NOTRE DAME--THE KEYS--THE MIRACLE--PROCESSION--ST. RADEGONDE--TOMB
OF THE SAINT--FOOT-PRINT--LITTLE LOUBETTE--THE COUNT OUTWITTED--THE
CORDELIER--LATE JUSTICE--THE TEMPLARS.
POITIERS is one of the largest towns in France, but is very thinly
inhabited; immense gardens, orchards, and fields, extend between the
streets; the spaces are vast, but there is no beauty whatever in the
architecture or the disposition of the buildings. The squares are wide
and open, but surrounded by irregular, slovenly-looking houses, without
an approach to beauty or elegance; the pavement is rugged, and
cleanliness is not a characteristic of the place.
The churches are extremely curious, although, in general, so battered
and worn as to present the aspect of a heap of ruins at first sight.
This is particularly the case with Notre Dame, so revered by Richard
Coeur de Lion, in the great _place_, before which a market is held. I
never saw a church whose appearance was so striking, not from its beauty
or grace, but from the singularly devastated, ruined state in which it
towers above the buildings round, as if it belonged to another world.
Nothing about it has the least resemblance to anything else: its heaps
of encrusted figures, arches within arches, niches, turrets covered with
rugged scales, round towers with countless pillars, ornaments, saints,
canopies, and medallions, confuse the mind and the eye. All polish is
worn from the surface, and so crumbling does it look, that it would seem
impossible that the rough and disjointed mass of stones, piled one on
the other, could keep together; yet, when you examine it closely, you
find that all is solid and firm, and that it would require the joint
efforts of time and violence to throw it down, even now.
The peculiar colour of the stone of which it is built, assists the
strangeness of its effect; for it has an ancient, ivory hue, and all its
elaborate carving is not unlike that on some old ivory cabinet grown
yellow with age. A long series of scriptural histories, from the scene
in Eden, upwards, are represented on this wonderful façade; besides much
which has not yet been explained. Its original construction has been
attributed to Constantine, whose equestrian statue once figured above
one of the portals.
St. Hilaire, St. Martin, and all the saints in the calendar, still fill
their niches, more or less defaced; row after row, sitting and standing,
decorate the whole surface, in compartments; choirs of angels, troops of
cherubims, surround sacred figures of larger size; and when it is
recollected that all this was once covered with gilding and colours, it
is difficult to imagine anything more splendid and imposing than it must
have been.
The interior suffered dreadfully from the zeal of the Protestants, who
destroyed tombs and altars without mercy. One group--the Entombment of
Christ--common in most churches, is remarkable for the details of
costume it presents, and the excellence of its execution. It belonged
formerly to the abbey of the Trinity, and has been transferred to Notre
Dame. The date seems to be about the end of the fifteenth century; the
figures are of the natural size, and the original colouring still
remains; the anatomical developments are faithful to exaggeration, and
the finish of every part is admirable.
Some of the female heads are charming, with their costly ornaments,
hoods, and embroidered veils; and the male figures, with the strange
hats of the period, like that worn by Louis XI., have a singularly
battered and torn effect, in spite of the smart fringed handkerchiefs
bound round them, with ends hanging down and pieces of plate armour
depending from their sides.
Several of the adornments of the altars are those formerly belonging to
the church of the Carmelites, now the chapel of the _grand seminaire_.
Above the crucifix which surmounts the tabernacle, is attached to the
roof a bunch of keys: these are, according to tradition, the same
miraculous keys taken from the traitor who proposed to deliver them to
the English. The history of this transaction is as follows:--
In 1202, Poitou had risen against John Lackland, of England, Duke of
Aquitaine and Count of Poitou, taking the part of young Arthur, whom he
had just made prisoner at Mirebeau. The town of Poitiers had closed its
gates against John, warned by the example of Tours, which he had lately
sacked and burnt. The King had posted his troops in the towns of
Limousin and Perigord, with orders to his captains to endeavour to take
Poitiers by surprise.
The mayor of Poitiers had a secretary who was both cunning and
avaricious, who, bribed highly by the English, had consented to deliver
the town to them. Accordingly, on Easter eve, a party of the enemy,
under false colours, arrived at the Porte de la Tranchée; the secretary
repaired instantly to the chamber of the mayor, to which he had access,
expecting, as usual, that the keys would be found there; but, to his
surprise, they were removed, nor could he find them in any other
accustomed place. The traitor hastened to inform the English of the
fact, by throwing a paper to them from the ramparts, requesting that
they would wait till four o'clock in the morning, when he should be able
to execute his purpose. At this hour he re-entered the mayor's chamber,
and telling him that a gentleman wished to set out on a mission to the
king of France at that early hour, begged that the keys might be
delivered to him. The mayor sought for the keys, but they were nowhere
to be found: he suspected some treason; and without loss of time
assembled the inhabitants, and required that they should go at once to
the Porte de la Tranchée, in arms, to be ready in case of surprise.
The report soon spread that the English were at the Tranchée, and the
belfry sent forth its peals to summon all men to arms: in a very short
space the whole town was roused, and every one hurried to the gates,
where a strange spectacle met their view from the turrets. They beheld
upwards of fifteen hundred English, dead or prone on the ground, and
others killing them! The gates were thrown open, and the inhabitants
sallied forth, making the remainder an easy prey, and taking many
prisoners: the which declared to the mayor and the dignitaries of the
town all the treason which had been arranged; and further related, that
at the hour agreed on, they beheld before the gates a queen more richly
dressed than imagination can conceive, and with her a nun and a bishop,
followed by an immense army of soldiers, who immediately attacked them.
They instantly became aware that the personages they saw were no other
than the Blessed Virgin, St. Hilaire, and Ste. Radegonde, whose
bodies were in the town, and, seized with terror and despair, they fell
madly on each other and slaughtered their companions.
All the towns-people, on hearing this, offered thanks to God, and
returned to keep their fast with great devotion. As for the disloyal
secretary, his fate was not known, for he was never seen afterwards;
and, says the chronicler, "it is natural to suppose that by one of the
other gates he cast himself into the river, _or_ that the devil carried
him off bodily."
The miracle had not ended there; for while these things were going on at
the gates, the poor mayor, in great perturbation, had hurried to the
church of Notre Dame la Grande, and throwing himself before the altar,
recommended the town to the protection of God and the Mother of Mercy.
"While he was praying, all on a sudden _he felt the keys in his arms_;
at which he returned thanks to Heaven, as did many pious persons who
were with him."
Bouchet, who relates this _fact_, adds:--"In memory of this _fine
miracle_, the inhabitants of the said Poitiers have ever since made, and
continue, a grand and notable procession of all the colleges and
convents, every year, all round the walls of the said town, within, the
day before Easter: the which extends for more than a league and a half.
And in memory of the said miracle, _I have made these four lines of
rhythm_:--
"L'an mil deux cens deux comme on clame,
Batailla pour ceux de Poietiers,
Contre les Anglois nostre Dame,
Et les garda de leurs dangiers."
In commemoration of this event, statues of the three saviours of the
town were erected above the gate, and in a little chapel near: chapels
to the Virgin were placed in every possible nook, and a solemn
procession was instituted to take place every year, on Easter Monday,
when the mayor's lady had the privilege of presenting to the Virgin the
magnificent velvet robe, which she wore on the occasion. This ceremony
was continued as late as 1829, since when the _cortège_ no longer goes
round the town as formerly, but a service is performed in the church.
The belief of this miracle seems to form an article of faith; for the
story was told me by three persons of different classes, all of whom
spoke of it as a tradition in which they placed implicit credit.
Sainte Radegonde seems to hold, however, the highest rank of the three
defenders of Poitiers. "She is a great saint," said the exhibitor of the
Museum to me, "and performs miracles every day." "Ste. Radegonde,"
said the bibliothécaire--"is a great protectress of this town, and has
personally interfered to assist us in times of need--but, perhaps, you
are not Catholic."
"The great saint," said a votaress, who was selling _chapelets_ at her
tomb, "does not let a month escape without showing her power; only six
weeks ago a poor child, who was paralyzed, was brought here by its
mother, having been given up by the doctors; and the moment it touched
the marble where it was laid, all its limbs became as strong as ever,
and it walked out of the church."
We, of course, lost as little time as possible in paying our _devoirs_
to so wondrous a personage. The church is a very venerable structure,
surmounted by a spire covered with slate. The Saint was the wife of
Clotaire the First, and quitted her court to live a religious life,
having built a monastery in honour of the true cross, a piece of which
had been sent to her from Constantinople by the Emperor Justinian. She
erected a church in honour of the Virgin, which should serve for a
burial-place for her nuns; this was beyond the walls of her monastery,
and a college of priests was added to it to supply religious instruction
to her community. The church was finished, and its foundress died in
587. She was interred there by the celebrated Gregory of Tours. The
tomb, of the simplest construction of fine black marble, still exists in
a subterranean chapel, the object of religious pilgrimages without end;
and when, in the fourteenth century, it was opened by Jean, Duc de
Berry, Count of Poitou, brother of Charles the Wise, the body was found
in perfect preservation. In 1562 the Protestants took possession of the
church, and broke open the tomb, scattering and burning the bones; but
some of them were, nevertheless, gathered together and replaced in the
marble, which was joined by iron cramps, and does not exhibit much
injury.
This huge mass of black marble has a very disgusting appearance, from
being entirely covered (except at one little corner, kept clean to show
its texture) with the runnings of the countless candles perched upon it
by the pilgrims, who arrive in such crowds at some periods of the year,
that the vault becomes so hot and close as to be unsafe to remain in
long. These candles are kept constantly burning, and the devotion to the
Saint also burns as brightly as ever. St. Agnes and St. Disciolus repose
near their abbess. Pepin, King of Aquitaine, lies somewhere in their
neighbourhood; but the exact spot is not ascertained.
A miraculous foot-print is still shown, which it is recorded that Jesus
Christ left _when_ he visited the cell of the holy abbess: the stone,
carefully preserved, is called Le Pas de Dieu, and was formerly in the
convent of St. Croix.
We had some difficulty to escape from the earnest exhortations of
numerous devout sellers of rosaries, who insisted on our buying their
medals, _chapelets_, &c., assuring us that they were of extraordinary
virtue; and we could scarcely believe that we had not been transported
several centuries back, when we saw the extreme devotion and zeal they
showed, both towards the Saint, and the money she might bring from
devotees.
Close to Ste. Radegonde is the cathedral church of St. Pierre,
principally built by Henry II. of England, a very fine specimen of the
grandest style of art; vast and beautiful, but with its naves rather too
low. The principal portals are very much ornamented, and its towers have
much elegance: but the restorations it has undergone have been
injudicious, and the modern painted glass which replaces the old is
extremely bad; but many of the windows are of fine forms, and, on the
whole, there is a good deal to admire in St. Pierre.
But little vestige remains now of the once famous convent of St. Pierre
le Puellier, which owed its foundation to a miracle: it is one very
often told as having occurred on like occasions; but is apparently still
believed in Poitiers, where devotees of easy credence seem to abound.
Loubette was a young girl in the service of the Empress Helena, mother
of Constantine, and had been witness in Jerusalem of the discovery of
the true cross. She was a native of Brittany; and how she came to the
holy city does not appear; suffice it that she wished to return to her
own country. The empress, in dismissing her, made her a present of a
piece of the true cross, and a part of the crown of thorns. Loubette
placed the relics in her _little bag_, and set out on her journey _on
foot_. She was of very small stature, lame, and crooked, extremely weak,
and hardly able to move; however, such as she was, she took her way from
Jerusalem to Poitiers, where _having arrived_, and feeling fatigued, she
lay down before she entered the town under a willow, hanging her little
bag (_gibecière_) on a branch, and went to sleep. When she awoke she
looked for her bag; but the branch she had hung it on--similar to the
steeple to which the horse of the Baron, of veracious memory, was
attached--had risen in the night to such a height, "that," says the
chronicler, "the said virgin could not reach her said _gibecière_."
She immediately sought the Bishop of Poitiers, who, struck with the
miracle, recommended her to present herself to the Count of Poitou, and
solicit of his piety the means of raising a church, and supporting a
chapter of clerks and priests to do duty there. The Count of Poitou is
said to have been joyous and pleased when he heard her relation; but it
does not appear that his generosity equalled his delight, for he did not
seem disposed to grant anything to Loubette for the establishment of her
church; however, unable at last to resist her entreaties, he agreed to
give her as much ground as so lame and weak a creature could creep over
in a day: it appears that he was not aware of her expedition from the
Holy Land.
He soon had cause to repent of his jest, for scarcely had Loubette
commenced her walk, accompanied by the servants of the Count, than she
distanced them all, and got over so much ground that they were
terrified; for, wherever she stepped, the ground rose and marked what
was hers. The Count hurried after her in great alarm, and, stopping her
progress, entreated her to be content with what she had already gained,
as he began to think she would acquire all his domain.[6]
[Footnote 6: The same legend is told as having happened in England on
the domains of the family of Titchborne.]
On the banks of the Clain is still pointed out a mound of earth on the
spot where _Saint_ Loubette crossed the river without wetting her feet.
There is no end to the miracles wrought in this favoured city: one is
told so remarkable that it deserves to be recorded. It occurred in
favour of Gauthier de Bruges, bishop of Poitiers--a very virtuous and
learned man, who had from a simple _cordelier_ been placed on the
episcopal throne by Pope Nicholas III. A question of supremacy having
arisen between the archbishops of Bourges and Bordeaux, Gauthier
declared for the former, and was charged by him to execute some acts of
ecclesiastic jurisdiction against his rival. The archbishop of Bordeaux
afterwards became pope, under the name of Clement V., protected by
Philippe le Bel, and in memory of his opposition deposed Gauthier,
enjoining him to retire into his convent.
The bishop of Poitiers was obliged to submit to the authority of the
sovereign pontiff; but at the same time protested against the abuse of
power of which he was the victim; and he appealed against the sentence
of deposition _to God and the council to come_. He died shortly after,
and desired to be buried with his act of appeal in his hand.
When Clement V. came to Poitiers to treat with Philippe le Bel on
_important and secret_ affairs--nothing less than the suppression of the
order of the Templars--he lodged at the Cordelier convent, in the very
church where Gauthier was buried. Being informed of the act of appeal
which the unfortunate bishop would not part with at the time of his
death, he had a great desire to see it, and commanded that his tomb
should be opened. Accordingly, in the dead of night, by the light of
torches, his desire was fulfilled. One of the pope's archdeacons
descended into the vault, and in the dead hand of the bishop beheld the
scroll: he endeavoured to take possession of it, but found it impossible
to do so, so firmly was it grasped by the bony fingers. The pope ordered
the archdeacon to enjoin the dead man to give it up on pain of
punishment, which the other having done, and added, that he pledged
himself to restore the paper when the pope had read it, the hand relaxed
its grasp, and the act was released. The archdeacon handed it up to the
pope; but when he tried to leave the vault, he found that a secret power
prevented him from stirring from the place, and he was forced to remain
there as hostage till the scroll was read and replaced in the hand of
the bishop; he then found that his limbs had resumed their power, and he
was able to quit the spot. Clement V., anxious to repair his injustice,
afterwards paid extraordinary honours to the memory of Bishop Gauthier.
It was at this time, in 1306, the interview took place which decided
the fate of the Templars; the pope lodged with the Cordeliers, the King
with the Jacobins, and, in order that they might confer more readily, a
bridge was thrown across the street, forming a communication between the
two convents. For sixteen months Clement remained at Poitiers on this
important business; and here he had interviews with the master of the
Templars, summoned from Cyprus for the occasion: here, most of the
plans, destined to overthrow their dangerous power, were concocted, with
less reference to justice than expediency.
The ancient palace of the Counts of Poitou is now the Palais de Justice.
A fine Grecian portico which we had passed several times in our search
for what we expected would be a Gothic entrance, leads to the only part
which remains of the ancient building: namely, a magnificent hall of
very large dimensions, surrounded by circular arches and delicate
pillars, and having a good deal of fine carving, and an antique roof of
chestnut wood. The exterior, which is adorned with figures of the
sovereigns of Poitou, we could not get a glimpse of, as the palace is so
hemmed in by buildings that it is only from the gardens and windows of
some private houses that any view of it can be obtained. Elionore of
Aquitaine, her husband and sons, often inhabited this abode; and it was
in the great hall that Charles VII. was proclaimed King of France. One
can but regret that so little remains of the original structure, and
that the buildings which modern taste and necessity have added, should
so ill accord with the old model; for nothing can be more misplaced than
the _classic temple_ which conducts to a Norman hall.