave themselves up to the Duke, and received his mercy.
Here, however, as at Nevers, an up-and-down history has left little mark
upon the town, and Freeman’s criticism is no more than the truth:
“Except we went on purpose for the view, we should hardly go to
Angoulême at all.” Saint Pierre at Angoulême is another example of the
domed church that we left at Périgueux; but while the cupolas carry on
the same half-Byzantine idea as prevails in Saint Front, the tower at
the north transept brings in a train of thought which is distinctly
Italian; moreover, at Périgueux all five cupolas are well seen from the
outside, whereas here only one appears, to balance, or rather to
contrast with, the north tower. Once inside the church, however, the
other domes appear, roofing over the nave, which is without aisles,
after the manner of the Angevin churches. In its original form the
Cathedral of Saint Pierre was begun early in the twelfth century--about
1120--but it has been twice restored, once in 1654 and once, in the
middle of the last century, by M. Abadie.
It was planned simply with a nave roofed by four cupolas and a choir
with four radiating apsidal chapels. Later on in the century the love of
building places of worship larger and more suited to the growing desire
for an enriched ceremonial and elaborate ritual resulted in the addition
of transepts surmounted by towers, which gave to the Cathedral of Saint
Pierre at Angoulême the distinction of being one of the first, if not
the first, of domed churches built on the plan of a Latin cross. Of the
two towers only one, the northern tower, exists to this day, the
southern transept being roofed by a flat conical dome. Certain further
additions were made about the same time, such as the western façade with
its sculptured portal. The black lines of the ashlar work, as if ruled
with a lead pencil, detract very much from the impressiveness of the
interior, as they give undue emphasis to the horizontal joints and
arrest the eye in its first natural flight from floor to vault.
Saint Pierre at Poitiers is a church of a very different description.
Certain characteristics it has which connect it with the Angevin style,
but unlike most of the Angevin churches, it has aisles throughout. From
the outside the appearance is that of a single mass, long and low, and
very wide, for the aisles are nearly as broad as the nave; as at
Bourges, there is no central tower at the crossing; but then at Bourges
we have a great French church, a mighty mass rising sheer up from the
ground, unbroken by any transept; here at Poitiers there are transepts,
but the line of their towers comes below the line of the roof, and the
effect given is one of length without height. Height is also wanting in
the two unfinished and unequal west towers, and the east end literally
falls flat, by reason of its bare terminal wall; the apse, to which one
grows so accustomed in a French church, is seen only from the interior.
It is oblong in plan, showing, as M. Viollet-le-Duc points out, no
sign either of choir or sanctuary. The transepts are more like side
chapels with altars on their eastern walls. There is no sign of northern
influence, and the church is in many of its features unique and without
imitators. Certain details of construction bring it into line with St.
Maurice at Angers; it is an ordinary example of the churches of Poitou,
with their three naves of equal height and Byzantine cupolas.
[Illustration: ANGOULÊME]
To the south of the Cathedral lies what alone would make Poitiers worth
a visit, without the other churches which call for notice--the little
Temple Saint-Jean, said to be the oldest baptistery in France, and
dating probably from the fourth century. Once inside, we can realise the
position of the officiating priest and the place occupied by the rooms
where the converts disrobed themselves and whence they were conducted to
the central basin, fed by a continual stream of water, where stood the
bishop, the typical representative of the first Baptist. Freeman says:
“It is the one monument of the earliest Christian times which lived on,
so to speak, in its own person, and is not simply represented by a later
building on the same site. It is the truest monument of Hilary.”
The name of Poitiers churches really is legion, but there are two more
which should not be passed over--first, Notre-Dame-la-Grande, a
beautiful Romanesque church standing in the market-place, with a long
barrel-vault roof, unbroken by transepts, and terminated by towers
ornamented with “fish-scale” pattern; next the church of Sainte
Radégonde, the queen-saint of the sixth century, wife to the first
Chlothar. She lived among the nuns of her own foundation of the Sainte
Croix, and lies buried in the crypt of her church, which contains also a
marble statue, erected indeed to her memory, but in the likeness of
another queen who had few pretensions to saintliness--Anne of Austria,
mother of Louis XIV.
Fortunatus also became a monk of Poitiers, that he might at least have
the satisfaction of living near this queen, whom he worshipped.
The nuns of Sainte Croix went to England and founded there a sisterhood
on the Green Croft near Cambridge, and this priory remained until the
end of the fifteenth century, when the foundation was suppressed by
Bishop Alcock, and became part of the corporation of Jesus College.
[Illustration: POITIERS]
It is with a certain feeling of apology toward tradition and childish
days that one leaves to the very last the mention of the Black Prince’s
great fight. Not until we have reached fairly mature years do we realise
that Poitiers has a cathedral and a baptistery and many churches; but
there are very few of us who do not associate with the earliest days
of history books the name of the “Battle of Poitiers, 1356.” More
properly it is the Battle of Maupertuis, and Freeman indeed denies its
right to “come into the immediate story of the city.”