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Lying in the midst of the great forest lands of Chantilly and Hallette,
Senlis, until the dissolution of the Carlo-vingian Empire, was the
place of royal residence, and even thereafter, to the time of Henry of
Navarre, the kings of France preferred it to all others. The Castle
was built upon the site of the Roman Prætorium, the ruins of which were
pointed out to tourists. The ancient Roman ramparts which still in
part surrounded the town were also shown, and the walls were said to be
thirteen feet thick. "They enclosed an area, oval in form, one thousand
and twenty feet long from east to west and seven hundred and ninety-four
feet wide from north to south. At each of the angles formed by the
broken lines of which the circuit of two thousand seven hundred
and fifty-six feet is composed, stands or stood a tower; numbering
twenty-eight and now only sixteen, they are semicircular in plan, and
up to the height of the wall are unpierced. The Roman city had only two
gates; the present number is five."
The old cathedral was both curious and fascinating, as well as of great
beauty. Begun in 1154 on really enormous lines, its original plan was
never carried out for want of funds. Century after century it had been
rebuilt, altered, extended and replanned, until it had become, as
an American architect of renown styled it, "an epitome of French
architecture from the middle of the twelfth to the middle of the
fifteenth century."
Its companion unfinished, the great southwest tower is of the thirteenth
century, and is said to be "unsurpassed by no other spire in France for
subtlety of composition and perfection of detail."
One of its beautiful "crocketed" pinnacles was shot away in the
bombardment by the Germans in 1915, and the loss left the world poor
indeed.
It is certainly a strange sensation for us to watch from a distance the
continuous destruction of the great works of art of the world, powerless
to prevent it. For us all this loss is personal, poignant, unexampled; a
horror that nothing can palliate nor time soften.
The ancient Renaissance tower of St. Pierre had been used as a public
market, and also as a cavalry barrack because of its ruinous state. In
form it was most curious, being very short and too wide for proportion.
While the prevailing style was flamboyant, it contained a certain amount
of early Gothic work of considerable interest and value. I regret that
I did not make a sketch of it when I was there, for the scene at early
morning with the crowds of market people, and the vegetable stalls all
about, and rising above them the bare gray walls of the nave and the
choir, formed a picture of much quaintness.
The glory of the old cathedral of "Notre Dame" was the beautiful spire
upon the southwest tower. Of infinite grace and lightness with its
detached pillars, it rose from an octagonal base which supported a sort
of canopy in pyramidal form, the whole adorned with a wealth of delicate
carving and tracery, and pierced by high dormer lancet shaped windows,
about which flew clouds of ravens or starlings.
The great door in the west front reminded one of that at Chartres, and
was adorned with figures of Our Lord and the Virgin, some of the figures
of the angels being of remarkable character and grace. Inside in the
ambulatory, behind the altar, are some of the twelfth century Romanesque
capitals, and elsewhere are found other evidences of Roman influence.
All accounts agree that this beautiful edifice has now been entirely
destroyed by the invader (1917).
Former wars have swept the little town from time to time in the past,
but the cathedral remained practically untouched until the present day.
Whatever the former causes, or however violent the onslaught of the
opposing forces, these priceless records of art were spared by common
consent, save perhaps when the Revolution swept over the cloisters, and
even then the havoc wrought was reparable, but now comes one calling
himself the anointed representative of God, and annihilates an innocent
people and destroys the treasures of a land which he cannot conquer.
Just what remains at this time of Senlis cannot be ascertained, but all
accounts agree that the huge gray Romanesque tower can no longer be seen
upon the horizon, and that the bombardment of the ruins continues. Baron
André de Maricourt has written a most complete monograph of Senlis.
(Senlis. Baron André de Maricourt, ancien élève de l'école des Chartes.
"Les Cités Meurtries." Paris. Librarie de l'Eclair.)
"Hidden away among the heavy trees which surround it upon all sides,
lies the little town of Senlis, almost a suburb of Paris." According
to the old proverb, "To live happily is to remain hidden." So Senlis
remained comparatively forgotten. The very names of its streets were
strange to modern ears and evoked smiles from the stranger, and its
old houses, dating from the days of "la reine Berthe," enchanted the
antiquary.
This little town of seven thousand inhabitants was indeed one of the
capitals of ancient France during the times of the Capets, and in
the royal château which sheltered the chiefs of the Merovingians, and
royalties down to the days of Henry IV, were written many pages of
the history of France. One recalls the days of Charles le Chauve, of
d'Hugues Capet and St. Louis, the quarrel of the Armagnaces and the
Bourguignons, recalled by the strange picture by Melingue, "Les Otages
de Senlis," which was in the Hôtel de Ville up to the time of the
bombardment by the Germans. Also may be recalled the passage of Jeanne
d'Arc through the town, and then the wars of the "Ligue,"--all proving
the importance of Senlis of the past.
In the eighteenth century, Louis XV, in order to render the town
more accessible, constructed a fine roadway from Paris to the royal
residence, and Senlis emerged from its quietude, amazed at the lines
of gilded equipages and the prancing horses urged on the gallop by
gorgeously dressed lackeys which daily thronged the way.