POITIERS--BATTLES--THE ARMIES--KING JOHN OF FRANCE--THE YOUNG
WARRIOR--HÔTEL DU VREUX--AMPHITHEATRE--BLOSSAC--THE GREAT
STONE--THE SCHOLARS--MUSEUM--THE DEMON'S STONE--GRANDE GUEULE.
POITIERS is a city of the past: it is one of those towns in which the
last lingering characteristics of the middle ages still repose; although
they do so in the midst of an atmosphere of innovation. Modern
improvement, slowly as it shows itself, is making progress at Poitiers,
as at every town in France, and quietly sweeping away all the records of
generations whose very memory is wearing out. If new buildings and walks
and ornamental _alentours_ were as quickly erected and carried out as
they are conceived, it would be a matter of rejoicing that whole cities
of dirt and wretchedness should be made to disappear, and new ones to
rise shining in their place; but, unfortunately, this cannot be the
case. There are too many towns in France in the same position as
Poitiers, all requiring to be rebuilt from the very ground to make them
_presentable_ at the present day; blocks of stone strew every road,
brick and mortar fill every street; a great deal of money is expended,
but a great deal more is required; and, in the meantime, the new and the
old strive for mastery, the former growing dull and dirty by the side of
the latter, and, before the intended improvements are realized, becoming
as little sightly as their more venerable neighbours.
Much of _old_ Poitiers has been destroyed; and _new_ Poitiers is by no
means beautiful. It is better, therefore, except in a few instances, to
forget that modern hands have touched the sacred spot, and endeavour to
enjoy the reminiscences still left, of which there are a great number
full of interest and variety.
When we sallied forth into the streets of Poitiers, our first impression
was that of disappointment; but we had not long wandered amongst its
dilapidated houses and churches before the enthusiasm we expected to
feel there was awakened, and the spirit of the Black Prince was appeased
by our reverence for everything we met.
Poitiers belongs to so many ages--Gaul, Roman, Visigoth, Frank,
English--that it holds a place in every great event which has occurred
in France during the last nineteen centuries. Four important battles
were fought in its neighbourhood: those of Clovis, of Charles Martel, of
Edward of England, and of Henry III. of France; all these struggles
brought about results of the utmost consequence to the country. The
fields where these battles were fought are still pointed out, though the
site of each is violently contested by antiquarians.
That between Clovis and Alaric is now _said to be_ determined as having
occurred at Voulon, on the banks of the Clain, instead of Vouillé, which
has long been looked upon as the scene. In the same manner, furious
disputes have prevailed as to where the defeat of Abderraman, by Charles
Martel, took place; but we are bound now to believe that it was neither
near Tours, Amboise, nor Loches, but at Moussais-la-Bataille, close to
Poitiers, in the _delta_ formed by the waters of the Vienne and the
Clain.
The fatal fight, in which King John and all his chivalry were defeated
by the Prince of Wales, is said, in like manner, to be between Beauvoir
and Nouaille, and not at Beaumont, as has been asserted. There no longer
exists a place called _Maupertuis_, which once indicated the spot; but
it is ascertained that the part called La Cardinerie was once so
designated, and, hard by, at a spot named _Champ-de-la-Bataille_, have
been found bones and arms; which circumstance seems to have set the
matter at rest. It matters little where these dreadful doings took
place; all round Poitiers there are wide plains where armies might have
encountered; but it would seem probable that the spot where the battle
so fatal to France was really fought, must have been situated so as to
have afforded the handful of English some signal advantage; or how was
it possible for a few hundred exhausted men to conquer as many
thousands! The English crossbows, which did such execution, were most
likely stationed at some pass in the rocky hills of which there are
many, and their sudden and unexpected onset must have sent forth the
panic which caused the subsequent destruction of the whole French army.
In fact, Froissart describes their position clearly enough. He names
Maupertuis as a place two leagues to the north of Poitiers, and the spot
chosen by the Black Prince as a hill full of bushes and vines,
impracticable to cavalry, and favourable to archers: he concealed the
latter in the thickets, connected the hedges, dug ditches, planted
pallisades, and made barricades of waggons; in fact, formed of his camp
a great redoubt, having but one narrow issue, guarded on each side by a
double hedge. At the extremity of this defile was the whole English
army, on foot, compact and sheltered on all sides; while, behind the
hill that separated the two armies, was placed an ambuscade of six
hundred knights and cross-bowmen.
The French army was divided into three parts, and disposed in an oblique
line. The left and foremost wing was commanded by the king's brother,
the Duke of Orleans, the centre by the king's sons, and the reserve by
the unfortunate monarch himself. Already the cry of battle was heard,
when two holy men rushed forward to mediate between the foes; but in
vain. The Prince of Wales,--that mighty conqueror,--knowing his
weakness, and feeling his responsibility, would have even consented to
give back the provinces he had taken--the captives of his valour--and
agreed to remain for seven years without drawing the sword. But King
John demanded that he should yield himself prisoner, with a hundred of
his knights; and, confident in his strength, he had no second proposal
to make.
Sixty thousand warriors, full of pride, hope, and exultation, had
spread themselves over the plains, confident of success, and looking
forward to annihilate at a blow the harassed enemy which had so long
annoyed them, but which were now hunted into the toils, and could be
made an easy prey. The redoubtable Black Prince would no longer terrify
France with his name: he knew his weakness, and had sent to offer terms
the most advantageous, provided he and his impoverished bands might be
permitted to go free; but, with victory in their hands, why should the
insulted knights of France agree to his dictation? it were better to
punish the haughty islanders as they deserved, and at once rid their
country of a nest of hornets which allowed her no peace.
The king, his four sons, all the princes and nobles of France were in
arms, and had not followed the English to listen to terms at the last
moment. King John,--the very flower of chivalry, the soul of honour and
valour,--rode through his glittering ranks, and surveyed his banners
with delight and pride. "At Paris, at Chartres, at Rouen, at Orleans,"
he exclaimed, "you defied these English; you desired to encounter them
hand to hand. Now they are before you: behold! I point them out to you.
Now you can, if you will, take vengeance for all the ills they have done
to France; for all the slaughter they have made. Now, if you will, you
may combat these fatal enemies."
The signal was given: the gorgeous troops rushed forth, their helmets
glittering with gold and steel, their swords bright, and their
adornments gay; their hearts full of resolve, and their spirits raised
for conquest. A short space of time sufficed to produce a strange
contrast: twenty thousand men, with the Dauphin of France at their head,
flying before six hundred tattered English! Chandos and the Black Prince
behold from a height the unexpected event: they follow up the advantage;
the hero of so many fights rouses himself, and becomes resistless as
Alexander:
"See how he puts to flight the gaudy Persians
With nothing but a rusty helmet on!"
Of all his hosts,--of all his friends, and guards, and warriors, and
nobles, what remains to the French king? He stands alone amidst a heap
of slain, with a child fighting by his side: their swords fall swiftly
and heavily on every one that dares approach them; their armour is
hacked and hewn; their plumes torn; the blood flows from their numerous
wounds; but they still stand firm, and dispute their lives to the last.
The boy performs prodigies of valour; he is worthy to be the son of
Edward himself; but he is at last struck down, while his frantic father
deals with his battle-axe blows which appal the stoutest heart. No one
dares to approach the lion at bay: they hem him in; they call to and
entreat him to lay down his arms; he is blinded with the blood which
flows from two deep wounds in his face; and, faint and staggering, he
gazes round on the slaughtered heaps at his feet, and gives his weapon
into the hands of an English knight.
Over and over again has the story of this defeat been told, yet is the
relation always stirring, always exciting, and the remainder full of
romance and glory to all parties concerned. The only blot upon the
_ermine_ is, that the valorous boy who so distinguished himself should,
a few years later, forget the lesson of honour and magnanimity he then
learnt, and, by his disgraceful breach of faith, expose the father he
defended to so much sorrow and humiliation.
The _Roman_ remains at Poitiers claim the first attention of the
traveller; and we, therefore, soon after our arrival, walked down the
rugged Rue de la Lamproie to an _auberge_ which has for its sign a board
on which is inscribed, "Aux _Vreux_-Antiquités Romaines." The meaning of
this mysterious word, which has puzzled many people, is this: Here
formerly existed a house which belonged to a bishop of Evreux; and was,
consequently, called Hôtel d'Evreux. The last proprietor, imagining that
the word _Evreux_ meant _Roman Antiquities_, was seized with the happy
thought of changing it to _Vreux_, as simpler and more expressive; and
so it has remained.
The _Vreux_ are very curious, and give a stupendous idea of the size of
the amphitheatre which once existed on this spot. The whole of the court
and large gardens of this inn offer remains of the seats, steps,
temples, and vaults. One huge opening is fearful to look at, and
preserves its form entire: it appears to have been an entrance for the
beasts and cars and companies of gladiators, which figured in the arena.
Garlands of luxuriant vines, with white and black grapes in clusters,
now adorn the ruined walls; and fruit-trees and flowering shrubs grow on
the terraces. It requires some attention to trace the form of the
amphitheatre; as so many houses and walls are built in, and round about
its site.
The foundation is attributed to the Emperor Gallienus, and occurred
probably in the third century. Medals of many kinds of metal have been
frequently found in excavating, which prove the period; but the learned
have not been silent on so tempting a theme, and the history of the
Arènes de Poitiers has occupied the attention of all the antiquaries of
France. It appears that the size was greater than that of Nismes.
It is strange that so much of the ruins should still remain of the
amphitheatre in spite of so many centuries of destruction acting upon
it, and, notwithstanding its having been constantly resorted to as a
quarry, whenever materials were required for construction. In one of the
quarters of the town, the Rue des Arènes and the Bourg Cani, where the
poorest people live, almost all the houses are formed of the chambers
belonging to a Roman establishment. The roofs of almost all are Roman:
the cellars, the stables, and the granaries. No doubt Poitiers was a
place of the greatest importance under their sway, as these extensive
ruins indicate.
The park of Blossac is the most attractive promenade of Poitiers: it is
beautifully laid out, and well kept. An intendant of Poitou, M. de la
Bourdonnaye-Blossac, established it in 1752, with the benevolent intent
of giving employment, in a hard winter, to the poor. In constructing it,
a great many sepulchres of the Gauls, and funereal vases, were
discovered; some of which are preserved in the museum.
The view is charming from the terrace of Blossac above the Clain, and
one is naturally led to pursue the agreeable walks which invite the
steps at every turn. We found that, by following as they pointed, we
should arrive at most of the places we desired to see; and, as the
interior of the town has few attractions in itself, we resolved to skirt
it, and continue our way along the ramparts. They extend a long way, and
are extremely pleasant in their whole extent. Remnants of ancient towers
and rampart walls appear here and there, the river runs clear and
bright beneath, and beyond are gently undulating hills; while,
occasionally, heaps of grey rocks, of peculiar forms, some looking like
temples, others like towers, rise suddenly from their green base,
surprising the eye.
In the direction of the most remarkable of these, may be found a _pierre
levée_, said, by veracious chroniclers, to have been raised on the spot
by the great saint of Poitiers, Sainte Radegonde, who is reported to
have brought the great stone on her head, and the pillars which support
it in the pockets of her _muslin apron_: one of these pillars fell from
its frail hold to the ground, and the devil instantly caught it up and
carried it away, which satisfactorily accounts for the stone being
elevated only at one end. Unfortunately the same legend is so often
repeated respecting different saints, and in particular respecting
_Saint_ Magdalen, who has often been known to establish herself in wild
places, bringing her rugged stool with her, that it would seem some or
other of these holy people _plagiarised_ from the other.
Rabelais attributes this stone to Pantagruel, who, "seeing that the
scholars of Poitiers, having a great deal of leisure, did not know how
to spend their time, was moved with compassion, and, one day, took from
a great rock, which was called Passe-Lourdin, an immense block, twelve
toises square, and fourteen _pans_ thick, and placed it upon four
pillars in the midst of a field, _quite at its ease_, in order that the
said scholars, when they could think of nothing else to do, might pass
their time in mounting on the said stone, and there banqueting with
quantities of flagons, hams, and pasties; also in cutting their names on
it with a knife: this stone is now called La Pierre Levée. And in memory
of this, no one can be matriculated in the said University of Poitiers
who has not drunk at the cabalistic fountain of Croustelles, been to
Passe-Lourdin, and mounted on La Pierre Levée."
Bouchet's opinion is, that the stone was placed by Aliénor d'Aquitaine,
about 1150, to be used at a fair which was held in the field where it
stands.
It is, no doubt, one of the Dolmen, whose strange and mysterious
appearance may well have puzzled both the learned and unlearned in every
age since they were first erected.
One of the most interesting monuments in Poitiers is the museum; for it
is a Roman structure--a temple or a tomb--almost entire, and less
injured than might have been expected, serving as a receptacle for all
the antiquities which have been collected together at different periods,
in order to form a _musée_. They are appropriately placed in this
building, and are seen with much more effect in its singular walls than
if looked at on the comfortable shelves of a boarded and white-washed
chamber.
As is usual in those cases, disputes run high respecting the original
founder and the destination of this building, unique in its kind. Some
insist that it is a tomb erected to Claudia Varenilla, by her husband,
Marcus Censor Pavius; others see in it a pagan temple, transformed into
a place of early Christian worship; others, the _first cathedral_ of
Poitiers.
It has undergone numerous changes of destination, at all events, having
been used as a church, as a bell-foundry, as a depôt for _economical
soup_, and as a manufactory. The Society of Antiquaries have at length
gained possession of it, and it is to be hoped that it will know no
further vicissitudes.
In this temple may be seen numerous treasures of Gaulic and Roman and
Middle-age art of great interest: sepulchral stones inscribed with the
names of Claudia Varenilla, Sabinus, and Lepida; Roman altars, military
boundary-stones, amphoræ, vases, capitals, and pottery, all found in the
neighbourhood of Poitiers: a good deal of beautiful carving from the
destroyed castle of Bonnivet, fine specimens of the Renaissance, and
numerous relics of ruined churches.
Among the treasures is a block of stone, said to be one on which the
Maid of Orleans rested her foot when she mounted her horse, in full
armour, to accompany Charles VII. on his coronation. A piece of stone
from the old church of St. Hilaire is exhibited, which, when struck,
emits so horrible an effluvia as to render it unapproachable. The church
is said to have been built of this stone; if so, the workmen must have
been considerably annoyed while constructing it, and deserved
_indulgences_ for their perseverance in continuing their labour. It
would appear that this is a calcareous[5] rock, which has been described
by several French naturalists who have met with it in the Pyrenees, at
the Brèche de Roland, and on the height of Mont Perdu, and whose odour
of _sulphureous hydrogen_ is supposed to arise from the animal matter
enclosed in its recesses. Some marbles have the same exhalation, yet are
employed in furniture: as the smell does not appear to be offensive
unless the stone is struck with some force, it may, perhaps, be
unobserved; but I could scarcely regret that the church of St. Hilaire
was almost totally destroyed when I heard that such disagreeable
materials entered into its construction. No doubt the presence of the
arch-enemy was considered as the cause of this singular effluvia in
early times, and the monks turned it, as they did all accidents, to
good account.
[Footnote 5: Calcaire hépathique. The stone used for the casing of the
exterior of the Great Pyramid, and for the lining of the chambers and
passages, was obtained from the Gebel Mokattam, on the Arabian side of
the valley of the Nile. It appears to be similar to that named above, as
it is described as being "a compact limestone," called by geologists
"swine stone," or "stink-stone," from emitting, when struck, a fetid
odour.]
The Grand Gueule, a horrible beast, discovered in the caverns of the
abbey of Sainte Croix, who had eaten up several nuns, was probably found
out by the smell of sulphur which pervaded his den, and brought forth to
punishment by the holy men who were guided to his retreat by this
means,--their instrument being a criminal condemned to death, who
combated the beast, and killed him. The dragon was usually carried in
processions, following the precious relic of a piece of the true cross
which had vanquished him; and his effigy in wood, with the inscription,
_Gargot fecit_, 1677, exists still, though it has ceased to be used.