was complete in its main outline; what remained was the building of the
great tower, and all that various labour of final decoration which it
would take more than one generation to accomplish. Certain
circumstances, however, not wholly explained, led to a somewhat rapid
finishing, as it were out of hand, yet with a marvellous fulness at once
and grace. Of the result much has perished, or been transferred
elsewhere; a portion is still visible in sumptuous relics, in stained
glass windows, and, above all, in the reliefs which adorn the west
portals, very delicately carved in a fine firm stone from Tounerre, of
which time has only browned the surface and which, for early mastery in
art, may be compared to the contemporary work in Italy.”--WALTER PATER,
“Imaginary Portraits.”
The interior of the Cathedral offers one very striking piece of
architectural planning: the Lady Chapel and _chevet_ are joined together
by two slender shafts, an arrangement by which the three features,
ambulatory, _chevet_ and Lady Chapel, are united in one broad design.
This conception gives a very beautiful and harmonious effect. The
eleventh-century spire of St. Germain, which appears quite detached from
the body of the church, is one of the very early stone spires which
exist now in France. It springs from a fairly broad base, and has a
slight entasis or swelling to avoid the appearance of any midway
gathering-in of the outline of the spire. The crypt of the eleventh
century is “deep sunk into the ground and very dark,” having aisles, and
is in plan practically a small edition of the choir of Canterbury,
following the true Burgundian type, the details of its capitals
resembling those of the old crypt of Nevers. Mr. Bond, referring to the
crypt, or _confessio_ of St. Germain, remarks that the burial chamber of
a martyr was called a _confessio_: “where lay one who had confessed and
given witness to his faith by his blood.” The term “Martyrdom,” applied
to the north transept at Canterbury, is an exact equivalent to
_confessio_.
[Illustration: ST. GERMAIN, AUXERRE]
Saint Germain, the missionary bishop, lived here, and died at Ravenna;
but his body was brought back from Italy to his birthplace by five pious
sisters, one of whom, canonised under the name of Sainte Maxime, lies
buried in the abbey church founded by the great saint; where also, in
the beautiful crypt, is the tomb of Germain himself, surrounded by a
whole company of dead saints, among them the valiant Saint Loup, who,
when bishop of Auxerre, drove out the Huns under Attila, and saved his
city from destruction. One interesting point in connection with this
abbey is that it is the mother-foundation of Selby in Yorkshire. There
is a long and mythical legend on the subject, teeming of course with
miracles, from which may be gathered that one Bernard of Auxerre
wandered from his native town and settled down--why is not very
clear--upon the banks of the river Ouse, where he led the life of a
hermit. The reports of his sanctity attracted to his cell many persons
in the neighbourhood, influential men amongst them; and he attained such
fame that his hermit’s hut became the nucleus of a large monastery.
However much of this is true, and however much legend, enough remains to
show that the monks at Selby did come from Auxerre.
In addition to these three churches, it would be impossible to overlook
St. Eusèbe, a church standing in the middle of the town, especially if
it be the traveller’s lot to stay at the excellent Hôtel de l’Épée, and
to occupy a room giving on its court-yard. There cats, cooks, and
chauffeurs combine to enliven the watches of the night, and when the
morning dawns, and the “web of night undone,” the jackdaws and the bells
of St. Eusèbe announce that sleep is no longer befitting, and he
realises that a restless night is the price to be cheerfully paid if he
desires, as an architectural enthusiast, to do his duty by Auxerre.
[Illustration: THE BRIDGE AND CATHEDRAL, AUXERRE]
Troyes, the ancient capital of Champagne, was formerly another “city of
counts”--the residence of a long line of Thibauts, almost as famed in
their day as the Fulks at Angers, and one of whom, called “le
Chansonnier,” might be compared to the minstrel King René. These counts
of Champagne kept up their state at Troyes until the fourteenth
century, when the countship became merged in the French crown. The city
likewise made of itself a landmark during the Hundred Years’ War. After
the battle of Agincourt it fell into the hands of the allied Burgundians
and English; and the name of Troyes now recalls the triumph, as brief as
it was splendid, of the English arms in France. By this time Henry V.
had set his foot upon the steps of the French throne, and the famous
treaty signed here in 1420 secured the succession to him and his heirs,
and, to complete the alliance, gave him the hand of the French princess,
Catherine, the betrothal taking place in the Cathedral, and the marriage
itself in the church of Saint Jean. Here is a contemporary account of
the proceedings by the chronicler Monstrelet: “At this period Henry,
King of England, accompanied by his two brothers, the Dukes of Clarence
and of Gloucester, the Earls of Huntington, Warwick, and Kyme, and many
of the great lords of England, with about sixteen hundred combatants,
the greater part of whom were archers, set out from Rouen, came to
Pontoise, and then to Saint Denis. He crossed the bridge at Charenton
and left part of his army to guard it, and thence advanced by Provins to
Troyes in Champagne. The Duke of Burgundy and several of the nobility,
to show him honour and respect, came out to meet him, and conducted him
to the hotel, where he was lodged with his princes, and his army was
quartered in the adjacent villages.... When all relating to the peace
had been concluded, King Henry, according to the custom of France,
affianced the Lady Catherine. On the morrow of Trinity Day the King of
England espoused her in the parish church near to which he was lodged;
great pomp and magnificence were displayed by him and his princes as if
he were at that moment king of all the world.”
Ten years later, however, Joan of Arc captured the town on her march
through France, and put an end to the English dominion. In 1525 Troyes
was attacked by the Emperor Charles V., who burnt at least half the
town, with the result that many of the old churches had to be rebuilt,
and date therefore from the sixteenth century, with remains of earlier
work here and there. Soon after the fire the city was overswept by the
great wave of religious controversy which was to break over France in
the latter years of the century, and since most of the inhabitants
declared for the Huguenot cause, their fortunes and ultimate fate were
none of the happiest. In 1562 the whole Huguenot population was driven
out and compelled to fall back for safety upon the town of
Bar-sur-Seine; and another decade saw a repetition of the terrible day
of Saint Bartholomew, when the Romanists in Troyes followed the ghastly
example of their white-sleeved brothers in Paris, and massacred every
Huguenot prisoner within the walls.
Historic interest at the present day divides the repute of Troyes with
something less romantic--the system of weights and measures which we
call “Troy weight,” and which remains as a memorial of the mercantile
fame of ancient Troyes. The fairs of Troyes date back to 1230, when
Count Thibaut IV. granted to his subjects a municipal charter, and laid
the foundations of a commercial repute which could vie with that of any
town in France. From this time onwards Troyes occupied an important
position in the commercial world, and became the resort of wealthy
merchants from Italy and weavers with bales of rich stuffs from
Flanders, to say nothing of the goldsmiths, silversmiths, and workers in
precious stones who must have brought Troy weight into fame. Neither the
Hundred Years’ War nor the wars of the League appear to have affected
the town’s commerce to any great extent, but the Revocation of the Edict
of Nantes, by forcing the Protestant population, which included the
majority of the ablest citizens, to emigrate, struck a blow at the
industry of Troyes from which it never recovered; and now-a-days both
population and commerce have fallen to a state so low that it might
almost be called one of decay, compared with the brilliant busy life of
the mediæval town. What a scene they must have afforded at fair-time,
these narrow-built streets and small close squares, narrower and closer
than ever we can picture them to-day, but alive with movement, laughter,
above all with colour--such colour as your sober work-a-day crowd can
never aspire to in these times!
Picturesque and lively as a French market of to-day undoubtedly is, with
the red and green, russet and pearl-colour of its vegetables, the white
caps of its women, the gay blues and crimsons of the umbrellas guarding
the stalls, the laughter and chatter of the buyers, sellers, and idlers,
it has nothing to compare with the wonderful colour-mass and movement of
a mediæval crowd, above all in such a place as this, the fame of whose
fairs might well have attracted buyers from all parts of Europe.
Stately, bearded Italian merchants--men like Antonio of Venice with
argosies on every sea--in furred cap and gold chain, dark-faced,
keen-eyed Jews, young nobles, exquisite in silk and velvet, wandering
minstrels fantastically arrayed, dancing-girls like bright-hued
butterflies, all the good citizens of Troyes in their gayest holiday
attire, and the inevitable jester in his motley, skimming in and out
of the crowd, shaking his cap and bells in every face--the many-coloured
banners of the town guilds streaming in the breeze above their heads,
and the summer sunshine flooding the whole scene, giving added light to
every street-corner, added brilliancy to every hue. The Troyes of to-day
is a picturesque town enough, with many beautiful timber-framed houses;
but the light and life of the town went out with the departure of the
fairs, and beyond its churches Troyes now has little to distinguish it
from the hundreds of quondam-mediæval towns scattered through the length
and breadth of France.
[Illustration: A STREET IN TROYES]
On our architectural pilgrimage through the town the Cathedral naturally
claimed our first attention; but we had not got much further than
admiration of the splendour of the stained glass, and a short analysis
of the beauty of the interior, when a remorseless sacristan informed us
that the Cathedral was about to close for two hours. Driven outside, the
contemplation of the splendid Flamboyant west portal reminded us of what
we have referred to elsewhere--that these deep-set porches in the French
cathedrals are considered as lineal descendants of the ancient narthex.
Troyes, Lâon, Bourges and many other churches lead one to an attempt to
follow out the evolution of these great porches. In the ancient
basilican churches the narthex was the first section of the building--an
ante-temple, long and narrow, in front of the nave. In the primitive
Church it was especially allotted to the monks and the women, and used
for certain offices, such as rogations, supplications, and night
watches; it was further destined as a place for catechumens and
penitents, who were permitted to assist at Divine Service outside the
Temple. Heretics and schismatics might also here attend and listen to
the reading of the Scriptures, this privilege being accorded them in the
hope of their ultimate conversion; and corpses were placed in the
narthex during the performance of the funeral rites. In the Middle Ages
the denomination narthex was given to closed porches of churches, and
ceased to be any longer applicable to a portion of a religious edifice
lying within the walls. It was ultimately replaced by the word _porch_.
These porches were both open and closed and formed a kind of vestibule.
The baptism of children and not of adults rendered it unnecessary to
provide for the preparation of converts before being introduced into the
Church. There were no more catechumens undergoing their time of
probation, and in consequence the spacious vestibule to which they had
hitherto been relegated disappeared as an essential portion of a large
church, and was replaced by a porch which was either open or closed,
and occupied a position in front of the nave similar to that in which
its predecessor, the narthex, had stood. These porches being reserved
for the faithful remained, _qua_ porches, as very important annexes to
the churches, and formed large vestibules, often closed, which ran along
the outside of the western wall of a church, having sometimes the
appearance of a cloister, as at Toury, which was built in 1230.
Under the porches before the main entrances of many ancient cathedrals
bishops, emperors and honoured citizens were often buried, as the
ecclesiastical law in the primitive Church did not allow people to be
buried inside the walls of the sacred building. Many important services
were held under these porches; prayers for the dead were offered up,
ablutions performed by the faithful before entering the church, relics
and images were exposed, and litanies chanted. Later it became
absolutely necessary to keep them strictly closed on account of the
abuse of the shelter of the porch by the erection of market stalls and
booths on fair-days under the shadow of the church, and the crowd of
buyers and sellers making the air ring with their noisy bargainings.
A further development was to make the porch a kind of arcaded
_avant-porte_ surmounted by a gable with sculptured features. These
decorated canopies were by degrees thrown back into the main wall,
became merged into the mouldings of the doorway, and were finally lost
as a separate feature in the highly ornamented and deeply splayed
portal.
Fortunately the ecclesiastical interest of Troyes is not confined to one
corner, and the churches of Saint Urbain and the Madeleine lie in one’s
path to the market-place along the very picturesque streets of
sixteenth-and seventeenth-century houses, which offer every conceivable
variation of roof and gable.
The beautiful details of the unfinished church of Saint Urbain may well
have won for itself the reputation of equalling if not of surpassing
anything of its kind either in France or Germany; and although it is
still in the hands of the restorer, there is now no scaffolding to
prevent one looking in admiration at the graceful choir and transepts.
The detached _pignons_ above the chancel window spring from the
buttresses clear of the wall, and throw a deep shadow over the upper
portion of the windows. This shadow gives an appearance of weight and
stability to the building, which is certainly required as an assurance
against the result of too daring construction.
In the Madeleine, which is not far from Saint Urbain, is a notable
rood-screen, full of luxuriant tracery and sculpture of a late
Flamboyant period. It attracts attention, not because it fulfils any
ceremonial requirements or forms any part of an architectural effect in
the interior of the church, but rather on account of its singular
appearance of being slung between two pillars.
Chapter Seventeen
MEAUX, SENLIS, AND BEAUVAIS
Meaux is a beautifully situated little town on the banks of the Marne
some thirty miles from Paris, on the way to the Champagne country. Its
general appearance can best be gathered from the delightful public
promenade along the river-side which is entered immediately on the right
of the station. The Cathedral dates back to the early thirteenth
century, but very shortly after it was finished, either owing to the
work of construction being hurried or to the foundations being insecure,
large cracks and actual shifting of the masonry declared themselves, and
a great deal of remodelling and alterations became necessary. The
vaulting and first stage of the choir aisles--or triforium
ambulatory--were removed, the aisles being thereby doubled in height.
The choir elevation is a very beautiful expression of thirteenth-century
design. The transept is short, and has a large rose window and a
richly-decorated portal.
It is said that at one time, namely in the thirteenth century,
architects conceived the idea of covering the walls on the inside of the
porch with some vast design of decoration, by which the colour poured
into the church through the large rose-window should be enhanced by
great spaces of painted wall-surface. This conception, however, was very
short-lived, and towards the end of the century painted subjects were
confined almost entirely to the windows; and the internal decoration of
the _revers_ of the porches was conceived, as at Meaux, more in an
architectural spirit with pilasters, arcading, etc., as motives, rather
than with features suggested by the painter’s art.
Meaux as well as Lâon, Soissons, Beauvais, Noyon and other towns in the
district felt the effects of the Jacquerie revolts in the thirteenth
century. Indeed, many of the ladies who suffered from the horrors of the
persecution at Beauvais fled at first to Meaux to escape the fury of the
rebels; and once having got within the town, they did not dare to leave
it, so that to all intents and purposes they were prisoners within its
walls. Throughout the whole district bands of robbers and furious
peasants infested the roads or lay in ambush to catch the unwary, and it
was thus very dangerous to go from one town to another, even under an
armed escort. Hearing of the plight of these ladies in Meaux, among
whom were the Duchesses of Orléans and Normandy, the Earl of Foix and
the Captal de Buch resolved to go to their aid, and set out forthwith
from Châlons, to find a great host of the peasantry also bound for the
same place. The rebels had heard that Meaux was chiefly inhabited by
refugee women and children, also that it contained a great deal of
treasure; and they were now flocking down every road, from Valois, from
Beauvoisie and from Paris, towards the little town upon the Marne. Foix
and his company were received with the utmost joy, for the peasants had
already begun to fill the streets and to do what damage they could, and
the ladies were naturally in great alarm. “But when these banditti
perceived such a troop of gentlemen, so well equipped, sally forth to
guard the market-place, the foremost of them began to fall back. The
gentlemen then followed them, using their lances and swords. When they
felt the weight of their blows, they, through fear, turned about so
fast, they fell one over the other. All manner of armed persons then
rushed out of the barriers, drove them before them, striking them down
like beasts, and clearing the town of them, for they kept neither
regularity nor order, slaying so many that they were tired. They flung
them in great heaps into the river. In short, they killed upwards of
seven thousand. Not one would have escaped if they had chosen to pursue
them further.”
[Illustration: MEAUX]
Another siege famous in the annals of Meaux is that during the wars of
Henry V., when the English king encamped before the town in October,
1421, and set engines to batter down the gates and walls, having
entrenched his own army meanwhile in a strong position between hedges
and ditches. “The King of England,” Monstrelet tells us, “was
indefatigable in the siege of Meaux, and having destroyed many parts of
the walls of the market-place, he summoned the garrison to surrender
themselves to the King of France and himself, or he would storm the
place. To this summons they replied that it was not yet time to
surrender, on which the King ordered the place to be stormed. The
assault continued for seven or eight hours in the most bloody manner;
nevertheless, the besieged made an obstinate defence, in spite of the
great numbers that were attacking them. Their lances had been almost all
broken, but in their stead they made use of spits, and fought with such
courage that the English were driven back from the ditches, which
encouraged them much.” This state of affairs lasted for six months; the
garrison of Meaux, who seem to have behaved all through with the utmost
gallantry, were in hopes of relief from the Dauphin, but at the end of
April, finding further resistance impossible, they gave themselves up
into the hands of Henry. A treaty was set on foot whereby, “on the 11th
day of May, the market-place and all Meaux were to be surrendered into
the hands of the kings of France and England.” The leaders were made
prisoners of war, and the chief offender, the bastard of Vaurus, who
“had in his time hung many a Burgundian and Englishman,” was beheaded
and hung as a warning on a tree outside the walls of the town. King
Henry himself--adds the French chronicler--“was very proud of this
victory, and entered the place in great pomp, and remained there some
days with his princes to repose and solace himself, having given orders
for the complete reparation of the walls that had been so much damaged
by artillery at the siege.”
Meaux is of course notably associated with Bossuet, the famous preacher,
who was appointed to its bishopric in 1681. The study and garden where
he wrote many of his sermons are still shown among his other memorials
in the Évêché, near the Cathedral.
[Illustration: THE OLD MILLS AT MEAUX]
“Dans les choses nécessaire, l’unité; dans les douteuses, la liberté;
dans tous les cas, la charité.” In these few words one may look for the
keynote of Bossuet’s whole life. Temperate in all things, yet possessed
with an eloquence more moving, it was said, than that of any man since
the days of the Christian Fathers, and employed always in the cause
of the Church he loved so well, the “Aigle de Meaux” well deserves his
place among the greatest ecclesiastics France has ever known, and
France, just at this time, was rich in ecclesiastical genius. There was
Fénélon at Cambrai and Mascaron at Tulle, there were Massillon and
Bourdaloue, Arnauld and Fleury--all of them men of note, both in the
pulpit and in the world of books; but Bossuet stands out before them
all.