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How France Built Her Cathedrals
How France Built Its Cathedrals
Soissons Cathedral.
The Transept’s Southern Arm (c. 1180)
Soissons Cathedral.
The Southern Arm of the Transept (circa 1180)
How France Built
Her Cathedrals
A Study in the Twelfth
and Thirteenth Centuries
By
ELIZABETH BOYLE O’REILLY
Honorary Member of the Société Française d’Archéologie
Author of “Heroic Spain” Etc.
Illustrated With Drawings By
A. PAUL DE LESLIE
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
By
ELIZABETH BOYLE O’REILLY
Honorary Member of the Société Française d’Archéologie
Author of “Heroic Spain” Etc.
Illustrated With Drawings By
A. PAUL DE LESLIE
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
How France Built Her Cathedrals
——
Copyright, 1921, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
A-W
How France Built Its Cathedrals
——
Copyright, 1921, by Harper & Brothers
Printed in the United States of America
A-W
Contents
| CHAP. | PAGE | |
| INTRODUCTION | 1 | |
| I. | WHAT IS GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE? | 16 |
Gothic architecture the logical fulfillment of Romanesque—Origin of Romanesque architecture—Romanesque basilicas modified by the liturgy—Horrors of the IX and X centuries in France—Rebirth of the builders’ energy after the year 1000—Cluny, the civilizing force of the X and XI centuries—Various regional Romanesque schools of France—Normandy, Burgundy, Auvergne, Poitou, Languedoc, Provence, and the Franco-Picard school—Birth of Gothic art—An undecided question where the first diagonal-crossing ribs were used—Germany’s and Italy’s claims—Claim of England—The Ile-de-France Picard region, the classic land of Gothic—Gothic architecture not a layman’s revolt against monkish Romanesque—The architects of the Gothic cathedrals—No heretical tendencies in Gothic sculpture—Origin of the term Gothic—XVII- and XVIII-century scorn for Gothic architecture—Modern French school of mediæval archæology. Gothic architecture is the natural evolution of Romanesque—The origin of Romanesque architecture—Romanesque basilicas adjusted to liturgical needs—The atrocities of the 9th and 10th centuries in France—The resurgence of builders’ energy after the year 1000—Cluny, the civilizing force of the 10th and 11th centuries—Different regional Romanesque schools in France—Normandy, Burgundy, Auvergne, Poitou, Languedoc, Provence, and the Franco-Picard school—The emergence of Gothic art—An unresolved question regarding where the first diagonal-crossing ribs were used—Germany’s and Italy’s claims—England’s claim—The Ile-de-France Picard region, the classic center of Gothic—Gothic architecture is not a layman’s reaction against monastic Romanesque—The architects of the Gothic cathedrals—No heretical tendencies in Gothic sculpture—The origin of the term Gothic—Seventeenth- and eighteenth-century disdain for Gothic architecture—Modern French school of medieval archaeology. | ||
| II. | ABBOT SUGER AND ST. DENIS-EN-FRANCE | 43 |
Evolution from Romanesque to Gothic—St. Denis’ abbatial, the first important Gothic monument—Some early-Gothic churches in the Ile-de-France—Morienval, the first Gothic-vaulted ambulatory extant (c. 1122)—Church of St. Étienne, at Beauvais (c. 1120)—St. Germer-en-Flay built from 1150 to 1175, yet less advanced than St. Denis—Poissy’s church of St. Louis (c. 1135)—How Abbot Suger built his abbey church at St. Denis—St. Denis’ school of glassmaking, the leader for fifty years—Dedication of St. Denis on June 11, 1144, consecrated the national art—Who Suger was and how St. Bernard converted him—What is left of the abbey church which Suger built—Reconstruction of St. Denis by St. Louis, 1231 to 1280—Pierre de Montereau, its architect—Tombs in St. Denis’ abbatial—Deviation of the axis not symbolic—Some happenings in St. Denis during the XII and XIII centuries—Charles Péguy’s verses, linking St. Denis, St. Geneviève, and Jeanne d’Arc. Evolution from Romanesque to Gothic—St. Denis' abbey, the first major Gothic monument—Some early Gothic churches in the Île-de-France—Morienval, the first Gothic-vaulted ambulatory still standing (c. 1122)—Church of St. Étienne in Beauvais (c. 1120)—St. Germer-en-Flay built from 1150 to 1175, though less advanced than St. Denis—Poissy's church of St. Louis (c. 1135)—How Abbot Suger constructed his abbey church at St. Denis—St. Denis' glassmaking school, the leader for fifty years—Dedication of St. Denis on June 11, 1144, which established national art—Who Suger was and how St. Bernard influenced him—What remains of the abbey church that Suger built—Reconstruction of St. Denis by St. Louis, 1231 to 1280—Pierre de Montereau, its architect—Tombs in St. Denis' abbey—Deviation of the axis not symbolic—Some events in St. Denis during the 12th and 13th centuries—Charles Péguy's verses, connecting St. Denis, St. Geneviève, and Jeanne d'Arc. | ||
| III. | PRIMARY GOTHIC CATHEDRALS | 74 |
Cathedral of Noyon, first built of Gothic cathedrals (c. 1150)—Noyon’s communal charter, the first of known date, 1109—Cathedral’s nave, a vessel of most perfect proportion—Exceptional among French cathedrals, its transept’s rounded ends—Noyon has retained its annexes—Its chapter house, built about 1240—Noyon city destroyed, 1918—Cathedral still stands. Cathedral of Noyon, the first of the Gothic cathedrals (c. 1150)—Noyon’s community charter, the earliest known, dates back to 1109—The nave of the cathedral is a model of perfect proportions—Unique among French cathedrals, its transept has rounded ends—Noyon has kept its annexes—Its chapter house, built around 1240—The city of Noyon was destroyed in 1918—The cathedral still stands. | ||
Cathedral of Senlis, second of the Gothic cathedrals, begun about 1153—Sculpture at Senlis’ west portal (c. 1180) marks a date in imagery—Cathedral tower, the “pride of the Valois land”—Transept’s façades of the best Flamboyant Gothic art—What the World War did to Senlis. Cathedral of Senlis, the second of the Gothic cathedrals, started around 1153—Sculpture at Senlis’ west portal (c. 1180) signifies a milestone in imagery—Cathedral tower, the “pride of the Valois land”—Transept’s façades showcase the finest Flamboyant Gothic art—What World War impacted Senlis. | ||
Cathedral of Sens, begun about 1160—Sens’ ancient see, governed by notable men in the XII and XIII centuries—How they found out who was the architect of the cathedral—St. Thomas Becket in Sens, 1164, and again from 1166 to 1170—St. Louis married in Sens Cathedral, 1234—Glory of Sens’ stained glass. Cathedral of Sens, started around 1160—Sens' historic diocese, led by prominent figures in the 12th and 13th centuries—How they discovered who the architect of the cathedral was—St. Thomas Becket in Sens, 1164, and again from 1166 to 1170—St. Louis married in Sens Cathedral, 1234—The beauty of Sens' stained glass. | ||
Cathedral of Laon, begun about 1160—Fallacy of the “town-hall” theory—Cathedral of springtime foliage—Oxen on Laon’s towers—Origin of the square east end of Laon Cathedral—Laon’s communal struggle—Famous XII-century school of Anselm de Laon—Laon city shelled by the French, but its cathedral unhurt. Cathedral of Laon, started around 1160—Mistake of the “town-hall” theory—Cathedral of spring greenery—Oxen on Laon’s towers—Origin of the square east end of Laon Cathedral—Laon’s community battle—Notable 12th-century school of Anselm of Laon—Laon city bombarded by the French, but its cathedral remains intact. | ||
Cathedral of Soissons almost a ruin—Desolation of Soissons in World War—Soissons’ southern arm of transept ends in a hemicycle (c. 1180)—Is the most exquisite thing in France—The crusading bishop-builder, Nivelon de Chérisy. Cathedral of Soissons is nearly in ruins—Desolation of Soissons during World War—Soissons’ southern arm of the transept ends in a semicircular space (c. 1180)—It's the most beautiful thing in France—The crusading bishop-builder, Nivelon de Chérisy. | ||
Some important Primary Gothic churches: Abbatial of St. Remi at Rheims (c. 1170)—Its superb XII-century glass wrecked in the World War—Abbatial of Notre Dame at Châlons-sur-Marne (c. 1160)—Pioneer in fenestration—First to use pillars between chapels and ambulatory—Church of St. Quiriace at Provins (c. 1160)—Provins, residence of the counts of Champagne—Its international fairs frequented by mediæval Europe—Collegiate of St. Yved, at Braine (c. 1200), between Primary Gothic and the Era of Great Cathedrals—Individual plan of its choir-chapels—St. Leu d’Esserent, on the Oise, the best type of the small churches in the classic Ile-de-France—Its forechurch shows transition work (c. 1150)—Primary Gothic work to be found at Étampes, Vendôme, Fécamp, Rouen, Lisieux, Angers, Mantes, Paris. Some important early Gothic churches: Abbatial of St. Remi in Rheims (c. 1170)—Its amazing 12th-century glass was destroyed in World War II—Abbatial of Notre Dame in Châlons-sur-Marne (c. 1160)—A pioneer in window design—The first to use pillars between chapels and the ambulatory—Church of St. Quiriace in Provins (c. 1160)—Provins, the home of the counts of Champagne—Its international fairs attracted medieval Europe—Collegiate of St. Yved in Braine (c. 1200), straddling early Gothic and the era of great cathedrals—Unique layout of its choir chapels—St. Leu d’Esserent, on the Oise, represents the best type of small churches in classic Île-de-France—Its forechurch showcases transitional work (c. 1150)—Early Gothic work can be found in Étampes, Vendôme, Fécamp, Rouen, Lisieux, Angers, Mantes, and Paris. | ||
| IV. | NOTRE DAME OF PARIS AND OTHER CHURCHES OF THE CAPITAL | 126 |
Notre Dame, begun in 1163—Its exterior unsurpassed, the west façade a classic—Scholastic training of its bishop-builders—Summa of the supreme scholastic, Aquinas, like a Gothic cathedral—Thirty thousand students then in Paris University—Bishop Maurice de Sully (1160-96) built Notre Dame—Bishop Eudes de Sully made the portals of the west façade—Bishop Pierre de Nemours died a crusader, before Damietta, 1219—Bishop Guillaume d’Auvergne finished the north tower (1228-49)—All the prelates building Paris Cathedral good and able men—Their sincerity lives in its stones—First architect unknown—Jean and Pierre de Chelles made the transept and apse chapels—Sculpture of Notre Dame masterly—Sainte-Chapelle built by St. Louis, 1246 to 1248—St. Julien-le-Pauvre a contemporary of Notre Dame’s choir (c. 1180)—Same noble sculptured capitals—Three Benedictine abbey churches of Paris show early trials of Gothic vaulting—St. Germain-des-Prés, St. Martin-des-Champs, St. Pierre-de-Montmartre—St. Louis and his friend, Joinville—Louis IX illuminated his kingdom with fair churches—On his first crusade spent five years in the East, 1248 to 1259—From 1254 to 1270 worked for his people—Death of St. Louis on the crusade of 1270—His characteristics: justice, pity, other-worldliness—Inimitable charm of Joinville’s Histoire de St. Louis—Describes his friendship with the king in Palestine—Joinville’s old age and death in 1319. Notre Dame, started in 1163—Its exterior unmatched, the west façade a classic—Scholastic training of its bishop-builders—Summa of the greatest scholar, Aquinas, like a Gothic cathedral—Thirty thousand students then at the University of Paris—Bishop Maurice de Sully (1160-96) built Notre Dame—Bishop Eudes de Sully created the portals of the west façade—Bishop Pierre de Nemours died a crusader before Damietta, 1219—Bishop Guillaume d’Auvergne completed the north tower (1228-49)—All the prelates who built Paris Cathedral were good and capable men—Their sincerity lives in its stones—First architect unknown—Jean and Pierre de Chelles created the transept and apse chapels—Sculpture of Notre Dame is masterful—Sainte-Chapelle built by St. Louis, 1246 to 1248—St. Julien-le-Pauvre is a contemporary of Notre Dame’s choir (c. 1180)—Same noble sculptured capitals—Three Benedictine abbey churches of Paris show early attempts at Gothic vaulting—St. Germain-des-Prés, St. Martin-des-Champs, St. Pierre-de-Montmartre—St. Louis and his friend Joinville—Louis IX illuminated his kingdom with beautiful churches—On his first crusade, he spent five years in the East, 1248 to 1259—From 1254 to 1270, he worked for his people—Death of St. Louis on the crusade of 1270—His characteristics: justice, compassion, other-worldliness—Inimitable charm of Joinville’s Histoire de St. Louis—Describes his friendship with the king in Palestine—Joinville’s old age and death in 1319. | ||
Mantes’ collegiate of Notre Dame is Primary Gothic—A contemporary of Paris Cathedral—Perhaps by the same architect—Its chapel of Navarre one of the best works of Rayonnant Gothic. Mantes’ Notre Dame College is primarily Gothic—a contemporary of the Paris Cathedral—possibly by the same architect. Its Navarre chapel is one of the finest examples of Rayonnant Gothic. | ||
Meaux Cathedral, a difficult architectural page to decipher, owing to reconstruction—Begun in 1170, but rebuilt radically after 1270—Bossuet, its greatest bishop (1681 to 1704)—Meaux, the cathedral for the Te Deum of victory—Battle of the Marne, 1914, waged at the city gates. Meaux Cathedral, a challenging architectural story to understand because of its reconstruction—Started in 1170, but drastically rebuilt after 1270—Bossuet, its most renowned bishop (1681 to 1704)—Meaux, the cathedral for the Te Deum of victory—Battle of the Marne, 1914, fought at the city gates. | ||
| V. | ERA OF THE GREAT CATHEDRALS: CHARTRES, RHEIMS, AMIENS | 169 |
Cathedral of Chartres—Bishop Fulbert’s Romanesque Notre Dame burned in 1194—His vast crypt, of 1020, still exists—Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves built the tower of Chartres, called the most beautiful in the world (1145)—Making of the three western portals (c. 1155)—Gothic cathedral begun after the fire of 1194—Primary Gothic west façade escaped the fire—Jehan de Beauce crowned the northwest tower, 1506 to 1513—Sculpture of the transept portals and porches, 1220 to 1260—Chartres excels all cathedrals in the wealth of its stained glass, chiefly of the XII and XIII centuries. Cathedral of Chartres—Bishop Fulbert’s Romanesque Notre Dame burned down in 1194—His large crypt, from 1020, still stands—Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves built the Chartres tower, regarded as the most beautiful in the world (1145)—Construction of the three western portals (c. 1155)—Gothic cathedral began after the fire of 1194—Main Gothic west façade survived the fire—Jehan de Beauce completed the northwest tower, 1506 to 1513—Sculpture of the transept portals and porches, 1220 to 1260—Chartres surpasses all cathedrals in the richness of its stained glass, mainly from the 12th and 13th centuries. | ||
Cathedral of Rheims, begun by the crusader, Bishop Albéric de Humbert, 1211—Its architects recorded in the pavement labyrinth—Its west façade the culmination of Gothic art—Coronation of Charles VII in 1429, Jeanne d’Arc present—Astounding sculptural wealth of this “Cathedral of the Angels”—Martyrdom of Rheims in the World War. Cathedral of Rheims, started by the crusader, Bishop Albéric de Humbert, 1211—Its architects marked in the pavement maze—Its west façade the peak of Gothic architecture—Coronation of Charles VII in 1429, Jeanne d’Arc was there—Incredible sculptural richness of this “Cathedral of the Angels”—Martyrdom of Rheims during World War. | ||
Cathedral of Amiens, the Parthenon of Gothic art—Bishop Evrard de Fouilloy began it, 1220—Designed by Robert de Lusarches—Its sculpture the peer of Rheims and Chartres—Its portal of the Vierge Dorée (c. 1280). Cathedral of Amiens, the pinnacle of Gothic art—Bishop Evrard de Fouilloy started it in 1220—Designed by Robert de Lusarches—Its sculptures are on par with those of Rheims and Chartres—Its portal of the Vierge Dorée (c. 1280). | ||
| VI. | SIX OF THE LESSER GREAT CATHEDRALS: BOURGES, BEAUVAIS, TROYES, TOURS, LYONS, LE MANS | 211 |
Cathedral of Bourges—Only XIII-century cathedral without a transept—Inner aisle has its own triforium and clearstory—Chevet built by St. Guillaume, 1200 to 1209—Over main portal is best Last Judgment (c. 1275)—Bourges famous for its stained glass—Jean, duc de Berry, and Jacques Cœur, the late-Gothic art patrons of Bourges—Their gifts to the cathedral—Orléans Cathedral destroyed by Calvinists (note). Cathedral of Bourges—The only 13th-century cathedral without a transept—The inner aisle features its own triforium and clearstory—The chevet was built by St. Guillaume from 1200 to 1209—Above the main portal is the best Last Judgment (circa 1275)—Bourges is famous for its stained glass—Jean, Duke of Berry, and Jacques Cœur, the late-Gothic art patrons of Bourges—Their contributions to the cathedral—Orléans Cathedral was destroyed by Calvinists (note). | ||
Cathedral of Beauvais—A mighty fragment: only a choir and transept—Begun in 1247, derived directly from Amiens—Transept façades masterpieces of late-Gothic—Is Flamboyant Gothic of English origin?—Le Prince family of glassmakers. Cathedral of Beauvais—A massive remnant: just a choir and transept—Started in 1247, directly influenced by Amiens—Transept facades are masterpieces of late-Gothic—Is Flamboyant Gothic of English origin?—Le Prince family of glassmakers. | ||
Cathedral of Troyes—Its choir built by Bishop Hervé, 1206 to 1226—Martin Chambiges designed the Flamboyant west façade—Magnificent XIII- and XIV-century windows of Troyes Cathedral—St. Urbain’s church begun by Pope Urban IV in 1262—Carried the Gothic principle of equilibrium to its limit—Churches of Troyes treasure-houses of stained glass and sculpture—Cultivated court of Champagne’s rulers—To the Gothic school of Champagne belongs the Cathedral of Châlons-sur-Marne—Châlons another center for stained glass. Cathedral of Troyes—Its choir was built by Bishop Hervé, from 1206 to 1226—Martin Chambiges designed the Flamboyant west façade—The magnificent XIII- and XIV-century windows of Troyes Cathedral—St. Urbain’s church was started by Pope Urban IV in 1262—It pushed the Gothic principle of balance to its limit—The churches of Troyes are treasure troves of stained glass and sculpture—The cultivated court of the Champagne rulers—The Cathedral of Châlons-sur-Marne belongs to the Gothic school of Champagne—Châlons is another center for stained glass. | ||
Cathedral of Tours—Choir begun about 1210—Has the classic note of the Touraine landscape—Cathedral windows set up between 1260 and 1270—Venerable ecclesiastical souvenirs of Tours—Tours, the center for the Region-of-the-Loire school of sculpture—Michel Colombe, last of the great Gothic artists, worked here—Environs of the city rich in Flamboyant Gothic. Cathedral of Tours—Choir started around 1210—Features the classic look of the Touraine landscape—Cathedral windows installed between 1260 and 1270—Respected historical ecclesiastical artifacts of Tours—Tours, the hub of the Region-of-the-Loire school of sculpture—Michel Colombe, the last of the great Gothic artists, worked here—Surroundings of the city rich in Flamboyant Gothic. | ||
Cathedral of Lyons—Lyons boasts an apostolic succession for its bishops—Early Christian martyrs of Rome’s chief city in Gaul—St. Martin d’Ainay’s abbatial dedicated in 1107—Cathedral choir late XII century—With Vienne Cathedral (note) it alone in France used incrustations—Nave of Lyons Cathedral building through the XIII century—Stained glass of Lyons of exceptional quality—All Christendom was represented at the Ecumenical Council held in Lyons Cathedral in 1274—Church of Brou built by Marguerite of Austria (note)—Moulins Cathedral and Souvigny’s abbatial and tombs (notes). Cathedral of Lyons—Lyons has a direct line of succession for its bishops—Early Christian martyrs from Rome’s main city in Gaul—St. Martin d’Ainay’s abbey was dedicated in 1107—The cathedral choir was completed in the late 12th century—With Vienne Cathedral (note), it is the only one in France to use inlays—The building of Lyons Cathedral continued through the 13th century—Lyons' stained glass is of exceptional quality—All of Christendom was represented at the Ecumenical Council held in Lyons Cathedral in 1274—The Church of Brou was built by Marguerite of Austria (note)—Moulins Cathedral and the abbey and tombs at Souvigny (notes). | ||
Cathedral of Le Mans—XII-century nave built by notable prelates—Bishop Hildebert de Lavardin (1097 to 1125) a poet and scholar—Guillaume de Passavent made the Angevin vaults (c. 1150)—Geoffrey the Handsome, nicknamed Plantagenet, and his son, Henry II of England, born in Le Mans—Trinité church at Vendôme (note)—Le Mans’ Gothic choir built from 1218 to 1254 by Bishop Geoffrey de Loudon—Le Mans ranks next to Chartres and Bourges for its wealth of stained glass—Rayonnant-Flamboyant transept of the XIV and XV centuries—The groups at Solesmes a final expression of Gothic sculpture (1495 to 1550)—Collegiate church at St. Quentin, in size a cathedral, XIII-century choir—Villard de Honnecourt, probably the architect of St. Quentin. Cathedral of Le Mans—12th-century nave built by notable bishops—Bishop Hildebert de Lavardin (1097 to 1125), a poet and scholar—Guillaume de Passavent created the Angevin vaults (c. 1150)—Geoffrey the Handsome, nicknamed Plantagenet, and his son, Henry II of England, were born in Le Mans—Trinité church at Vendôme (note)—Le Mans’ Gothic choir was built from 1218 to 1254 by Bishop Geoffrey de Loudon—Le Mans is ranked just after Chartres and Bourges for its rich stained glass—Rayonnant-Flamboyant transept from the 14th and 15th centuries—The groups at Solesmes represent the final expression of Gothic sculpture (1495 to 1550)—Collegiate church at St. Quentin, which is as large as a cathedral, has a 13th-century choir—Villard de Honnecourt was probably the architect of St. Quentin. | ||
| VII. | PLANTAGENET GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE | 285 |
Plantagenet Gothic fused the cupola of Aquitaine and the diagonals of north—Lasted a hundred years, from 1150 to 1250—For clearness divided into three periods: I. Heavy diagonals, II. Eight slight branches, III. Multiple ribs—English fan tracery a derivation of Angevin Gothic. Plantagenet Gothic combined the dome of Aquitaine with the diagonal lines of the north. It lasted for a hundred years, from 1150 to 1250. For clarity, it's divided into three periods: I. Heavy diagonals, II. Eight slender branches, III. Multiple ribs. English fan tracery is a variation of Angevin Gothic. | ||
Cupola churches of Aquitaine: St. Front at Périgieux, begun after a fire, 1120, and finished by 1180—Cahors Cathedral has Romanesque portal of beauty (note)—Cathedral of Angoulême, begun 1109—Its façade a notable page of French decoration—Rich façades distinguish Poitou’s Romanesque school—Fontevrault abbey church, built in the first half of the XII century—Plantagenet tombs at Fontevrault—Aliénor of Aquitaine buried there in 1204 beside her husband, Henry II, and her son, Richard Cœur-de-Lion—Aliénor’s descendants notable builders of churches. Cupola churches of Aquitaine: St. Front in Périgueux, started after a fire in 1120 and completed by 1180—Cahors Cathedral features a beautifully Romanesque portal (note)—Cathedral of Angoulême, which began in 1109—Its façade is an impressive example of French decoration—Rich façades are a hallmark of Poitou’s Romanesque style—Fontevrault abbey church, built in the first half of the 12th century—Plantagenet tombs at Fontevrault—Eleanor of Aquitaine is buried there in 1204 next to her husband, Henry II, and her son, Richard the Lionheart—Eleanor’s descendants were notable builders of churches. | ||
Cathedral of Angers—Its nave vaulted with First-Period diagonals, about 1150—Anjou rulers a remarkable race—Fulk Nerra, the great builder, died 1040—Choir of Angers Cathedral extended after 1274—In the nave is XII-century glass of St. Denis derivation—Cathedral’s Apocalypse tapestries—Fortress of Angers, built by St. Louis, 1228 to 1238—Church of Toussaint had a ramified vault of the Third Period—St. Jean’s hospital hall, endowed by Henry II, a gem of Plantagenet art—Choir of St. Serge, 1220 to 1225, a masterpiece of lightness. Cathedral of Angers—Its nave is vaulted with First-Period diagonals, around 1150—The rulers of Anjou were a remarkable lineage—Fulk Nerra, the great builder, died in 1040—The choir of Angers Cathedral was extended after 1274—In the nave, there is 12th-century glass of St. Denis origin—The cathedral also features Apocalypse tapestries—The Fortress of Angers was built by St. Louis between 1228 and 1238—The Church of Toussaint had a complex vault from the Third Period—St. Jean’s hospital hall, funded by Henry II, is a gem of Plantagenet art—The choir of St. Serge, built between 1220 and 1225, is a masterpiece of lightness. | ||
Saumur—Another center for the study of Plantagenet Gothic—Historical fête called the Non-Pareille took place in its castle in 1241—St. Pierre’s church shows different kinds of Angevin vaults—Church of St. Martin at Candes, a Plantagenet masterpiece—St. Florent-les-Saumur shows one of the first eight-branch vaults—Puy-Notre-Dame and Asnières beautiful examples of Plantagenet art (note)—Plantagenet vaults at Le Mans, Vendôme, Chinon, and Tours. Saumur—Another hub for exploring Plantagenet Gothic—A historical festival known as the Non-Pareille was held in its castle in 1241—St. Pierre’s church features various types of Angevin vaults—The Church of St. Martin at Candes is a Plantagenet masterpiece—St. Florent-les-Saumur showcases one of the earliest eight-branch vaults—Puy-Notre-Dame and Asnières are great examples of Plantagenet art (note)—You can find Plantagenet vaults in Le Mans, Vendôme, Chinon, and Tours. | ||
Cathedral of Poitiers, begun by Henry Plantagenet and Aliénor of Aquitaine, 1160—In adopting the gracious Plantagenet vaulting it remained true to Poitou’s Romanesque traditions—XII-century Crucifixion window the most glorious in the world—Spirit of Poitiers’ bishops, St. Hilary and Fortunatus, inspired it—Church of Ste. Radégonde is Plantagenet vaulted—St. Hilaire’s abbatial has curious octagonal cupolas—St. Jean’s baptistry, the oldest building in France, dating from the IV century—Clement V at Poitiers in 1307 carried on the Templars’ process—Hall of the count’s palace rebuilt by Duke Jean de Berry—Jeanne d’Arc examined there in 1429, found to be sent of God. Cathedral of Poitiers, started by Henry Plantagenet and Aliénor of Aquitaine, 1160—By adopting the beautiful Plantagenet vaulting, it stayed true to Poitou’s Romanesque traditions—XII-century Crucifixion window is the most stunning in the world—Spirit of Poitiers’ bishops, St. Hilary and Fortunatus, inspired it—Church of Ste. Radégonde features Plantagenet vaulting—St. Hilaire’s abbey has unique octagonal cupolas—St. Jean’s baptistery, the oldest building in France, dates back to the IV century—Clement V was in Poitiers in 1307 overseeing the Templars’ trial—Hall of the count’s palace was rebuilt by Duke Jean de Berry—Jeanne d’Arc was examined there in 1429, found to be sent by God. | ||
| VIII. | GOTHIC IN THE MIDI | 329 |
Cathedral of Clermont-Ferrand, begun in 1248—Gothic of the north, translated with a Midi accent—True character of Auvergne shown in its Romanesque churches—Notre Dame-du-Port, the classic type of Auvergne’s Romanesque school—Abbey church of La Chaise Dieu, begun by Clement VI, 1344—Contains incomparable tapestries (note)—First Crusade proclaimed at Clermont by Urban II, 1095—Riom’s Sainte-Chapelle, of the XIV century—Madonna of the Bird a masterpiece of late-Gothic imagery—Romanesque Cathedral of Le Puy (XII century) one of the most venerable shrines in France. Cathedral of Clermont-Ferrand, started in 1248—Gothic style from the north, with a touch of the Midi—True essence of Auvergne displayed in its Romanesque churches—Notre Dame-du-Port, the classic example of Auvergne’s Romanesque style—Abbey church of La Chaise Dieu, initiated by Clement VI in 1344—Houses unmatched tapestries (note)—First Crusade announced at Clermont by Urban II in 1095—Riom’s Sainte-Chapelle from the 14th century—Madonna of the Bird, a masterpiece of late-Gothic art—Romanesque Cathedral of Le Puy (12th century), one of the oldest shrines in France. | ||
Cathedral of Bordeaux, like the city itself, is of the north and the south—Nave is composite and difficult to read—Clement V (d. 1314) built the Rayonnant Gothic choir—In the Romanesque church of Ste. Croix appeared the first diagonals of the region—Charlemagne laid Roland’s olifant on the altar of St. Seurin—St. Bertrand-de-Comminges Cathedral built by Clement V—Cathedral of Bayonne (note). Cathedral of Bordeaux, similar to the city itself, combines elements from both the north and the south—The nave is mixed and complex—Clement V (d. 1314) constructed the Rayonnant Gothic choir—The Romanesque church of Ste. Croix displayed the region's first diagonals—Charlemagne placed Roland’s olifant on the altar of St. Seurin—St. Bertrand-de-Comminges Cathedral was built by Clement V—Cathedral of Bayonne (note). | ||
Cathedral of Toulouse consists of two inharmonious parts—Unaisled nave with Angevin vaults building while Simon de Montfort besieged city—Gothic choir begun in 1275—Chief monument of Toulouse is the abbey church of St. Sernin (begun 1075)—Languedoc then excelled in sculpture: Moissac’s portal and cloister (note)—Toulouse a center for brick architecture—Its Jacobins’ church begun in 1229—St. Dominic’s mission in Languedoc—Albigensian Crusade. The Cathedral of Toulouse has two mismatched sections: the nave, which is without aisles and features Angevin vaults built while Simon de Montfort was besieging the city, and the Gothic choir that started construction in 1275. The main landmark of Toulouse is the abbey church of St. Sernin, which began in 1075. At that time, Languedoc was known for its exceptional sculpture, including the Moissac portal and cloister. Toulouse became a hub for brick architecture, with the construction of the Jacobins’ church starting in 1229, linked to St. Dominic’s mission in Languedoc and the Albigensian Crusade. | ||
Albi Cathedral, the incarnation of the Midi wars: meridional Gothic—Aggressive Bernard de Castanets began it in 1282—Flamboyant and Renaissance riches were added to St. Cecilia’s cathedral—Frescoes of its vault have never been surpassed (1509 to 1512)—Its choir screen equally noted—Auch Cathedral has famous XVI-century windows (note)—Cathedral of Rodez possesses a notable Flamboyant tower (1510 to 1526) (note)—Carcassonne Cité has been too much restored—Its ci-devant cathedral of St. Nazaire the best of XIV-century Gothic—Like a reliquary of colored glass—Carcassonne town has typical Midi Gothic churches. Albi Cathedral, a symbol of the Midi wars: southern Gothic—Bold Bernard de Castanets started it in 1282—Flamboyant and Renaissance details were added to St. Cecilia’s cathedral—Its ceiling frescoes have never been matched (1509 to 1512)—The choir screen is also well-known—Auch Cathedral has famous 16th-century windows (note)—The Cathedral of Rodez features a remarkable Flamboyant tower (1510 to 1526) (note)—Carcassonne Cité has been overly renovated—Its former cathedral of St. Nazaire is the best example of 14th-century Gothic—Like a treasure chest of colored glass—Carcassonne town has typical southern Gothic churches. | ||
Narbonne Cathedral, consisting of a vast Gothic choir, begun in 1272—Its mechanical skill cold, but still Gothic of the grand style—Lovely XIV-century glass—Sack of Béziers, 1209—Perpignan Cathedral and Elne’s cloister (note)—Abbey church of Fontfroide allied with Poblet in Catalonia (note). Narbonne Cathedral has a large Gothic choir that started being built in 1272. Its mechanical design is unfeeling, yet it remains a remarkable example of grand Gothic style. The beautiful stained glass dates back to the 14th century. There was the Sack of Béziers in 1209. There's also Perpignan Cathedral and the cloister in Elne (note). The abbey church of Fontfroide is connected with Poblet in Catalonia (note). | ||
Montpellier Cathedral, formerly an abbey church, built by Urban V, XIV century—Jaime el Conquistador, mighty builder of churches, born in Montpellier, 1208—Mende Cathedral and St. Victor’s abbatial at Marseilles built by Urban V (note)—Maguelonne, former cathedral of diocese, now the most aloof spot in Europe—Aigues-Mortes, begun by St. Louis, completed by his son—Fortress unspoiled by restorations—Both crusades of Louis IX sailed thence—St. Gilles’ abbey church, partly a ruin, interesting to archæologists; building from 1116—Noted portal of St. Gilles inspired Trinity Church, Boston—Loyalty of Provence to its Saintes-Maries traditions—Les Saintes-Maries church a pilgrim shrine (note)—St. Martha’s church at Tarascon (note). Montpellier Cathedral, which used to be an abbey church, was built by Urban V in the 14th century. Jaime the Conqueror, a great church builder, was born in Montpellier in 1208. Mende Cathedral and St. Victor’s Abbey in Marseille were also constructed by Urban V (note). Maguelonne, the former cathedral of the diocese, is now one of the most isolated places in Europe. Aigues-Mortes was started by St. Louis and finished by his son. It’s a fortress that hasn’t been messed with by restorations. Both of Louis IX's crusades set off from here. The abbey church of St. Gilles is partly in ruins, making it interesting for archaeologists; it dates back to 1116. The famous portal of St. Gilles inspired Trinity Church in Boston. Provence has remained loyal to its traditions around the Saintes-Maries. The church of Les Saintes-Maries serves as a pilgrimage site (note), as does St. Martha’s church in Tarascon (note). | ||
St. Trophime Cathedral at Arles—Portal influenced by Gallo-Roman sculpture—Its cloister the fairest Christian monument in the city—Ruins of Montmajour near Arles—Frédéric Mistral should be one’s companion in Provence—Expresses the regional soul—St. Maximin church the best Gothic monument in Provence—Begun by Charles II d’Anjou in 1295—Cathedral of St. Sauveur at Aix-en-Provence is composite—Its south aisle originally a separate Romanesque church, XII century—Good King René gave the triptych by a French primitif—Avignon’s great day was the XIV century under seven meridional popes, 1309 to 1377—Palace of the Popes built from 1335 to 1358—Grandest fortress-palace in the world. St. Trophime Cathedral in Arles—The portal is influenced by Gallo-Roman sculpture—Its cloister is the most beautiful Christian monument in the city—The ruins of Montmajour are near Arles—Frédéric Mistral should be your companion in Provence—He expresses the regional spirit—St. Maximin Church is the finest Gothic monument in Provence—It was started by Charles II d’Anjou in 1295—The Cathedral of St. Sauveur in Aix-en-Provence is a mix of styles—Its south aisle was originally a separate Romanesque church from the 12th century—Good King René donated the triptych by a French primitive artist—Avignon's greatest era was the 14th century under seven southern popes, from 1309 to 1377—The Palace of the Popes was built from 1335 to 1358—It's the grandest fortress-palace in the world. | ||
| IX. | THE GOTHIC ART OF BURGUNDY | 410 |
Burgundy excelled in monastic architecture—The cradle of three great cloistral centers—Luxeuil, Cluny, Cîteaux—Luxeuil, founded by St. Columbanus (610), reorganized the VII century—Cluny, Christendom’s supremest monastic congregation, founded 910—St. Hugues of Cluny (1049 to 1109) trained the leaders who remade Europe’s civilization—Peter the Venerable, abbot from 1120 to 1156, continued building Cluny’s vast church—Abélard died in a Cluny house, 1142—Revolution destroyed the glorious abbatial church—Paray-le-Monial, the favorite priory of Abbot Odilo (d. 1049) of Cluny, initiator of the Truce of God—Its Romanesque church has fluted pilasters (XII century)—Autun Cathedral’s Romanesque portal the ancestor of the sculptured doors of Gothic cathedrals—Abbey church at Saulieu (note)—Beaune’s collegiate of Notre Dame has lovely tapestries—Hôtel Dieu at Beaune (1444 to 1457), founded by Nicolas Rolin, contains Roger van der Weyden’s best work—Hospital hall at Tonnerre (founded 1293) the prototype for Beaune’s hospice—Fontenay, the oldest Romanesque Cistercian church extant—Dedicated by Eugene III in 1147—Avallon’s church of St. Lazare blessed by Paschal II in 1107—Has a well-known Romanesque entranceway. Burgundy was outstanding in monastic architecture—The birthplace of three major cloister centers—Luxeuil, Cluny, Cîteaux—Luxeuil, founded by St. Columbanus (610), reorganized in the 7th century—Cluny, the most prestigious monastic congregation in Christendom, was founded in 910—St. Hugues of Cluny (1049 to 1109) trained the leaders who reshaped Europe’s civilization—Peter the Venerable, abbot from 1120 to 1156, continued building Cluny’s massive church—Abélard died in a Cluny house, 1142—The Revolution destroyed the magnificent abbatial church—Paray-le-Monial, the favorite priory of Abbot Odilo (d. 1049) of Cluny, who initiated the Truce of God—Its Romanesque church features fluted pilasters (12th century)—Autun Cathedral’s Romanesque portal is the ancestor of the sculptured doors of Gothic cathedrals—Abbey church at Saulieu (note)—Beaune’s collegiate of Notre Dame has beautiful tapestries—Hôtel Dieu at Beaune (1444 to 1457), founded by Nicolas Rolin, contains Roger van der Weyden’s best work—The hospital hall at Tonnerre (founded 1293) is the prototype for Beaune’s hospice—Fontenay, the oldest surviving Romanesque Cistercian church—Dedicated by Eugene III in 1147—Avallon’s church of St. Lazare was blessed by Paschal II in 1107—It has a well-known Romanesque entranceway. | ||
Some Primary Gothic churches in Burgundy—Montréal’s collegiate can be visited from Avallon—Built by a returned crusader late in the XII century—Pontigny’s abbatial the oldest Gothic in Burgundy—Its nave (1160 to 1180), with bombé vaults, was begun as Romanesque—Its choir used structural features as decorations—Three archbishops of Canterbury, St. Thomas Becket, Stephen Langton, and St. Edmund Rich, found refuge at Pontigny—Vézelay’s abbatial of the Madeleine the stateliest church in Burgundy—Its Romanesque nave and Gothic choir belong both to the XII century—Its imaged portico (c. 1132) a supreme work of French sculpture—Second Crusade preached by St. Bernard at Vézelay, 1146—Philippe-Auguste and Richard Cœur-de-Lion rallied here for the Third Crusade, 1191. Some primary Gothic churches in Burgundy—Montréal’s collegiate can be visited from Avallon—Built by a returning crusader in the late 12th century—Pontigny’s abbey is the oldest Gothic structure in Burgundy—Its nave (1160 to 1180), with bombé vaults, was originally started as Romanesque—Its choir used structural features as decoration—Three archbishops of Canterbury, St. Thomas Becket, Stephen Langton, and St. Edmund Rich, found refuge at Pontigny—Vézelay’s abbey of the Madeleine is the grandest church in Burgundy—Its Romanesque nave and Gothic choir both date back to the 12th century—Its sculptured portico (c. 1132) is a masterpiece of French sculpture—The Second Crusade was preached by St. Bernard at Vézelay in 1146—Philippe-Auguste and Richard the Lionheart gathered here for the Third Crusade in 1191. | ||
Burgundy’s best Gothic monuments—Collegiate of Notre Dame at Semur a gem of the Burgundian school, begun about 1225—Its sculpture exceptional—Auxerre Cathedral begun in 1215, the model of Gothic churches in the province—Auxerre’s sculpture and its opaline glass rank with the first—Bishop Jacques Amyot (d. 1593) restored the cathedral after the Calvinists sacked it—Cathedral of Nevers has an apse at both west and east ends (note)—Dijon, the capital of Burgundy, led in art, under its four great dukes, 1364 to 1477—Flemish-Burgundian school began modern imagery—Dijon’s cathedral of St. Bénigne, formerly an abbatial, is mediocre late-XIII century—Crypt of St. Bénigne begun 1001—Oldest monument of the Romanesque renaissance—William of Volpiano, abbot of St. Bénigne, initiated the revival of architecture after the year 1000—Rebuilt Tournus abbey church (note)—Church of Notre Dame, Dijon, is a gem of Burgundian Gothic (1220-1240)—Its subtleties of construction have never been excelled. Burgundy’s finest Gothic monuments include the Collegiate of Notre Dame at Semur, a treasure of the Burgundian school that started around 1225. Its sculpture is exceptional. Auxerre Cathedral, which began in 1215, serves as the model for Gothic churches in the area. The sculpture at Auxerre and its opaline glass rank among the best. Bishop Jacques Amyot (d. 1593) restored the cathedral after it was sacked by the Calvinists. The Cathedral of Nevers features an apse at both the west and east ends (note). Dijon, the capital of Burgundy, was a leader in art under its four great dukes from 1364 to 1477. The Flemish-Burgundian school began a new wave of imagery. Dijon’s St. Bénigne Cathedral, which was formerly an abbey, is a mediocre example from the late 13th century. The Crypt of St. Bénigne, started in 1001, is the oldest monument from the Romanesque renaissance. William of Volpiano, the abbot of St. Bénigne, initiated the revival of architecture after the year 1000 and rebuilt the Tournus abbey church (note). The Church of Notre Dame in Dijon is a gem of Burgundian Gothic architecture from 1220 to 1240, and its construction subtleties have never been surpassed. | ||
St. Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux (d. 1153), born near Dijon, the greatest son of Burgundy—His reform laid the spiritual foundations of Gothic cathedrals—His puritanic taste in architecture made Cistercian churches bare and simple—Cistercian Order, founded 1099, instrumental in spreading Gothic over Europe—St. Stephen Harding, its practical founder, welcomed St. Bernard at Citeaux in 1113—Five hundred Cistercian monasteries founded in Europe before the middle of XIII century—Spirit of St. Bernard, greatest of Cistercians, lives in the Imitation of Christ. St. Bernard, the abbot of Clairvaux (d. 1153), was born near Dijon and is considered the greatest figure from Burgundy. His reforms established the spiritual foundations of Gothic cathedrals. His austere taste in architecture resulted in Cistercian churches that were plain and simple. The Cistercian Order, founded in 1099, played a crucial role in spreading Gothic style throughout Europe. St. Stephen Harding, its practical founder, welcomed St. Bernard to Citeaux in 1113. By the middle of the 13th century, five hundred Cistercian monasteries had been established across Europe. The spirit of St. Bernard, the most influential of the Cistercians, continues to live on in the Imitation of Christ. | ||
| X. | GOTHIC ART IN NORMANDY | 472 |
Monastic architecture best expression of Norman character—Normandy, like Burgundy, was a land of monasteries—Bernay’s abbey church an ancestress of Norman Romanesque (note)—Bec Abbey, the Cluny of Normandy—Lanfranc made the school of Bec world-noted—At Bec, St. Anselm began the philosophical movement of the Middle Ages—William of Volpiano pioneer in the rebirth of architecture in the duchy—Jumièges, the first Norman church of architectural pretension, begun 1040—Only vestiges remain of St. Wandrille abbey—Caen, the Mecca of Norman Romanesque and the queen city for towers—Three good towers at St. Pierre-sur-Dives—St. Georges de Boscherville the best type of Norman Romanesque—Fécamp’s Primary Gothic abbatial rose after the fire of 1169—Gothic abbatial at Eu built after the death of St. Laurence O’Toole, 1180—Mont-Saint-Michel the greatest of Norman abbeys—Its Merveille (Gothic halls), building from 1203 to 1228—Choir of Mont-Saint-Michel, the best work of Flamboyant Gothic, begun 1450. Monastic architecture showcases the Norman character at its best—Normandy, like Burgundy, was full of monasteries—Bernay’s abbey church is a precursor to Norman Romanesque (note)—Bec Abbey was the Cluny of Normandy—Lanfranc made the school of Bec renowned worldwide—At Bec, St. Anselm started the philosophical movement of the Middle Ages—William of Volpiano was a pioneer in reviving architecture in the duchy—Jumièges is the first Norman church with significant architectural ambition, started in 1040—Only remnants are left of St. Wandrille abbey—Caen is the center of Norman Romanesque and the main city for towers—There are three notable towers at St. Pierre-sur-Dives—St. Georges de Boscherville is the best example of Norman Romanesque—Fécamp’s early Gothic abbey rose after the fire of 1169—The Gothic abbey at Eu was built after the death of St. Laurence O’Toole in 1180—Mont-Saint-Michel is the most impressive of the Norman abbeys—Its Merveille (Gothic halls) was built from 1203 to 1228—The choir of Mont-Saint-Michel, the finest example of Flamboyant Gothic, began in 1450. | ||
Rouen Cathedral, not local in character—Its tower of St. Romain begun in 1145—Its transept façades and Lady chapel XIV-century Rayonnant work—Abbatial of St. Ouen a gem of Rayonnant Gothic—No city richer than Rouen in Flamboyant Gothic monuments—Trial of Jeanne d’Arc at Rouen in 1431 and her Rehabilitation in 1456. Rouen Cathedral, not typical of the area—Its St. Romain tower started in 1145—Its transept facades and Lady chapel are 14th-century Rayonnant work—The Abbey of St. Ouen is a gem of Rayonnant Gothic—No city has more Flamboyant Gothic monuments than Rouen—Trial of Joan of Arc in Rouen in 1431 and her rehabilitation in 1456. | ||
Lisieux Cathedral the earliest Gothic cathedral in Normandy—Begun after 1160 as Ile-de-France Gothic—Its Lady chapel built by Bishop Pierre Cauchon, Jeanne d’Arc’s venal judge. Lisieux Cathedral, the first Gothic cathedral in Normandy—Started after 1160 in the Ile-de-France Gothic style—Its Lady chapel was built by Bishop Pierre Cauchon, Jeanne d’Arc’s corrupt judge. | ||
Évreux Cathedral not homogeneous, but has much charm—Its choir (1298-1310) a gem of Rayonnant Gothic—XIV century’s best array of glass in its choir. Évreux Cathedral isn't uniform, but it has a lot of charm—Its choir (1298-1310) is a gem of Rayonnant Gothic—The best collection of glass from the 14th century is in its choir. | ||
Séez Cathedral modest in size—Norman in style—Its choir a forerunner of Rayonnant Gothic—Has XIV-century windows. Séez Cathedral is small but significant—built in Norman style—Its choir is an early example of Rayonnant Gothic—It features windows from the 14th century. | ||
Bayeux Cathedral the Gothic of the duchy at its best—Romanesque part of its nave remarkable—Bishop Odo, brother of the Conqueror, built the crypt, and of his time is the Bayeux Tapestry—Choir of Bayeux a masterpiece of Normandy’s elaborate Gothic. Bayeux Cathedral showcases the best of Gothic architecture in the duchy, with its remarkable Romanesque nave. Bishop Odo, the brother of the Conqueror, constructed the crypt, and it was during his time that the Bayeux Tapestry was created. The Choir of Bayeux is a masterpiece of Normandy’s intricate Gothic style. | ||
Coutances Cathedral loveliest in Normandy, begun after the fire of 1218—Its three towers notable—Aisles of choir are of different height. Coutances Cathedral, the most beautiful in Normandy, was started after the fire of 1218. Its three towers are remarkable, and the aisles of the choir have different heights. | ||
Gothic art of Brittany—Brittany more a land of shrines than cathedrals—Her religious soul best expressed by her Calvarys—XIII-century cathedral at Dol has fine eastern window—Cathedral at Nantes possesses the last great work of Gothic sculpture—Cathedral of Quimper very Breton in spirit—St. Pol-de-Léon Cathedral entirely complete—The Kreisker is Brittany’s grandest tower—St. Yves of Brittany helped build Tréguier Cathedral. Gothic art in Brittany—Brittany is more known for its shrines than its cathedrals—Its religious spirit is best shown through its Calvarys—The XIII-century cathedral in Dol features a beautiful eastern window—The cathedral in Nantes has the last major example of Gothic sculpture—The cathedral in Quimper has a very Breton character—St. Pol-de-Léon Cathedral is fully completed—The Kreisker is Brittany’s most impressive tower—St. Yves of Brittany contributed to the construction of Tréguier Cathedral. | ||
Summing up—Gothic art gave way before the pagan Renaissance and the contempt for legends roused by the Reformation. In the World War France again displayed the spirit that had built cathedrals. Unquenchable idealism of the French race. Summing up—Gothic art was replaced by the pagan Renaissance and the disdain for legends stirred up by the Reformation. During World War I, France once again showed the spirit that had built cathedrals. The unquenchable idealism of the French people. | ||
| INDEX: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, Y, Z | 583 | |
| BIBLIOGRAPHY: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W. | 605 | |
Illustrations
| [Click on the image to view an enlarged version. Images located within paragraphs have been moved slightly to ease reading. (note of etext transcriber.)] | ||
| Soissons Cathedral. The Southern Arm of the Transept (around 1180) | Frontispiece | |
| Poissy. An Early Example of Gothic Vaulting (circa 1135) | Facing p. | 54 |
| St. Denis-en-France and Its Royal Tombs | ” | 68 |
| Noyon’s Chapter House (1240-1250) | Page | 83 |
| Senlis Tower (c. 1230-1250) | Facing p. | 90 |
| The Interior of Laon Cathedral (12th Century). View from the Tribune Gallery | ” | 98 |
| The Oxen on Laon's Towers | ” | 106 |
| Notre Dame in Paris. View from the South | Page | 127 |
| Notre Dame of Mantes (1160-1200). The Contemporary of Paris Cathedral | Facing p. | 162 |
| The Cathedral of Meaux, Seen from the Aisle of the Nave | ” | 168 |
| The Cathedral of Chartres (1194-1240). The Southern View | Page | 178 |
| The Angel Apse of Rheims (around 1220) | ” | 196 |
| The Transept of Amiens Cathedral (1220-1280) | Facing p. | 204 |
| The Apse of Bourges (1200-1225) | ” | 214 |
| St. Urbain in Troyes (1264-1276) | ” | 236 |
| Le Mans Choir (1217-1254). The Double Aisles | ” | 270 |
| Angoulême Cathedral. A 12th-century dome church in Aquitaine featuring a typical façade from Poitou's Romanesque style. | ” | 290 |
| The Plantagenet Tombs at Fontevrault | ” | 298 |
| The Plantagenet Gothic Choir of St. Serge in Angers (1220-1225) | ” | 312 |
| Notre Dame du Port in Clermont-Ferrand. A typical 12th-century church of the Auvergne Romanesque School. | ” | 338 |
| Le Puy in Historic Auvergne | ” | 344 |
| The Jacobins' or Dominicans' Church in Toulouse (13th Century) | ” | 358 |
| Albi Cathedral (1282-1399). A Midi Fortress Church. | ” | 370 |
| The Medieval Cloister of Arles | ” | 398 |
| The 11th-century Cluny Sanctuary as It Was Before the Revolution | Facing p. | 414 |
| Vézelay’s 12th-century Abbey Church of the Madeleine | ” | 436 |
| Notre Dame in Dijon (1220-1245). Burgundian Gothic | ” | 452 |
| The Crypt of the Abbaye-aux-Dames in Caen (1059-1066) | ” | 484 |
| Belfry of St. Pierre in Caen (1308-1317). Model for the Gothic Towers of Normandy and Brittany. | ” | 490 |
| The Hall of the Knights at Mont-Saint-Michel (1203-1228). Second Floor of the Merveille | ” | 500 |
| The Choir of Bayeaux Cathedral (1210-1260). Characteristic of Normandy's intricate Gothic style. | ” | 546 |
How France Built Her Cathedrals
How France Built Its Cathedrals
How France Built Her Cathedrals
INTRODUCTION
E may live without architecture, and worship without her, but we
cannot remember without her. How cold is all history, how lifeless all
imagery, compared to that which the living nation writes and the
uncorrupted marble bears. There are but two strong conquerors of the
forgetfulness of men, Poetry and Architecture, and the latter in some
sort includes the former, and is mightier in its reality; it is well to
have, not only what men have thought and felt, but what their hands have
handled and their strength wrought and their eyes beheld, all the days
of their life.”[1]
E might be able to live without architecture and worship without it, but we can't remember without it. History feels so cold and imagery seems so lifeless compared to what the living nation creates and what untainted marble holds. There are only two powerful forces against human forgetfulness: Poetry and Architecture, and the latter in some ways includes the former and is stronger in its essence; it’s important to have not just what people have thought and felt, but also what their hands have shaped, their strength has built, and their eyes have seen throughout their lives.”[1]
So wrote John Ruskin in one of his flashes of genius, and never was word truer. Architecture is the living voice of the past. Architecture is history. By architecture the forefathers from whom we come relate to us their progress in knowledge, their prowess in handicrafts, their economic conditions, their sorrows, their rejoicings, their aspirations. They wrote it down, those men and women whose blood is our blood, on great stone pages of perennial beauty for us to read—if only we would. By architecture we are linked in a grand solidarity with all that has gone before, with the proud periods of history that thrill us as we read, and with the tragic outbreaks of the oppressed that sadden our spirit.
So wrote John Ruskin in one of his moments of brilliance, and no words could be truer. Architecture is the living voice of the past. Architecture is history. Through architecture, our ancestors share with us their advancements in knowledge, their skills in craftsmanship, their economic situations, their joys, their sorrows, and their hopes. They documented it, those men and women whose blood runs in our veins, on great stone pages of timeless beauty for us to read—if only we would. Through architecture, we are connected in a grand solidarity with everything that has come before, with the proud eras of history that excite us as we read, and with the tragic struggles of the oppressed that weigh on our hearts.
Whenever men have set themselves to forget this solidarity, their first act has been to fling themselves in frenzy on cathedral and city hall. In 1914 they forgot it, and mighty Rheims fell. They forgot that Bamburg had learned its imagery from Rheims, that German Norbert, revered of St. Bernard, had helped France in the days when Gothic art was in formation, that he died bishop of Magdeburg, and Magdeburg is a Primary Gothic cathedral in the land which frankly called the new architecture opus francigenum. Would the civic halls of Noyon, Arras, St. Quentin, and Ypres lie in ruins if Frankfort and Lübeck had remembered?
Whenever men have tried to ignore this solidarity, their first action has been to recklessly attack cathedrals and town halls. In 1914 they forgot it, and the grand city of Rheims fell. They forgot that Bamburg had drawn its inspiration from Rheims, that the German Norbert, who was respected by St. Bernard, had aided France when Gothic art was being developed, that he died as the bishop of Magdeburg, and Magdeburg is a key Gothic cathedral in the nation that openly referred to the new architecture as opus francigenum. Would the town halls of Noyon, Arras, St. Quentin, and Ypres be in ruins if Frankfort and Lübeck had remembered?
In 1793, man again thought to set up a barrier between himself and his past, and he shattered the art treasures of a thousand years and tore down the cathedrals of Cambrai, Arras, and Avranches; he tore down Cluny, the greatest Romanesque church in the world, Cluny the civilizer, that had removed from agriculture its stigma as serfs’ work. Man fancied that to shatter and demolish was to build.
In 1793, people once again tried to create a divide between themselves and their history. They destroyed art treasures that had been around for a thousand years and dismantled the cathedrals of Cambrai, Arras, and Avranches. They brought down Cluny, the largest Romanesque church in the world, Cluny the civilizer, which had lifted the stigma of agriculture as merely the work of serfs. People believed that breaking things down and demolishing was the same as building something new.
Again in 1562, a date most tragic in the annals of Gothic architecture, men tried again to rear a wall of hate between themselves and the generations gone before, and the cathedral of Orléans met the fate of Cluny and Cambrai, and from end to end of France images were decapitated, and ancestors’ tombs wrecked impiously—even the tombs of spiritual ancestors who with painful journeyings afoot had brought the gospel light. Whether you go to chapel or to temple to-day, to meetinghouse or to cathedral, whether you worship under the open sky, be you a reader of Marx or of Aquinas, you were robbed most piteously of your patrimony in 1562, in 1793, in 1914.
Again in 1562, a date marked by tragedy in the history of Gothic architecture, people tried once more to build a wall of hatred between themselves and the generations that came before. The cathedral of Orléans suffered the same fate as Cluny and Cambrai, and throughout France, statues were beheaded, and ancestors’ tombs were disrespectfully destroyed—even the tombs of spiritual ancestors who had traversed great distances to bring the light of the gospel. Whether you go to a chapel or a temple today, to a meetinghouse or a cathedral, whether you worship under the open sky, whether you read Marx or Aquinas, you were grievously robbed of your heritage in 1562, in 1793, and in 1914.
How is it to be prevented again? By trying to make the monuments of the past loved, by relating the tale of their building, by telling the life story of the builders. If we know them we must surely revere them, and when we have learned to know and to love, we have learned to be liberal. Archæology is to teach us to remember. Those who have gone before have passed on to us cathedral and town hall; it is our obligation to transmit them intact to those who come after. They are not ours to destroy. Art is the high-water mark reached by civilization; art does not speak in English, or in German, or in the Latin tongue, but in a language understood of all peoples and all times. To destroy a great monument of the past is to betray civilization. It was proved in 1914 that erudition is not safeguard enough, nor is enthusiasm, sighs 1793, nor purpose to reform, admits 1562. We must comprehend intelligently our own personal solidarity with the past. We must never look at a noble building without proudly realizing that we had a hand in its making. Battles then can rage around cathedrals without danger of their destruction. As in golden amber, the past will preserve them, the past which is yours and mine and everyone’s heritage.
How can we prevent this from happening again? By encouraging people to love the monuments of the past, by sharing the story of how they were built, and by telling the life stories of the builders. If we know them, we will surely respect them, and when we learn to know and to love, we become more open-minded. Archaeology is to teach us to remember. Those who came before us have given us cathedrals and town halls; it’s our duty to pass them on in their original form to future generations. They are not ours to destroy. Art represents the pinnacle of civilization; art doesn't communicate in English, or German, or Latin, but in a language understood by all people and all times. To destroy a great monument from the past is to betray civilization. The events of 1914 showed that knowledge alone isn't enough to protect us, nor is enthusiasm, nor the aim to reform. We need to fully understand our personal connection with the past. We should never look at a grand building without taking pride in the fact that we played a role in its creation. As a result, battles can rage around cathedrals without risking their destruction. Just like golden amber, the past will preserve them— the past that belongs to you, me, and everyone’s heritage.
It is a right instinct which makes a man treasure the home he has had transmitted to him through several generations. How much more—when loyalty is roused by an XVIII-century or a XVII-century habitation—should emotion be felt for what was reared from 1140 to 1270 by the very generations who began for us of to-day most of the big things we value: our universities, our literature, our political freedom, our prosperous trade.
It’s a natural instinct for someone to value the home passed down through generations. How much more should we feel a sense of emotion for a residence that has stood since the 12th to 13th century, built by the very generations that laid the foundation for many of the great things we cherish today: our universities, our literature, our political freedom, our thriving trade.
Now in the making of these infinitely precious things, France played the leading role. Put partisan feeling aside and acknowledge it honestly. “I believe,” said Ruskin, in a lecture at Edinburgh, in 1853, even before the new science of mediæval archæology was formulated, “that the French nation in the XII and XIII centuries was the greatest nation in the world, and that the French not only invented Gothic architecture, but carried it to its noblest developments.”
Now, in creating these incredibly valuable things, France took the lead. Put aside any bias and recognize it honestly. "I believe," said Ruskin in a lecture in Edinburgh in 1853, even before the new science of medieval archaeology was established, "that the French nation in the 12th and 13th centuries was the greatest nation in the world, and that the French not only invented Gothic architecture but also took it to its highest achievements."
French Gothic churches are a fountainhead, and should rank first. Because of them we have Westminster, Ely, and Lincoln, we had Tintern, Melrose, Mellifont, Holycross. They built the Burgos, Toledo, León, Seville, and Belem, which have given wings to the soul of the Peninsula. Because of the French cathedrals we have Cologne, Magdeburg, and Halberstadt, Vienna, Prague, Upsala, Siena, Florence, and Milan.
French Gothic churches are a source of inspiration and should be regarded as the most important. Because of them, we have Westminster, Ely, and Lincoln; we had Tintern, Melrose, Mellifont, and Holycross. They also influenced the construction of the cathedrals in Burgos, Toledo, León, Seville, and Belem, which have uplifted the spirit of the Peninsula. Thanks to the French cathedrals, we have Cologne, Magdeburg, and Halberstadt, along with Vienna, Prague, Upsala, Siena, Florence, and Milan.
By her lyrics, her epics, and her architecture, France was the inspiration of Europe in the XII and XIII centuries. With his sword, the crusader carried compass and rule. Those indefatigable wanderers, Cluny, Cîteaux, and the men of Prémontré and Chartreuse carried with them the chisel and the Book. Then as now the commercial traveler was a valiant propagandist; in 1181 a cloth merchant of Assisi, returned from trading in France, where he had seen the cathedral of Lyons rising, or perhaps that of Paris, or that of Poitiers, and he had passed under wonderful new-imaged portals in the Midi and in Burgundy; so, in memory of beautiful things, he chose to call the son born to him, Francis, and the boy grew up to love and to chant the lyrics of France and named himself “God’s little troubadour.”
Through her songs, her epics, and her architecture, France inspired Europe in the 12th and 13th centuries. The crusader, armed with his sword, also carried a compass and a ruler. Those tireless travelers, Cluny, Cîteaux, and the followers of Prémontré and Chartreuse brought along the chisel and the Book. Just like today, the traveling merchant was a determined promoter; in 1181, a cloth merchant from Assisi returned from trading in France, where he had seen the cathedral of Lyons being built, or maybe the one in Paris, or Poitiers, and he had walked through magnificent new portals in the Midi and Burgundy. In memory of all those beautiful sights, he named his newborn son Francis, and the boy grew up to love and sing the songs of France, calling himself “God’s little troubadour.”
Backward and forward has moved the ebb and flow of races and their arts. When Celts from conquered Britain passed over to Armorica they carried with them the Arthurian cycle; Teutonic tribes, strong in bone and tissue, poured into Gaul a very avalanche; masterful Norsemen populated the seacoasts; and before the recording of time the Oriental and the Latin had made their home in the land between the northern seas and the big inland water of commerce. Does such history seem too remote to be of emotional value? Are personalities lacking? Not so in the missionary days of Columbanus and Benedict, first hewers of the cathedrals’ foundation blocks, for never came a great movement of building activity that did not tread in the steps of spiritual regeneration. Your forefathers and my forefathers came into France to help her, to bring her art and letters in her dark hour. They came to teach and they came to learn, to succor and to find refuge. They came in the persons of Celtic Columbanus, Brieuc, Malo, Fiacre, Malachy, and holy Laurence buried at Eu, as English Alcuin, Stephen Harding, John of Salisbury, and Saint Edmund Rich buried at Pontigny. They came as German Radegund and the saintly Bruno and Norbert, as Italian Benedict, Fortunatus, Hildebrand, William of Volpiano, Lanfranc, Anselm, Aquinas, and Bonaventure, as Spanish Dominic, and Portuguese Anthony. They came from Egypt with Maurice and his Thebans, from the Levant with Irenæus and Giles, from Hungary with Martin the soldier. And the story of each one of them is recorded in the churches that stand in France to-day. Without architecture we would have forgotten them.
Backward and forward has moved the ebb and flow of races and their arts. When Celts from conquered Britain moved to Armorica, they brought the Arthurian legends with them; Teutonic tribes, strong in body, flooded into Gaul like an avalanche; masterful Norsemen settled along the coasts; and long before time was recorded, both Orientals and Latins made their homes in the land between the northern seas and the large inland trade waters. Does such history seem too distant to hold emotional significance? Are there no noteworthy figures? Not at all during the missionary times of Columbanus and Benedict, the first builders of the cathedrals’ foundations, for no major building movement occurred without also fostering spiritual renewal. Your ancestors and my ancestors came to France to help, to bring her art and knowledge in her darkest moments. They came to teach and to learn, to assist and to seek refuge. They arrived through figures like Celtic Columbanus, Brieuc, Malo, Fiacre, Malachy, and holy Laurence, buried in Eu, as well as English Alcuin, Stephen Harding, John of Salisbury, and Saint Edmund Rich, buried in Pontigny. They came as German Radegund and the saintly Bruno and Norbert, as Italian Benedict, Fortunatus, Hildebrand, William of Volpiano, Lanfranc, Anselm, Aquinas, and Bonaventure, as Spanish Dominic, and Portuguese Anthony. They arrived from Egypt with Maurice and his Thebans, from the Levant with Irenæus and Giles, from Hungary with Martin the soldier. The story of each one of them is preserved in the churches that stand in France today. Without architecture, we would have forgotten them.
With the ebbing and flowing of the tide in the affairs of men, a day arrived when the big people and the little people of Normandy, Poitou, Anjou, and Flanders passed in large numbers into Great Britain and Ireland in the wake of the Conqueror and of Henry Plantagenet, so that the very names we bear are those of the cathedral builders.
With the rise and fall of tides in human affairs, a day came when the people, both high and low, from Normandy, Poitou, Anjou, and Flanders moved in large numbers to Great Britain and Ireland, following the Conqueror and Henry Plantagenet, so that the names we carry today come from those who built cathedrals.
Who has not watched the widening ripples of water spread from a center? Even so is each one of us a center whence in ever-widening circles stretch out our progenitors, embracing more and more men, more and more women, rippling over the pitiful barricades of 1793, sweeping over the factions of 1562, till by the time the widening ripple has reached the age of St. Louis, the age of Suger, it is scientifically impossible that we, in our very own forefathers, were not building some of the eighty cathedrals and three hundred great minsters with which France was then clothing herself as with a white mantle of churches. We were chatelaine, and burgher’s wife, we were villein’s daughter and knight’s son, and side by side we harnessed ourselves to carts and dragged in the blocks for the tower at Chartres and the belfry at Rouen, and the canticles we sang during our voluntary servitude passed into the stones and are still chanting there—if only we would listen. No visionary notion this, but science and history. By architecture we remember.
Who hasn’t seen the ripples of water spreading out from a center? In the same way, each of us is a center from which our ancestors stretch out in ever-widening circles, connecting with more and more men and women, flowing over the sad barricades of 1793, sweeping past the factions of 1562. By the time the ripples reach the age of St. Louis, the age of Suger, it’s scientifically impossible that we weren’t involved in building some of the eighty cathedrals and three hundred great minsters that France was then adorning like a white mantle of churches. We were the lady of the castle and the burgher’s wife, the villein’s daughter and the knight’s son, and together we harnessed ourselves to carts to haul in the stones for the tower at Chartres and the belfry at Rouen. The songs we sang during our working days became part of the very stones and are still echoing there—if only we would listen. This is no fanciful idea, but rather science and history. Through architecture, we remember.
Of our kin was the bishop who sacrificed his revenue to rear God’s house. Of our kin were the architects, masters of the living stone, who with inspiration conceived their shrines of Notre Dame and were trained soundly enough in mason craft to achieve their dreams; of our kin were the artisans who put up the serene images at cathedral doors for the edification of the people, and chiseled with warm, loving touches the running bramble of the roadside. Even botany is to be learned in mediæval cathedrals. Not a leaf that grows in Champagne to-day but was carved on the walls of Rheims seven hundred years ago. Against the big capitals of Paris Cathedral they laid the broad plantain leaf of the marshy Oise, then, seeing around them that indigenous acanthus, the uncurling fern, they carved it, too, and as they grew adept with chisel they wrought ivy and vine leaf, parsley and holly, and in time, intoxicated with their skill, they undercut the rich foliage and serrated the lobes and curled the leaf edges, till summer ran riot in stone and the architectural line was well-nigh lost sight of in sheer joy of nature’s glad livery.
Of our family was the bishop who gave up his income to build God’s house. Of our family were the architects, masters of stone, who, inspired, designed the shrines of Notre Dame and were well-trained in masonry to realize their visions; of our family were the artisans who created the peaceful images at the cathedral doors for the benefit of the people, and carved with warm, loving touches the wild brambles of the roadside. Even botany can be learned in medieval cathedrals. Not a leaf that grows in Champagne today wasn't carved on the walls of Rheims seven hundred years ago. Against the grand capitals of Paris Cathedral, they placed the broad plantain leaf from the marshy Oise, and then, seeing the local acanthus and the unfurling fern around them, they carved those as well. As they became more skilled with their chisels, they sculpted ivy and vine leaves, parsley and holly, and eventually, filled with excitement at their abilities, they undercut the lush foliage and detailed the lobes and curled the leaf edges until summer erupted in stone and the architectural lines were nearly forgotten in the pure joy of nature’s vibrant design.
The cathedrals of France are an enduring appeal to man’s high faculty of imagination. In them we go crusading again. We scale the walls of Constantinople with doughty Bishop Nivelon, builder of Soissons Cathedral, we are ransomed from Saracen captivity with Bishop Albéric, builder of Rheims. We repent of our black feudal deeds with Fulk Nerra, and when we have finished our footsore penances in Holy Land, we punish ourselves in our purses, raising costly abbeys in Anjou and Touraine. On our Eastern pilgrimage we have seen visions of Oriental color, and, remembering them, we lighten our sober churches of the north with translucent mosaic tapestries. We dot our Western land with circular Holy Sepulcher temples. It is said that Suger, builder of the first great Gothic church in the world, maker of jeweled windows over which science sighs in despair of emulation, used eagerly to inquire of travelers returned from the East had they seen aught, even in St. Sophia itself, to surpass his St. Denis’. We are rightly sure that our new art surpasses all others. We may borrow, but our borrowings are creations.
The cathedrals of France are a lasting inspiration for human imagination. They take us back to the days of the Crusades. We climb the walls of Constantinople alongside the brave Bishop Nivelon, the builder of Soissons Cathedral, and we are freed from Saracen captivity with Bishop Albéric, the builder of Rheims. We feel remorse for our dark feudal actions with Fulk Nerra, and once we've completed our weary penances in the Holy Land, we punish ourselves financially by constructing expensive abbeys in Anjou and Touraine. During our Eastern pilgrimage, we’ve witnessed visions of vibrant colors, and remembering those, we brighten our somber northern churches with luminous mosaic tapestries. We scatter our Western land with circular Holy Sepulcher buildings. It’s said that Suger, the builder of the first great Gothic church in the world and creator of jeweled windows that leave science longing for imitation, eagerly asked travelers returning from the East if they had seen anything, even in St. Sophia, that could top his St. Denis. We are confident that our new art exceeds all others. We may borrow ideas, but our adaptations become masterpieces.
By architecture in happy promiscuity we crowd to the international fairs of Champagne. We elbow and we jostle to see what our diligent brothers, the art-loving Flemish burghers, have brought for exchange, or what things beautiful the merchants from south of the Alps have to barter. To-day, at Troyes, we are astounded by the gathering of art treasures in that lesser-known city, and we wonder at the mighty rampart walls at Provins. Then we remember. It is architecture that will not let us forget what efficient traders we were in the XIII century.
By architecture in joyful variety, we crowd into the international fairs of Champagne. We push and shove to see what our hardworking fellow art-loving Flemish citizens have brought to trade, or what beautiful items the merchants from south of the Alps have to offer. Today, in Troyes, we are amazed by the collection of art treasures in that lesser-known city, and we marvel at the impressive rampart walls in Provins. Then we remember. It's the architecture that keeps reminding us of how effective traders we were in the 13th century.
By architecture we are Benedictines at Cluny, white monks at Fontenay, of Prémontré at Braine. Again we pace in meditative cloisters, we tuck up our robes to delve in mother earth to make the desert bloom, we illumine parchment pages, we teach the plain-chant to children, we cast bells, each with its own entity, each a living voice for the people, named with its own name.
By architecture, we are Benedictines at Cluny, white monks at Fontenay, and from Prémontré at Braine. Once more, we walk in reflective cloisters, we lift our robes to work in the earth and make the desert flourish, we illuminate parchment pages, we teach plainchant to children, we cast bells, each with its unique character, each a living voice for the people, all given their own names.
By architecture we are one of the thousands athirst for knowledge, who gather at the feet of abstruse debaters in the schools of Bec, Auxerre, Rheims, Orléans, Laon, Chartres and Paris, king’s son seated on the rush-strewn pavements next to peasant’s son, both equally convinced that the most thrilling of all sciences are philosophy and theology. Books are scarce; as yet no printing press; we must wander far to gather crumbs of learning; our strong young brains are intact, prepared for service by long ages of active bone and muscle; with avidity we seize on problems so knotty that the learned ones of 1920 fear to touch them. “The time of big theories is the time of big results.” It is we, in the person of the Scholastics who built Paris Cathedral, and Laon, the intellectual,—churches disciplined, sober and strong. It is we the multitudinous scholars of the Middle Ages who built Chartres, the wise mystic, and opalescent Auxerre, and Châlons on the Marne of Victory. And lest the hungry generations tread us down, we inscribed our loved subtleties on their walls, and at their portals placed images of the Liberal Arts.
By architecture, we are among the countless seekers of knowledge who gather at the feet of complex debaters in the schools of Bec, Auxerre, Rheims, Orléans, Laon, Chartres, and Paris, a king’s son sitting on the rush-covered floors next to a peasant’s son, both equally convinced that the most exciting sciences are philosophy and theology. Books are hard to find; there isn't a printing press yet; we have to travel far to gather bits of knowledge; our strong young minds are ready for action, shaped by long ages of physical toil; we eagerly tackle problems so complicated that scholars in 1920 hesitate to approach them. “The time of big theories is the time of big results.” It is we, through the Scholastics, who built the Cathedral of Paris and Laon, the bastions of intellect—churches that are disciplined, sober, and strong. It is we, the countless scholars of the Middle Ages, who constructed Chartres, the wise mystic, as well as the shimmering Auxerre and Châlons on the Marne of Victory. And to ensure that future generations remember us, we etched our cherished ideas on their walls and placed images of the Liberal Arts at their entrances.
By architecture we join one side or the other in the eternal struggle of Might and Right. Sometimes in atonement we spend the revenues secured by heedless Might on minster or cathedral. By pain and struggle we have won our city charter, and we are proud to record in God’s sight and man’s what thrifty burgesses we are, what trained journeymen. To work is to pray, say the cathedral windows set up by furriers, butchers, vintagers, and farm laborers. To work is as fine a thing as to fight at Roncevaux and Mansurah, as did our next-door donor neighbor here. The little people of the Lord are as grateful in his sight as the noble prud’hommes. Le bon Dieu likes to be shown how a tailor cuts his cloth and a baker bakes his bread just as well as to be entertained with pilgrimage adventures or the story of a canonized saint. Are we not saints in the making if only we can get the better of that prowling felon, the devil, whom we have set up over our church door with pitchfork and caldron as a warning to the unwary?
Through architecture, we take sides in the ongoing battle between power and justice. Sometimes, to make amends, we spend the profits gained from reckless power on a church or cathedral. After much pain and struggle, we’ve achieved our city charter, and we’re proud to show, in the eyes of God and humanity, what resourceful citizens we are, what skilled workers we’ve become. “To work is to pray,” say the stained glass windows created by furriers, butchers, winemakers, and farmhands. Working is as noble as fighting at Roncevaux and Mansurah, like our neighbor who was a donor here. The common people hold equal gratitude in God’s eyes as the esteemed leaders. God enjoys seeing how a tailor cuts fabric and a baker kneads dough just as much as he enjoys tales of pilgrimage or stories about saints. Are we not on the path to sainthood if we can just overcome that lurking thief, the devil, whom we’ve placed over our church door with a pitchfork and cauldron as a warning to those who aren't careful?
“O men and women of to-day”—appeal the windows at Chartres and Bourges and Tours—“you whose blood is our blood, who without our struggle would have no ordered government, no self-ruling cities, no trade to bind land with land in the sanity of peace, no arts and crafts, why not learn to read our story? There are those unable to decipher a line of our illumined pages who will assure you that we were sunk in gross superstition, that our sole religion was the worship of bits of cloth and bone. Yes, even from the halls founded by good Robert de Sorbon (in order that youth with its lean purse might get a free education) the erudites marshal against us every human frailty of our hardy, enterprising times. And yet, in unparalleled marvels of stone and glass we have recorded the deepest sentiments of mankind. But having eyes, they see not. Come then, you, and interpret us. Come, and through us, remember.”
“O men and women of today”—appeal the windows at Chartres, Bourges, and Tours—“you whose blood is our blood, who without our struggle would have no organized government, no self-governing cities, no trade connecting lands in the peace of sanity, no arts and crafts, why not learn to read our story? There are those who can’t read a single line of our illuminated pages who will tell you that we were lost in ignorance, that our only religion was the worship of scraps of cloth and bone. Yes, even from the halls established by the good Robert de Sorbon (so that young people with limited funds could get a free education), scholars pile up every human flaw of our tough, enterprising times against us. And yet, in unmatched wonders of stone and glass, we have captured the deepest feelings of humanity. But having eyes, they do not see. So come, you, and interpret us. Come, and through us, remember.”
Each great cathedral is pleading to us by the alluring half-smile of its angels, by the dignified images of reverent personages at its entrances, by each gargoyle, each faithful guardian that has craned his neck for ages to keep rain water from the precious walls. Cease to be so superior to the legends and dreams we set forth, they seem to be saying. We know just as well as you that the apostle St. Thomas did not have all the adventures raising fairy palaces in India which we put to his credit in our windows and tympanums, even though good Bishop James of Voragine, in his cycle of church feasts, our iconographic chart—Legenda Aurea—relates it. The holy Jerome, close to the desert and the origin of things, real and apocryphal, warned us not to be too credulous. But symbols and legends are the breath of art, as art alone realizes through expression, the supersensual visions of mankind. Are there not millions of good Christian folk in India to-day? Her first evangelist builded better than ever we can relate by our imagery.
Each great cathedral appeals to us with the enchanting half-smile of its angels, the dignified images of respectful figures at its entrances, and each gargoyle, each loyal guardian that has tilted its head for centuries to keep rain away from the treasured walls. “Stop looking down on the legends and dreams we offer,” they seem to say. “We know just as well as you that the apostle St. Thomas didn’t have all the adventures building fairy palaces in India that we credit to him in our windows and tympanums, even if good Bishop James of Voragine, in his cycle of church feasts, our iconographic guide—Legenda Aurea—tells it that way. The holy Jerome, near the desert and the origins of both real and apocryphal stories, cautioned us not to be too gullible. But symbols and legends are the life force of art, as only art can express humanity’s transcendent visions. Are there not millions of good Christian people in India today? Their first evangelist achieved more than we can ever convey through our imagery.
We are not at all dull, plead the waiting cathedrals. Encyclopædias they call us. Yes, we had our little weakness for symmetry, for the mystic beauty of numbers, for gathering into “Mirrors” all the knowledge of the world. But how admirable is our Mirror of Morals, with virtues and vices contrasted; how interesting our Mirrors of Nature and of History that tell the story from Genesis to Revelations, and that set the marvels of the skies and man’s dumb fellow creatures, the beasts, side by side on the walls of the house of worship, with David and Isaias, St. Peter and St. Paul, Charlemagne and Louis. And our Mirror of Knowledge—how profound it is: not as enemies but as allies would it show forth science and religion. We are no more dull than the Bible is dull, than the Divina Commedia is dull. We satisfy the subtlest intellects; alike the lettered and the unlettered enjoy us.
We’re not boring at all, argue the waiting cathedrals. They call us encyclopedias. Sure, we had a bit of a thing for symmetry, for the mystical beauty of numbers, for collecting all the world’s knowledge into “Mirrors.” But just look at our Mirror of Morals, with its contrasting virtues and vices; how fascinating our Mirrors of Nature and History are, telling the story from Genesis to Revelations, showcasing the wonders of the skies and man's silent companions, the animals, side by side with David and Isaiah, St. Peter and St. Paul, Charlemagne and Louis. And our Mirror of Knowledge—how deep it is: it presents science and religion not as enemies but as partners. We’re no more dull than the Bible is dull, or the Divina Commedia is dull. We satisfy the most perceptive minds; both the educated and the uneducated appreciate us.
Each French cathedral and each minster makes its own special plea. Lyons reminds us, in windows of apocalyptic radiance, that her first bishops came from John the Apostle, that Christian blood flowed in her forum as generously as in Rome’s Coliseum. Of the very stones of the Amphitheater, hallowed by her martyrs, is her cathedral built, and the architectural methods of the north and the south are welded here in the ancient central city of Gaul whence rayed out the linking highroads of Rome.
Each French cathedral and minster has its own unique story to tell. Lyons, with its stunningly bright windows, reminds us that its first bishops were disciples of John the Apostle and that Christian blood was shed in its public square just as generously as in Rome's Coliseum. The cathedral is built from the very stones of the Amphitheater, sanctified by the martyrdom of its saints, and here, in the historic heart of Gaul, the architectural styles from the north and south merge, connecting to the main roads of ancient Rome.
At Tours, the charity of Martin to a beggar is recorded many a time, for it civilized middle Europe. Slow, steady, and deep were the accumulations of culture by the Loire of measured horizons and classic restraint. A tower named of Charlemagne recalls that Saxon Alcuin filled the schoolrooms of St. Martin’s Abbey. A chiseled tomb reminds us that here worked the last sculptor of the Middle Ages (loyal to its humble and profound Christian traditions), as well as the first artists of the imported pagan Renaissance.
At Tours, Martin’s kindness to a beggar is often mentioned, as it brought civility to central Europe. The gradual, steady, and deep growth of culture along the Loire reflected measured perspectives and classic restraint. A tower named after Charlemagne reminds us that the Saxon Alcuin taught in the classrooms of St. Martin’s Abbey. A carved tomb serves as a reminder that here worked the last sculptor of the Middle Ages (true to its humble and deep Christian roots), along with the first artists of the imported pagan Renaissance.
At Le Mans and Angers, at Fontevrault, with its tomb of Henry Plantagenet, who gave us our jury system, speak those fighting progressives, the Angevin rulers; and all their love of the arts and of adventure endures in the exotically beautiful development which we call Plantagenet Gothic. An unlettered king is an uncrowned ass, said a X-century count of Anjou.
At Le Mans and Angers, at Fontevrault, with its tomb of Henry Plantagenet, who introduced our jury system, the progressive Angevin rulers speak; their passion for the arts and adventure lives on in the uniquely beautiful style we call Plantagenet Gothic. A king without education is an uncrowned fool, said a 10th-century count of Anjou.
At Poitiers, city of St. Hilaire who fought the Arians, is the most glorious window in the world—Christ triumphant on the Cross, and again we walk in procession to the strain of Bishop Fortunatus’ hymn, and we read the Church Fathers in Greek and Hebrew in Queen Radegund’s cloister. Aquitaine’s line of troubadour dukes, passionate sinners, and prodigious repenters lives in every church in the old hill city, from the cathedral wherein Aliénor blended the indigenous art of her own Poitou with the Plantagenet suppleness of her Angevin husband, to the cupola-covered abbatial of St. Hilaire, where her son, Richard the Lion-hearted, was installed as duke.
At Poitiers, the city of St. Hilaire who fought against the Arians, there is the most magnificent window in the world—Christ triumphant on the Cross. We once again walk in procession to the melody of Bishop Fortunatus’ hymn, and we study the Church Fathers in Greek and Hebrew in Queen Radegund’s cloister. The lineage of troubadour dukes from Aquitaine, filled with passionate sinners and remarkable repenters, lives on in every church in the old hill city, from the cathedral where Aliénor combined the local art of her own Poitou with the adaptable style of her Angevin husband, to the dome-covered abbey of St. Hilaire, where her son, Richard the Lion-hearted, was made duke.
At Caen we live with the Conqueror and Matilda in their penitential abbey-churches, full of thought and purpose, the architecture of hieratic pre-eminence which Normandy passed on to England. At Coutances, the cathedral walls record the Tancreds, so the people say; close by was the eyrie of that eagle brood who set up kingdoms in Italy and the Orient. At Rouen we mutter with the crowd in the market place that a grievous shame it is to burn a saint as a witch, and in reaction, soon we are to rear monuments whose every line is jubilant freedom. At Rheims we are crowned kings in a cathedral so sumptuous that on coronation days it needed no tapestries to adorn its walls. At Clermont and at Vézelay we don the crusaders’ insignia with cries of enthusiasm. The lavish art of Bourges tells of Jacques Cœur’s largess, the princely merchant who financed the army that rid France of her invaders, just as clearly as the ducal tombs and imagery at Dijon relate the pageantry of the XV-century Burgundian life. The stones of Pontigny tell of Becket the martyr, whose cause impassioned all Christendom, as many a sculptured group and storied window in France relate, and of another great Englishman, Stephen Langton, who passed from this cloistral peace—dividing the Bible into chapters for us—to the Magna Charta struggle in England. By architecture we remember.
At Caen, we share space with the Conqueror and Matilda in their reflective abbey churches, filled with meaning and intention, representing the grand architecture that Normandy brought to England. In Coutances, the cathedral walls tell the tale of the Tancreds, or so the locals say; nearby was the nest of that powerful family who established kingdoms in Italy and the East. In Rouen, we grumble with the crowd in the market that it’s a terrible shame to execute a saint as a witch, and in response, we will soon build monuments that celebrate freedom in every design. In Rheims, we are crowned kings in a cathedral so splendid that on coronation days it didn’t need any tapestries to decorate its walls. At Clermont and Vézelay, we put on the crusaders’ insignia with shouts of excitement. The rich art of Bourges reflects the generosity of Jacques Cœur, the noble merchant who funded the army that drove out France’s invaders, just as the ducal tombs and imagery in Dijon depict the grandeur of 15th-century Burgundian life. The stones of Pontigny tell the story of Becket the martyr, whose cause fired up all of Christendom, as numerous sculpted groups and stained glass windows in France recount, and of another great Englishman, Stephen Langton, who left this peaceful cloister—dividing the Bible into chapters for us—to take on the Magna Carta struggle in England. Through architecture, we remember.
Until we have seen Albi’s aggressive fortress-church what do we really know of the Albigensian heresy, of the disease un-European, antichristian, antisocial, that bred in the precocious civilization of Languedoc? What do we know of that terrible struggle called a crusade, when the greedy barons of the north descended on the Midi (ever brutal and refined), thinking to cure its soul by the sword and with the same blows to carve out for themselves rich principalities? Forever is the story told in the Jacobins’ church at Toulouse, in the red cathedral fortress above the Tarn.
Until we’ve seen Albi’s imposing fortress-church, what do we really understand about the Albigensian heresy, that un-European, antichristian, antisocial sickness that emerged in the advanced civilization of Languedoc? What do we know about that brutal struggle known as a crusade, when the greedy barons from the north invaded the Midi (both brutal and sophisticated), believing they could save its soul with the sword and simultaneously carve out rich territories for themselves? The story is forever told in the Jacobins’ church in Toulouse, in the red cathedral fortress overlooking the Tarn.
All the isolating pride of feudalism is resumed in the ramparts of Carcassonne and Aigues-Mortes, all the frustrated destiny of Narbonne in its vast fragment of a cathedral, all the unbroken links with the Latin are in the sculpture at Arles and St. Gilles, all the immemorial story of la grande bleu in Maguelonne’s solitary church. By architecture we remember.
All the isolating pride of feudalism is captured in the walls of Carcassonne and Aigues-Mortes, all the unfulfilled destiny of Narbonne in its large section of a cathedral, all the enduring connections to the Latin culture are in the sculptures at Arles and St. Gilles, and all the ancient history of la grande bleu in Maguelonne’s lonely church. Through architecture we remember.
The Celtic remnant, that in the volcanic-torn uplands of middle France inflicted on Cæsar his sole defeat, lives always in the churches of Auvergne, so stubbornly indigenous, planted so sturdily, contriving decorative beauty from the regional varicolored lava stones. In the granite churches of Brittany endures all the aloof individuality, the sensitive independence, the tenacious traditionalism of the dwellers by the sea in the far-north outpost of France. We have our souls to keep, say the lowly Breton shrines, we have always been too busy doing that to find time to erect great churches. But once our neighbors, the Normans, taught us tower-building, our Celtic imagination leaped au delà by their spires, so we raised our royal Kreisker which far out to sea welcomes home our Breton sailors.
The Celtic remnant that defeated Caesar in the volcanic highlands of central France still lives on in the churches of Auvergne. They are so stubbornly native and firmly established, creating decorative beauty from the region's colorful lava stones. In the granite churches of Brittany, you can see the unique individuality, sensitive independence, and strong traditionalism of the coastal dwellers in the northern tip of France. The humble Breton shrines say, "We have our souls to keep; we've always been too busy doing that to find time to build grand churches." But once our neighbors, the Normans, showed us how to build towers, our Celtic imagination soared beyond their spires, leading us to raise our royal Kreisker, which welcomes our Breton sailors back from the sea.
Architecture is history. Architecture is what the old Greeks said of history, “philosophy teaching by examples.” The cathedrals of France prove that there is no supreme architecture where there is not liberty or the will to attain it. In 1109 the bishop-baron of Noyon granted his city a charter, the first communal written laws on record. In 1145 Noyon began to build the first Gothic cathedral of France. In the Ile-de-France, where from the nation’s birth were lived its intensest hours, sprang up the churches which are the most national, the most racially French in character, Noyon, Senlis, Soissons, Laon, Paris.
Architecture is history. Architecture is what the ancient Greeks referred to as history: “philosophy teaching by examples.” The cathedrals of France demonstrate that there is no true architecture without freedom or the desire to achieve it. In 1109, the bishop-barons of Noyon granted their city a charter, marking the first communal written laws on record. In 1145, Noyon started constructing the first Gothic cathedral in France. In the Île-de-France, where the nation's most pivotal moments took place, the churches that emerged are the most national and authentically French in character: Noyon, Senlis, Soissons, Laon, and Paris.
The history of architecture proves that without a right-minded national pride, ready to make sacrifices in order that it may transmit its high deeds to the future, no mighty monuments rise. In 1214 Bouvines’ victory was won and French unity demonstrated. In 1220, not far away, was laid the foundation stone of Amiens Cathedral, the crowning achievement of the national art. A hazard, such juxtaposition? Ah, no. Nothing happens by chance in this science of the builder whose basic forces are long at work in silence. Architecture is the truthteller of history.
The history of architecture shows that without a strong sense of national pride, willing to make sacrifices to pass on its achievements to the future, no great monuments are built. In 1214, the victory at Bouvines was secured, demonstrating French unity. In 1220, not far away, the foundation stone of Amiens Cathedral was laid, marking the pinnacle of national art. Was this pairing just a coincidence? Not at all. Nothing happens by chance in the craft of the builder, where fundamental forces have long been at work in silence. Architecture reveals the truth of history.
The history of France, which in the XII and XIII centuries meant universal history, is written on the walls of the cathedrals built under Philippe-Auguste and his grandson St. Louis, during the full flowering of the new national art. And in the days when France was neither happy nor good nor great, when faith flagged, when a minority’s blind greed of gold ended the international fairs, drove out the Jews, overtaxed the clerical church builders, when the crusading enthusiasm ended in a Templars’ process, then the structural logic of Gothic architecture turned to pitiless geometry. So proclaim the cold, uninspired XIV-century churches, and few of them ever were built. It seemed almost as if the Gothic cycle had run its course. The XII century had seen its rise; the XIII century its apotheosis; the XIV century its decline. Was the last word said? Churches are not built by generations that live in ceaseless war, in misrule, or under a foreign yoke.
The history of France, which in the 12th and 13th centuries represented universal history, is inscribed on the walls of the cathedrals erected under Philippe-Auguste and his grandson St. Louis, during the peak of the new national art. In times when France was neither happy nor good nor great, when faith dwindled, when a minority's blind greed for gold ended the international fairs, expelled the Jews, and overtaxed the clerical church builders, the once vibrant crusading enthusiasm faded into the Templars’ trial, and the structural logic of Gothic architecture became harshly geometric. This is evident in the cold, uninspired 14th-century churches, and few of them were ever built. It seemed as if the Gothic cycle had reached its end. The 12th century saw its rise; the 13th century its peak; the 14th century its decline. Was that the final word? Churches are not built by generations caught in constant war, misrule, or living under foreign control.
There was to be another chapter for the Gothic tale. Aspiration was born again, national pride lifted its head and art flowered. Not from beyond the mountains or the sea came the needed missionary this time, nor from a Carolingian palace, nor out of Norman and Burgundian cloister. No saint-king was to lead now, but only a young girl from a peasant hamlet.
There was going to be another chapter for the Gothic story. Hope was revived, national pride rose, and art blossomed. This time, the needed inspiration didn’t come from beyond the mountains or the sea, nor from a Carolingian palace, or a Norman and Burgundian monastery. It wasn’t a sainted king who would lead now, but just a young girl from a small village.
When Jeanne d’Arc broke the spell of foreign invasion, when she gave France a new soul, then all over the land rose that pæan of rejoicing which we call Flamboyant Gothic art, for verily it flamed up with joy. Never will you see an arch of double curvature, accoladed, soaring to its triumphal finial, never will you gaze at radiant belfries rising richer and richer with each story, never will you pray beneath a late-Gothic pageantry picture window with its mullions swaying in exaltation, but the thought of the Maid of Orleans and her mission will come to you. This Flamboyant art may run riot in details like any modern, but it remains true in its essentials to the Middle Ages. Forever will it tell of the freeing of France from foreign rule, even as the academic Rayonnant phase sets forth the lowered ideals of Philippe le Bel, or the ampleness of XIII-century Gothic, the creative age of Louis IX and his augmenting grandfather. No regional schools were there in the last manifestations of the national art; they built the same at Albi as at Rouen, at Bordeaux as at Lyons, for an entire people shared the same feeling of recovered self-respect.
When Joan of Arc broke the spell of foreign invasion and gave France a new spirit, a wave of joy surged across the land, giving rise to what we call Flamboyant Gothic art, which truly erupted with happiness. You will never see an arch with double curvature, elegantly crowned, reaching for its triumphant peak; you will never admire radiant bell towers getting more elaborate with each level; you will never pray beneath a late-Gothic stained-glass window with its frames swaying with joy, without thinking of the Maid of Orleans and her mission. This Flamboyant art may be extravagant in details like any modern work, but it remains fundamentally true to the Middle Ages. It will always tell the story of France’s liberation from foreign domination, just as the academic Rayonnant style reflects the diminished ideals of Philip IV or the richness of 13th-century Gothic, the creative era of Louis IX and his influential grandfather. In the final expressions of national art, there were no regional styles; they built the same way in Albi as in Rouen, in Bordeaux as in Lyons, because an entire people shared the same sense of renewed self-respect.
You can learn to read it by yourself, learn to remember, if only you are not repelled by that stiff word “archæology.” Just what generation made Dijon’s crypt and Morienval’s ambulatory, put the masonry roofs on the Caen abbatials, chiseled the column statues at the doors of Angers, Le Mans, and Chartres, made of Bourges’ procession path a heavenly way of ruby, sapphire, emerald, and topaz, raised the tower at Senlis, paid tribute to St. Cecilia’s gentleness in the white imagery of Albi’s grim fortress—that is archæology. Archæology tells how Cluny lifted up a prostrate Christendom, how the Normans conquered England, how Abbot Suger reformed himself, how Bernard of Clairvaux exhorted Europe, how the Lion-hearted went crusading as had his fascinating mother before him, how Simon de Montfort won the Midi, how the wily Philippe-Auguste enlarged his domain, province by province—and all the while most of the Gothic cathedrals of France laid their foundations—and how the bon-saint-homme-roy, truest lover of the builders’ art, sat under an oak tree, dispensing justice at first hand, with his loyal Joinville seated close beside him. That is archæology. It is written down clearly on great stone pages of perennial beauty for us to read—if only we will. A little knowledge of construction’s laws is needed to show us how to see. A little more of history to guide us when to feel. If to love we must know, to know we must set ourselves to learn. Even in these days of easy motor travel one cannot go about book-laden. But there are open libraries in French cities where an inquirer is courteously lent the monographs on the town’s monuments, or the big folios that picture the storied windows. It has, therefore, appeared advisable to give, with each cathedral, a list of its biographies, for they may be of use some rainy afternoon in France.
You can learn to read it on your own, learn to remember, as long as you're not put off by the stiff word “archaeology.” Just which generation built Dijon’s crypt and Morienval’s ambulatory, constructed the stone roofs of the Caen abbeys, sculpted the column statues at the doors of Angers, Le Mans, and Chartres, created Bourges’ procession path of ruby, sapphire, emerald, and topaz, raised the tower at Senlis, and honored St. Cecilia’s gentleness in the white imagery of Albi’s grim fortress—that is archaeology. Archaeology tells us how Cluny revitalized a struggling Christendom, how the Normans took over England, how Abbot Suger reformed himself, how Bernard of Clairvaux inspired Europe, how the Lion-hearted went on crusades like his captivating mother before him, how Simon de Montfort conquered the Midi, how the clever Philippe-Auguste expanded his territory, province by province—and all the while most of the Gothic cathedrals in France were having their foundations laid—and how the bon-saint-homme-roy, the truest admirer of the builders’ art, sat under an oak tree, delivering justice personally, with his loyal Joinville close by. That is archaeology. It’s written clearly on the great stone pages of timeless beauty for us to read—if only we will. A little understanding of construction principles is needed to help us see. A bit more history to guide us on when to feel. If to love we must know, to know we must commit to learning. Even in these days of easy motor travel, one can’t go around loaded with books. But there are public libraries in French cities where an inquirer can kindly borrow monographs on the town’s monuments or large folios that showcase the ornate windows. Thus, it seems wise to provide, with each cathedral, a list of its biographies, as they may come in handy on a rainy afternoon in France.
It seems almost unnecessary to remind ourselves that in the XII and XIII centuries the Church of Europe—barring the Greek schism—was one and united, save for the quarrels inseparable from all manifestations of mankind’s history, and that the Protestant of to-day descends from the same mediæval forefathers as does the Catholic, from the same builders of cathedrals, crusaders, feudal proprietors, and commune winners. To refuse sympathy to the two best centuries of the Middle Ages because, three hundred years later, occurred a break in western Christendom is as illogical as the attitude of those historians who would liken the religious movement of the XVI century to the antisocial outcrop of Oriental dualism called the Albigensian heresy.
It seems almost unnecessary to remind ourselves that in the 12th and 13th centuries, the Church in Europe—apart from the Greek schism—was one and united, except for the conflicts that come with all aspects of human history. The Protestants of today come from the same medieval ancestors as the Catholics, tracing back to the same cathedral builders, crusaders, feudal landowners, and winners of communal battles. To withhold sympathy for the two best centuries of the Middle Ages simply because there was a break in Western Christianity three hundred years later is as illogical as the view of those historians who try to compare the religious movement of the 16th century to the antisocial outbreak of Eastern dualism known as the Albigensian heresy.
Let us then, with open minds, turn to this art of the builder, “the strongest, proudest, most orderly, most enduring of the arts of men that if once well done will stand more strongly than the unbalanced rocks, more prevalently than the crumbling hills; the art which is associated with all civic pride and sacred principle; with which men record their power, satisfy their enthusiasm, make sure their defense, define and make dear their habitation.”[2]
Let’s open our minds and look at the art of building, “the strongest, proudest, most organized, and most lasting of all human arts that, once done well, will stand firmer than unstable rocks and more prominently than eroding hills; the art linked to all civic pride and sacred values; through which people express their power, satisfy their passion, ensure their safety, and define and cherish their homes.”[2]
CHAPTER I
What Is Gothic Architecture?[3]
Where all our monuments and all our beliefs
Wore the white cloak of their purity. Where under the hand of Christ, everything was coming to life again.
—Alfred de Musset.
BOUT the year 1000 a new spirit animated the art of the builder in
France. That rebirth, to which has been given the name Romanesque, held
sway for a hundred and fifty years, and had reached its apogee when, in
mid-XII century, it was superseded by the architecture we call Gothic.
Gothic architecture did not spring up like a mushroom. Like all
manifestations of art, it was the logical fulfillment of its
predecessor. Romanesque and Gothic were phases of the same art. The
dethronement of Romanesque was a voluntary abdication in favor of
younger, more efficient leadership: “What is called the birth of Gothic
is but the coming of age of Romanesque.”
AROUND the year 1000, a fresh spirit inspired builders in France. This revival, called Romanesque, lasted for one hundred and fifty years and reached its peak in the mid-12th century, when it was replaced by what we now know as Gothic architecture. Gothic architecture didn’t just appear suddenly. Like all forms of art, it was the natural progression of its predecessor. Romanesque and Gothic were different stages of the same artistic journey. The transition from Romanesque to Gothic was a voluntary step back in favor of a newer, more effective style: “What is referred to as the birth of Gothic is really the coming of age of Romanesque.”
The XI-century monks who built monastic churches cleared the path for the laymen builders of the Gothic cathedrals. With persistency, with courage, the monk architects went forward, seeking a way. And the way sought, the problem on which they concentrated their energies, was how to protect their churches by masonry vaulting without sacrificing amplitude or lighting.[4]
The 11th-century monks who constructed monastic churches paved the way for the lay builders of Gothic cathedrals. With determination and bravery, the monk architects moved forward, searching for a solution. The challenge they focused their energy on was how to protect their churches with stone vaulting without compromising space or light.
Out of their trials to solve that problem there emerged a new principle of construction, and Gothic architecture was then born. Thrust and counterthrust was the law of its being. Instead of the Romanesque idea of equilibrium by dead load, by sheer mass, which may be called a continuous counterbutting of the vault’s thrust, there now was substituted equilibrium by intermittent abutment. By means of diagonal-crossing ribs the vertical and lateral thrusts of the stone roof were collected at fixed points, which points alone had to be counterbutted. Thick walls were a necessity in a Romanesque edifice, if it were to be stable, but in a Gothic building the walls could be made a mere shell, since all the work was done by an active skeleton, a bone structure of stone, consisting of piers, arches, and buttresses.
Out of their efforts to tackle that issue, a new construction principle emerged, giving rise to Gothic architecture. Push and counter-push defined its existence. Instead of the Romanesque concept of balance through heavy mass, which relied on a continuous counteraction of the vault’s force, there was now a change to balance through intermittent support. By using diagonal ribs, the vertical and lateral forces of the stone roof were redirected to specific points, which were the only ones that needed to be supported. Thick walls were essential in Romanesque buildings for stability, but in Gothic structures, the walls could be just a shell since the support was provided by an active framework—a skeletal structure of stone made up of piers, arches, and buttresses.
To define shortly, Gothic architecture is the art of erecting buildings with vaults whose ribs intersect (concentration of load) and whose thrusts are stopped by buttresses (the grounding of the thrusts). The never-ceasing downward and outward thrust of the vaulting is met by an equivalent resistance in pier and buttress and solid earth. Equilibrium results from that well-adjusted opposition of forces.
To put it simply, Gothic architecture is the art of building structures with vaults that have intersecting ribs (which concentrate the load) and whose outward forces are supported by buttresses (which anchor the forces). The constant downward and outward pressure from the vaulting is balanced by an equal resistance from the piers, buttresses, and the ground. This balance comes from the well-matched opposition of these forces.
Since the starting point in the development of Gothic was the vaulting, and how to substitute a stone vault for a wooden roof was the germinal idea of the Romanesque builder, it is no digression to turn to the earlier school, the chrysalis of Gothic. The name “Romanesque” is an affair of yesterday, employed by a French archæologist about 1825. Various local designations had hitherto been used, such as Lombard, or Norman, or Romano-Byzantine, but the term Romanesque for this architecture is as suitable as the name Romance is for the popular languages which, in that same period, were forming out of the corruption of Latin. A definition given by M. Camille Enlart is excellent: “Romanesque art was a product of Rome, animated by a new spirit, and combined with a certain number of elements of barbarian or Oriental origin.”
Since the beginning of Gothic architecture focused on vaulting, and how to replace a wooden roof with a stone vault was the core idea for Romanesque builders, it makes sense to look back at the earlier style, the beginning of Gothic. The term “Romanesque” is a recent development, coined by a French archaeologist around 1825. Before that, various local names were used, like Lombard, Norman, or Romano-Byzantine, but calling this architecture Romanesque is as fitting as referring to the Romance languages that were emerging from the decay of Latin during the same time. M. Camille Enlart provides an excellent definition: “Romanesque art was a product of Rome, infused with a new spirit, and combined with several elements of barbarian or Oriental origin.”
Rome gave the basilica plan to western Europe, which for centuries continued to build its churches as oblong halls with a small apse at one end. The hall, or nave, consisted of a central vessel with side aisles that were divided from it by piers. In the treatment of vaulting and the method of stone laying Romanesque architecture also derived from Rome. Byzantine influences certainly were important, but they affected the decoration more than the plan or the structure; the use of the Byzantine cupola was merely occasional. The Romanesque masters copied the ivories and miniatures of the Eastern Greeks till, in time, they turned to nature for their models, and then their work took on new life and evolved into the glory which is Gothic sculpture.
Rome introduced the basilica design to western Europe, which for centuries continued to construct its churches as rectangular halls with a small apse at one end. The hall, or nave, featured a central space with side aisles separated by piers. In terms of vaulting and stone-laying techniques, Romanesque architecture also drew from Roman traditions. Byzantine influences were certainly significant, but they primarily impacted decoration rather than the layout or structure; the use of the Byzantine dome was only occasional. The Romanesque artists replicated the ivories and miniatures of the Eastern Greeks until they eventually looked to nature for inspiration, leading to a revitalization of their work that evolved into the magnificence of Gothic sculpture.
While some have laid stress on the Oriental influences, rather than those of Rome, in the formation of Romanesque art, others have overemphasized the personality and fantasy introduced into French architecture by the Barbarian invasions. No doubt the influx of new blood added new elements, but since knowledge of the invaders’ art is fragmentary, there can be no scientific base for the theory. Composite, certainly, were the causes for the new spirit which animated architecture after the Carolingian day, but it is safe to say that the influence of Rome predominated.
While some have emphasized the Eastern influences, rather than those of Rome, in the development of Romanesque art, others have exaggerated the personality and imagination introduced into French architecture by the Barbarian invasions. It's true that the arrival of new groups brought fresh elements, but since our understanding of the invaders' art is limited, there's no scientific basis for this theory. The reasons for the new spirit that invigorated architecture after the Carolingian era were definitely varied, but it is safe to assert that the influence of Rome was the most significant.
In the course of the centuries the Roman basilica was modified by the Catholic liturgy. For catechumens, or penitents, was made the porch, or narthex, before the western end. Tribunes were built over the side aisles.[5] Increased church ceremonial brought about a development of the choir. The custom of burying the dead in crypts under the main altar originated the raised chancel. Between the choir and the nave the builders began to insert a transverse nave called a transept.[6] Such an enlargement enabled the congregation to approach closer to the altar ceremonies; only the bigger churches built transepts in the XI century. Then the liturgical writers saw in a transept the extended arms of the Cross, and it was in that spirit the XIII-century transepts were made—their symbolism was posterior. The first ambulatories were no doubt built in churches which possessed some revered relic, to facilitate the passage of the pilgrim crowd. (The term ambulatory will be used to designate the continuation of the choir aisle round the apse.) Before long that curving processional path, with radiating apsidal chapels opening from it, was taken to represent the crown of thorns about the Sacred Head. “All things as pertain to offices and matters ecclesiastical be full of divine signification and mysteries, and overflow with a celestial sweetness: if so be that a man be diligent in his study of them, and know how to draw honey from the rock and oil from the hardest stone.” So wrote William Durandus, the XIII-century French bishop whose Rationale, or treatise on church symbolism, was an inspiration for centuries and, next to the Bible, the most frequently printed book of the older times.[7]
Over the centuries, the Roman basilica was changed by the Catholic liturgy. A porch, or narthex, was created for catechumens or penitents at the western end. Tribune galleries were built above the side aisles.[5] The increased church ceremonies led to the development of the choir. The practice of burying the dead in crypts beneath the main altar gave rise to the raised chancel. Builders began to add a transverse nave, known as a transept, between the choir and the nave.[6] This expansion allowed the congregation to be closer to the altar ceremonies; only larger churches built transepts in the 11th century. Liturgical writers then viewed the transept as the extended arms of the Cross, and it was in this spirit that the transepts of the 13th century were constructed—their symbolism came later. The first ambulatories were likely built in churches that housed revered relics, allowing pilgrims to pass through easily. (The term ambulatory will refer to the continuation of the choir aisle around the apse.) Soon enough, that curved processional path, with radiating apsidal chapels opening from it, was thought to represent the crown of thorns around the Sacred Head. “All things related to offices and ecclesiastical matters are full of divine meaning and mysteries, and overflow with a celestial sweetness: if a person is diligent in studying them and knows how to draw honey from the rock and oil from the hardest stone.” So wrote William Durandus, the 13th-century French bishop whose Rationale, or treatise on church symbolism, inspired generations and was, after the Bible, the most frequently printed book of earlier times.[7]
Despite a host of additions to the basilica of Rome—transept, ambulatory, a long choir, apse chapels, towers—despite the discarding of the classic orders and of antiquity’s use of a veneer of finer stone (the Romanesque builder used the unadorned stone of his own region) the church of western Europe remained, in general plan, a Roman basilica. Like Rome, they covered their main vessel by a flat wooden roof, although they knew how to build barrel and groin vaulting.[8]
Despite many additions to the basilica in Rome—like the transept, ambulatory, long choir, apse chapels, and towers— and the abandonment of the classic architectural styles and the ancient practice of using finer stone, the church architecture in western Europe generally maintained the layout of a Roman basilica. Similar to Rome, they topped their main spaces with flat wooden roofs, even though they were capable of constructing barrel and groin vaults.[8]
Now a wooden roof is an easy prey for fire. Such roofs, a succession of long-continued invasions, and the faulty construction of Merovingian and Carolingian churches are accountable for the fact that in France to-day is no church that predates the year 1000. Some portions of ancient wall are embedded in later work, and some few early crypts are intact. But to speak with certainty of Merovingian and Carolingian architecture is impossible, though they formed the incubating phase of Romanesque art.
Now a wooden roof is an easy target for fire. Such roofs, along with a series of ongoing invasions and the poor construction of Merovingian and Carolingian churches, are why there isn’t a church in France today that is older than the year 1000. Some parts of ancient walls are found within later structures, and a few early crypts remain intact. However, it’s impossible to speak with certainty about Merovingian and Carolingian architecture, even though they were the developmental stage of Romanesque art.
In France the IX and X centuries were periods of overwhelming disaster. In the Midi were Saracen incursions. In northern and central France Norman pirates wiped out Charlemagne’s revival of art. As far as Poitiers and Clermont the Northmen’s path of destruction extended. “Look where you will,” wrote Flodoard, the chronicler, “the sky is red with fires.” To the litany was added a new invocation—A furore Normannorum, libera nos, Domine.
In France, the 9th and 10th centuries were times of great disaster. In the Midi, there were Saracen invasions. In northern and central France, Norman pirates destroyed Charlemagne’s revival of art. The Northmen's path of destruction stretched as far as Poitiers and Clermont. “Look anywhere you want,” wrote Flodoard, the chronicler, “the sky is red with fires.” A new prayer was added to the list—A furore Normannorum, libera nos, Domine.
The falling to pieces of Charlemagne’s civilization and the general return of social disorders have led to an overdramatic contrasting of the year 1000, when mankind, in terror, anticipated the ending of the world, with the rebirth of hope and of building energy, when the dread day had passed. Whenever the gaunt horses—famine, pest, war, and death—are afoot, humanity is prone to look for the fulfillment of the apocalyptic prophecy. Previous to the X century the final day had been awaited, and the same superstition was to seize on the world’s imagination in following centuries.
The breakdown of Charlemagne’s civilization and the general return of social chaos led to an exaggerated contrast between the year 1000, when people, filled with fear, predicted the end of the world, and the revival of hope and rebuilding energy that emerged after the dreaded day passed. Whenever the grim figures—famine, plague, war, and death—are present, humanity tends to expect the fulfillment of apocalyptic prophecies. Before the 10th century, people were waiting for the final day, and the same superstition would capture the imagination of the world in the centuries to follow.
The X century was certainly a desperate age. Fifty years of it were famine, and on the highroads people were killed for food. But the evils did not cease precisely with the year 1000; also it should be noted that a certain number of churches were begun before the XI century opened. However, to mark the start of a new art life the year 1000 is a convenient date if we bear in mind that it was not a sharp division between Carolingian and Romanesque architecture, since a gradual evolution took place. All through the XI century the vital renewal of architecture went on, and churches were built which, to this day, are unrivaled for their profound religious spirit. They exist to tell us that in the harsh life whence they emerged there were enlightened cases. They vindicate, by their grand simplicity and detachment of soul, the men who built them. Never was an art less one of routine than this of the so-called hidebound monks, an art of a people reborn, full of youth’s daring, an art that was never to have an old age, eager, untiring, experimental, an art that fitly generated the most scientifically sound of architectures—Gothic.
The 10th century was definitely a desperate time. For fifty years, there was famine, and people were killed on the roads for food. But the hardships didn’t exactly end with the year 1000; it’s also worth noting that several churches began construction before the 11th century started. Still, the year 1000 is a convenient marker for the start of a new artistic era, keeping in mind that it wasn’t a clear break between Carolingian and Romanesque architecture, as there was a gradual evolution. Throughout the 11th century, architecture experienced a vital renewal, and churches were built that, to this day, are unmatched for their profound religious spirit. They stand as a testament that in the harsh life from which they emerged, there were enlightened examples. They affirm, through their grand simplicity and spiritual detachment, the worth of the men who built them. Never has an art form been less about routine than this one created by the so-called hidebound monks; it was an art of a reborn people, full of youthful daring—an art that never grew old, enthusiastic, tireless, experimental, and that ultimately led to the most scientifically sound of architectures—Gothic.
The heterogeneous races, Celtic and Gallo-Roman, Germanic, and Norse, whose conflicts long had held France in anarchy, were at last welding into one people. The advent of a vigorous third dynasty, under whose leadership social conditions improved, was another cause of art’s rebirth. Not long after 1000 the bishops formulated the Trève de Dieu, by which peace was enforced on the turbulent lords from Wednesday night to Monday morning. With interval of peace came commerce and wealth and the security necessary for works of the imagination. The rebuilding of churches was inevitable.
The diverse groups, including the Celts, Gallo-Romans, Germans, and Norse, who had long caused chaos in France through their conflicts, were finally coming together as one nation. The rise of a strong new dynasty, which led to improvements in social conditions, also contributed to the revival of art. Not long after the year 1000, the bishops established the Trève de Dieu, enforcing peace among the restless nobles from Wednesday night to Monday morning. With this period of peace came commerce, wealth, and the stability needed for creative works. The rebuilding of churches was unavoidable.
Invasions and wholesale conflagrations had impressed on the mediæval mind the necessity of a church roof more durable than wood, but a masonry vault over a wide space was a constructive feat too difficult to be achieved immediately. In fact, up to the very end of the XI century, though the builders had succeeded in vaulting with stone the crypt, the apse, and the side aisles, they continued generally to cover the wide central vessel in wood. However, the fecund idea was at work. From the time that it took possession of their imagination, to the day when Gothic, its fulfillment, was clearly enunciated, there was over a century of continuous effort—roughly speaking, from the year 1000 to the memorable day in 1144 when was dedicated the first truly Gothic monument of considerable size—the abbey church of St. Denis. Within that energetic span of years is embraced the Romanesque architecture of France.[9]
Invasions and widespread fires had made it clear to people in the Middle Ages that they needed church roofs that were stronger than wood, but building a stone vault over a large area was a challenge that couldn't be solved right away. In fact, until the very end of the 11th century, even though builders were able to vault the crypt, the apse, and the side aisles with stone, they mostly continued to use wood for the broad central nave. However, the innovative idea was in the works. From the moment it captivated their imagination to the day Gothic architecture was fully realized, there was over a century of persistent effort—roughly from the year 1000 to the significant day in 1144 when the first truly large Gothic structure was consecrated—the abbey church of St. Denis. This dynamic period also includes the Romanesque architecture of France.[9]
The monk, Raoul Glaber, wrote an account of the rebirth of architecture after the year 1000. It has been quoted to weariness, but is none the less a valuable contemporary record. The whole earth, he says, as of one accord seemed to throw off its tatters of old age and to reclothe itself in a white mantle of churches. The monastery in which lived monk Raoul, St. Bénigne, at Dijon, was one of the first to inaugurate the new century, and its present crypt dates from the year 1001. Soon after 1017 the monks of Mont-Saint-Michel, in the far corner of Normandy, began a new church, to which belonged part of the present nave. At Chartres, Bishop Fulbert undertook to rebuild his cathedral after the fire of 1020, and the vast crypt which to-day astonishes every beholder was his work.
The monk, Raoul Glaber, wrote an account of the revival of architecture after the year 1000. It has been quoted endlessly, but it remains a valuable contemporary record. He says that the entire world, almost in unison, seemed to shake off its old age and put on a new white robe of churches. The monastery where Monk Raoul lived, St. Bénigne in Dijon, was one of the first to kick off the new century, and its current crypt dates back to 1001. Shortly after 1017, the monks of Mont-Saint-Michel, in the far corner of Normandy, began a new church, which includes part of the present nave. At Chartres, Bishop Fulbert took on the task of rebuilding his cathedral after the fire of 1020, and the large crypt that amazes everyone today was his creation.
The chronicler, Raoul Glaber, lived under the rule of the most powerful monastic brotherhood ever organized, Benedictine Cluny, embracing several thousand houses scattered over Europe. Founded in 910, during the darkest years of the Middle Ages, Cluny kept alive the light of learning and art, “the solitary torchbearer that passed on the flame from the spent glow of Charlemagne to the Gothic rekindling.” Her monks were the pioneers of civilization. Cluny beat back barbarism with a pertinacity that should make hers an honored name in history. So established was her reputation as a civilizer that William the Conqueror wrote to the great Abbot Hugues, to beg from him Cluny monks for England, saying that he would pay their weight in bullion.
The chronicler, Raoul Glaber, lived during the time of the most powerful monastic community ever formed, the Benedictine Cluny, which included several thousand monasteries spread across Europe. Founded in 910, during the darkest years of the Middle Ages, Cluny kept the light of learning and art alive, “the solitary torchbearer that passed on the flame from the faded glow of Charlemagne to the Gothic resurgence.” Its monks were the pioneers of civilization. Cluny fought against barbarism with a determination that deserves to be honored in history. Cluny’s reputation as a civilizer was so established that William the Conqueror wrote to the great Abbot Hugues, asking for Cluny monks for England, saying that he would pay them their weight in gold.
Cluny formed the savants who made the XII century memorable. Her fertile seed provided Europe with doctors, ambassadors, bishops, and popes. Gregory VII had passed through her discipline, and in his giant task of reform, it was from Abbot Hugues that he solicited monks of Cluny. Urban II, who set in motion the First Crusade, had been a monk in the great Burgundian house. It is interesting to note that a generation of reforming pontiffs accompanied the expansion of the Romanesque movement. This would seem to contradict the notion, which many hold, that the clergy profits by keeping the people in superstitious ignorance. It is when religion is purified of its dross that man’s respiritualized faith out-flows in generous donations to the Church.
Cluny trained the scholars who made the 12th century memorable. Its fertile influence provided Europe with doctors, ambassadors, bishops, and popes. Gregory VII was shaped by its teachings, and during his massive reform efforts, he sought monks from Cluny, specifically from Abbot Hugues. Urban II, who triggered the First Crusade, had been a monk in the great Burgundian house. It's interesting to note that a generation of reforming popes coincided with the rise of the Romanesque movement. This seems to contradict the common belief that the clergy benefits from keeping the people in superstitious ignorance. When religion is stripped of its impurities, that's when people's renewed faith flows into generous donations to the Church.
St. Benedict had taught his sons that work as well as prayer was a part of salvation. The monks of Cluny fostered agriculture, thus taking away its stigma as serf’s work. Thierry speaks of the mediæval monastery as a model farm. In Cluny craftsmen of every kind were trained; its school of music was noted, and along the roads, as they traveled, the monks from Burgundy sang canticles. But the art of arts for Cluny was that of the builder, the supreme art that takes into its service all the others, to lead them to the glorification of God’s house. When, in bands of twelve, the monks of Cluny set out to colonize in Spain, in Germany, in Italy, in Poland, everywhere they carried with them the tool as well as the Book. As a rule they conformed in each province to the local building traditions. There was never a distinct Cluny school of Romanesque architecture.
St. Benedict taught his followers that both work and prayer were essential to salvation. The monks of Cluny embraced agriculture, helping to eliminate its stigma as a task for serfs. Thierry describes the medieval monastery as a model farm. In Cluny, craftsmen of all kinds were trained; its music school was renowned, and as they traveled the roads, the monks from Burgundy sang hymns. But the most important art for Cluny was that of the builder, the ultimate art that encompasses all others to honor God’s house. When the monks of Cluny set out in groups of twelve to establish communities in Spain, Germany, Italy, and Poland, they brought both tools and the Bible with them. Generally, they adapted to the local building styles in each region. There was never a distinct Cluny style of Romanesque architecture.
By the end of the XI century the main provincial centers of France had each evolved its own special building characteristics. French Romanesque architecture has been divided into some six or seven regional schools—those of Normandy, Burgundy, Auvergne, Poitou, Languedoc, Provence, and a minor school, the Franco-Picard.[10]
By the end of the 11th century, the major provincial centers of France had each developed their own unique architectural styles. French Romanesque architecture is generally categorized into six or seven regional schools—those of Normandy, Burgundy, Auvergne, Poitou, Languedoc, Provence, and a smaller school, the Franco-Picard.[10]
In their efforts to protect their churches by masonry roofs, these various regional schools made use of the barrel vault or the groin vault. The latter was found too insecure to span a wide space. Now, the thrust of a barrel vault was exerted along the whole length of the wall, which necessitated a continuous abutment—in other words, an enormously thick wall. Only small windows could be opened. Since the Romanesque architect had the ambition to light his church well, and not to encumber his floor surface by clumsy piers, a barrel vaulting could be but a temporary solution of the main problem.
In their efforts to protect their churches with masonry roofs, these different regional schools used the barrel vault or the groin vault. However, the groin vault was considered too unstable for spanning large spaces. The force of a barrel vault was distributed along the full length of the wall, which required a continuous support system—in other words, a very thick wall. Only small windows could be added. Since the Romanesque architect aimed to illuminate the church effectively and avoid cluttering the floor with bulky piers, barrel vaulting could only serve as a temporary fix to the main issue.
The struggle for a satisfactory stone roof was pursued tenaciously. Many a clearstory wall was thrust apart by the vaulting’s pressure. Thus the abbey church of Bec, finished in the ’forties of the XI century, was reconstructed in the ’fifties, and three times, again, had to be rebuilt. No failure could daunt the courage of those old monastic builders. Already inherent in the newly amalgamated race was the creative genius of France. Perseverance and courage were to have their reward.
The effort to create a decent stone roof was persistent. Many a clearstory wall was pushed apart by the pressure from the vaults. As a result, the abbey church of Bec, completed in the 1040s, was rebuilt in the 1050s and had to undergo reconstruction three more times. No setback could discourage the determination of those early monastic builders. The creative genius of France was already ingrained in the newly formed community. Their perseverance and bravery were destined to be rewarded.
The theory long taught in the École des Chartes was that in the first part of the XI century, among a number of rural churches in the royal domain, there gradually came into use the member which was to revolutionize the science of building. The idea did not spring from one brain; it was a collective, not an individual, triumph. When, under some groin vault, no doubt at first to reinforce it, some obscure mason constructed the earliest intersecting stone ribs, the first step in Gothic architecture had been taken.[11]
The theory long taught in the École des Chartes was that in the early 11th century, among several rural churches in the royal domain, a crucial architectural feature gradually came into use that would revolutionize building science. This idea didn’t come from just one person; it was a collective achievement, not an individual one. When some unknown mason, likely aiming to reinforce a groin vault, constructed the earliest intersecting stone ribs, the first step in Gothic architecture was taken.[11]
From that essential organ, the other characteristics of Gothic art were deduced: flying buttress, slender piers, expanse of windows. In a Gothic vault the infilling, or web, rested elastically on the diagonal ribs. As the load of the stone roof was thus concentrated at fixed junctures, it was necessary to reinforce only those given points. Buttresses became intermittent. All the disintegrating force of the heavy vaulting was gathered on the diagonally crossing arches. An arch never sleeps, said the old Arab proverb. Let us then, said the mediæval architect, set a guard on it that also never sleeps; and from that idea he proceeded to develop the greatest architecture of all times. The force of expansion was counteracted by a proportionate force of compression. By means of a framework made up of vault ribs, of piers, of buttresses, and flying buttresses, the edifice became a living skeleton. The walls between the active members, when relieved of their load, served merely as screen inclosures and could be carved into fragile beauty and hung with transparent tapestries of colored glass. Because the flying buttress transmitted a large part of the vault’s pressure to the exterior buttress piles, the piers within the church could be lessened in diameter, and greater capacity be given to the interior.
From that essential element, the other features of Gothic art were derived: flying buttresses, slender piers, and large windows. In a Gothic vault, the infill, or web, rested flexibly on the diagonal ribs. Since the weight of the stone roof was concentrated at specific points, it was only necessary to reinforce those areas. Buttresses became intermittent. All the breaking force of the heavy vaulting was directed on the diagonally crossing arches. "An arch never sleeps," said the old Arab proverb. So, the medieval architect thought, let's create a support that never sleeps either; and from that idea, he went on to develop the greatest architecture of all time. The force of expansion was balanced by an equal force of compression. With a framework made up of vault ribs, piers, buttresses, and flying buttresses, the building became a living skeleton. The walls between the active elements, once stripped of their load, served merely as screen enclosures and could be carved into delicate beauty and adorned with transparent tapestries of colored glass. Because the flying buttress transferred much of the vault’s pressure to the external buttress piles, the piers inside the church could be narrower, allowing for a more spacious interior.
Each new trial was a lesson learned. It was only with time that they adjusted precisely the sufficient counterpoise to the thrust of the vaults; it was only by degrees that the pier’s diameter was lessened, only with practice that was learned the placing of flying buttresses neither too high nor too low. At first many a flying buttress was made needlessly heavy. The solid wall in between the buttresses was not discarded all at once. In the first Gothic churches windows continued to be single lights, then two or three lancets were placed side by side, subsequently each light was subdivided by mullions, and gradually an elaborate fenestration developed. For a time, too, the round arch continued in use, and the earliest vault ribs were semicircular. With the fusion of the equilateral arch and the counterbutted intersecting ribs, the essence of Gothic architecture was achieved.
Each new trial was a lesson learned. It took time for them to adjust the right balance against the thrust of the vaults; it was a gradual process to reduce the pier’s diameter, and only through practice did they learn to position flying buttresses at just the right height. Initially, many flying buttresses were unnecessarily heavy. The solid walls between the buttresses weren’t phased out all at once. In the first Gothic churches, the windows were still single lights, then two or three lancets were placed next to each other, and eventually, each light was divided by mullions, leading to a more intricate window design. For a while, the round arch was still in use, with the earliest vault ribs being semicircular. The true essence of Gothic architecture emerged with the combination of the equilateral arch and the counterbutted intersecting ribs.
Lesser consequences of the new form of vaulting followed in logical succession. Obeying the law that it is the thing borne which commands the form of the thing that bears, the ribs may be said to have drawn out of the sturdy pier of Romanesque art the clustered columns of Gothic gracefulness.
Lesser consequences of the new style of vaulting followed in logical order. Following the principle that it is the object being supported that dictates the form of the structure that supports it, the ribs can be said to have pulled from the strong support of Romanesque art the grouped columns of Gothic elegance.
Not a single beauty in a Gothic church but has a structural explanation. The soaring pinnacles that crown the buttresses are apparently mere ornaments, but in reality those gallant little bits of decoration are of sound engineering usefulness. By weighting the buttresses, they hasten to channel the transmitted lateral thrust of the vaulting into a vertical pressure, and they increase, too, the counterthrust of the flying buttress against the side walls.
Not a single beauty in a Gothic church lacks a structural explanation. The tall spires that top the buttresses may seem like just decorations, but in reality, those impressive little details serve an important engineering purpose. By adding weight to the buttresses, they help direct the lateral force from the vaulting into vertical pressure and also boost the counterforce of the flying buttress against the side walls.
A clear comprehension of Gothic is impossible unless the fact be grasped that architecture is nothing if not structural, and that no decoration can veil a faulty skeleton. Ornamentation is the spontaneous blossoming of the structure, else it is meaningless—a principle many a modern architect might well digest. Too long has the most scientifically exact of architectures been judged by its embellishments, which often enough, in the hands of the copyist, do become a florid veneer without reason.
A clear understanding of Gothic architecture is impossible unless you recognize that architecture is fundamentally about structure, and that no decoration can hide a flawed framework. Ornamentation should naturally arise from the structure; otherwise, it has no real purpose—a lesson many modern architects could benefit from. For too long, the most scientifically precise forms of architecture have been evaluated based on their decorations, which, when handled by imitators, often turn into a decorative cover lacking in reason.
The Gothic master-of-works was right when he said that nothing which was inherently needed could be ugly. No longer were flying buttresses hidden under the cover of wooden roofs. Proudly ranged about the church, those essential practical members became one of the distinctive beauties of the new science of building. Renan, with his treacherous half praise, has called the flying buttress a crutch needed by an architecture which, from its start, nourished the seeds of decay, since it was based on no sound constructive formula. Its success was a prestidigitator’s trick, he said. Such criticism misunderstands the A B C of Gothic lore. Can a living limb be called a crutch? it has been aptly asked. The Gothic cathedral is not only the most complicated, but is also the most complete, organism ever conceived by man.
The Gothic master builder was right when he said that nothing that is truly necessary can be ugly. No longer were flying buttresses hidden beneath wooden roofs. Proudly displayed around the church, these essential structural elements became one of the distinctive beauties of the new building science. Renan, with his misleading half-praise, called the flying buttress a crutch needed by an architecture that, from the beginning, harbored the seeds of decay, since it was based on no solid construction principles. He claimed its success was just a magician's trick. Such criticism misses the basics of Gothic knowledge. Can a living limb be called a crutch? someone rightly asked. The Gothic cathedral is not only the most complex but also the most complete organism ever conceived by humankind.
Where the first diagonal-crossing ribs are to be found will probably never be known. Various have been the claimants. The Rhenish claim is no longer taken seriously. Gothic made its first appearance in Germany as a fully developed French art, and its XIII-century name, there, was opus francigenum. In his Gothic work the Teuton showed a fondness for the tour-de-force and his manual dexterity surprises more than it satisfies. The best German works in architecture are the sober Romanesque churches. Germany’s school was developed a century before the Romanesque of France; across the Rhine occurred no Norman invasion to sever art traditions from Charlemagne’s renaissance. The pre-Gothic art suited her ethnical temperament, and was long adhered to. While France was building Gothic, Germany was still erecting Romanesque cathedrals. Not till the end of the XII century were churches along that “rue des moines,” the Rhine, vaulted in the new manner.
Where the first diagonal-crossing ribs are found will probably never be known. There have been various claimants. The Rhenish claim isn't taken seriously anymore. Gothic first appeared in Germany as a fully developed French art, and its XIII-century name there was opus francigenum. In his Gothic work, the Teuton showed a love for the tour-de-force and his manual skill surprises more than it satisfies. The best German works in architecture are the straightforward Romanesque churches. Germany's school developed a century before the Romanesque of France; there was no Norman invasion across the Rhine to separate art traditions from Charlemagne's renaissance. The pre-Gothic art suited her ethnic temperament and was followed for a long time. While France was building Gothic, Germany was still constructing Romanesque cathedrals. It wasn't until the end of the XII century that churches along that “rue des moines,” the Rhine, were vaulted in the new style.
The claim of Italy to be the first to use the diagonal ribs is denied by most French archæologists, but is put forward by the Italian scholar Rivoira and by Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter.[12] The latter cites the church of Sannazzaro Sesia as showing proofs that its high nave was Gothic vaulted by 1040. For a century, he says, the Lombard churches used diagonals, especially in Milan, where wood was scarce and it was easier to build permanent brick ribs under the groin vault than to mold the groin on a temporary substructure. Diagonal ribs were invented, he thinks, as a device to economize wood. That may be true of the Lombard churches, of which he has made an elaborate study. And it may be true that the use of such diagonals filtered into Provence and Languedoc, where appeared some early Gothic vaults sporadically before 1150, at Fréjus, Marseilles, Maguelonne, and Moissac, all with the rectangular profile of the Lombard type. The theory he advocates does not prove why the Ile-de-France masons could not themselves, without hint from Lombardy, have stumbled on the new feature which was to revolutionize the builder’s art. Why should we prefer his explanation for the first use of diagonals—the desire to economize wood—to that advanced by the French scholars—the effort to brace a falling groin vault?
The claim that Italy was the first to use diagonal ribs is rejected by most French archaeologists, but it is supported by the Italian scholar Rivoira and Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter.[12] Porter points to the church of Sannazzaro Sesia as evidence that its high nave was Gothic vaulted by 1040. He claims that for a century, Lombard churches used diagonals, particularly in Milan, where wood was scarce and it was easier to construct permanent brick ribs under the groin vault than to shape the groin on a temporary support. He believes diagonal ribs were invented as a way to save wood. This could be accurate for the Lombard churches, which he has studied in detail. It may also be true that the use of such diagonals spread to Provence and Languedoc, where some early Gothic vaults appeared sporadically before 1150 at Fréjus, Marseilles, Maguelonne, and Moissac, all exhibiting the rectangular profile of the Lombard style. The theory he proposes does not explain why the Ile-de-France masons couldn't have independently discovered this new feature, which ultimately transformed architectural practice, without any influence from Lombardy. Why should we accept his explanation for the initial use of diagonals—saving wood—over that put forth by French scholars, which suggests the aim was to reinforce a collapsing groin vault?
Mr. Porter acknowledges that not a single Lombard church was rib-vaulted throughout, that the Lombard architects never counterbutted their diagonals properly, that their vaults proved unsatisfactory, so that after 1120 they returned to their groin and barrel vaulting, or used timber roofs, in those regions where wood abounded. The destruction of Milan through the German invasion, in 1162, was a fatal blow to Lombard architecture. We can only conjecture how northern Italy might have worked out the problem of stone roofs. The best definition of Gothic, thinks Mr. Porter, is Professor Moore’s, which concludes thus: “Wherever is wanting a framework maintained on the principle of thrust and counterthrust, there we have not Gothic.” The Lombard churches never met the vault thrust with counterthrust of buttress. Surely not in Lombardy was conceived the new system of construction?
Mr. Porter points out that no Lombard church had ribbed vaulting throughout, that Lombard architects never properly counterbutted their diagonals, and that their vaults were not satisfactory. As a result, after 1120, they went back to using groin and barrel vaulting or opted for timber roofs in areas with plenty of wood. The destruction of Milan due to the German invasion in 1162 dealt a serious blow to Lombard architecture. We can only guess how northern Italy might have approached the challenge of stone roofs. Mr. Porter believes that the best definition of Gothic comes from Professor Moore, who concludes: “Wherever there is no framework supported by the principle of thrust and counterthrust, there we do not find Gothic.” The Lombard churches never addressed the vault thrust with counterthrust from a buttress. Surely, the new construction system didn’t originate in Lombardy?
S. Ambrogio at Milan was cited as l’œuvre initiale, till it was proved that it was built not in the IX century, but after 1067; and as later disasters necessitated reconstructions, none of the present diagonals was extant before 1198. S. Abondio at Como, consecrated by Urban II, in 1095, has some very early intersecting ribs, but they are more a step toward the new system than a true Gothic vault, since the ribs merely reinforce and do not carry the cells.
S. Ambrogio in Milan was initially referenced as the original work, but it was later proven that it was built not in the 9th century, but after 1067. As later disasters required rebuilding, none of the current diagonal features existed before 1198. S. Abondio in Como, consecrated by Urban II in 1095, has some very early intersecting ribs, but these are more of a progression towards the new system than a true Gothic vault, since the ribs simply support rather than carry the cells.
M. Camille Enlart contends that the systematic use of Gothic in Italy was not earlier than the second quarter of the XIII century, and was brought across the Alps by French Cistercian monks. Though for centuries Italy used it, she apprehended its constructive principle imperfectly. Because she possessed a Niccola Pisano, a Giotto, a family of Cosmati to veil the poverty of her Gothic skeleton with details of consummate beauty, criticism is silenced. Her best Gothic monument, the cathedral of Siena, was insecure because of technical errors. Always was Italy adverse to showing the mechanism by which an edifice stood; few flying buttresses were ever built south of the Alps. She preferred the classic wide spacing of piers, an unencumbered interior, and small windows against her hot sun. Who remembers that he is in a Gothic church when in the somber cathedral of Florence? Its long nave is divided into four bays where a northern church would have used eight. For Italy the Renaissance was a whole-hearted return to a national art which she could fully understand.
M. Camille Enlart argues that the widespread use of Gothic architecture in Italy didn't happen until the second quarter of the 13th century, and it was introduced by French Cistercian monks who crossed the Alps. Although Italy embraced this style for centuries, she didn't fully grasp its structural principles. Because she had artists like Niccola Pisano, Giotto, and the Cosmati family to cover up the shortcomings of her Gothic framework with exquisite details, criticism was quieted. Her finest Gothic structure, the Siena Cathedral, was unstable due to technical mistakes. Italy always resisted revealing the mechanics that supported a building; very few flying buttresses were constructed south of the Alps. She favored the classical approach of widely spaced piers, a clear interior, and small windows to shield against the intense sun. Who really feels they're in a Gothic church when inside the somber Florence Cathedral? Its long nave is divided into four bays, while a northern church would have opted for eight. For Italy, the Renaissance was a complete return to a national art that she could fully appreciate.
No people outside of France better understood and developed Gothic art than the English. Their claim to priority is based on the date of the cathedral of Durham, whose choir-aisle diagonals Mr. John Bilson says are as early as 1093. Since those diagonals show no hesitation, they must have been preceded by others. Where in England are there to be found the earlier trials? The English claim is practically a Norman one, and Normandy’s experimental work in Gothic vaultings remains to be traced. Rivoira claims that Lombard influences predominated in the formation of Normandy’s Romanesque school. Can the Norman be said to have discerned in diagonals their immense possibilities any clearer than had the Lombard?
No one outside of France understood and developed Gothic art better than the English. Their claim to being first is based on the date of the cathedral of Durham, whose choir-aisle diagonals, as Mr. John Bilson points out, date back to 1093. Since those diagonals show no uncertainty, they must have been preceded by others. Where in England can we find the earlier attempts? The English claim is essentially a Norman one, and Normandy’s experimental work with Gothic vaultings is yet to be explored. Rivoira argues that Lombard influences were dominant in shaping Normandy’s Romanesque school. Can we say that the Normans recognized the vast potential of diagonals any better than the Lombards?
Those among the French archæologists who have disputed the Norman claim to priority say that the principal span of Norman and English churches was covered with timber roofs far into the XII century. We know that the Gothic vaulting of the two abbey churches of Caen were XII-century additions, and M. de Lasteyrie thought the same was true of Durham, though Mr. Bilson has convinced MM. Enlart and Lefèvre-Pontalis that Durham’s choir-aisle vaults are an original part of the cathedral begun in 1093. Not till 1174, when Guillaume de Sens began Canterbury Cathedral, did French Gothic architecture, in its plenitude, appear in England.
Some French archaeologists who have challenged the Norman claim to being first argue that the main spans of Norman and English churches were roofed with wooden beams well into the 12th century. We know that the Gothic vaults of the two abbey churches in Caen were added in the 12th century, and M. de Lasteyrie believed the same was true for Durham. However, Mr. Bilson has convinced MM. Enlart and Lefèvre-Pontalis that the vaults of Durham’s choir aisle are an original part of the cathedral that began in 1093. It wasn't until 1174, when Guillaume de Sens started Canterbury Cathedral, that full French Gothic architecture made its appearance in England.
The question of priority remains an open one. It might almost be said that vaulting with intersecting ribs began to appear here and there simultaneously, that if it had not cropped out in the Ile-de-France, it would have appeared in Normandy, or vice versa. And not long after them, the builders in Burgundy and Anjou began to use it. Before 1150, isolated samples of the Gothic rib vault appeared at Vézelay, Poitiers, Bordeaux, Quimperlé, Moissac, St. Gilles, Marseilles. The hour was ripe for the solution. Gothic architecture was the spontaneous invention of French builders at the dawn of the XII century, at a time when the poetry of France was imposing itself on the whole of Europe.
The question of priority is still up for debate. It could be argued that vaults with intersecting ribs started to show up in different places around the same time; if it hadn't emerged in the Ile-de-France, it might have appeared in Normandy, or vice versa. Shortly after, builders in Burgundy and Anjou began using it as well. Before 1150, isolated instances of the Gothic rib vault were seen in Vézelay, Poitiers, Bordeaux, Quimperlé, Moissac, St. Gilles, and Marseilles. The time was right for this development. Gothic architecture was a natural creation of French builders at the beginning of the 12th century, when French poetry was making its mark across Europe.
L’œuvre initiale will never be known. However, there was a region where the early use of the ogival vault was not accidental, but systematic, one spot in the heart of France where it immediately made a school, since there it found no strong earlier traditions to overcome, where it became a living organism and went through a succession of logical developments until it had taken on the main characteristics of the new art. There is one center from which Gothic architecture spread out with slow, sure march into the neighboring regions. In the Ile-de-France, all the trials were summed up and developed by Abbot Suger at St. Denis. From 1140 to 1144 he wedded definitely the pointed arch with the diagonal rib.
The original work will never be known. However, there was a region where the early use of the pointed vault was not random, but systematic, a place in the heart of France where it quickly established a school, as it faced no strong earlier traditions to overcome, where it evolved into a living form and went through a series of logical developments until it took on the main features of the new art. There is one center from which Gothic architecture spread out steadily into the neighboring areas. In the Île-de-France, all the experiments were brought together and refined by Abbot Suger at St. Denis. From 1140 to 1144, he definitively combined the pointed arch with the diagonal rib.
The French masters, who have contended that the Ile-de-France is the cradle of Gothic architecture, have had lesser controversies among themselves as to which special portion of the royal domain led in the evolution. M. Woillez, a pioneer, considered the environs of Beauvais the favored spot; M. Saint-Paul looked to the districts between Normandy and Paris; M. Enlart sought the nucleus in Amiens diocese in Picardy; and M. Lefèvre-Pontalis chose the classic diocese of Soissons. The two latter masters have modified their views since studying Durham’s vaults, and they may modify them further in regard to Lombardy’s early use of diagonals. The controversy is not closed.
The French experts, who argue that the Ile-de-France is the birthplace of Gothic architecture, have had fewer disputes among themselves about which specific part of the royal territory was the leader in its development. M. Woillez, an early advocate, believed the areas around Beauvais were ideal; M. Saint-Paul pointed to the regions between Normandy and Paris; M. Enlart identified the center in the diocese of Amiens in Picardy; and M. Lefèvre-Pontalis favored the classic diocese of Soissons. The latter two have updated their opinions after examining the vaults of Durham, and they may revise them again regarding the early use of diagonals in Lombardy. The debate is still ongoing.
The France of that day was more a feudal confederation than a united kingdom, and some of the king’s vassals ruled territories larger than his own. If the feeling of nationality is created as much by great achievements in common, as by political boundaries and the ties of blood, if, as all now agree, the enthusiasm of the Crusades, those holy wars against a common foe, helped to weld the rival sections of France into one nation, surely that other enthusiasm of the day, those other Gesta Dei per Francos, the building of the Gothic cathedrals, played an important part in forming the national soul. From end to end of France they were building when at the battle of Bouvines a French king united with the jealous barons, with clergy and with burgess and with villein in a common defense of their native land. King, clergy, lords, and people fought at Bouvines, and king, clergy, lords, and people built the big national churches. All the energies of the times went to their making, all the primitive strong purposes, all the newly stirred intellect of the schools. Science was as needed for them as inspiration, for without the long manual training of the guilds, the mystic glow had not sufficed.
The France of that time was more of a feudal alliance than a united kingdom, and some of the king's vassals controlled territories bigger than his own. If the sense of nationality is shaped as much by shared achievements as by political borders and family ties, and if, as everyone now agrees, the excitement of the Crusades, those holy wars against a common enemy, helped to unite the rival regions of France into one nation, then surely that other passion of the time, those other Gesta Dei per Francos, the construction of Gothic cathedrals, played a significant role in shaping the national identity. From one end of France to the other, they were building while at the battle of Bouvines, a French king came together with the envious barons, clergy, townspeople, and peasants in a united defense of their homeland. King, clergy, lords, and common people fought at Bouvines, and king, clergy, lords, and common people built the grand national churches. All the energies of the era went into their creation, all the strong basic ambitions, all the newly awakened intellect from the schools. Science was just as vital for them as inspiration, because without the extensive hands-on training of the guilds, the mystical brilliance would not have been enough.
There has crept into various architectural manuals, since first M. Viollet-le-Duc voiced it, a theory which scarcely needs refuting, so disproved is it by modern research.[13] Gothic art is considered as the layman’s expression of revolt against the Romanesque art of the monks, an idea that denies the structural sequence of the two phases of the same art, and would present Gothic as a reaction against its predecessor, instead of its supreme development.
There has emerged in various architectural manuals, since M. Viollet-le-Duc first mentioned it, a theory that hardly needs disproving, as modern research has thoroughly debunked it.[13] Gothic art is viewed as the common person's expression of rebellion against the Romanesque art of the monks, a notion that ignores the structural continuity between the two phases of the same art and suggests that Gothic is merely a reaction to its predecessor, rather than its ultimate evolution.
We read that a cathedral was built as a sort of assembly hall for the rising communes, and not pour loger le bon Dieu. Now in every known case it was the bishop who started the rebuilding of each cathedral, and the works usually began with the choir, the part of a church suitable only for the cult. Even when a bishop, in his character of proprietor of a city (as in the case of Rheims and Laon), opposed the communal claims, he and the people went on building their cathedral together. We have precious documents to assure us in what spirit of piety the work was done. All classes and all ages, women as well as men, gave their voluntary labor to the new works, after having confessed and communicated in pious confraternities; sometimes it was for an abbot that they dragged in the stones from the quarry, as at St. Denis and St. Pierre-sur-Dives; sometimes it was to aid a bishop, as at Chartres and Rouen. To offset such irrefutable evidence there is not one contemporary reference to a laic, or communal purpose.
We learn that a cathedral was built as a kind of gathering place for the emerging communities, and not pour loger le bon Dieu. In every known instance, it was the bishop who initiated the rebuilding of each cathedral, and the work usually started with the choir, the part of the church dedicated solely to worship. Even when a bishop, in his role as the owner of a city (as seen in Rheims and Laon), opposed the community’s claims, he and the people continued to build their cathedral together. We have valuable documents confirming the sincere spirit of devotion in which the work was carried out. People from all classes and ages, both women and men, contributed their voluntary labor to the new projects, after having confessed and participated in pious brotherhoods; sometimes they carried stones from the quarry for an abbot, as at St. Denis and St. Pierre-sur-Dives; other times it was to assist a bishop, as at Chartres and Rouen. In contrast to this undeniable evidence, there is not a single contemporary reference to a secular or communal purpose.
Also, when it is asserted that the bishop helped the cathedrals because they were jealous of the monastic orders, there is not one historical record to confront a host of documents which disprove the idea. Large numbers of the bishop-builders issued from monasteries, founded monasteries, and returned to monasteries to die. While Maurice de Sully was erecting Notre Dame, at Paris, he built four monasteries, in one of which he requested to be buried. The bishop who began Auxerre Cathedral chose Cistercian Pontigny for his tomb. The bishop-builders of Noyon, Laon, Senlis, Soissons, Rheims, Bourges, and Rouen were buried among the monks. That there should occasionally be friction between a bishop and an abbot over legal privileges is only characteristic of human nature in all times. As a class the bishops were not opposed to the monks, nor the Orders to the secular clergy. The monks of St. Remi honored the archbishop of Rheims in their choir windows.
Also, when it's claimed that the bishop supported the cathedrals because they were envious of the monastic orders, there's not a single historical record that contradicts many documents proving otherwise. A large number of the bishop-builders came from monasteries, established monasteries, and returned to monasteries to die. While Maurice de Sully was constructing Notre Dame in Paris, he built four monasteries, one of which he asked to be his burial place. The bishop who initiated the Auxerre Cathedral chose Cistercian Pontigny as his tomb. The bishop-builders of Noyon, Laon, Senlis, Soissons, Rheims, Bourges, and Rouen were buried alongside the monks. That there might sometimes be tension between a bishop and an abbot regarding legal privileges is just part of human nature throughout history. As a group, bishops were not against the monks, nor were the Orders opposed to the secular clergy. The monks of St. Remi honored the archbishop of Rheims in their choir windows.
The cloister welcomed the new architecture. Transition Gothic churches were built by the monks of St. Germain-des-Prés and St. Martin-des-Champs at Paris, and one could prolong the list into pages. Where in Burgundy is found the earliest Gothic? In the Cistercian church of Pontigny, and in Benedictine Vézelay. Where in Champagne?—the abbatials of Notre Dame at Châlons-sur-Marne and St. Remi at Rheims. In Normandy? In the Midi?—again the answer is, in abbey churches. Indeed, monastic building energy seemed inexhaustible, for where the prime of Gothic arrived, it was still the monks who produced that masterpiece of the new art, the Merveille of Mont-Saint-Michel.
The cloister embraced the new architecture. Gothic transition churches were constructed by the monks of St. Germain-des-Prés and St. Martin-des-Champs in Paris, and the list could go on for pages. Where can we find the earliest Gothic in Burgundy? In the Cistercian church of Pontigny and in the Benedictine church of Vézelay. And in Champagne? The abbey churches of Notre Dame in Châlons-sur-Marne and St. Remi in Rheims. In Normandy? In the Midi?—the answer is again, in abbey churches. Indeed, the energy for monastic building appeared endless, for wherever the prime of Gothic emerged, it was still the monks who created that masterpiece of the new art, the Merveille of Mont-Saint-Michel.
In the XII century the spread of monastic life took on a phenomenal aspect. Benedictine houses and those of the newly founded Orders of Cîteaux and Prémontré increased, not by hundreds, but by thousands. The monks were in absolute accord with the spirit of their time. Sons of the cloister had inspired the entire XI century: Gregory VII, Abbot William of Dijon, St. Anselm, Lanfranc, St. Hugues of Cluny. A bevy of remarkable men of the cloister led the XII century, the chief being Suger of St. Denis, protector of the serfs, the man of genius who stimulated the bishops of France to remake their cathedrals in emulation of his Gothic abbey church, and St. Bernard of Clairvaux, on whose words all Europe hung.
In the 12th century, the growth of monastic life became truly remarkable. Benedictine houses and those of the newly established Orders of Cîteaux and Prémontré multiplied not by hundreds, but by thousands. The monks were completely in tune with the spirit of their time. The men of the cloister had inspired the whole 11th century: Gregory VII, Abbot William of Dijon, St. Anselm, Lanfranc, and St. Hugues of Cluny. A group of extraordinary men from the cloister led the 12th century, with the most notable being Suger of St. Denis, who supported the serfs, the genius who encouraged the bishops of France to rebuild their cathedrals to match his Gothic abbey church, and St. Bernard of Clairvaux, whose words held all of Europe’s attention.
Architecture passed to laic control when the protection of monastic life was no longer needed for artists, and when the science of building required the specialist, the man occupied with it alone. The schools of Cluny had trained the first guildsmen, and many of the names of Gothic architects—Orbais, Honnecourt, Corbic—indicate that they were born in places where monastic building industries flourished. It was in the natural course of events that the art should pass out of the possession of the few into the general national life.
Architecture transitioned to secular control when artists no longer needed the protection of monastic life, and when the science of building required specialists dedicated solely to it. The schools of Cluny trained the first guild members, and many Gothic architects' names—Orbais, Honnecourt, Corbic—suggest they came from areas where monastic building industries thrived. It was a natural progression for the art to move from the hands of a few into the broader national life.
Another natural happening has been distorted by partisans. The burning of monastery archives during the XVI-century religious wars and by the Revolution is accountable for the few names of architects that have come down to us. The scarcity of such names has been cited as an instance of the jealous suppression of the laymen by the clergy forced to employ them. Now precisely the contrary is the truth. What modern architect was ever accorded such prominence as was allowed by the bishops of Amiens and Rheims to their masters-of-works when they inscribe those laymen names in the labyrinth designs of the cathedral pavements? The monks of Marmoutier and of St. Germain-des-Prés were proud to bury in their abbey-churches their architects Étienne de Mortagne and Pierre de Montereau. In Rheims, the architects Hugues Libergier and Robert de Coucy were likewise honored.
Another natural event has been twisted by different factions. The burning of monastery archives during the 16th-century religious wars and the Revolution is responsible for the few names of architects that have survived. The lack of these names has been used as an example of the clergy's jealousy towards the laymen they had to hire. But the exact opposite is true. What modern architect has ever received as much recognition as the bishops of Amiens and Rheims gave to their master builders when they included those laymen's names in the intricate designs of the cathedral floors? The monks of Marmoutier and St. Germain-des-Prés were proud to lay to rest their architects, Étienne de Mortagne and Pierre de Montereau, in their abbey churches. In Rheims, the architects Hugues Libergier and Robert de Coucy were similarly honored.
By digging in old archives, the modern student is ever adding new names to the nation’s honor roll. Many a gap still remains, but the very anonymousness of such masters of the living stone is stuff for the imagination. One likes to picture the old-time craftsman-artist rejoicing in his insignificance as he chiseled his leaf and vine just as he saw them by the roadside. He served a Master who gave like wages to all who worked in spirit and in truth, to him who, in the hidden corners where no human eye could penetrate, carved his leaf and flower with the same love as did the greater artist working on the stately imaged portals.
By digging through old archives, today’s students continuously add new names to the country’s honor roll. Many gaps still exist, but the anonymity of these masters of stone fuels the imagination. One can easily visualize the old-time craftsman-artist finding joy in his unremarkability as he carved his leaf and vine just as he saw them by the roadside. He served a Master who rewarded all who worked with spirit and truth, including those who, in hidden places where no human eye could see, crafted their leaves and flowers with the same love as the more famous artist working on grand, embellished entrances.
The “heretical Gothic-sculpture bogey” has led certain imaginations astray. There are those who find latent heresy in the old carvers’ work; they point, with suggestive smile, to the bishop and monk placed among the damned in the Last Judgments at the cathedral doors. Let them turn to the sermons of the day and they will find precisely the same Christian doctrine of the equality of all men before sin and punishment, preached from the pulpit within the church. Not in all the myriad scenes from Old and New Testaments is a single doctrinal error to be found, says M. Émile Mâle, who is master of the iconography of French churches. The sculptor layman merely carried out the scheme of the trained theologian.
The “heretical Gothic-sculpture bogey” has distracted some people’s imaginations. There are those who see hidden heresy in the work of the old carvers; they point, with a knowing smile, to the bishop and monk depicted among the damned in the Last Judgments at the cathedral doors. If they look at the sermons of the time, they will find exactly the same Christian teaching about the equality of all people in the face of sin and punishment, preached from the pulpit inside the church. According to M. Émile Mâle, an expert in the iconography of French churches, not a single doctrinal error can be found in all the countless scenes from the Old and New Testaments. The sculptor, who wasn’t a theologian, simply executed the vision of the trained theologian.
Many a sharp word does M. Viollet-le-Duc give as critic to those who enjoy in a cathedral the superficial beauties of decoration, but are blind to the efficient structure, to the scientific upholding skeleton. Surely it is a still more radical ignorance which perceives in a Gothic church its mechanical perfection, but denies the aspiration to immortality which was its inceptive spirit. To ascribe the origin of cathedrals to the need by the nascent commune of a town hall is to make of those soaring monuments veritable follies of human pride. Restore to them their religious soul, have eyes to see what may be called their spiritual framework, and as up-leaps toward the infinite they are sublimities. Can churches be the creation of rebellion and hate when into their very stones passed the clamorous vibrant faith of those crusading generations? Like hovering prayers their vaults seem to shut one in. The heart, weary of modern sophistry, draws strength from their eternal affirmation. He must have little music in his soul who is deaf to such a Credo. When men built Gothic cathedrals they knelt on both knees to pray, and never have they soared more supremely above themselves. “Deeds of God through the French” are these temples.
Many sharp words does M. Viollet-le-Duc have for critics who appreciate only the superficial beauty of a cathedral's decorations but are blind to its efficient structure and scientific framework. It's an even greater ignorance to see a Gothic church as merely mechanically perfect while ignoring its original spirit aspiring for immortality. To claim that cathedrals originated from the need for a town hall in a growing community reduces these grand monuments to mere expressions of human pride. Restore their religious essence, and see what could be described as their spiritual framework; as they reach toward the infinite, they become sublime. Can churches be born out of rebellion and hate when the very stones resonate with the fervent faith of those crusading generations? Their vaulted ceilings seem to enclose one like hovering prayers. The heart, tired of modern deception, draws strength from their timeless affirmation. One must have little music in their soul to be deaf to such a Credo. When people built Gothic cathedrals, they knelt in prayer, and they have never risen higher than in those moments. "Deeds of God through the French" are what these temples represent.
A word in regard to the term “Gothic.” It is as unreasonable a misnomer as could have been chosen, but since usage has sanctioned it, it must pass. Primarily put into currency by the Italians of the Renaissance, in the injurious sense of barbarous, the term was adopted by the French neo-classics of the XVII century. Molière’s scathing line on Gothic sculpture is well known—“Ces monstres odieux des siècles ignorants.” He complained that Gothic art “fit à la politesse une mortelle guerre.” When Racine spoke of Chartres Cathedral he made use of the term barbare; even to the churchman Fénelon the cathedrals of the Middle Ages appeared unreasoned and faulty.
A word about the term “Gothic.” It's an incredibly inaccurate label, but since it's been accepted, we have to go with it. It was originally popularized by Italians during the Renaissance in a negative way, implying something barbaric, and was then picked up by French neo-classicists in the 17th century. Molière's famous critique of Gothic sculpture is well-known—“Ces monstres odieux des siècles ignorants.” He argued that Gothic art “fit à la politesse une mortelle guerre.” When Racine referred to Chartres Cathedral, he used the term barbare; even the churchman Fénelon thought the cathedrals of the Middle Ages seemed irrational and flawed.
The opprobrious term was fixed by the Encyclopædists of the next century, when prejudice against the Middle Ages became militant and organized. With exclusive pedantism they dismissed the most national and civilized of arts as worthy of those rough invaders, the Goths. Voltaire, who, says Guizot, garnered only what was mean and criminal in the Middle Ages, saw in the study of Gothic architecture “a coarse curiosity, lacking good taste.” As late as 1800, a project was abroad to disencumber the soil of France of “these overcharged façades with their multitude of indecent and ridiculous figures.” And still later, the students in the national school of architecture were taught to despise the most reasoned, the most robust, the most logical of arts as a style of confusion and caprice.
The insulting term was popularized by the Encyclopedists of the next century, when hostility toward the Middle Ages became active and organized. With a narrow-minded approach, they dismissed some of the most national and sophisticated arts as appropriate only for those rough invaders, the Goths. Voltaire, who, according to Guizot, focused only on the vile and criminal aspects of the Middle Ages, regarded the study of Gothic architecture as “a crude curiosity, lacking good taste.” As late as 1800, there was a movement to rid the soil of France of “these overly elaborate façades with their numerous indecent and ridiculous figures.” Even later, students at the national school of architecture were taught to look down on the most reasoned, robust, and logical form of art, considering it a style of chaos and whim.
The rehabilitation of Gothic architecture in France, if tardy, has been ample. No branch of modern science presents a more able corps of workers. While true to the Latin genius, which unites clarity of style with an exact erudition, they have obeyed a yet deeper race instinct which knows that matter must be vivified by spirit, else learning sinks to a dry-as-dust recording, incapable of its highest flight. The telling of the monumental story of France has been touched by the sacred flame of patriotism. Like paladins, these modern knights are abroad on all the by-paths eager to rescue some hidden treasure of the national art. Future scholarship will look back at the brilliant achievements of the French archæologists of to-day with the same pride that is felt for the Benedictine savants of the XVII century.
The revival of Gothic architecture in France, though slow, has been significant. No field of modern science boasts such a skilled group of professionals. Remaining true to the Latin spirit, which combines clarity of expression with precise scholarship, they also follow a deeper instinct that understands that matter must be brought to life by spirit; otherwise, knowledge becomes a dry record, unable to reach its greatest potential. The portrayal of France's monumental history has been ignited by the passionate spirit of patriotism. Like modern-day heroes, these contemporary knights are exploring every corner to recover hidden treasures of national art. Future scholars will look back on the remarkable achievements of today’s French archaeologists with the same pride felt for the Benedictine scholars of the 17th century.
The aim of archæology is to date a monument correctly. How to do this by scientific method has been taught the last two generations at the École des Chartes, the national school par excellence, so M. de Vögué called it. Archives are pored over to trace each link with history, and those monuments which have no authenticated pedigree are compared with those of certain date. Each manuscript date is verified by the analysis of the edifice itself, whose successive campaigns of building are deciphered, since few and far between are the homogeneous churches. Each restoration also is verified. One of the solid bases for archæological exactness is the knowledge of profiles, which are called by the English textbook rib molds, arch molds, pier molds, or base molds. By a comparative analysis of profiles, a monument can now be accurately dated. As keystones were of different types in the various earlier decades of Gothic, they too help to substantiate an edifice.[14]
The goal of archaeology is to accurately date a monument. For the past two generations, the École des Chartes, which is recognized as the national school of excellence, has taught how to do this using scientific methods. Researchers examine archives to trace each connection to history, and monuments without verified histories are compared with those of known dates. Each manuscript date is confirmed by analyzing the structure itself, as very few churches are uniform in design. Each restoration is also checked. One of the fundamental aspects of archaeological accuracy is understanding profiles, which English textbooks refer to as rib molds, arch molds, pier molds, or base molds. Through comparative analysis of these profiles, a monument can now be dated with precision. Since keystones varied in type throughout different decades of Gothic architecture, they also help to validate a structure.[14]
Churches of one region are contrasted with those of another. The material employed is considered, since the stone of a province causes richness or poverty of sculpture: thus, Brittany’s granite and Auvergne’s lava mean an undeveloped sculpture compared with the fine white limestone districts of the Oise, or in Normandy and Poitou. When practicable, excavations under an edifice can give data concerning previous churches on the site.
Churches from one area are compared to those from another. The materials used are taken into account, as the stone from a region influences the quality of the sculpture: for example, Brittany’s granite and Auvergne’s lava lead to less developed sculptures compared to the fine white limestone found in the Oise, Normandy, and Poitou. When possible, digging beneath a building can provide information about earlier churches that were located on the same site.
M. Jules Quicherat was the first to teach that the history of the Middle Ages architecture was the history of the architect’s fight against the weight and push of the vaulting.[15] Once the right path was blazed, many an able pioneer helped clear the new road—such students as Viollet-le-Duc, de Caumont, Woillez, Prosper Merimée, de Dion, Coutan, de Beaurepaire, Grandmaison, Révoil, Rupricht-Robert, Félix de Verneilh, Anthyme Saint-Paul, Louis Courajod, Buhot de Kersers. At the École des Chartes, Robert de Lasteyrie occupied with distinction the chair held by Quicherat for thirty years, and his pupils, Camille Enlart and Eugène Lefèvre-Pontalis, in their turn, are passing on the high tradition to a younger school. M. Enlart, the director of the museum of comparative sculpture at the Trocadéro, is an authority on Romanesque architecture, and has initiated the study of the spread of Gothic architecture in mediæval Italy, Spain, the North, and the Levant.[16] M. Lefèvre-Pontalis has written a host of erudite monographs; one learns to accept his decisions as final, in so far as the ever-expanding realm of knowledge can be final. He directs the invaluable publications called the Congrès Archéologique de France and the Bulletin Monumental, and he edits those excellent short studies known as the Petites Monographies des grands édifices de la France, which are convenient pocket guides for the serious tourist.[17]
M. Jules Quicherat was the first to teach that the history of medieval architecture is essentially the story of architects battling the weight and pressure of vaults.[15] Once the right path was established, many skilled pioneers helped to pave the way—students like Viollet-le-Duc, de Caumont, Woillez, Prosper Merimée, de Dion, Coutan, de Beaurepaire, Grandmaison, Révoil, Rupricht-Robert, Félix de Verneilh, Anthyme Saint-Paul, Louis Courajod, and Buhot de Kersers. At the École des Chartes, Robert de Lasteyrie distinguished himself in the chair held by Quicherat for thirty years, and his students, Camille Enlart and Eugène Lefèvre-Pontalis, are now passing on this rich tradition to a new generation. M. Enlart, the director of the museum of comparative sculpture at the Trocadéro, is an expert on Romanesque architecture and has started studying the spread of Gothic architecture in medieval Italy, Spain, the North, and the Levant.[16] M. Lefèvre-Pontalis has written numerous scholarly monographs; one comes to regard his conclusions as definitive, within the ever-expanding field of knowledge. He oversees the valuable publications called the Congrès Archéologique de France and the Bulletin Monumental, and he edits the excellent short studies known as the Petites Monographies des grands édifices de la France, which serve as handy pocket guides for serious tourists.[17]
Each year is producing final monographs on the chief churches of France. M. Georges Durand has rendered fitting tribute to Amiens. M. de Farcy has identified himself with Angers, René Merlet with Chartres, Lucien Broche with Laon, and Lucien Bégule with Lyons. MM. Brutails has specialized on Gascony, the Thollier and H. du Ranquet on Auvergne, Labande on Provence, Berthelé on Plantagenet Gothic, André Rhein on Poitou and Anjou, Émile Bonnet on Hérault, Charles Porée on Burgundy, and Louis Demaison on Champagne. Other able students are MM. Bouet, Louis Serbat, Marcel Aubert, Ernest Rupin, Jules de Lahondès, René Fage, Amédée Boinet, Jean Virey, Robert Triger, and Louis Régnier.
Each year, final monographs are being published about the main churches in France. M. Georges Durand has paid a fitting tribute to Amiens. M. de Farcy has focused on Angers, René Merlet on Chartres, Lucien Broche on Laon, and Lucien Bégule on Lyons. MM. Brutails has specialized in Gascony, the Thollier and H. du Ranquet in Auvergne, Labande in Provence, Berthelé in Plantagenet Gothic, André Rhein in Poitou and Anjou, Émile Bonnet in Hérault, Charles Porée in Burgundy, and Louis Demaison in Champagne. Other skilled researchers include MM. Bouet, Louis Serbat, Marcel Aubert, Ernest Rupin, Jules de Lahondès, René Fage, Amédée Boinet, Jean Virey, Robert Triger, and Louis Régnier.
Precious texts have been unearthed from the archives by Victor Mortet, Henri Stein, and Eugène Müntz. The sculpture of France has been studied by MM. Robert de Lasteyrie, Émile Lambin, Léon Palustre, Eugène Müntz, Gabriel Fleury, Raymond Koechlin, J. M. de Vasselot, Paul Vitry, Gaston Brière, André Michel, Louis Gonse, and Émile Mâle. The latter three have brought out monumental general works. L’art gothique of Gonse gives the most exact and extended account of the beginning of Gothic, says Anthyme Saint-Paul, who is himself one of the most inspiring masters of mediæval archæology. M. Michel, who is conservator of the national museums, has edited the superb Histoire de l’art, to which leading French scholars have contributed.[18] And the iconography of French cathedrals has received no more magistral treatment than from M. Mâle, to whom is due the credit of establishing the scholastic character of Gothic imagery.[19] His path was cleared by pioneers such as Didron, Crosnier, Martin, and Duchesne.
Precious texts have been dug up from the archives by Victor Mortet, Henri Stein, and Eugène Müntz. The sculpture of France has been studied by Robert de Lasteyrie, Émile Lambin, Léon Palustre, Eugène Müntz, Gabriel Fleury, Raymond Koechlin, J. M. de Vasselot, Paul Vitry, Gaston Brière, André Michel, Louis Gonse, and Émile Mâle. The latter three have produced significant comprehensive works. L’art gothique by Gonse provides the most accurate and detailed account of the origins of Gothic style, according to Anthyme Saint-Paul, who is himself one of the most influential figures in medieval archaeology. Michel, the curator of the national museums, has edited the exceptional Histoire de l’art, which features contributions from leading French scholars.[18] And the iconography of French cathedrals has been treated with great mastery by M. Mâle, who deserves credit for establishing the scholarly nature of Gothic imagery.[19] His path was paved by pioneers like Didron, Crosnier, Martin, and Duchesne.
Happily for the local schools, a bevy of intelligent churchmen have devoted themselves to their regional monuments. I hope I may be pardoned if I do not name each with his ecclesiastical designation, but cite them here simply as savants: the Abbés Eugène Müller (Senlis); Bourassé and Bosseboeuf (Touraine); Ledru (Le Mans); Auber, De la Croix, and Mgr. Barbier de Montault (Poitiers); Chomton (Dijon); Bulteau (Chartres); Abgrall (Brittany); Maurin (Aix-en-Provence); Bouvier (Sens); Cerf (Rheims); Bouxin (Laon); and for the Norman churches, the Abbés Fossey, Porée, Loisel, and Pigéon.
Fortunately for the local schools, a group of intelligent clergy have dedicated themselves to their regional landmarks. I hope you’ll forgive me for not listing each with their official title, but I'll refer to them simply as scholars: Abbé Eugène Müller (Senlis); Bourassé and Bosseboeuf (Touraine); Ledru (Le Mans); Auber, De la Croix, and Mgr. Barbier de Montault (Poitiers); Chomton (Dijon); Bulteau (Chartres); Abgrall (Brittany); Maurin (Aix-en-Provence); Bouvier (Sens); Cerf (Rheims); Bouxin (Laon); and for the Norman churches, Abbés Fossey, Porée, Loisel, and Pigéon.
The list might be greatly extended. One can cite only a few. From the pages of such students have been written these chapters, by one who has felt that there must be many travelers who love the old cathedrals of Europe and have wandered among them puzzled by half-understood things, longing to know with exactitude how and when they were built. So it has not seemed a useless task to gather into these ten chapters what the French scholars are relating of their churches. So swiftly do archæological discoveries follow one another to-day, that statements accepted now may be obsolete to-morrow. The makers of history and art books can hope to serve only their hour.
The list could definitely be much longer. I can only mention a few. These chapters were written from the perspectives of students who felt there are many travelers who appreciate the old cathedrals of Europe and have wandered through them, confused by things they only partially understand, wishing to know exactly how and when they were built. So, it hasn’t seemed pointless to compile what French scholars are saying about their churches into these ten chapters. Archaeological discoveries are happening so quickly nowadays that what’s considered accurate today might be outdated tomorrow. Those who create history and art books can only hope to be relevant for a brief moment.
The new school of Christian archæology is redeeming the misrepresented centuries after the year 1000. It is undoing the systematic falsification of history, and is teaching us to read the past other than by the printed page. Not hate, but love, opens new windows in the soul. The study of the churches of France adds flesh and blood to many a mere name in history. One gains a very special liking for little Abbot Suger, most dependable of men, whose life was a succession of big undertakings. One feels reverent affection for that sentinel of the Church and its guide, Bernard of Clairvaux, who said some harsh things of fine churches, all the while that he was feeding the mystic life that made them inevitable. And very real become the bishop builders when one knows their cathedrals. One pores over the old volumes of the Histoire Littéraire de la France, begun by XVII-century Benedictines, and still being continued by the Institute of France, to gather details of good Bishop Fulbert and doughty St. Ives, who built at Chartres; of that distinguished literary man, Bishop Hildebert de Lavardin, who worked at Le Mans; of the well-poised Bishop Maurice de Sully, who raised Notre Dame at Paris; of crusading prelates such as Albéric de Humbert, who began Rheims; and of Nivelon de Chérisy, who built Soissons, and who, on the Fourth Crusade, played a foremost role. One grows to love, above all, the saint-king, Louis, truest hero of la douce France, who illuminated his kingdom with fair churches. And no one can admire St. Louis and not keep a warm corner in his heart for Joinville, his comrade-in-arms, the irresistible seneschal of Champagne.
The new school of Christian archaeology is correcting the misrepresented centuries after the year 1000. It’s reversing the systematic distortion of history and teaching us to understand the past beyond just what’s written. Not hate, but love, opens new windows in the soul. The study of the churches in France brings life to many historical names. You start to really appreciate little Abbot Suger, the most reliable of men, whose life was filled with significant projects. You feel a respectful affection for Bernard of Clairvaux, the sentinel of the Church, who criticized beautiful churches while nurturing the mystic life that made them essential. The bishop builders become very real when you learn about their cathedrals. You dive into the old volumes of the Histoire Littéraire de la France, which started with 17th-century Benedictines and is still being continued by the Institute of France, to gather details about good Bishop Fulbert and brave St. Ives, who built at Chartres; the distinguished literary figure, Bishop Hildebert de Lavardin, who worked at Le Mans; the composed Bishop Maurice de Sully, who constructed Notre Dame in Paris; and the crusading prelates like Albéric de Humbert, who began Rheims, and Nivelon de Chérisy, who built Soissons and played a major role in the Fourth Crusade. Above all, you come to love the saint-king, Louis, the true hero of la douce France, who brightened his kingdom with beautiful churches. And no one can admire St. Louis without keeping a warm place in their heart for Joinville, his comrade-in-arms, the unforgettable seneschal of Champagne.
Crusades and chivalry and all the multicolored aspects of the XII and XIII centuries become clearer to the imagination as one traces the story of the cathedrals of France; scholasticism and the early days of the schools, when Abélard sparred with Guillaume de Champeaux. Very real they all become: Peter the Venerable, good Stephen Harding, St. Thomas Becket, John of Salisbury, St. Edmund Rich, Stephen Langton, St. Dominic, St. Malachy O’Morgair, Innocent III, St. Bonaventure, and St. Thomas Aquinas. France welcomed them all during the two vital centuries when she imposed her literature as well as her architecture on western Europe, when the Paris schools were the intellectual center of the world.
Crusades, chivalry, and all the vibrant aspects of the 12th and 13th centuries become clearer in our minds as we explore the story of the cathedrals of France; scholasticism and the early days of the schools, when Abélard debated with Guillaume de Champeaux. They all come to life: Peter the Venerable, good Stephen Harding, St. Thomas Becket, John of Salisbury, St. Edmund Rich, Stephen Langton, St. Dominic, St. Malachy O’Morgair, Innocent III, St. Bonaventure, and St. Thomas Aquinas. France embraced them all during the two crucial centuries when she shaped her literature and architecture across Western Europe, when the Paris schools were the intellectual hub of the world.
To paint a rose-colored picture of the two best centuries of the Middle Ages would be absurd. They were full of very evil things. There were horrifying episodes in them. “Barbarism tempered by religion; religion disfigured by barbarism,” is the definition of Balmes, the theologian. The inconsistencies were gigantic. The same men who sacked Constantinople in 1204, dealing art a staggering blow, were the very men who in western Europe were building cathedrals. Then, as now, there were many for whom religion served as a convenient cloak for the lower instincts; then, as now, there were many who never lost sight of the higher ideals. Side by side with the evil and the self-seeking should be set the sublime impulses which checked those untutored generations. Do not hide the merciless laying waste of Languedoc by the north, but do not forget that, in the same hour, men had reached an abnegation of self that led them to the African coast as voluntary substitutes for their brother Christians in bondage there.
To create a rosy picture of the two best centuries of the Middle Ages would be ridiculous. They were filled with very evil things. There were horrifying events during that time. “Barbarism tempered by religion; religion disfigured by barbarism,” is how Balmes, the theologian, defined it. The contradictions were enormous. The same people who looted Constantinople in 1204, delivering a devastating blow to art, were also the ones building cathedrals in Western Europe. Just like today, there were many who used religion as a cover for their baser instincts; just like today, there were many who kept their focus on higher ideals. Alongside the evil and selfishness should be acknowledged the noble impulses that restrained those untamed generations. Don’t overlook the ruthless destruction of Languedoc by the north, but also remember that, at the same time, people had achieved a selflessness that took them to the African coast as voluntary replacements for their fellow Christians who were enslaved there.
In the midst of its human infirmities it was an age that aspired: its poets sang of the Holy Grail, its kings and its serfs were saints, there were saint scholars and barons and merchants, there was even a saint lawyer.
In the middle of its human weaknesses, it was a time that aimed high: its poets sang about the Holy Grail, its kings and peasants were saints, there were saintly scholars, barons, and merchants, and there was even a saintly lawyer.
It is precisely the restored balance between good and evil which the study of Gothic art is bringing about. The partisan may go on compiling a police gazette and call it history.[20] While the towers of Gothic churches point upward, he is refuted. The modern mind has once for all grasped that it is psychologically impossible for an age to have been sunk in blind superstition when it could build, not merely one or two, but hundreds of churches whose every line is an aspiration toward sanctity. The cathedrals are the true apologetics of the Middle Ages. Archæology is again proving its claim to be the soul of history.
It’s exactly the restored balance between good and evil that the study of Gothic art is achieving. A biased person can continue creating a police report and call it history. While the towers of Gothic churches rise toward the sky, they are proven wrong. The modern mind understands that it’s psychologically impossible for a time period to be immersed in blind superstition when it managed to build not just one or two, but hundreds of churches, each line striving for holiness. The cathedrals are the true defense of the Middle Ages. Archaeology is once again demonstrating its role as the essence of history.
CHAPTER II
Abbot Suger and St. Denis-en-France
Under the impulse of this monk, truly great in all things, Gothic architecture was born.—Félix de Verneilh (of Abbot Suger).
Under the influence of this monk, truly remarkable in every way, Gothic architecture came to life.—Félix de Verneilh (of Abbot Suger).
HE churches built during the evolution from Romanesque to Gothic have
been called transitional, a classification which would be most
convenient for the amateur, had not archæologists decided it was an
equivocal term. They say that, during the short period when “Romanesque
and Gothic inhabited under the same roof,” the Romanesque parts of the
edifice were placed side by side with the simultaneously built Gothic
parts, that there was juxtaposition, but no fusion. Vaults were either
barrel, groin, or of the diagonal-rib type; there was no such thing as a
transition form of vault. Arches were either round or pointed; there was
no such thing as a transition or intermediary form of arch. And since
the radical distinction between Romanesque and Gothic is caused by the
vaulting, it is correct to call that part of a church where was groin or
barrel vault Romanesque, and that part where were used the intersecting
ribs Gothic.
THE churches built during the shift from Romanesque to Gothic are referred to as transitional. This label is helpful for beginners, but archaeologists have deemed it ambiguous. They argue that, during the brief period when "Romanesque and Gothic coexisted," the Romanesque sections of the building were placed alongside the Gothic sections built at the same time; there was a mix, but not a blend. Vaults were either barrel, groin, or of the diagonal-rib design; there was no transitional style of vault. Arches were either round or pointed; there was no transitional or intermediary style of arch. Since the key difference between Romanesque and Gothic architecture lies in the vaulting, it is accurate to classify the sections of a church with groin or barrel vaults as Romanesque, and those with intersecting ribs as Gothic.
The sequence of the passing from Romanesque to Gothic is obscure, because there is a lack of definite dates. From 1110 to 1140, while the intersecting ribs were coming into use in northern France, such a vault was practically the only sign in an edifice of the new movement. The walls still were massive, the windows still were small and round-arched, the sculpture still was coarse and heavy. Then, as the transition advanced, the supports grew lighter, the profiles (those cross-section outlines of ribs, arches, capitals, and bases) grew purer, and the sculpture discarded Byzantine traditions and took nature as its model.
The transition from Romanesque to Gothic architecture is unclear because there aren’t specific dates to pinpoint it. Between 1110 and 1140, when intersecting ribs began to appear in northern France, this type of vault was nearly the only indication of the new movement in buildings. The walls remained thick, the windows were still small and rounded, and the sculpture was rough and heavy. As the transition continued, the structures became lighter, the profiles (the cross-sectional outlines of ribs, arches, capitals, and bases) became more refined, and the sculpture moved away from Byzantine influences to draw inspiration from nature.
French archæologists have thought that the use of diagonals came about first through the desire to hold up some groin vault, on the point of collapsing, which would seem a very sensible explanation, since the creative genius of the Ile-de-France seems dimly to have apprehended even in the first hour the stupendous possibility to be drawn from a member whose purpose was to concentrate force in order that other parts of the edifice might be relieved. From the initial hour began the evolution of the cardinal organ in the Ile-de-France. Whereas the Lombard architects looked on the diagonals as a mere contrivance, stubbornly keeping their eyes shut to the structural possibilities latent therein. The masons of the Ile-de-France at once began to profile their diagonals graciously, and even before the genius of Suger had coordinated, at St. Denis, all the foregoing progress of the nascent art, craftsmen had occasionally symbolized, as it were, the importance of the intersecting ribs by carving little caryatids for them to rest upon above the capitals; such figurines are to be seen in the Oise region at Bury and at Cambronne.[21]
French archaeologists believe that the use of diagonal supports originated from the need to stabilize a groin vault that was about to collapse, which seems like a reasonable explanation. The creative minds of the Ile-de-France region seemed to grasp, even from the very beginning, the incredible potential of a structural element designed to concentrate force, thereby relieving pressure on other parts of the building. From that initial moment, the evolution of this key element in the Ile-de-France began. While the Lombard architects viewed diagonals as just a practical solution, stubbornly ignoring the structural possibilities they offered, the masons in Ile-de-France started to shape their diagonals elegantly. Even before the genius of Suger had unified the earlier developments of this emerging art at St. Denis, craftsmen occasionally signified the importance of the intersecting ribs by carving small caryatids for them to rest on above the capitals; such figurines can be found in the Oise region at Bury and Cambronne.[21]
Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter’s idea is that the transitional period resolves itself into a series of experiments on the part of the builders to erect a vault with a minimum of centering, and he cites the hollow spires at Loches as an experiment to put up a stone roof without the use of any temporary substructure of wood, which apparently was costly.[22] He thinks that the earlier Gothic vaults were bombé because that form facilitated construction without centering, and that the Lombards dropped their precocious diagonals after 1120, as soon as they had learned how to build domed groin vaults which required no temporary wooden substructures. What is of value in Mr. Porter’s thesis is sure, in time, to pass into French currency; until a majority of French archæologists find his explanation better than their own it is permissible for us to agree with those who are telling the tale of their own national art.
Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter believes that the transitional period consists of a series of experiments by builders trying to create a vault with minimal support. He points to the hollow spires at Loches as an example of an attempt to construct a stone roof without any temporary wooden framework, which was apparently expensive.[22] He argues that earlier Gothic vaults were bombé because that shape made construction without support easier, and that the Lombards abandoned their advanced diagonal forms after 1120, once they learned to build domed groin vaults that didn’t need temporary wooden structures. The valuable aspects of Mr. Porter’s theory are likely to be accepted by French scholars over time; until a majority of French archaeologists find his explanations superior to their own, we are allowed to side with those narrating their own national art history.
Probably the earliest extant Gothic vaults in the Ile-de-France are those at Acy-en-Multien (Oise) and at Crouy-sur-Ourcq (Seine-et-Marne). Their outline is rectangular. Some intersecting ribs at Rhuis (Oise) are cited by M. Lefèvre-Pontalis as the oldest in the Soissonnais. Diagonals were put up, about 1115, at St. Vaast-de-Longmont (Oise), Orgeval (Seine-et-Oise), Viffort (Aisne), Airaines (Somme), and in other rural churches. The famous ambulatory vaults at Morienval were probably built about 1122. A year or two earlier, perhaps, are the side-aisle vaults of St. Étienne at Beauvais.
Probably the earliest existing Gothic vaults in the Ile-de-France are those at Acy-en-Multien (Oise) and at Crouy-sur-Ourcq (Seine-et-Marne). Their shape is rectangular. Some intersecting ribs at Rhuis (Oise) are noted by M. Lefèvre-Pontalis as the oldest in the Soissonnais. Diagonal vaults were constructed around 1115 at St. Vaast-de-Longmont (Oise), Orgeval (Seine-et-Oise), Viffort (Aisne), Airaines (Somme), and in other rural churches. The well-known ambulatory vaults at Morienval were likely built around 1122. A year or two earlier, perhaps, are the side-aisle vaults of St. Étienne at Beauvais.
Bury (Oise) shows the first extant half dome with ribs. Of the same time, about 1125, are the diagonals at Marolles, St. Vaast-les-Mello, Béthisy-St.-Pierre, Bonneuil-en-Valois, and Bellefontaine, all in the Oise department. Bellefontaine, whose date of 1125 is certain, has helped to place other churches of the transition by comparing their diagonals with its pointed intersecting ribs. Bruyères (Aisne) is about 1130, Poissy (Seine-et-Oise) and Villetertre (Oise) are about 1135, and so are the ribs of St. Martin-des-Champs at Paris. In the Aisne region are Berzy-le-Sec and Laffaux (c. 1140) and in the Oise region is Chelles, building at the hour when Suger undertook St. Denis (Seine), 1140 to 1144. Cambronne (Oise) and Foy-St.-Quentin (Somme) are about 1145. Such churches as Glennes (Aisne), St. Leu d’Esserent (Oise), and, close to the latter, Creuil’s church of St. Évremont were building in 1150; so were Chars (Seine-et-Oise) and, near it, Pontoise,[23] whose ambulatory vaults some claim are prior to those of the procession path of St. Denis, and therefore a link between Morienval and Suger’s abbatial. The big church at St. Germer (Oise) was begun about 1150, though certain of its features are more archaic than St. Denis, built before it. Some of these churches, called transitional, used wall ribs for their diagonals, others omitted them; in some the intersecting ribs were pointed, in others, semicircular.
Bury (Oise) has the earliest existing half dome with ribs. From around 1125, the diagonals can be found at Marolles, St. Vaast-les-Mello, Béthisy-St.-Pierre, Bonneuil-en-Valois, and Bellefontaine, all located in the Oise department. Bellefontaine, which definitely dates to 1125, has helped to date other transitional churches by comparing their diagonals with its pointed intersecting ribs. Bruyères (Aisne) dates to around 1130, while Poissy (Seine-et-Oise) and Villetertre (Oise) are from about 1135, as are the ribs of St. Martin-des-Champs in Paris. In the Aisne region are Berzy-le-Sec and Laffaux (circa 1140), and in the Oise region is Chelles, which was being built around the same time Suger was working on St. Denis (Seine), from 1140 to 1144. Cambronne (Oise) and Foy-St.-Quentin (Somme) are dated to about 1145. Churches such as Glennes (Aisne), St. Leu d’Esserent (Oise), and Creuil’s church of St. Évremont, which is close to the latter, were constructed in 1150; so were Chars (Seine-et-Oise) and nearby Pontoise,[23] whose ambulatory vaults some argue are earlier than those of the procession path at St. Denis, thus linking Morienval and Suger’s abbey. The large church at St. Germer (Oise) began construction around 1150, although some of its features are more archaic than those of St. Denis, which was built earlier. Some of these transitional churches used wall ribs for their diagonals, while others did not; in some, the intersecting ribs were pointed, while in others, they were semicircular.
Mr. John Bilson, who contends that diagonals were used in Normandy some twenty-five years earlier than in the Ile-de-France, considers the early dates for these rural churches improbable, that scarcely any were anterior to St. Denis, that it was a case of little churches following the great churches, not vice versa. The earliest, he thinks, was St. Étienne at Beauvais (c. 1120), significantly close to Normandy. But Normandy did not suspect the value and fecundity of diagonals. That feat of creative genius none can deny to the Ile-de-France.
Mr. John Bilson, who argues that diagonals were used in Normandy about twenty-five years earlier than in the Ile-de-France, finds the early dates for these rural churches unlikely, claiming that hardly any were built before St. Denis, and that it was a case of small churches following the large ones, not the other way around. He believes the earliest was St. Étienne at Beauvais (c. 1120), which is notably close to Normandy. However, Normandy did not recognize the value and productivity of diagonals. That act of creative genius is one that can’t be denied to the Ile-de-France.
The traveler can do nothing more enlightening and delightful as a prelude to his journey among French cathedrals than to spend some early spring days exploring the rural churches of the privileged land of the national art which the old geographers chose to picture as an island inclosed by the Seine, the Marne, the Aisne, and the Oise. Numerous churches of the transition lie between Soissons, Senlis, and Beauvais, and once, around Amiens was another such center, but few of the monuments there have survived.[24] Go to Creuil and see, in the ruins of St. Évremont, a rudimentary flying buttress—a quarter arch once hidden under the lean-to roof. No doubt the architect built it with the intention of bracing the upper walls, but since he omitted to brace the flying buttress itself it failed of its purpose. Four miles away, at St. Leu d’Esserent, is an awkward early trial of a Gothic vault in the tribune above the porch, but as the ribs are embedded in the cells, no proper elasticity is achieved. Go to Morienval and study its remarkable essay in spanning a curving section with diagonals. Trace these early steps of the national art, and the meaning of the Gothic bone structure grows plainer.
The traveler can't do anything more enlightening and enjoyable as a prelude to their journey through French cathedrals than to spend some early spring days exploring the rural churches in the wonderful land of national art, which old geographers depicted as an island surrounded by the Seine, the Marne, the Aisne, and the Oise. Numerous churches from the transitional period can be found between Soissons, Senlis, and Beauvais, and once, around Amiens, there was another such center, but few of its monuments have survived.[24] Visit Creuil and see, in the ruins of St. Évremont, a basic flying buttress—a quarter arch that was once hidden under a lean-to roof. The architect probably designed it to support the upper walls, but since he forgot to brace the flying buttress itself, it didn’t work as intended. Four miles away, at St. Leu d’Esserent, there's a clumsy early attempt at a Gothic vault in the space above the porch, but since the ribs are embedded in the cells, it lacks proper elasticity. Go to Morienval and examine its impressive attempt at spanning a curved section with diagonals. Follow these early steps of the national art, and the significance of the Gothic structural framework becomes clearer.
I approve the life of those for whom the city is a prison, who find paradise in solitude, who live by the works of their hands, or who seek to remake their spirit by the sweetness of their contemplative life, who drink of the fountain of life by the lips of their heart, and forget what is behind them to regard only what lies ahead. But neither the most hidden forest nor the highest mountains will give happiness to man, if he has not in himself solitude of the spirit, peace of conscience, upliftings of the heart to God.—Letter of St. Ives, Bishop of Chartres, 1091-1115.
I support the lives of those who see the city as a prison, who find paradise in being alone, who rely on the work of their hands, or who try to renew their spirit through a peaceful life of contemplation, who sip the joy of life with an open heart, and who forget the past to focus on the future. But neither the deepest forest nor the highest mountains can bring happiness to a person who doesn’t have inner solitude, peace of mind, and a heart lifted to God. —Letter of St. Ives, Bishop of Chartres, 1091-1115.
Of the experimental steps which led to Gothic art, the most appealing is the nunnery church of Morienval, a humble forerunner of Amiens Cathedral that has made as much stir in archæological controversy as Périgueux’s cathedral of St. Front itself. Morienval may not be the passionately sought œuvre-initiale, since its vaults, while they betray inexperience, certainly were preceded by still cruder attempts, but it can boast that it is the first Gothic ambulatory extant, and as the curving aisle around the chancel is the most exquisite feature of the great cathedrals, Morienval’s humble first essay of it merits a pilgrimage.
Of the experimental steps that led to Gothic art, the most interesting is the nunnery church of Morienval, a modest precursor to Amiens Cathedral that has sparked as much debate in archaeological discussions as Périgueux’s cathedral of St. Front. Morienval may not be the passionately sought œuvre-initiale, because its vaults, while showing inexperience, were certainly preceded by even rougher attempts, but it can claim to be the first existing Gothic ambulatory. Since the curved aisle around the chancel is the most stunning feature of the great cathedrals, Morienval’s humble initial attempt deserves a visit.
As one approaches the abbey church it does not appear till one is directly over it, so snugly hidden away is the village in a fold of the rolling country that skirts the forest of Compiègne. Perhaps the IX-century nuns who chose the site may have hoped that the marauders of that troublous time might ride by, unconscious of booty so close at hand. With gratitude one learns that the invasion of 1914 has left Morienval unscathed, as well as those other memorials of tentative Gothic, Acy-en-Multien and Crouy-sur-Ourcq.
As you get closer to the abbey church, it doesn’t come into view until you’re right above it, so well-hidden is the village in a dip of the rolling countryside that borders the forest of Compiègne. Perhaps the 9th-century nuns who selected the spot hoped that the raiders of their troubled times might pass by, unaware of the treasures so near. It’s reassuring to know that the invasion of 1914 left Morienval untouched, along with other examples of early Gothic architecture, Acy-en-Multien and Crouy-sur-Ourcq.
Because of excellent proportions, the church appears larger than in reality. The exterior is Romanesque. Two time-stained towers of the XI century mark the angles between transept and choir, an arrangement derived from Rhenish churches. At the west façade is a beautiful XII-century tower. It was building while the nuns were proceeding to tear down a decrepit apse in order to erect the present east end of the church. In that new apse appeared the much-discussed early ribs.
Because of its excellent proportions, the church looks bigger than it actually is. The exterior is Romanesque. Two weathered towers from the 11th century define the corners between the transept and the choir, a design inspired by churches in the Rhine region. On the west façade stands a beautiful tower from the 12th century. It was being built while the nuns were taking down a rundown apse to construct the current east end of the church. In that new apse, the much-talked-about early ribs were introduced.
A record tells that relics were installed in the church in 1122, and it was probably then that the new works were finished. Ambulatories had come into favor during the first third of the XII century, when need was felt for a suitable corridor for pilgrims to encircle the altar whereon relics were exposed. Now to vault a curving aisle was no easy task, owing to the trapeze shape of each section. Morienval’s ambulatory must have been designed to hold extra altars, since entrance to the aisle is blocked at both ends by the towers, and the passage is so narrow that only one at a time can walk in it. There are no apse chapels. The sculpture is archaic. Some of the capitals show interlacings, and some are of the pleated type popular in Normandy. The diminutive corridor has four small bays whose clumsy intersecting vault ribs are of the size of the average stovepipe. They curve strangely, and two of the keystones are not in the axis of the passageway, nor has elasticity yet been wholly achieved, since the ends of the ribs plunge into the web of the vault.
A record states that relics were put in the church in 1122, and it was probably around that time that the new work was completed. Ambulatories became popular during the first part of the 12th century when there was a need for a suitable corridor for pilgrims to walk around the altar where the relics were displayed. Vaulting a curved aisle was not an easy task due to the trapezoidal shape of each section. Morienval’s ambulatory must have been designed to hold extra altars, as access to the aisle is blocked at both ends by towers, and the passage is so narrow that only one person can walk through at a time. There are no chapels in the apse. The sculpture appears outdated. Some of the capitals feature interlacing designs, while others are of the pleated style popular in Normandy. The small corridor has four tiny bays, and the awkward intersecting vault ribs are about the size of a regular stovepipe. They curve oddly, and two of the keystones are not aligned with the passageway, and flexibility has not yet been fully achieved, as the ends of the ribs dip into the web of the vault.
Over the choir, consisting of one large bay, are intersecting ribs that appear to be posterior to those of the ambulatory. They, too, are rude and large, but are wholly detached from the cells. M. Lefèvre-Pontalis thinks that the ambulatory diagonals are contemporary, and owe their more archaic character to the difficulty of vaulting a curved passage. So swiftly did the early architects acquire skill in the new system of building, that when a chapel was erected on the northern arm of Morienval’s transept, at the end of the XII century, each diagonal had become a single slender torus, virile and graceful.
Over the choir, which features one large bay, there are intersecting ribs that seem to come after those of the ambulatory. They’re also rough and large but are completely separate from the cells. M. Lefèvre-Pontalis believes that the diagonals of the ambulatory are from the same period and that their more primitive appearance is due to the challenges of vaulting a curved passage. The early architects quickly developed their skills in the new building style, so much so that when a chapel was built on the northern arm of Morienval’s transept at the end of the 12th century, each diagonal had become a single slender torus, strong and elegant.
Of less architectural importance is the Romanesque nave of Morienval, whose meager vault ribs are of the XVII century. The western tower was the prototype of the Romanesque belfries of the region and should be preserved. It is in a deplorable state, propped by beams, which are gayly scaled by the lads who ring the Angelus. Little Morienval has the human touch which the traveler craves. Set in the wall above the XIII-century lord of Viri’s tomb are tablets that commemorate two pastors of this isolated Valois village who were heroes as valiant as any crusader. Their combined ministry covered a hundred and one years. The first died in 1840, after fifty-seven years of service here, “faithful to his duty in times most difficult,” and difficult indeed was a priest’s life during the Revolution. “Pray for his soul,” begs his grateful commune, to which he had bequeathed the presbytery and all his savings.
Of less architectural significance is the Romanesque nave of Morienval, whose simple vault ribs date back to the 17th century. The western tower was the model for the Romanesque bell towers in the area and should be preserved. It is in a terrible condition, supported by beams, which are playfully climbed by the boys who ring the Angelus. Little Morienval has the personal touch that travelers seek. Above the 13th-century tomb of the lord of Viri is a plaque honoring two pastors from this secluded Valois village who were as brave as any crusader. Their combined service lasted a total of one hundred and one years. The first passed away in 1840 after fifty-seven years of service here, “faithful to his duty in the most challenging times,” and it truly was a difficult time for priests during the Revolution. “Pray for his soul,” requests his grateful community, to whom he had left the presbytery and all his savings.
His successor came to Morienval in his ’twenties, fresh from Paris, his birthplace, and on this dwindling village he expended his energies for forty-five years. Abbé Riaux loved his parishioners like a father, and was, says the memorial tablet, “physician for body as well as soul.” During the cholera of 1849 his self-denial elicited a gold medal from Morienval and the village of Bonneuil, where is another primitive essay of a Gothic vault. “The state of decay of his beautiful church made him suffer,” runs the inscription, so he willed his modest fortune toward its restoration. Happily, he lived long enough to see the church he loved become a savant’s shrine. It was in 1880 that M. Robert de Lasteyrie first drew attention to Morienval as an early step in the tardily understood national art, and MM. Anthyme Saint-Paul, Eugène Lefèvre-Pontalis, and Camille Enlart joined in the debate. The archæologists’ war horse they have called our little Morienval. Such widespread discussion and the good priest’s bequest fortunately brought about a thorough restoration of the choir.
His successor arrived in Morienval in his twenties, newly moved from Paris, his hometown, and dedicated the next forty-five years to this small village. Abbé Riaux cared for his parishioners like a father and was, according to the memorial tablet, “a healer for both body and soul.” During the cholera outbreak of 1849, his selflessness earned him a gold medal from Morienval and the village of Bonneuil, which features another early example of a Gothic vault. “The dilapidated state of his beautiful church caused him pain,” states the inscription, prompting him to dedicate his modest fortune to its restoration. Fortunately, he lived long enough to witness the church he cherished transform into a site of scholarly significance. In 1880, M. Robert de Lasteyrie first highlighted Morienval as an early contribution to the gradually appreciated national art, and MM. Anthyme Saint-Paul, Eugène Lefèvre-Pontalis, and Camille Enlart joined in the discussion. They have dubbed our little Morienval the “archaeologists’ war horse.” This extensive debate, along with the good priest’s legacy, thankfully led to a complete restoration of the choir.
Sous le porche de l’église, chacun laisse le fardeau que la vie lui impose. Ici le plus pauvre homme s’élève au rang des grands intellectuels, des poètes, que dis-je? au rang des esprits: il s’installe dans le domaine de la pensée pure et du rêve. Le gémissement d’une vieille femme agenouillée dans l’église de son village est du même accent, traduit la même ignorance, le même pressentiment que la méditation du savant.... De ces parties profondes de l’être, de ce domaine obscur surgissent toutes les puissances créatrices de l’homme.
Under the church porch, everyone lets go of the burdens that life imposes on them. Here, the poorest person rises to the level of great thinkers, poets—what am I saying?—the level of minds: they enter the realm of pure thought and dreams. The moaning of an old woman kneeling in her village church carries the same tone, conveys the same ignorance, the same foreboding as the meditation of a scholar... From these deep parts of existence, from this shadowy realm, all of humanity's creative powers emerge.
Close in date to Morienval are the aisle vaults of St. Étienne’s nave at Beauvais, the old city that lies on a tributary of the Oise. The intersecting ribs are not quite so stout as those of Morienval, but their ends still plunge into the massive, and they, too, are round-arched; their date is approximately 1120. That they planned at the same time to throw similar diagonals over the principal span is proved by the existent lower structures, but the actual vaults there were not erected till after a fire in 1180. The transverse arches of the aisles are noticeably stilted. This device was to lead to a solution of the problem how to raise the arches framing each vault section to the level of the diagonals’ crown, and thus avoid the excessive doming which is found in the earlier Gothic vaults.
Close in date to Morienval are the aisle vaults of St. Étienne’s nave at Beauvais, the old city that sits on a tributary of the Oise. The intersecting ribs aren’t quite as thick as those of Morienval, but their ends still dive into the massive, and they are also round-arched; their date is around 1120. That they planned at the same time to create similar diagonals over the main span is shown by the existing lower structures, but the actual vaults there weren’t built until after a fire in 1180. The transverse arches of the aisles are noticeably raised. This method was meant to solve the problem of how to elevate the arches framing each vault section to the level of the diagonals’ apex, thereby avoiding the excessive doming found in the earlier Gothic vaults.
In the XII-century north façade of the transept is an oculus big enough to be called the first rose window; a wheel of fortune it is called, because the images around its circle are an allegory of the fleet passing of man’s greatness. This is one of the very early approaches to pure sculpture. The nave’s two westernmost bays and its façade are of the XI century. Had the original choir of St. Étienne survived, it is thought that its ambulatory would be one of the missing steps connecting the cramped corridor of Morienval with the double procession path of St. Denis. The present choir, a Flamboyant Gothic structure, is famous for its gloriously colored windows, some of which were made by that notable family of local artists who designed the big rose windows of Beauvais Cathedral, Engrand Le Prince and his sons Jean and Nicolas, and his son-in-law Nicolas Le Pot. The latter carved the cathedral’s wooden doors, for versatility was characteristic of the artisan-artists of those days.
In the 12th-century north façade of the transept, there’s an oculus large enough to be considered the first rose window; it’s called a wheel of fortune because the images around its circle represent the fleeting nature of human greatness. This is one of the earliest examples of pure sculpture. The two westernmost bays of the nave and its façade are from the 11th century. If the original choir of St. Étienne had survived, it’s believed that its ambulatory would have been one of the missing links between the narrow corridor of Morienval and the double procession path of St. Denis. The current choir, a Flamboyant Gothic structure, is renowned for its beautifully colored windows, some of which were created by the notable local artists Engrand Le Prince and his sons Jean and Nicolas, along with his son-in-law Nicolas Le Pot, who carved the cathedral’s wooden doors, as versatility was a hallmark of the artisan-artists of that time.
Ten miles from Beauvais, a crawling train sets one down in a field whence a two-mile walk leads to the sleepy bourg of St. Germer-en-Flay. The abbey was founded in 655 by Germer, a noble of Dagobert’s court, nephew of St. Ouen the great bishop of Normandy’s capital. To St. Germer’s abbey came William the Conqueror to beg the French king to join him in his proposed descent on England. But Philip I gathered his counselors, and it was decided not to support the Norman duke, since, if he gained England, he would be richer than his own suzerain, the king of France, and if he failed, France would have antagonized the English.
Ten miles from Beauvais, a slow train drops you off in a field, from where a two-mile walk takes you to the quiet village of St. Germer-en-Flay. The abbey was founded in 655 by Germer, a noble from Dagobert’s court, and the nephew of St. Ouen, the great bishop of Normandy's capital. William the Conqueror came to St. Germer's abbey to ask the French king to join him in his plan to invade England. However, Philip I gathered his advisors and decided not to support the Norman duke, because if he succeeded in England, he would be richer than the king of France himself, and if he failed, France would have made an enemy of the English.
The large abbatial church of St. Germer, if not beautiful, is of archæological interest. Formerly it was thought to be a monument of 1130, but closer study has shown that it was erected during one bout of work from 1150 to 1180. Hard though it was to believe it the contemporary of the cathedrals at Senlis and Noyon, its sculpture is too excellent to have been done earlier. The crocketed capitals of its westernmost bays were never made earlier than 1175. That the church was continued without pause from apse to façade is proved by the unity of profiles and details. Its anachronisms are to be explained because it derived from a side current of Gothic art, out of touch with the swift-moving main stream, which was channeled by Abbot Suger.
The large abbatial church of St. Germer, while not beautiful, is of archaeological interest. It was once believed to be a monument from 1130, but further research has shown that it was built during a single construction period from 1150 to 1180. Surprisingly, it was a contemporary of the cathedrals in Senlis and Noyon, and its sculpture is too impressive to have been created earlier. The crocketed capitals in its westernmost bays were made no earlier than 1175. The church was constructed continuously from apse to façade, as demonstrated by the consistency of profiles and details. Its anachronisms can be explained by its origins in a side current of Gothic art, which was out of touch with the rapidly evolving main stream directed by Abbot Suger.
The architect of St. Germer showed in the main parts of his church a thorough understanding of the new Gothic vaulting, and at the same time he covered his tribune gallery with Romanesque groins. He made heavy Romanesque piers, and simultaneously he essayed to disencumber the pavement by employing the corbel, or side bracket. The Norman zigzag or chevron design decorates the heavy molding of the pier arches. Over the sanctuary he attempted the inartistic experiment of having his ribs converge, not on a keystone, but directly on a transverse rib. The ribs of the upper vaulting are heavy and ornamented. The pointed arches of the pier arcade are surmounted by round arches, in the tribunes. And between tribune and clearstory are square apertures neither Romanesque nor Gothic.
The architect of St. Germer demonstrated a solid grasp of the new Gothic vaulting in the main sections of his church, while also using Romanesque groins for the tribune gallery. He created robust Romanesque piers and simultaneously tried to clear the pavement by using corbels, or side brackets. The heavy molding of the pier arches is decorated with the Norman zigzag or chevron pattern. Above the sanctuary, he made an awkward choice by having his ribs converge not on a keystone but directly on a transverse rib. The ribs of the upper vaulting are substantial and detailed. The pointed arches of the pier arcade are topped with round arches in the tribunes. Between the tribune and the clearstory are square openings that are neither Romanesque nor Gothic.
To meet the thrust of the upper vaulting, some rudimentary flying buttresses were built under the lean-to roof of the tribune galleries, but as they themselves were not braced, they remained ineffectual. The collapse of some of the high vaults caused the addition, later, of the present flying buttresses. The exterior of the church is gaunt, with windows that are small and round-arched. The west façade was wrecked during the Hundred Years’ War, and never restored. Walled-up arches mar the spacious interior. Thick coats of whitewash cover it, and when dust gathers on that make-shift of cleanliness the effect is tawdry. Directly behind the apse of the big abbatial stands a masterpiece of Rayonnant Gothic, a diminutive church whose west façade faces, with awkward closeness, the back of the larger church. As it is connected with the latter’s ambulatory by a glazed passage, it may be regarded as a sort of Lady chapel. Many such imitations of the Sainte-Chapelle of Paris arose, after St. Louis had made his shrine for the crown of thorns. The abbot who put up St. Germer’s glass reliquary was Pierre Wesencourt, who ruled from 1254 to 1272, and it is thought that the king’s own architect designed it. That Louis IX contributed toward it is shown by the fleur-de-lis and the donjons of Castile in the storied windows. Over the altar once stood the alabaster retablo, depicting St. Germain’s life, now in the Musée Cluny, at Paris.
To support the pressure of the upper vault, some basic flying buttresses were constructed under the slanted roof of the tribune galleries, but since they weren’t braced, they didn’t work effectively. The collapse of some of the high vaults later led to the installation of the current flying buttresses. The church’s exterior is bare, with small, round-arched windows. The west façade was destroyed during the Hundred Years’ War and was never repaired. Bricked-up arches spoil the spacious interior. It’s covered in thick layers of whitewash, and when dust settles on that makeshift cleanliness, it looks shabby. Right behind the apse of the large abbatial stands a stunning example of Rayonnant Gothic, a small church whose west façade awkwardly faces the back of the larger church. It is linked to the latter’s ambulatory by a glazed passage, making it a sort of Lady chapel. Many copies of the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris began to appear after St. Louis created his shrine for the crown of thorns. The abbot who commissioned St. Germer’s glass reliquary was Pierre Wesencourt, who ruled from 1254 to 1272, and it’s believed that the king's own architect designed it. Louis IX’s contribution is evident in the fleur-de-lis and the castles of Castile depicted in the stained glass windows. Above the altar once stood the alabaster retablo, illustrating the life of St. Germain, which is now at the Musée Cluny in Paris.
POISSY[28]
POISSY __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Christianity is still for 400,000,000 of human beings the great pair of wings that are indispensable if man is to rise above himself, above humdrum living and shut-in horizons, it is still the spiritual guide to lead him by patience, resignation, and hope to serenity, to lift him by purity, temperance, and goodness to the heights of devotion and self-sacrifice. Always and everywhere for nineteen hundred years as soon as these wings flag or break, public and private manners degenerate. Neither philosophy, reason, nor artistic and literary culture, nor even feudal honor, military and chivalrous, no code, no administration, no government can serve as substitute for it.—H. Taine (1892).
Christianity is still, for 400 million people, the essential wings that are necessary for a person to rise above themselves, beyond everyday life and limited perspectives. It continues to be the spiritual guide that leads them through patience, acceptance, and hope towards peace, lifting them through purity, moderation, and kindness to the heights of devotion and selflessness. For nineteen hundred years, whenever these wings falter or break, both public and private behavior decline. Neither philosophy, reason, nor artistic and literary culture, nor even feudal honor, military value, or chivalry, can replace it. —H. Taine (1892).
The church of St. Louis, at Poissy, is a link in the normal development of Gothic, and not like St. Germain, a disconcerting anachronism. About 1135 both systems of vaults were here built at one and the same time.
The church of St. Louis in Poissy is a part of the typical evolution of Gothic architecture, unlike St. Germain, which is a confusing anachronism. Around 1135, both types of vaults were constructed simultaneously here.
Poissy lies on the Seine slightly above its junction with the classic Oise. A pleasant way to approach it is to walk from St. Germain-en-Laye through the forest, when it is carpeted with anemones. St. Germain’s palace chapel is thought to be the work of Pierre de Montereau. One goes to Poissy in a spirit of pilgrimage, for at its font, in 1215, St. Louis of France was baptized.[29] He held the gift of Christian citizenship he here received above all that the world could bestow. To his intimates he often signed himself Louis of Poissy. His grandfather, Philippe-Auguste, had given the manor of Poissy to his son, on his marriage to Blanche of Castile. Living then in retirement at Poissy was the gentle Agnes of Méran, that aunt of St. Elizabeth of Hungary whom Philippe-Auguste had been forced by Rome’s decree to set aside. When St. Louis was born, on St. Mark’s Day of 1215, in order to spare the young mother, the church bells were silent. The Spanish princess asked the cause, and ordered—gallant woman that she was—that every bell in the town should ring out a joyous carillon because God had given her un beau fils. Shakespeare would inevitably admire Blanche; she was a Shakespearian character:
Poissy is located on the Seine, just above where it meets the classic Oise. A nice way to get there is to walk from St. Germain-en-Laye through the forest when it's covered in anemones. It’s believed that St. Germain’s palace chapel was built by Pierre de Montereau. People visit Poissy with a sense of pilgrimage because it’s where St. Louis of France was baptized in 1215. He treasured the gift of Christian citizenship he received there more than anything else the world could offer. To his close friends, he often referred to himself as Louis of Poissy. His grandfather, Philippe-Auguste, had given the manor of Poissy to his son when he married Blanche of Castile. Living in retirement at Poissy at that time was the gentle Agnes of Méran, the aunt of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, whom Philippe-Auguste had been compelled by a decree from Rome to set aside. When St. Louis was born on St. Mark’s Day in 1215, the church bells were kept silent to spare the young mother. The Spanish princess inquired about the silence and, being the gallant woman she was, ordered that every bell in town should ring out a joyful carillon because God had blessed her with “a handsome son.” Shakespeare would undoubtedly admire Blanche; she was a character straight out of a Shakespeare play:
Is close to England; reflect on the years
About Louis the Dauphin and that beautiful girl.
If passionate love seeks out beauty,
Where will he find something more beautiful than in Blanche?
If jealous love seeks out virtue,
Where will he find it purer than in Blanche? If love ambitious looked for a match based on status,
Whose veins carry richer blood than Lady Blanche?[30]
The wide ambulatory of Poissy is groin-vaulted, but diagonals cover the two oriented apsidioles that open on a false transept, which arrangement of pseudo-transept with chapels was copied soon after at Sens. The three easternmost bays of the nave have retained their primitive intersecting ribs, which are round-arched, decorated, and very broad, as are the transverse arches that separate the vault into sections. Poissy’s sculpture is of an advanced type. Owing to later changes, there is much patchwork in the church.
The wide walkway of Poissy features a groin vault, but diagonal arches cover the two oriented apsidioles that open into a false transept. This layout of the pseudo-transept with chapels was copied shortly after at Sens. The three easternmost bays of the nave have kept their original intersecting ribs, which are rounded, decorated, and quite broad, just like the transverse arches that divide the vault into sections. Poissy’s sculpture is quite advanced. Due to later alterations, there's a lot of patchwork in the church.
So said the man who created for the senses These tall pillars support this expansive roof. Self-assured.
—Wordsworth.
Poissy. An Early Example of Gothic Vaulting (c.
1135)
Poissy. An Early Example of Gothic Vaulting (circa 1135)
Finally came the hour of the new architecture’s clear achievement. After all the trial efforts, there now was built, midway in the XII century, a monument which was to wield momentous influence. With the erection of St. Denis, the center of Gothic art may be said to have shifted slightly south, to Paris. From the capital the new movement spread out in systematic progression—each church comprehending better than had its predecessor the principle of thrust and counterthrust, each drawing from it further consequences.
Finally came the time when the new architecture had clearly made its mark. After all the trial efforts, there was now a monument built in the middle of the 12th century that would have a significant impact. With the construction of St. Denis, the center of Gothic art can be said to have shifted slightly south to Paris. From the capital, the new movement spread systematically—each church understood the principles of thrust and counterthrust better than its predecessor, each drawing further implications from it.
St. Denis did not put a stop abruptly to the coexistence in the same edifice of both systems of vaulting any more than it began immediately the usage of all the consequences of diagonals. Yet none the less the Royal Abbey is rightly called the first Gothic monument, since here first was demonstrated stout-heartedly the advantages of the new system. Abbot Suger was the first to employ the generating member with the full intelligence of its results. “From the moment of St. Denis’ conception, Amiens had become inevitable.”
St. Denis didn't suddenly end the coexistence of both types of vaulting in the same building, nor did it immediately adopt all the implications of diagonals. However, the Royal Abbey is rightfully considered the first Gothic monument, as it was here that the benefits of the new system were boldly showcased for the first time. Abbot Suger was the first to use the key element with a full understanding of its effects. “From the moment of St. Denis’ conception, Amiens became unavoidable.”
It was Suger who wedded definitely the pointed arch and the intersecting ribs. He dared to make piers so slender that the beholders were astonished they could carry the weight of a stone roof; he dared to open his walls by windows so large that his choir was called by the people the lantern of St. Denis. The mastery by Suger’s craftsmen of the art of stained glass was to have profound consequences in Gothic structure, since it hastened the suppression of the wall screen between the active members: “Behold I will lay thy stones with fair colors, and thy foundations with sapphires; and I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones.”
It was Suger who permanently combined the pointed arch and the intersecting ribs. He had the audacity to create piers so slim that onlookers were amazed they could support the weight of a stone roof; he also had the courage to open his walls with windows so large that people referred to his choir as the lantern of St. Denis. The skill of Suger’s craftsmen in stained glass had significant effects on Gothic architecture, as it sped up the removal of the wall screen between the active components: “Behold I will lay thy stones with fair colors, and thy foundations with sapphires; and I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones.”
Suger has himself told us how the house of God, many-colored as the radiance of precious stones, lifted his soul from the cares of this world to divine meditation, for this Gothic art, whose spiritual appeal he had apprehended as profoundly as he had its structural laws, was most aptly fashioned to be a foretaste of the Beyond, neither touching the baseness of earth nor wholly the serenity of heaven.
Suger has shared how the house of God, vibrant like the brilliance of precious stones, elevated his spirit from worldly worries to divine contemplation. This Gothic art, which he understood deeply both in its spiritual meaning and its architectural principles, was perfectly designed to give a glimpse of the Beyond, avoiding the lowliness of earth while not completely reaching the peace of heaven.
Doubtless Suger understood the importance of the dedication day in 1144. He made of it a national ceremony. He started the Gothic movement intrepidly. Before a historic gathering of bishops and barons he demonstrated that a Gothic vault was lighter, more easily built, more economical, and more enduring than any other, and the important men of France went back to their own cities to spread far and wide the lesson they had learned.
Doubtless, Suger recognized the significance of the dedication day in 1144. He turned it into a national ceremony. He boldly initiated the Gothic movement. In front of a historic assembly of bishops and barons, he showed that a Gothic vault was lighter, easier to construct, more cost-effective, and more durable than any other type. The influential figures of France returned to their own cities to share the knowledge they had gained.
In the course of the story of French architecture, fate has most graciously allied certain monuments of prime archæological interest with people or events of historic importance.
In the history of French architecture, fate has kindly connected certain monuments of great archaeological significance with people or events of historical importance.
Gothic art made its debut in a unique setting. St. Denis was the patron of France, the missionary who first preached Christianity by the Seine, and who there had been martyred in the III century. On Montmartre is the crypt said to have been the burial place of the first Christian martyrs of Paris. In time there rose on the road outside the city a monastery dedicated to St. Denis, and thither were his relics transferred. Each of the three royal lines that have ruled France, Merovingian, Carolingian, and Capetian, chose the abbey of St. Denis as their final resting place and loaded it with favors. The first milestone on the highroad of Gothic art was the famous center of the nation’s life, and the initiator of the new system of building was the maker of the nation’s unity, Abbot Suger.
Gothic art emerged in a distinctive environment. St. Denis was the patron of France, the missionary who first spread Christianity by the Seine, and who was martyred there in the 3rd century. On Montmartre, there's a crypt believed to be the burial site of the first Christian martyrs of Paris. Eventually, a monastery was built outside the city dedicated to St. Denis, where his relics were moved. Each of the three royal lines that ruled France—Merovingian, Carolingian, and Capetian—chose the abbey of St. Denis as their burial site and bestowed it with honors. The first significant milestone in the development of Gothic art was the renowned center of the nation’s life, and the pioneer of the new architectural style was the architect of the nation’s unity, Abbot Suger.
To Suger may be applied the mediæval term for an architect, Master of Works, maître de l’œuvre. He wrote an account of how he reconstructed his abbey, building it, he says, with the aid of his companions in the community and his brothers in the cloister. The people gave voluntarily of their labor. When a quarry with suitable stone was discovered at Pontoise, the whole countryside—men, women, and children being harnessed to the carts—dragged the blocks in pious enthusiasm to St. Denis.
To Suger can be referred to by the medieval term for an architect, Master of Works, maître de l’œuvre. He wrote about how he rebuilt his abbey, stating that he did so with the help of his community and his fellow monks. The locals willingly contributed their labor. When a quarry with good stone was found at Pontoise, the entire area—men, women, and children—worked together to transport the blocks in a spirit of devotion to St. Denis.
The tomb of the martyred patron of Paris was a pilgrim shrine from earliest days. The same trait in human nature that, in 1915, sent Americans to gaze reverently at a relic of their national history, the Liberty Bell, when on a two weeks’ journey from the San Francisco Fair to Philadelphia, it was exhibited in different cities, made the early Christians of Gaul flock to revere the relics of the holy man who had brought them the light and liberty of the gospel. Religion then and all through the Middle Ages was fraught with patriotism.
The tomb of the martyred patron of Paris has been a place for pilgrims since the beginning. The same aspect of human nature that led Americans in 1915 to respectfully view a piece of their national history, the Liberty Bell, during its two-week journey from the San Francisco Fair to Philadelphia, when it was displayed in various cities, also drew the early Christians of Gaul to honor the relics of the holy man who had brought them the light and freedom of the gospel. Religion during that time and throughout the Middle Ages was deeply intertwined with patriotism.
For St. Denis’ abbey a Merovingian church had been built by Dagobert. Pépin and Charlemagne replaced it by a Carolingian church. By the XII century the abbatial had become inadequate for the pilgrim crowds; people were crushed to death on festival days, and Abbot Suger decided to rebuild. He began by demolishing a heavy vestibule which Charlemagne had put up as a kind of tomb over his father’s grave, for Pépin had begged to be buried face downward in penance, before the abbey church. Suger replaced that encumbering porch by what is to-day a narthex, or forechurch, formed by the two westernmost bays of the edifice. In the thirties of the XI century he started the new works. Romanesque feeling lingered in the sculpture, and the stout vault ribs crossed each other in round arches. By 1140 the west façade was finished and ceremoniously consecrated.
For St. Denis' abbey, Dagobert had built a Merovingian church. Pépin and Charlemagne replaced it with a Carolingian church. By the 12th century, the abbey had become too small for the crowd of pilgrims; people were trampled to death on festival days, and Abbot Suger decided to rebuild. He started by tearing down a heavy entrance that Charlemagne had constructed as a kind of tomb over his father’s grave, since Pépin had asked to be buried face down in penance, in front of the abbey church. Suger replaced that obstructive porch with what is now a narthex, or forechurch, made up of the two westernmost bays of the structure. In the 1030s, he began the new construction. Romanesque influences were still present in the sculpture, and the thick vault ribs crossed each other in round arches. By 1140, the west façade was completed and ceremoniously consecrated.
A month later, a still greater gathering met at St. Denis for the laying of the corner stone of the choir. To the sound of trumpets, Louis VII descended into the trench prepared for the foundation, and placed the first stone, and as the choir chanted of the jeweled walls of the heavenly city, Lapides pretiosi omnes muri tui, the king, profoundly moved, took from his finger a costly ring and threw it into the mortar, which had been mixed with holy water. Each baron and bishop, as he laid down a stone, did the same. Their vehement faith would turn to literal meaning the Psalmist’s dream of the celestial city.
A month later, an even larger crowd gathered at St. Denis for the laying of the corner stone of the choir. To the sound of trumpets, Louis VII stepped into the trench prepared for the foundation and placed the first stone. As the choir sang about the jeweled walls of the heavenly city, Lapides pretiosi omnes muri tui, the king, deeply moved, took a valuable ring from his finger and threw it into the mortar, which had been mixed with holy water. Each baron and bishop followed suit as they laid down a stone. Their fervent faith would make the Psalmist’s vision of the celestial city a tangible reality.
In his choir, Suger united definitely the pointed arch with the intersecting ribs, and the ribs, now, were not the heavy ones used in his forechurch. All the arches at their crown were brought to the same height by a combination of stilting, pointing, or depressing them. In the outer aisle of his ambulatory, Suger introduced a fifth rib in each vault section, which welded the apse chapels with the procession path. For his inner aisle he employed what is called the broken-rib vault. First, the keystone was planted in the center and from it branched the four ribs, each regardless of making a straight diagonal. This became the generally accepted method for vaulting an ambulatory. Every part of his edifice Suger supervised with untiring energy. Owing to the waste of forest trees for machines of war, none of sufficient girth could be found for the outer roof covering. Suger lay brooding over this one night, then started up impetuously before dawn, took the measurements of the beams needed, and himself went into the dense forest. Before nine that morning he had found a giant tree; by noon ten others, and the timber was hauled in triumph to the abbey.
In his choir, Suger firmly combined the pointed arch with intersecting ribs, and the ribs were lighter than those used in his earlier church. All the arches at their peak were brought to the same height through a mix of stilting, pointing, or lowering them. In the outer aisle of his ambulatory, Suger added a fifth rib in each vault section, which connected the apse chapels with the procession path. For his inner aisle, he used what's known as the broken-rib vault. First, the keystone was placed in the center and from it branched the four ribs, each forming a diagonal line. This became the standard method for vaulting an ambulatory. Suger oversaw every part of his building with relentless energy. Because of the depletion of forest trees for war machines, none were large enough for the outer roof covering. One night, Suger pondered this issue, then impulsively got up before dawn, took measurements of the needed beams, and ventured into the dense forest. By nine that morning, he had found a massive tree; by noon, he had found ten others, and the timber was triumphantly brought back to the abbey.
All France was talking of the new works at St. Denis. Never before had been such a gathering of skilled masons and sculptors, of goldsmiths and glassmakers. St. Denis’ school was to direct the glassmakers’ art through the second half of the XII century. Little is known of the origin of that art; the early basilicas of Christian Gaul had made use of pieces of colored glass framed together, and in the X century figures were represented. No work, however, previous to the XII century has survived. For the earlier fenestration the term “painted glass” is a misnomer, since each piece was colored in the mass, and only a few black lines were applied to denote the features, or the folds of the draperies. The artists of St. Denis obtained their relief effects by a skilled juxtaposition of tones; intensity of hue was increased by the employment of thick rough leaves of glass. Scarcely any white was used; in the ancient windows no spots spring out unpleasantly.
All of France was buzzing about the new projects at St. Denis. Never before had there been such a gathering of talented masons and sculptors, goldsmiths, and glassmakers. St. Denis' school was set to lead the glassmaking craft through the second half of the 12th century. Little is known about the origins of this art; the early basilicas of Christian Gaul had used pieces of colored glass put together, and in the 10th century, figures were depicted. However, no work from before the 12th century has survived. For the earlier window designs, calling it “painted glass” is misleading, since each piece was colored throughout, with only a few black lines added to show facial features or the folds of drapery. The artists of St. Denis achieved their relief effects through a skillful arrangement of tones; the vibrancy of color was enhanced by using thick, rough pieces of glass. Hardly any white was included; in the ancient windows, no spots stand out unpleasantly.
To St. Denis’ school succeeded that of Chartres, which predominated during the first part of the XIII century, while its second half was ruled by the school of Paris, when windows of the Sainte-Chapelle type were the rule. Gradually the craftsmen gave up their sound tradition that a window should be a transparent mosaic, subordinate to its architectural setting. They began to treat a window as an isolated picture and the art declined.
To St. Denis’ school came the one in Chartres, which was the main influence during the early part of the 13th century, while the second half was dominated by the school of Paris, when windows like those of the Sainte-Chapelle became standard. Over time, the craftsmen abandoned their solid tradition that a window should be a clear mosaic, integrated into its architectural context. They started to treat a window as a standalone image, and the art began to decline.
Abbot Suger’s school of glassmakers carried their art to its zenith. Not all the wonders of XIII-century fenestration equaled the unfathomable vibrant blue in the background of XII-century windows—a fugitive mystery whose secret has been entirely lost. The popular fancy was that Suger ground down sapphires to obtain his magic color.
Abbot Suger’s team of glassmakers took their craft to new heights. Not all the marvels of 13th-century window design matched the deep, vibrant blue found in 12th-century windows—a captivating mystery whose secret has been completely forgotten. Many believed that Suger crushed sapphires to create his magical color.
All over the land the church builders desired windows like those of St. Denis. Suger’s own craftsmen went to Chartres to make the three big lancets in that cathedral’s western front. The St. Denis school influenced the superb Crucifixion window in Poitiers Cathedral, and others in the cathedrals of Angers and Le Mans and in the Trinité at Vendôme, also the Tree of Jesse window in York Cathedral. And, had the choir glass of Notre Dame at Paris survived, it would have been of the school of St. Denis.
All across the region, church builders wanted windows like those at St. Denis. Suger’s own artisans went to Chartres to create the three large lancets on that cathedral’s west front. The St. Denis style influenced the stunning Crucifixion window in Poitiers Cathedral, as well as others in the cathedrals of Angers, Le Mans, and the Trinité in Vendôme, including the Tree of Jesse window in York Cathedral. And if the choir glass of Notre Dame in Paris had survived, it would have been from the St. Denis style.
Suger wrote inscriptions for his abbey windows to make their symbolism clearer. Owing to the vicissitudes of seven hundred years, few of the St. Denis lights have survived. Four are now reset in the central apse chapel and in that to its north. In a medallion at the base of one of these windows Suger himself is represented holding a scroll bearing his name. The medallion figures are of the hieratic Byzantine type. Every window has a closely woven pattern; each losenge has its own border, and a rich jeweled border surrounds the whole lancet. Bracing bars of iron run straight across the pictured story. Slowly, with infinite patience, worked those old XII-century artists, and never has their handicraft been surpassed as sheer splendor of ornamentation.
Suger wrote inscriptions for the windows of his abbey to clarify their symbolism. Due to the ups and downs of seven hundred years, only a few of the St. Denis windows have survived. Four are now placed in the central apse chapel and in the one to its north. In a medallion at the base of one of these windows, Suger is depicted holding a scroll with his name. The figures in the medallion are of the hieratic Byzantine type. Each window has a finely woven pattern; each diamond shape has its own border, and a rich jeweled border surrounds the entire lancet. Iron bracing bars run straight across the illustrated scene. Slowly, with endless patience, those old 12th-century artists worked, and their craftsmanship has never been surpassed in terms of sheer ornamental splendor.
After three years and three months of passionate work, the choir of St. Denis was finished, and on June 11, 1144, the dedication day, the relics were installed. That date, forever memorable in the annals of architecture, may be called the consecration of the national art. At the ceremony assisted Louis VII with his queen, Aliénor of Aquitaine, whose strange destiny was to make her patroness of that entirely different phase of Gothic called the Plantagenet school. The chief barons were present at the dedication, as well as five archbishops and some fourteen bishops. They looked and wondered, and not a few of them returned home to imitate. The bishops of Noyon and Senlis hastened to rebuild their cathedrals in the new way, and some of Suger’s masons passed into the service of the former prelate. Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves went back to Chartres to build the most beautiful tower in the world, and the sculptors who had made Suger’s western portals (now no longer extant) worked on the three west doors of Chartres.
After three years and three months of dedicated work, the St. Denis choir was completed, and on June 11, 1144, the day of dedication, the relics were positioned. That date, forever significant in the history of architecture, can be seen as the start of a national artistic movement. Louis VII attended the ceremony with his queen, Aliénor of Aquitaine, whose unique fate led her to become the patroness of a different branch of Gothic architecture known as the Plantagenet school. Key barons were also there, along with five archbishops and around fourteen bishops. They were in awe, and many of them went home inspired to replicate what they had seen. The bishops of Noyon and Senlis quickly set about rebuilding their cathedrals in this new style, and a few of Suger’s masons joined the service of the former bishop. Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves returned to Chartres to create what would be known as the most beautiful tower in the world, and the sculptors who had designed Suger’s western portals (now lost) contributed to the three west doors of Chartres.
On the day of St. Denis’ dedication, Abbot Suger, small and frail in person, but towering in personality, was honored on every side. When the abbot of great Cluny, Peter the Venerable, passed from the marvels of the new church to Suger’s narrow cell, he cried out in honest distress: “This man condemns us all. He builds, not for himself, but for God alone!”
On the day of St. Denis' dedication, Abbot Suger, small and frail in body but larger-than-life in character, received accolades from every direction. When Peter the Venerable, the abbot of great Cluny, moved from the wonders of the new church to Suger's cramped quarters, he exclaimed in genuine distress: "This man puts us all to shame. He builds not for himself, but solely for God!"
Though the last half of Suger’s life was an example of monastic simplicity, not always had he been content with a monk’s cell. Perhaps because of his conversion midway in life, he appeals to us in a more human way. Not that he was converted from evil doings; his purpose always was high. But in his position as St. Denis’ abbot, as a powerful feudal lord, he lived sumptuously, according to the accepted standards of the time. He mixed freely in the world; he directed state affairs for the king to whom he was devoted; he went on embassies; he even led armies. In 1124, when an irate German emperor was marching on Rheims, which he had vowed to destroy, Suger in person led against him some ten thousand of his abbey’s retainers. That was the first time the oriflamme of St. Denis was carried as the national emblem.[32] Suger had grown up in the secular atmosphere of the Royal Abbey, and took its worldliness as a matter of course.
Though the last half of Suger’s life was an example of monastic simplicity, he hadn’t always been satisfied with a monk’s cell. Maybe due to his mid-life conversion, he connects with us in a more relatable way. It’s not that he turned from wrongdoing; his intentions were always noble. But in his role as the abbot of St. Denis and a powerful feudal lord, he lived lavishly, according to the norms of his time. He engaged extensively in the world; he managed affairs for the king he was loyal to; he went on diplomatic missions; he even commanded armies. In 1124, when an angry German emperor was on his way to Rheims, which he had sworn to destroy, Suger personally led around ten thousand of his abbey’s soldiers against him. That marked the first time the oriflamme of St. Denis was displayed as the national emblem. Suger had grown up in the secular environment of the Royal Abbey, and he accepted its worldliness as a given.
Of peasant parentage himself, he had been brought, a child of ten, to live with the monks, because he already showed exceptional qualities. Among his fellow students in the abbey school was the king’s son, the future Louis VI, and an intimacy began between the two lads destined to continue till death. When Suger became a monk he was sent on notable missions, for he was gifted with tact and good manners, vivacity and charm. Sweetness of disposition, mental energy, courage, and absolute integrity won for him general esteem. Early and often this born lover of things beautiful made the journey into Italy. It was while returning from one of his missions there, in 1122, that he learned of his election as abbot by his fellow monks in St. Denis. Louis VI had come to the throne; henceforth Suger was to lead in all state affairs.
Of peasant origins himself, he had been taken in at the age of ten to live with the monks because he already displayed exceptional talents. Among his classmates at the abbey school was the king's son, the future Louis VI, and a strong bond formed between the two boys that would last until death. When Suger became a monk, he was assigned important missions because he had a way with people, good manners, and a lively charm. His kind nature, mental vigor, bravery, and complete integrity earned him widespread respect. Early and often, this natural admirer of beauty traveled to Italy. It was while returning from one of those trips in 1122 that he found out he had been elected abbot by his fellow monks at St. Denis. Louis VI had taken the throne; from then on, Suger would be at the forefront of all state matters.
The genius of this son of field workers had pierced to the vital need of the age—unity of government. Only a strong, central administration could cope with the disintegration which was feudalism. For its very existence the feudal system depended on the absence of well-enforced general laws. It was Suger’s strong hand that guided the early steps toward national unity, and king and people worked for it together. Under the king whom Suger served France began her great role of redresser of wrongs. Louis VI was the first to use the title, king of France, not king of the Franks. The ideal of this XII-century statesman was a strong central monarchy, coexistent with a national assembly. His high conception of solidarity was to fructify, within a hundred years, under Philippe-Auguste, the grandson of Suger’s master.
The brilliance of this son of farmworkers recognized the essential need of the time—government unity. Only a strong central administration could handle the breakdown caused by feudalism. The feudal system relied on the lack of well-enforced general laws for its survival. It was Suger’s firm leadership that steered the early efforts towards national unity, and both the king and the people worked together for it. Under the king whom Suger served, France began its significant role as a champion of justice. Louis VI was the first to refer to himself as king of France, instead of king of the Franks. The vision of this 12th-century statesman was a strong central monarchy, existing alongside a national assembly. His lofty idea of unity would flourish within a hundred years under Philippe-Auguste, the grandson of Suger’s master.
Suger was one of the first in Europe to understand political economy. He laid the base of a sound financial administration. His confirmation of a charter for the townsmen of St. Denis gave security to trade; he relieved the abbey serfs of mainmorte, built a Villeneuve for homeless nomads, and found time to study agriculture scientifically. In his writings we feel the first breath of a national patriotism. A new note in that age of unfettered personal impulse when might meant right, was Suger’s constant reference to “the poor weighed down with taxations,” to “that which has been too long neglected, the care of the surety of laborers, of artisans, and of the poor.” Many a modern politician could well ponder Suger’s censure of the spoils system. “The officers dismissed carry off what they can lay their hands on,” he said, “and those who replace them, fearing to be likewise treated, hasten to steal, to secure their fortune.”
Suger was one of the first in Europe to grasp political economy. He established the foundation for effective financial management. His confirmation of a charter for the townspeople of St. Denis secured trade; he freed the abbey serfs from mainmorte, built a Villeneuve for homeless nomads, and still found time to study agriculture scientifically. In his writings, we sense the beginnings of a national patriotism. A notable change during that era of unrestrained personal ambition, when strength equated to justice, was Suger’s consistent mention of “the poor burdened by taxes,” and “that which has been neglected for too long, the welfare of laborers, artisans, and the poor.” Many modern politicians could benefit from reflecting on Suger’s critique of the spoils system. “The officers who are dismissed take whatever they can grab,” he said, “and those who replace them, fearing the same fate, rush to steal to secure their own fortune.”
Suger’s pre-eminence in public affairs continued during two reigns. Louis VII, after stumbling some years without guidance, turned to his father’s counselor and, during his absence on the Second Crusade, appointed him regent of France. So masterly was the abbot’s rule that king and people publicly proclaimed him Père de la Patrie. Suger studied the causes of the crusade’s lamentable failure; he felt that forethought and prudence might win success, and, though he was seventy years of age, he began preparations to carry out a crusade at his own expense. Time was not given him again to prove his genius for leadership. When news of his death (1151) reached the court, the king and the Grand Master of the Templars, who was with him, burst into tears. On his grave in the abbey church which he had built they cut the simple inscription, “Here lies Abbot Suger.” No need of panegyric. “The single names are the noblest epitaphs.”
Suger’s prominence in public affairs continued through two reigns. Louis VII, after struggling for several years without direction, turned to his father’s advisor and, while he was away on the Second Crusade, appointed him regent of France. Suger’s leadership was so effective that the king and the people publicly called him Père de la Patrie. He analyzed the reasons behind the crusade's unfortunate failure and believed that careful planning and caution could lead to success. Even at seventy years old, he started preparing to finance a crusade himself. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to showcase his leadership skills again. When news of his death (1151) reached the court, both the king and the Grand Master of the Templars, who was with him, broke down in tears. On his grave in the abbey church he had built, they engraved the simple inscription, “Here lies Abbot Suger.” No need for elaborate praise. "The simplest names are the finest epitaphs."
The commanding place held by this monk in the estimation of Europe is vouched for by letters from pope, kings, and many a dignitary. The king of Sicily wrote to beg a line from him; the king of Scotland sent gifts; the bishop of Salisbury made the journey to France expressly to know Suger. By one clear stroke after another—and above all by his own writings—every line of which is of historical value—the picture is filled in of this admirable churchman who was as soundly honest and forceful as the architecture he fostered, and whose delicate, ardent soul accomplished remarkable things with the reasoned orderliness of the art he loved.
The significant reputation this monk had in Europe is supported by letters from the pope, kings, and many other dignitaries. The king of Sicily wrote to ask for a few words from him; the king of Scotland sent gifts; the bishop of Salisbury traveled to France just to meet Suger. With one clear action after another—and especially through his own writings, each line of which holds historical importance—the image of this admirable churchman is brought to life. He was as genuinely honest and powerful as the architecture he supported, and his sensitive, passionate spirit achieved remarkable things with the logical order of the art he cherished.
Suger’s sudden but thorough conversion is attributed to St. Bernard. Up to middle life he had been a type of those who soar as high as human abilities can reach without super natural aid. Entangled in the mesh of various employments, his soul could not rise to heavenly things. Then the trumpet of Bernard’s reform sounded in Europe. Men’s hearts were set on fire with repentance and aspiration toward the highest. Bernard’s clear eyes read beneath the outer circumstance of Abbot Suger’s life. He saw that here was a good man, capable of becoming a holy one. He wrote fearless words of disapproval. “One would think it was a governor of a province, not of souls,” he wrote, when he saw the abbot of St. Denis ride by with sixty horsemen.
Suger’s sudden and complete transformation is credited to St. Bernard. Until he reached middle age, he was the kind of person who achieved as much as human ability allowed, without any divine assistance. Caught up in various responsibilities, his spirit couldn't elevate to spiritual matters. Then the call for reform from Bernard echoed throughout Europe. People’s hearts were ignited with feelings of repentance and a desire for something greater. Bernard, with his keen insight, looked beyond the surface of Abbot Suger’s life. He recognized that this was a good man who could become a holy one. He expressed his concerns boldly. “One would think it was a governor of a province, not of souls,” he remarked when he witnessed the abbot of St. Denis riding by with sixty horsemen.
Suger began to scrutinize his manner of life. Grace touched his soul, pomp was laid aside, and he set about his conversion with the same thoroughness that he displayed in all his acts. Before reforming his monastery, he completely reformed himself. With St. Bernard, who was ten years his junior, he was linked in ennobling friendship to the end. “I know profoundly this man,” Bernard wrote of Suger to the pope, “and I know that he is faithful and prudent in temporal things, that he is fervent and humble in things spiritual. If there is any precious vase adorning the palace of the King of Kings, it is the soul of the venerable Suger.” When Suger lay dying, he wrote to St. Bernard: “Could I but see your angelic face before I die, I should go with more confidence.” And Bernard, who was to follow in a year, begged that when Suger reached Paradise he would “think of him before God.”
Suger began to examine his way of life. Grace touched his soul, he put aside his pride, and he approached his conversion with the same thoroughness he showed in everything he did. Before reforming his monastery, he fully reformed himself. He shared a noble friendship with St. Bernard, who was ten years younger, until the end. “I know this man deeply,” Bernard wrote about Suger to the pope, “and I know that he is faithful and wise in worldly matters, and fervent and humble in spiritual matters. If there is any precious vessel adorning the palace of the King of Kings, it is the soul of the venerable Suger.” When Suger was dying, he wrote to St. Bernard: “If only I could see your angelic face before I die, I would leave this world with more confidence.” And Bernard, who would follow in a year, begged that when Suger reached Paradise he would “remember him before God.”
Yet, if the overwhelming saint could change the whole tenor of Suger’s life, the cultivated little abbot of St. Denis offered a gentle, stubborn opposition to the puritanic ideas of Bernard in the domain of art. “Vanity of vanities,” cried the ascetic, in the well-known open letter in which he denounced the new luxury in church building. Churches were made too long, he complained, too high, and needlessly wide; the capitals were carved with monsters more apt to distract than to lead to pious recollection.
Yet, if the powerful saint could alter the entire course of Suger’s life, the educated little abbot of St. Denis presented a mild, determined resistance to Bernard’s strict views on art. “Vanity of vanities,” the ascetic exclaimed in the famous open letter where he condemned the new extravagance in church construction. He complained that churches were built too long, too tall, and unnecessarily wide; the capitals were adorned with monsters that were more likely to distract than to inspire pious reflection.
The art lover in St. Denis’ abbey smiled at such iconoclastic vehemence. Suger thought that nothing was too precious for the house of God. He proceeded to erect an abbey church as imposing as a cathedral, and to enrich its treasury with goldsmith work. Over the three gilt-bronze entrance doors of his church he inscribed, “The soul on its earthly pilgrimage rises by material things to contemplate the Divine.” To this day both men have vigorous partisans, and those who set out on a cathedral tour in France are more likely to be on Suger’s side in the controversy.
The art lover in St. Denis’ abbey smiled at such bold defiance. Suger believed that nothing was too valuable for the house of God. He went on to build an abbey church as grand as a cathedral and filled its treasury with goldsmith work. Above the three gilded-bronze entrance doors of his church, he inscribed, “The soul on its earthly journey rises through material things to contemplate the Divine.” To this day, both men have strong supporters, and those who embark on a cathedral tour in France are more likely to side with Suger in the debate.
Suger’s subtle mind reached beyond the ascetic’s maxim. Well he knew that both saint and art patron were needed, well he knew that Bernard of Clairvaux was as instrumental as himself in the formation of the cathedral builders. A living example of Christian perfection, Bernard fortified the faith of all Europe. He might advocate church simplicity, but it was not without cause that his apostolate preceded the most fecund creative period of mankind’s art. His impassioned love of God warmed the imaginations of the men who began the big Gothic churches.
Suger’s insightful mind went beyond the ascetic’s saying. He understood well that both saints and art patrons were essential, and he recognized that Bernard of Clairvaux played just as crucial a role as he did in shaping the cathedral builders. A living example of Christian perfection, Bernard strengthened the faith across Europe. While he might promote simplicity in the church, it was no coincidence that his efforts came just before the most fruitful creative era in human art. His passionate love for God inspired the imaginations of the men who started building the grand Gothic churches.
What remains to-day of the XII-century abbatial built by Suger of St. Denis? Comparatively little. The lower parts of the west façade and the two first bays of the nave which form a narthex, or vestibule, are his work. In the choir, his beautiful ambulatory begins at the third bay of the double aisles. There are nine bays of Suger’s processional path, and from them radiate seven apse chapels. The pillars that divide the lovely curving double passage are the very ones which the generous enthusiasm of the people dragged from Pontoise, and, in memory of the little abbot, some will touch those slender columns with reverential gesture. It was Suger who created the disposition of the rond point found in its perfection at St. Denis and copied in the great cathedrals. The crypt also is his work, though its nucleus belonged to an underground shrine built by Abbot Hilduin in the XI century. When Abbot Suger had finished his choir, he proceeded to make a new Gothic transept and nave; but of them scarcely a vestige remains. Some sculpture at the north door of the transept is of the XII century. Whether the construction was faulty, or whether the monks desired a more ample church, there was a total reconstruction of St. Denis’ abbatial, a hundred years after Suger’s day.
What’s left today of the 12th-century abbey built by Suger of St. Denis? Not much. The lower parts of the west façade and the first two bays of the nave that create a narthex, or vestibule, are his work. In the choir, his beautiful ambulatory starts at the third bay of the double aisles. There are nine bays of Suger’s processional path, with seven apse chapels radiating from them. The pillars that separate the lovely curved double passage are the same ones that the enthusiastic townspeople brought from Pontoise, and in memory of the little abbot, some will touch those slender columns with a reverent gesture. Suger also designed the layout of the rond point, perfected at St. Denis and imitated in the great cathedrals. The crypt is also his work, although its core belonged to an underground shrine built by Abbot Hilduin in the 11th century. After Abbot Suger finished his choir, he worked on a new Gothic transept and nave; however, hardly any remnants remain. Some sculptures at the north door of the transept date back to the 12th century. It's uncertain whether the construction was flawed or if the monks wanted a larger church, but the entire abbey of St. Denis was completely reconstructed a hundred years after Suger’s time.
THE ST. DENIS OF ST. LOUIS
THE ST. DENIS OF ST. LOUIS
With conflicting goals, the architect who designed
(Though working for a small group
Of scholars in white robes only) this vast
And a marvelous piece of great intelligence. —Wordsworth.
From 1231 to 1280, at St. Louis’ own expense, the present nave and transept of St. Denis were built, and the first bay of the choir as well as the upper parts of the chevet were reconstructed. Inasmuch as the new nave was wider than the choir, a canted bay of the latter joined it to the transept.
From 1231 to 1280, at St. Louis' own expense, the current nave and transept of St. Denis were built, and the first bay of the choir along with the upper parts of the chevet were renovated. Since the new nave was wider than the choir, a canted bay of the choir connected it to the transept.
St. Denis, as it now appears, presents the noble elegance of Gothic art in its golden hour. The new transept was made of exceptional width; its aisles and stately piers compose picturesque vistas. The triforium of the reconstructed church was glazed, one of the first essays of a feature which was to be in general use in the XIV century. To unite triforium and clearstory in a brilliant sparkle of color added to the magnificence of a church, but it marked a decline in the sound structural laws of Gothic. The purpose of a triforium arcade was to beautify the plain wall surface necessitated by the lean-to roof over the side aisles. When that blind arcade was opened, the lean-to roof of the aisles had to be changed to a conical one, which signified an inner channel for rain water and the ultimate deterioration of the masonry. Suger’s St. Denis had started the delight in stained glass, and the St. Denis of St. Louis merely carried out its consequences—the suppression of wall inclosures. The present upper windows of the abbatial are poor examples of Louis-Philippe’s day.
St. Denis, as it looks today, showcases the noble elegance of Gothic art at its peak. The new transept is impressively wide; its aisles and grand piers create picturesque views. The triforium of the rebuilt church was fitted with glass, one of the first attempts at a feature that would become common in the 14th century. Connecting the triforium and clerestory in a dazzling display of color added to the church's grandeur, but it also indicated a decline in the strong structural principles of Gothic architecture. The purpose of a triforium arcade was to beautify the plain wall that was necessary due to the lean-to roof over the side aisles. When that solid arcade was opened up, the lean-to roof of the aisles had to be replaced with a conical one, which allowed for an inner channel for rainwater and ultimately led to the deterioration of the masonry. Suger’s St. Denis initiated the enjoyment of stained glass, and the St. Denis of St. Louis just continued its effects—the reduction of wall enclosures. The current upper windows of the abbatial are poor examples from the time of Louis-Philippe.
The architect of Louis IX, Pierre de Montereau, designed St. Denis as we have it to-day, so says a record recently unearthed by M. Henri Stein.[33] He was an innovator who here first accentuated the upward sweep of Gothic lines. To that XIII-century master they attributed for a time the Sainte-Chapelle of the king’s palace in the Cité, but now that it is certain that he planned St. Denis, it is doubted if he made the Sainte-Chapelle, as there is little kinship between the two. There is a decided likeness between St. Denis and the chapel of the palace at St. Germain-en-Laye, and also with the Lady chapel of St. Germer-en-Flay. Pierre de Montereau was buried in 1267 in a now-destroyed Sainte-Chapelle which he had erected within the monastery inclosure of St. Germain-des-Prés, at Paris.
The architect of Louis IX, Pierre de Montereau, designed St. Denis as we know it today, according to a recently discovered record by M. Henri Stein.[33] He was an innovator who first emphasized the upwards flow of Gothic lines here. For a time, the Sainte-Chapelle of the king’s palace in the Cité was attributed to this 13th-century master, but now that it’s established he designed St. Denis, it’s questioned whether he created the Sainte-Chapelle, as the two have little in common. There is a clear resemblance between St. Denis and the chapel of the palace at St. Germain-en-Laye, as well as with the Lady chapel of St. Germer-en-Flay. Pierre de Montereau was buried in 1267 in a now-destroyed Sainte-Chapelle that he had built within the monastery grounds of St. Germain-des-Prés in Paris.
Both Montereau and Montreuil claim this distinguished master. Probably he was born in the former town on the border of Champagne, as his church at St. Denis shows a trait of that region, the gallery of circulation under the windows of the side aisles. Moreover, two of his abbot patrons came from Montereau. The architect Eudes de Montreuil, whom St. Louis took with him on his first crusade, and who worked on the fortresses of Aigues-Mortes and Jaffa, was a son of Pierre de Montereau, it is supposed, and his name should be spelled in the same way.
Both Montereau and Montreuil lay claim to this renowned master. He was likely born in the former town, which borders Champagne, as his church at St. Denis reflects a characteristic of that area—the circulation gallery underneath the side aisle windows. Additionally, two of his abbey patrons originated from Montereau. The architect Eudes de Montreuil, whom St. Louis took with him on his first crusade and who worked on the fortifications of Aigues-Mortes and Jaffa, is believed to be the son of Pierre de Montereau, and his name should be spelled the same way.
No tomb in St. Denis’ abbey church predates the XIII century. To honor King Dagobert, founder of the abbey, St. Louis put up an elaborate monument and ordered the effigies that distinguish his royal predecessors’ graves. With the tombstone of St. Louis’ son, Philip the Bold, began portrait work. An exact likeness of Charles V, the good Valois king, was made by his Flemish sculptor, André Beauneveu, and of almost too great realism is that of his general Bertran Duguesclin, whom King Charles ordered buried with royal honors in the national necropolis.
No tomb in the abbey church of St. Denis is older than the 13th century. To honor King Dagobert, the abbey's founder, St. Louis commissioned an elaborate monument and directed the creation of effigies that mark the graves of his royal predecessors. The tombstone of St. Louis' son, Philip the Bold, was the starting point for portrait work. A lifelike statue of Charles V, the good Valois king, was created by his Flemish sculptor, André Beauneveu, and the likeness of his general Bertran Duguesclin is almost too realistic, as King Charles had him buried with royal honors in the national necropolis.
It was the XVI century that added to St. Denis’ the three tombs of most architectural pretensions, those of Louis XII, Francis I, and Henry II. The monument of Louis XII and Anne of Brittany was undertaken (1516-32) by Jean Juste, who with his brothers had come north from Florence, being among the first to bring into France the ideals of the Renaissance.[34] It has been suggested that the king’s and queen’s kneeling images are from the studio at Tours of Guillaume Regnault, who for forty years was co-worker with Michel Colombe, last of the great Gothic artists. The priants are still quite French in treatment. Jean Juste made the gisants and his brother and nephew aided with the lesser sculpture. It was Louis XII who ordered artists at Genoa to make, in 1502, the Carrara marble tomb of his father, the poet-duke, Charles d’Orléans, and of his grandfather, the murdered duke of Orléans, builder of Pierrefonds Castle, and son of the art-loving Valois king, Charles V.
It was the 16th century that added to St. Denis the three most architecturally impressive tombs, those of Louis XII, Francis I, and Henry II. The monument for Louis XII and Anne of Brittany was initiated (1516-32) by Jean Juste, who along with his brothers had moved north from Florence and was among the first to bring Renaissance ideals to France.[34] It’s been suggested that the king’s and queen’s kneeling figures are from the studio in Tours of Guillaume Regnault, who was a co-worker with Michel Colombe for forty years, the last of the great Gothic artists. The kneeling figures still have a distinctly French style. Jean Juste created the reclining figures, while his brother and nephew helped with the smaller sculptures. It was Louis XII who instructed artists in Genoa to create, in 1502, the Carrara marble tomb for his father, the poet-duke Charles d’Orléans, and for his grandfather, the murdered duke of Orléans, builder of Pierrefonds Castle, and son of the art-loving Valois king, Charles V.
The tomb of Francis I (1549-59) was designed by Philibert de Lorme. Pierre Bontemps fashioned the bas-reliefs that celebrate the wars in Italy; he and other masters made the priants and gisants. The tomb of Henry II and Catherine de Medici (1570) of less artistic value, has a complicated history. The Italian, Primatici, directed the works; Domenico Florentino made the king’s kneeling figure, and Germain Pilon his gisant; Jerome della Robbia chiseled the queen’s death image.
The tomb of Francis I (1549-59) was designed by Philibert de Lorme. Pierre Bontemps created the bas-reliefs that honor the wars in Italy; he and other masters crafted the priants and gisants. The tomb of Henry II and Catherine de Medici (1570), which is of lesser artistic value, has a complex history. The Italian artist Primatici oversaw the work; Domenico Florentino sculpted the king’s kneeling figure, and Germain Pilon created his gisant; Jerome della Robbia carved the queen’s death image.
To sum up: there are in St. Denis’ abbatial three totally different parts, built in different periods. There is Suger’s forechurch, in which linger Romanesque echoes; there is the ambulatory of purest Primary Gothic built a little later by the same great abbot; and finally there are nave, transept, and the main parts of the choir erected during the reign of St. Louis in the zenith of Gothic art.
To sum up: there are three completely different parts in St. Denis' abbey, built in different periods. There's Suger’s forechurch, which still has Romanesque influences; then there's the ambulatory of purest Early Gothic style built a bit later by the same renowned abbot; and finally, there are the nave, transept, and the main sections of the choir constructed during the reign of St. Louis at the height of Gothic art.
As one stands in the center of the church, gazing along its vaulting, it is easy to perceive that the axis is broken three times, and each divergence from the straight line conforms to one of the different stages of work. The deviation of the axis line once was called poetically inclinato capite (et inclinato capite, emisit spiritum—St. John xix:30). It was thought to symbolize the inclining of Christ’s head on the Cross. When M. Robert de Lasteyrie proved that a constructive miscalculation was the cause of the irregular line, the beautiful idea had to be renounced.[35] In each successive addition to a church it was difficult for the architect to start the new part exactly on the same axis as the old, since usually a temporary wall shut off the portion of the church already finished and in use. The slightest miscalculation at the start led to a very apparent deflection of alignment. Those churches which show irregular alignment are known to have been built in successive stages. A number of church choirs slant to the south, whereas were the figure on the crucifix taken as model they would deviate to the north. In churches without a transept, or, in other words, churches that lack the extended arms of the cross, is sometimes found a decided slant to the north. Moreover, the crucifix of that epoch represented a triumphant Christ with erect head, for the art of the XIII century was serene; the pathetic in religious iconography was a later development. No writer of the period mentions a symbolic interpretation of the deviated axis, not even Bishop Guillaume Durandus, in his noted Rationale, or Signification of the Divine Offices. There is, instead, a text of the XIV century which says that a certain architect was so chagrined at having built a tortuous axial line that he never returned to be paid by the cathedral chapter. Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter thinks that the deviation of the axis was intentionally done, in order to overcome that tendency of perspective which lessens the apparent length of a church by foreshortening its far bays. By slanting the east end, the distant bays could be brought into view, and thus the edifice would seem longer.
As you stand in the center of the church, looking up at its soaring arches, it’s easy to see that the axis is broken three times, and each change in direction aligns with different stages of construction. The shift in the axis was once poetically referred to as inclinato capite (et inclinato capite, emisit spiritum—St. John xix:30). It was thought to symbolize Christ’s head tilting on the Cross. When M. Robert de Lasteyrie demonstrated that a construction error caused the irregular line, this beautiful idea had to be abandoned.[35] With each new addition to a church, it was challenging for the architect to start the new section exactly on the same axis as the old, especially since a temporary wall typically separated the finished and occupied portion of the church. A small miscalculation at the beginning could lead to a noticeable misalignment. Churches that display irregular alignment are known to have been built in several stages. Many church choirs tilt to the south, while if the figure on the crucifix were used as a model, they would lean to the north. In churches without a transept, meaning those lacking the cross's extended arms, there is often a noticeable tilt to the north. Furthermore, the crucifix from that period depicted a triumphant Christ with an upright head, since XIII century art was calm and serene; the more emotional elements in religious art developed later. No writer from that time mentions a symbolic meaning for the shifted axis, not even Bishop Guillaume Durandus in his renowned Rationale, or Signification of the Divine Offices. Instead, there is a text from the XIV century stating that a certain architect was so upset about having created a crooked axial line that he never returned to collect his payment from the cathedral chapter. Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter believes that the axis deviation was intentional, designed to counteract the perspective effect that shortens the apparent length of a church by compressing its distant bays. By angling the east end, the distant bays could be made visible, making the building appear longer.
St. Denis-en-France and Its Royal Mausoleums
St. Denis-en-France and Its Royal Tombs
The Royal Abbey of St. Denis suffered during the Hundred Years’ War, from which period dates the crenelated wall at the birth of the towers. In those checkered times the silver tombs of St. Louis, of his father Louis VIII, and of his grandfather Philippe-Auguste, disappeared. In the XVI-century religious wars the abbey was pillaged, and its library, a national treasure, was burned. The Calvinists carried off Suger’s altar vessels of silver and gold, on which the learned little abbot had inscribed Latin verses. The Revolution completed the havoc; of the monks’ quarters nothing remains to-day. The Committee of Public Safety voted to destroy the tombs of “our ancient tyrants” on the first anniversary of the August 10th that had unseated the monarchy. So the mob sallied forth to St. Denis and scattered the dust of the patriot Suger, whose life work had been the public weal, and the dust of St. Louis, the most conscientious man who ever ruled a nation and the first to give France her written laws. The gruesome account of the wrecking of the royal tombs was written by an eyewitness.[36]
The Royal Abbey of St. Denis faced a lot of hardship during the Hundred Years’ War, which is when the crenelated wall and the towers were built. During those turbulent times, the silver tombs of St. Louis, his father Louis VIII, and his grandfather Philippe-Auguste disappeared. In the religious wars of the 16th century, the abbey was looted, and its invaluable library was burned. The Calvinists took Suger’s silver and gold altar vessels, which the learned little abbot had adorned with Latin verses. The Revolution finished the destruction; today, there’s nothing left of the monks’ quarters. The Committee of Public Safety decided to destroy the tombs of “our ancient tyrants” on the first anniversary of August 10th, the day the monarchy was overthrown. So, the mob went to St. Denis and scattered the remains of the patriot Suger, who devoted his life to the public good, and the remains of St. Louis, the most dedicated ruler in history and the first to give France its written laws. An eyewitness documented the horrifying account of the destruction of the royal tombs.[36]
In the opening years of the XVIII century, the abbey church was described by Chateaubriand as in a ruinous state, with the rain falling through its roof and grass growing on the broken altars: “The birds use its nave as a passageway; little children play with the bones of mighty monarchs. St. Denis is a desert.” Napoleon began its restoration, and many of the scattered tombs were brought back. During the first half of the XIX century some deplorably bad work was carried on, and the robust primitive profiles were chiseled away. No sooner was the spire on the north tower finished than cracks showed, and the tower was dismantled to the level of the roof. Later changes have repaired some of the stupidity of those tasteless renovators.
In the early years of the 18th century, Chateaubriand described the abbey church as being in ruins, with rain pouring through its roof and grass growing on the broken altars: “Birds use its nave as a pathway; little kids play with the bones of powerful kings. St. Denis is a wasteland.” Napoleon started its restoration, and many of the scattered tombs were returned. During the first half of the 19th century, some terribly bad work was done, and the strong, original profiles were sanded away. Just as the spire on the north tower was completed, cracks appeared, and the tower was taken down to the level of the roof. Later renovations have fixed some of the mistakes of those tasteless restorers.
The very history which had been enacted within the walls of the great abbatial would suffice to make it a national relic. To the Primary-Gothic church which Suger was building came Louis VII for the oriflamme, the banner carried before the army in momentous wars. He shared bed and board with the monks the night before he set forth on the Second Crusade. To the same early-Gothic church, in 1190, came his son Philippe-Auguste, to receive the oriflamme for the Third Crusade. The flame-colored abbey gonfalon on its gold lance flouted the German emperor when Bouvines’ great victory was won in 1214. At the funeral of Philippe-Auguste, in 1223, a little lad of eight marched to St. Denis’ behind his grandfather’s bier. It was the first time that the populace had beheld their future saint-king, and an old record tells how his noble bearing gladdened their hearts. At his side walked Jean de Brienne, king of Jerusalem, leader of the recent Fifth Crusade. When St. Louis came to St. Denis for the oriflamme in 1247, it was to find a totally reconstructed church, for Pierre de Montereau had been many years at work. Joinville in his memoirs described the landing in Egypt of the Royal Abbey’s banner, how for miles the sea was dotted with the gleaming ships of the crusaders, how the king, standing head and shoulders above the rest, on perceiving that the leading vessel which bore the oriflamme had touched shore, leaped into the sea, sword in hand, with the cry, “Montjoye St. Denis!” And uttering the same battle cry of France, princes and knights followed. Five years later, tested by defeat and imprisonment, as fine gold is by fire, Louis IX brought back the oriflamme to St. Denis. Again he returned for it in 1270 for his last crusade. Within a year, the whole nation, in mourning, came out to the abbey. In a reliquary, the king’s bones, embalmed with fragrant spices, had been brought from Tunis, and the new king bore the châsse solemnly, and wherever he paused, on the way from Notre Dame to St. Denis, a memorial cross was erected. But, to give the annals of the abbey church would be to tell the history of the French monarchy.
The history that took place within the walls of the grand abbey is enough to make it a national treasure. Louis VII came to the early Gothic church that Suger was building to receive the oriflamme, the banner carried before the army during important wars. He spent the night with the monks before he left for the Second Crusade. In 1190, his son Philippe-Auguste came to the same early Gothic church to receive the oriflamme for the Third Crusade. The flame-colored abbey banner on its gold lance waved defiantly at the German emperor when the great victory at Bouvines was achieved in 1214. At Philippe-Auguste's funeral in 1223, an eight-year-old boy walked behind his grandfather's coffin to St. Denis. It was the first time the people saw their future saint-king, and an old record notes how his noble presence lifted their spirits. Beside him walked Jean de Brienne, king of Jerusalem and leader of the recent Fifth Crusade. When St. Louis came to St. Denis for the oriflamme in 1247, he found a completely rebuilt church, as Pierre de Montereau had been working on it for many years. Joinville, in his memoirs, described the landing of the Royal Abbey's banner in Egypt, how the sea was filled with the shining ships of the crusaders, and how the king, standing taller than the others, jumped into the water with sword in hand when he saw the leading ship with the oriflamme touch shore, shouting, “Montjoye St. Denis!” Following his battle cry, princes and knights joined him. Five years later, tested by defeat and imprisonment, as pure gold is tested by fire, Louis IX brought the oriflamme back to St. Denis. He returned again in 1270 for his last crusade. Within a year, the entire nation came to the abbey in mourning. The king's remains, embalmed with fragrant spices, had been brought from Tunis in a reliquary, and the new king carried the châsse solemnly. Wherever he paused on his way from Notre Dame to St. Denis, a memorial cross was erected. However, recounting the history of the abbey church would essentially mean narrating the history of the French monarchy.
The first time that the gonfalon of St. Denis was carried against Frenchmen was in 1413, two years before the defeat at Agincourt, in the black days of the Hundred Years’ War, days as fatal to the builders’ art as to the civic life of France. What those dire times were that rent France to shreds, and how la fille de Lorraine à nulle autre pareille came to the rescue, have been sung by a poet whose high destiny it was to fall in recent battle. Charles Péguy, in his poem, linked the momentous epochs of the capital: St. Denis, who brought the Light; Ste. Geneviève, the sentinel patroness of Paris, who guarded it, and Jeanne d’Arc, who lifted up the torch from the mire—the torch which the fallen heroes of the World War have passed on refulgent.
The first time the gonfalon of St. Denis was carried against the French was in 1413, two years before the defeat at Agincourt, during the dark days of the Hundred Years’ War, times that were devastating for both the builders' art and the civic life of France. What those terrible times were that tore France apart, and how la fille de Lorraine à nulle autre pareille came to the rescue, has been sung by a poet whose fate it was to fall in a recent battle. Charles Péguy, in his poem, connected the significant epochs of the capital: St. Denis, who brought the Light; Ste. Geneviève, the protective patroness of Paris, who watched over it, and Jeanne d’Arc, who lifted the torch from the dirt—the torch that the fallen heroes of the World War have passed on, shining bright.
In the V century it was at Geneviève’s instigation that a basilica was raised to honor St. Denis. In the XV century Jeanne d’Arc paid tribute to the first martyr of Paris. Her troops lodged in the town of St. Denis, then moved in closer to Paris, and in a shrine dedicated to St. Denis, in the village of La Chapelle, Jeanne heard Mass, the morning that she led the assault on the walls of Paris, September 8, 1429. When wounded she was carried back to La Chapelle (to-day a dense industrial faubourg of the city), and on St. Denis’ altar she offered tribute. During her trial at Rouen they asked her what arms she had offered to St. Denis.[37]
In the 5th century, it was Geneviève who inspired the construction of a basilica to honor St. Denis. In the 15th century, Joan of Arc paid her respects to the first martyr of Paris. Her troops stayed in the town of St. Denis before moving closer to Paris, and in a shrine dedicated to St. Denis, in the village of La Chapelle, Joan attended Mass on the morning she led the attack on the walls of Paris, September 8, 1429. When she was wounded, she was taken back to La Chapelle (now a busy industrial suburb of the city), where she paid tribute at St. Denis’ altar. During her trial in Rouen, they asked her what offerings she had made to St. Denis.[37]
“A complete knight’s outfit in white, with a sword that I had won before Paris,” was Jeanne’s reply. “And why did you make that offering?” asked the judge, bent on twisting her every act to sorcery. Jeanne answered hardily: “For devotion, and because it is the custom for all men-of-arms when they are merely wounded thus to give thanks. Having been wounded before Paris, I offered my arms to St. Denis because his is the cry of France.”
“A complete knight’s outfit in white, with a sword that I had won before Paris,” was Jeanne’s reply. “And why did you make that offering?” asked the judge, determined to twist her every action into something magical. Jeanne answered boldly: “Out of devotion, and because it’s the custom for all warriors who are merely wounded to give thanks. After being wounded near Paris, I offered my arms to St. Denis because he represents the voice of France.”
But let Charles Péguy speak, he who fell between Belgium and Paris in August, 1914:[38]
But let Charles Péguy speak, he who fell between Belgium and Paris in August, 1914:[38]
She had to see the kingdom in ruins,
And her goddaughter city lit up with torches,
And devastated at the hands of the most sinister hordes;
And the dead chased even into the graves,
And a hundred thousand innocents exposed to crows,
And the hanged will stick out their tongues at the end of the ropes;
When she saw the ancient city approaching ...
The girl from Lorraine is unlike any other ...
Keeping his heart intact in the midst of adversity,
Masquant sous sa visière une efficacité,
Tenant holds an entire kingdom in his determination,
Living in full mystery with wisdom,
Dying in the midst of suffering with intensity ...
Jetânt brings an entire army to the feet of prayer.[39]
CHAPTER III
Some of the Primary Gothic Cathedrals: Noyon, Senlis, Sens, Laon, Soissons
I wish my broken heart could navigate.
... king, politician, monk, artisan, chemist,
Architect, soldier, doctor, lawyer,
What a time! Yes, let my shipwrecked heart set sail again.
For all this fiery, flexible, artistic strength!...
Guided by the unique madness of the Cross
On your stone wings, oh crazy Cathedral!
—Paul Verlaine, Sagesse, IV.[40]
T. DENIS’ abbatial was an object lesson in the new art, and the bishops
returned to their dioceses to emulate it. Two of Suger’s personal
friends, the bishops of Noyon and Senlis, were the first to rebuild
their cathedrals. Already during the Romanesque stage the cathedral of
Sens had been initiated; it now was to be carried on according to the
new system of building. At Laon was begun a splendid Gothic edifice. At
Soissons, a new cathedral was started by that masterpiece of Primary
Gothic, the transept’s southern arm. And many a lesser church now rose:
the collegiate at Braine, the abbey church of St. Leu d’Esserent, and
two abbatials in Champagne as imposing as cathedrals, St. Remi at
Rheims, and Notre Dame at Châlons-sur-Marne. Also in Champagne is the
Primary Gothic church of St. Quiriace at Provins.
T. DENIS' abbey was a prime example of the new architectural style, and the bishops went back to their dioceses to replicate it. Two of Suger’s close friends, the bishops of Noyon and Senlis, were the first to rebuild their cathedrals. The cathedral of Sens had already begun its Romanesque phase; now it was set to continue under the new construction methods. A magnificent Gothic structure was initiated in Laon. In Soissons, a new cathedral began with the impressive southern arm of the transept, a hallmark of early Gothic architecture. Many smaller churches also started to emerge: the collegiate church at Braine, the abbey church of St. Leu d’Esserent, and two abbeys in Champagne that rivaled cathedrals, St. Remi in Rheims and Notre Dame in Châlons-sur-Marne. Additionally, in Champagne stands the early Gothic church of St. Quiriace in Provins.
The cathedral of Paris was also begun in the primary stage of the national art. But Notre Dame of Paris must have a chapter to itself. Before its main parts were completed, Gothic architecture had reached its culminating point. With it ended the primary group and opened what we shall call the Era of the Great Cathedrals, though let it be remembered that all such divisions are arbitrary and made use of merely for clearness. From its first assured steps to its apogee, from the middle of the XII century to the middle of the XIII, the sequence of Gothic architecture is welded too logically to be defined by cut-and-dried nomenclature.
The cathedral of Paris also started in the early stages of national art. However, Notre Dame of Paris deserves a separate discussion. Before its main features were finished, Gothic architecture had reached its peak. With it concluded the early group and began what we’ll refer to as the Era of the Great Cathedrals, although it's important to note that all such divisions are arbitrary and simply used for clarity. From its first confident steps to its highest point, from the mid-12th century to the mid-13th, the development of Gothic architecture is so logically connected that it can't be neatly defined by rigid labels.
During the XII century, the Gothic cathedrals retained Romanesque features, such as deep tribunes over the side aisles, which gave them a wall elevation in four stories—pier arcade, tribune, triforium (to veil the lean-to roof over the tribune), and clearstory. At first it was common usage to encircle the clustered shafts at intervals with stone rings, but by the XIII century the desire for an unbroken ascending line had grown stronger, and the employment of such horizontal bands died out. The simultaneous use of both round and pointed arch is found in all five of these Primary cathedrals; but after the opening of the XIII century, semicircular and equilateral arches rarely were used at the same time in a church. Slowly, as if with reluctance, the new architecture dropped favorite traits of the old school. Sculpture continued longest faithful to Romanesque traditions.
During the 12th century, Gothic cathedrals still had Romanesque features, like deep tribunes above the side aisles, which created a wall elevation in four stories—pier arcade, tribune, triforium (to cover the lean-to roof over the tribune), and clearstory. Initially, it was common to wrap the clustered columns at intervals with stone rings, but by the 13th century, the desire for a smooth, unbroken upward line became stronger, and the use of these horizontal bands faded away. Both round and pointed arches were used in all five of these primary cathedrals; however, after the start of the 13th century, semicircular and equilateral arches were rarely used together in a church. Gradually, almost hesitantly, the new architecture began to drop the beloved characteristics of the old style. Sculpture remained the longest in line with Romanesque traditions.
Noyon, Senlis, Sens, Laon, and Soissons—it seems rash to treat of such a bevy of churches in one chapter, when students have made a single cathedral their life work. The passing traveler is encouraged by one fact: each big French church, once seen, remains a clear-cut memory, for each possesses a distinct personality. To confuse one cathedral with another is impossible.
Noyon, Senlis, Sens, Laon, and Soissons—it feels bold to discuss such a group of churches in one chapter when scholars dedicate their lives to studying a single cathedral. However, one thing gives hope to the passing traveler: every major French church, once visited, leaves a lasting impression, as each has its own unique character. It's impossible to mix up one cathedral with another.
It is an instinct deeper than mere fancy to choose a season æsthetically right for a first visit to such sanctuaries. For these Primary cathedrals the fitting occasion is that fugitive hour when the leaves are multiple yet half transparent still, only partly veiling the virile framework of the tree. In them is the evanescence of spring, the slenderness of adolescence and its virginal restraint, that something of youth’s severity, that something of youth’s radiance which is joy, but not abandonment to joy.
It’s more than just a whim to pick the right season for a first visit to these sacred places. For these main cathedrals, the ideal time is that fleeting hour when the leaves are plentiful yet still somewhat transparent, only partially hiding the strong structure of the tree. In them is the fleeting nature of spring, the slenderness of youth and its innocent restraint, that essence of youth’s seriousness, that essence of youth’s brightness which is joy, but not a total surrender to joy.
There is something sacred in the modest sobriety of the earlier Gothic churches.... But what words can express their unimaginable charm! If all true art is but a symbol, a prefiguring of the mystery, these churches veil and reveal the coming harmonies of the Beyond as it never before was revealed and veiled. We speak of Chartres as a recollected holiness; the stones of Rheims were made majestic for royal pageants; Amiens is a sursum corda. And yet there is something in the first fugitive hour when Romanesque and Gothic met that makes a deeper appeal to the soul. No Greek, in portico or sepulchral tablet, conceived beauty of lovelier proportion, of more heart-piercing simplicity, than some of the earlier churches of the national genius.
There’s something sacred in the simple elegance of the early Gothic churches.... But what words can truly capture their incredible charm! If all genuine art represents a symbol, hinting at greater mysteries, these churches both hide and reveal the upcoming harmonies of the Beyond like never before. We talk about Chartres as a place of remembered holiness; the stones of Rheims were made grand for royal events; Amiens is a sursum corda. And yet, there’s something in that fleeting moment when Romanesque and Gothic styles first met that resonates more deeply with the soul. No Greek, in a colonnade or burial monument, imagined beauty with more exquisite proportions or more profoundly touching simplicity than some of the earlier churches of our national artistry.
When in the French towns the word passed from mouth to mouth, on a tragic day of September, 1914, that Rheims Cathedral was in flames, there were many who asked breathlessly: “And St. Remi? What of St. Remi?” And when the invaders burst upon Senlis, many who knew the lovely springtime Gothic church of St. Leu d’Esserent trembled for its fate. Over the birthplace of the nation’s unity of language and architecture has poured a pitiless rain of iron and fire, a destruction akin to desecration.[41] Cradle and necropolis!
When word spread through the French towns on a tragic day in September 1914 that Rheims Cathedral was on fire, many asked anxiously, “And St. Remi? What about St. Remi?” And when the invaders attacked Senlis, countless people who cherished the beautiful springtime Gothic church of St. Leu d’Esserent were worried about its safety. A relentless downpour of iron and fire has fallen over the birthplace of the nation’s unity in language and architecture, causing destruction that feels like desecration.[41] Cradle and necropolis!
The iron grip has held cloistral Noyon that was only too content to be forgotten in its distinguished retirement. The proudest mediæval thing in France, Laon set with feudal arrogance on its high hill, has been long years in chained captivity. For seven centuries the faithful bulls on Laon’s towers have looked out, like sentinels, over the city. With dread forebodings they stood in their captivity, aware that the angel guard set about Rheims Cathedral had pleaded in vain, that the tower of Senlis, pride of all the Valois country, had been selected as a target by the invaders’ guns. And Bamburg and Limburg, Halberstadt and Magdeburg, had copied Laon Cathedral in the old days when the opus francigenum aroused emulation, not hate, across the Rhine.
The iron grip has kept the secluded Noyon that was all too happy to be forgotten in its distinguished retirement. The proudest medieval structure in France, Laon, perched with feudal arrogance on its high hill, has been in captivity for many years. For seven centuries, the steadfast bulls on Laon’s towers have gazed out, like sentinels, over the city. With unsettling forebodings, they have remained in their captivity, aware that the angel guard around Rheims Cathedral had pleaded in vain, and that the tower of Senlis, the pride of all the Valois country, had become a target for the invaders’ guns. And Bamburg and Limburg, Halberstadt and Magdeburg, had emulated Laon Cathedral in the old days when the opus francigenum inspired admiration, not hatred, across the Rhine.
Month after month, year after year, the shells rained on Soissons; town and cathedral lie in ruins. The fair cities of this inmost heart of France have been desolated, the loyal places that hastened to open their gates to Jeanne d’Arc when she rode by with her king from the coronation in Rheims—Senlis and Laon, Soissons and Compiègne,[42] and Crespy-en-Valois, the countryside that greeted her with such love that she said she hoped to be buried among such good folk, among these chiers et bons amis les loyaulx Franxois habitons les bonnes villes.[43] Always in the vanguard of battle were these ancient cities of France, always the boulevard of the capital, yet the wars of centuries had respected their churches. Future ages will read of the glorification of brute force by the invaders who refused to take pity on Soissons, Noyon, and Rheims, when they stand before the giant amorphous 1913 memorial at Leipzig. Therein speaks the Prussian purpose as distinctly as, in Gothic cathedrals, speaks the idealism that sent the old and young crusading, and spurred man on to “the bravest effort he ever made to save his soul.”
Month after month, year after year, shells pounded Soissons; the town and cathedral are in ruins. The beautiful cities in this heart of France have been devastated, the loyal places that eagerly opened their gates to Jeanne d’Arc when she rode by with her king after the coronation in Rheims—Senlis and Laon, Soissons and Compiègne, Crespy-en-Valois, and the countryside that welcomed her with such warmth that she hoped to be buried among such good people, among these chiers et bons amis les loyaulx Franxois habitons les bonnes villes. Always at the front lines of battle were these ancient cities of France, always the boulevard of the capital, yet the wars of centuries had spared their churches. Future generations will learn about the glorification of brute force by the invaders who showed no mercy to Soissons, Noyon, and Rheims, when they stand before the massive, shapeless 1913 memorial in Leipzig. There, the Prussian intent is made clear, just as the idealism in Gothic cathedrals inspired both young and old to take up the crusade, motivating man to make “the bravest effort he ever made to save his soul.”
Tragic irreparable early churches of France! Like martyrs in the arena, you have been laid low, one after the other.... But martyrs leave undying memories. If loved before with an almost unfair preference, you are sacred now. Rheims, Soissons, Noyon, and Senlis—your names have become sacramental.
Tragic, irreparable early churches of France! Like martyrs in the arena, you have been brought down, one after another.... But martyrs leave lasting memories. If you were loved before with an almost unfair favoritism, you are sacred now. Rheims, Soissons, Noyon, and Senlis—your names have become sacred.
Don't let the frightened men speak for long; Because we will know less if our France is dying,
To dig him a tomb wider than an empire. —Louis Bouilhet.
Most of the cathedrals of France have an early history following the same general lines. Each may be said to have passed through a Merovingian stage, and to have rebuilt itself larger and finer in Carolingian times.[45] The inroads of the Northmen pirates and the conflagration of timber roofs wrecked most of the cathedrals, so that a third and often a fourth reconstruction went on during the Romanesque era—the century and a half that followed the year 1000. When the evolution of Gothic art was accomplished, there were few churches that were not renewed. It has been said that never before had such a noble frenzy of building seized on mankind.
Most of the cathedrals in France have a similar early history. They all seem to have gone through a Merovingian phase and then rebuilt themselves to be larger and more impressive during the Carolingian period.[45] The invasions by Viking pirates and the destruction from wooden roof fires damaged most of the cathedrals, leading to a third and sometimes even a fourth reconstruction during the Romanesque period—the century and a half following the year 1000. By the time Gothic art developed, few churches hadn’t been revamped. It has been said that never before had humanity experienced such a magnificent surge of building.
The bishop of Noyon took the initiative set by Abbot Suger at St. Denis. He was the first to start a cathedral in the new way just as Noyon can boast that hers was the first communal charter of which there is record. In 1109 the liberal Bishop Baudry granted the town its franchise, without the turbulent scenes by which other cities were to wrench theirs from their feudal proprietors. “Know then, all Christians, present and future, that by advice of priests, knights, and townsman I have established a commune in Noyon,” begins the bishop’s parchment. Many a neighboring city modeled its charter on that of Noyon.
The bishop of Noyon followed the lead set by Abbot Suger at St. Denis. He was the first to establish a cathedral in the new style, just as Noyon can proudly claim that it had the first recorded communal charter. In 1109, the generous Bishop Baudry granted the town its franchise, avoiding the chaotic struggles that other cities faced to obtain theirs from their feudal lords. “Know then, all Christians, present and future, that by the advice of priests, knights, and townspeople, I have established a commune in Noyon,” begins the bishop’s document. Many neighboring cities based their charters on Noyon's.
The quiet towns on the Oise played a precocious part in what Gratry calls “the big historic effort at justice which occurred in the XII century, the strong will to get out of barbaric chaos which began our era, and which, eight hundred years ago, started the impulses of modern progress.” From city to city the communal movement quickened. France began to be covered by associations for mutual aid, and the winning of city charters and the creation of guilds went hand in hand with the intellectual ferment in the schools and the creation of a national architecture.
The quiet towns along the Oise played an early role in what Gratry describes as “the major historical push for justice that took place in the 12th century, the strong desire to emerge from barbaric chaos that marked the beginning of our era, and which, eight hundred years ago, ignited the movements of modern progress.” The communal movement gained momentum from city to city. France began to be filled with associations for mutual aid, and the acquisition of city charters along with the establishment of guilds coincided with the intellectual awakening in schools and the development of a national architecture.
A second Carolingian cathedral of Noyon was replaced in the XI century by a Romanesque one which was burned in 1131, when the city was laid in ashes. At that time, Pope Innocent II was visiting a lord of the region, a cousin of Louis VII, and the brother of the bishop of Noyon, Simon de Vermandois. The pope wrote to various French prelates enjoining on them to help Noyon in its disaster. Bishop Simon must have built part of the walls of the present choir, but as he accompanied Louis VII on the Second Crusade, and died in the East, it was his successor, Bishop Baudouin II (1148-67), friend of Suger, friend, too, of St. Bernard, who really inaugurated the present cathedral about 1150. He sacrificed in large part what was already done of Bishop Simon’s choir in order to put it into character with the newly expounded principles of architecture. The choir of St. Denis was his direct model, and he obtained from Abbot Suger some of his masons; the profiles and ornamentation at Noyon are identical with those of St. Denis.
A second Carolingian cathedral in Noyon was replaced in the 11th century by a Romanesque one, which was destroyed by fire in 1131 when the city was reduced to ashes. At that time, Pope Innocent II was visiting a local lord, a cousin of Louis VII and the brother of the Bishop of Noyon, Simon de Vermandois. The pope wrote to various French bishops urging them to assist Noyon in its crisis. Bishop Simon likely constructed part of the current choir walls, but since he joined Louis VII on the Second Crusade and died in the East, it was his successor, Bishop Baudouin II (1148-67), a friend of Suger and St. Bernard, who actually started the present cathedral around 1150. He largely discarded the work that Bishop Simon had done on the choir to align it with the newly established architectural principles. The choir of St. Denis was his direct model, and he obtained some of his masons from Abbot Suger; the profiles and ornamentation at Noyon are identical to those at St. Denis.
In 1157, the relics of St. Eloi, Noyon’s noted VII-century bishop, a skilled goldsmith and prime minister for King Dagobert, were transferred to the new sanctuary, probably because it was then completed. In the time of Bishop Baudouin III, who died in 1174, the transept was finished, as well as the bays of the nave near it. Noyon’s western limb rose during three campaigns of work, as is indicated by differences in its details, but in main part the nave is a work of the final quarter of the XII century.
In 1157, the remains of St. Eloi, Noyon’s famous 7th-century bishop, who was a talented goldsmith and prime minister for King Dagobert, were moved to the new sanctuary, likely because it was then completed. During Bishop Baudouin III’s time, who passed away in 1174, the transept was finished, along with the bays of the nave nearby. Noyon's western section was built during three phases of work, which is evident from the differences in its details, but overall, the nave is primarily a product of the last quarter of the 12th century.
The cathedral was finished by the westernmost bay of its nave, its capacious porch, and the southwest tower, under Bishop Étienne de Nemours (1188-1222), who had three brothers, also bishops and builders, at Paris, at Meaux, and at Châlons, the sons, all four of them, of a lord chancellor of France. In Noyon, Bishop Étienne was a sound administrator; he was favorable to the municipality, regulated the town’s moneys, and built a hospital. Philippe-Auguste sent him to Denmark to escort to France the unfortunate Princess Ingeborg, who was to be his second wife. The bishop was buried as a benefactor in the abbey of Ourscamp, four miles from Noyon, farther down the Oise, which house was a foundation of Bishop Simon de Vermandois, though only vestiges of its XII-century parts remain.[46]
The cathedral was completed by the westernmost bay of its nave, its spacious porch, and the southwest tower, under Bishop Étienne de Nemours (1188-1222). He had three brothers, also bishops and builders, in Paris, Meaux, and Châlons, who were all sons of a lord chancellor of France. In Noyon, Bishop Étienne was a strong administrator; he supported the municipality, managed the town's finances, and built a hospital. Philippe-Auguste sent him to Denmark to bring back the unfortunate Princess Ingeborg, who was to be his second wife. The bishop was buried as a benefactor in the abbey of Ourscamp, four miles from Noyon, further down the Oise, which was founded by Bishop Simon de Vermandois, although only remnants of its 12th-century sections remain.[46]
During the last decade of the XIII century a terrible fire raged for two days in Noyon Cathedral. The vaulting throughout the church, save in the choir aisle, had to be reconstructed. For the sexpartite system, which embraces two bays, and has six branches from the keystone of each vault section, was now substituted the barlong plan, where diagonals cover one bay. The early-Gothic architects took up with enthusiasm the Normans’ sexpartite plan, but after using it for half a century they most sensibly returned to the quadripartite system as better suited to their needs. The sexpartite vault calls for piers of alternating strength, since on the heavier pier fall diagonals and transverse arch, and only a transverse arch on the intermediate pier.
During the last decade of the 13th century, a terrible fire raged for two days in Noyon Cathedral. The vaulting throughout the church, except for the choir aisle, had to be rebuilt. The sexpartite system, which covers two bays and has six branches stemming from the keystone of each vault section, was replaced with the barlong plan, where the diagonals cover one bay. The early Gothic architects enthusiastically embraced the Normans’ sexpartite plan, but after using it for half a century, they wisely returned to the quadripartite system, which was better suited to their needs. The sexpartite vault requires piers of alternating strength since the heavier pier supports both diagonals and the transverse arch, while only the transverse arch is placed on the intermediate pier.
Noyon Cathedral had from its start planned for a sexpartite vault by building its ground supports of alternating strength. Its piers, therefore, became illogical when a barlong vaulting was erected after the fire of 1193. And one regrets that it has not its original stone roof, since the correlations in this hardy first cathedral are elsewhere very perfect. Throughout the church are details of subtle charm. There is a slight bending out, like a horseshoe, of the archivolts of the pier arcade, which archivolts are severely plain. Usually from the abacus of a main pier rise five clustered shafts to the level of the vault-springing, two to catch the diagonals, two for the longitudinal or wall arches, and one for the transverse arch. Noyon showed constructive agility in concentrating its wall ribs and diagonals on a single shaft, which meant only three clustered colonnettes from main piers to vault-springing.
Noyon Cathedral initially intended to have a six-part vault by constructing its support columns with alternating strengths. Therefore, its columns became illogical when a long vaulting was added after the fire in 1193. It's unfortunate that it doesn't have its original stone roof since the connections in this robust first cathedral are otherwise very well done. Throughout the church, there are details of subtle charm. The archivolts of the pier arcade bend slightly outward, resembling a horseshoe, and are quite plain. Typically, five clustered columns rise from the top of a main pier to the level where the vault begins: two to support the diagonals, two for the longitudinal or wall arches, and one for the transverse arch. Noyon demonstrated clever engineering by focusing its wall ribs and diagonals on a single shaft, resulting in only three clustered small columns from the main piers to the vault's springing.
Each cathedral in France possesses a few traits peculiar to itself. Noyon is unique in having both ends of its transept terminate in hemicycles, like a Rhenish church.[47] The Romanesque school of the Rhine had derived the feature from the early chapels of Rome. Probably Noyon’s transept apses came from retaining the foundations of the previous cathedral. A church which was long in the jurisdiction of Noyon—the cathedral at Tournai—still possesses its Romanesque transept with semicircular ends. Cambrai Cathedral, destroyed by the Revolution, once had a similar pre-Gothic transept; its choir, built from 1220 to 1237 in the golden day of the national art, was an irreparable loss. Noyon Cathedral showed another Germanic trait in what may be called a western transept, made by the lower stories of the façade towers and the middle section of the first bay.
Each cathedral in France has some unique characteristics. Noyon is distinctive because both ends of its transept end in semicircles, similar to a church in the Rhineland.[47] The Romanesque style of the Rhine borrowed this feature from the early chapels in Rome. It's likely that Noyon’s transept apses were built using the foundations of the previous cathedral. A church that was under the jurisdiction of Noyon for a long time—the cathedral at Tournai—still has its Romanesque transept with semicircular ends. Cambrai Cathedral, which was destroyed during the Revolution, once had a similar pre-Gothic transept; its choir, built between 1220 and 1237 during the peak of national art, represented an irreversible loss. Noyon Cathedral displayed another Germanic characteristic with what might be called a western transept, created by the lower levels of the façade towers and the center section of the first bay.
The nave of Noyon is a noble vessel, with an interior four-story elevation of happier proportions than was achieved in the transept. No longer do annulets bind the clustered shafts, thus breaking the ascending line as in the choir. Throughout the church is to be found the simultaneous use of round and pointed arches, and, curiously enough, it is the lower stories, pier arcade, and tribune, that used the pointed arch; in the triforium and clearstory the arches are semicircular. Everywhere the sculptured capitals are of rare beauty. The Romanesque acanthus leaf is found in juxtaposition with the Gothic crocket.
The nave of Noyon is an impressive space, with a four-story interior that has a better balance than what was seen in the transept. The clustered shafts are no longer interrupted by annulets, allowing for a smooth upward line like in the choir. Throughout the church, both round and pointed arches are used simultaneously, interestingly with the lower levels, pier arcade, and tribune featuring pointed arches, while the triforium and clearstory have semicircular arches. Beautifully sculpted capitals are found everywhere, with Romanesque acanthus leaves alongside Gothic crockets.
Noyon is exceptional in having retained its annexes: the treasure hall built by Bishop Baudouin II, the chapel of the episcopal palace, a half-timber library, and a beautiful chapter house (c. 1240). This latter, opening on a fragment of the cathedral cloister, is a hall divided into two aisles by a row of slender pillars, the type preferred by the French, whereas in England the circular hall whose vault ribs were gathered on a central pier was more popular. Noyon’s chapter house was built by Bishop Pierre Chalot, who died at sea, off Cyprus, on St. Louis’ crusade of 1248.
Noyon is unique in that it has kept its annexes: the treasure hall created by Bishop Baudouin II, the chapel of the episcopal palace, a half-timbered library, and a stunning chapter house (c. 1240). The chapter house, which opens onto a part of the cathedral cloister, is a hall divided into two aisles by a row of slender pillars, which was the preferred style in France, while in England, the circular hall with vault ribs meeting at a central pier was more common. Noyon’s chapter house was built by Bishop Pierre Chalot, who died at sea off Cyprus during St. Louis’ crusade in 1248.
When in late-Gothic times Noyon was adding chapels and side aisles, her master-of-works was Jean Turpin, who at Péronne—pitiful Péronne la Pucelle entirely a ruin to-day—erected a Flamboyant Gothic church which was a veritable gem.
When, in the late Gothic period, Noyon was adding chapels and side aisles, the master builder was Jean Turpin, who constructed a stunning Flamboyant Gothic church in Péronne—poor Péronne la Pucelle, now completely in ruins.
The battle of giants, foreseen in the poet’s dream, twice engulfed Noyon during the World War. From the first occupation by the enemy the city escaped without serious injury. Then in March, 1918, began the Germans’ desperate advance on Paris. At the end of the month the mayor of Noyon quitted the city, the last to leave. And in September he was the first to re-enter Noyon after the second battle of the Marne had driven back the invaders. He found his town a ruin. Not a single building had escaped injury, and only ten days earlier a photograph taken from a French airship had shown that the Renaissance Town Hall and Noyon’s chief square were intact; few monuments had suffered from the occasional bombardments by the Allies. The Hôtel de Ville had been built in the dawn of the classic Renaissance, and its fine façades retained much of the Gothic spirit. Before their departure the invaders blew up the town; not even Calvin’s birthplace was spared. Hardly 10 per cent of the houses of this amiable little city that asked only to be left unmolested by the fever and fret of new things are to-day worth reconstruction.
The battle of giants, envisioned in the poet's dream, engulfed Noyon twice during the World War. During the first enemy occupation, the city managed to avoid serious damage. Then, in March 1918, the Germans launched their desperate push towards Paris. By the end of the month, the mayor of Noyon was the last person to leave the city. In September, he was the first to return after the second battle of the Marne pushed the invaders back. He found his town in ruins. Not a single building had escaped damage, and just ten days earlier, a photograph taken from a French airship had shown that the Renaissance Town Hall and Noyon’s main square were intact; few monuments had been affected by the occasional Allied bombardments. The Hôtel de Ville had been built at the dawn of the classic Renaissance, and its beautiful façades still reflected much of the Gothic style. Before leaving, the invaders destroyed the town; not even Calvin’s birthplace was spared. Hardly 10 percent of the houses in this charming little city, which simply wanted to be left undisturbed by the turmoil of modernity, are now worth rebuilding.
Noyon’s Chapter House (1240-1250)
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Noyon’s Chapter House (1240-1250)
As if by a miracle, the cathedral and a side street named for the old goldsmith bishop, St. Eloi, were preserved. The cathedral roof is pierced by shells in a dozen places and the northern tower and the porch between the towers are smashed, but the interior is but slightly damaged. In one of the side chapels a vandal fired his pistol many times at a picture of the Saviour. Perhaps it was the memory that Noyon’s rounded transept ends and forechurch were Germanic which saved the cathedral. Better is it to remember by a Radegund, by a Charlemagne, than by Odin and Thor.
As if by a miracle, the cathedral and a side street named after the old goldsmith bishop, St. Eloi, were saved. The cathedral roof is punctured by shells in a dozen spots, and the northern tower and the porch between the towers are damaged, but the interior is only slightly harmed. In one of the side chapels, a vandal fired his gun multiple times at a picture of the Savior. Perhaps it was the memory that Noyon's rounded transept ends and forechurch were influenced by Germanic styles that saved the cathedral. It's better to remember by a Radegund, by a Charlemagne, than by Odin and Thor.
THE CATHEDRAL OF SENLIS[48]
THE CATHEDRAL OF SENLIS__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
To-day analysis has seized on all things, and it is leading us to death. Man, we must not forget, lives intellectually by synthesis.... If archæology is to make known the monuments of the past, it ought, before all else, to try to make them loved, for, given the uncertitude of the future, it is in that love that they will find their only chance of safety.
Today, analysis has taken hold of everything, and it is driving us toward destruction. We must remember that humanity thrives intellectually through synthesis. If archaeology is meant to reveal the monuments of the past, it should focus first on making them appreciated, because, in light of the uncertainty of the future, that love will be their only chance for survival.
Senlis was the second begun of the Gothic cathedrals. The most fecund region for early essays in the nascent national art lay between Senlis and Noyon. Thibaut, bishop of Senlis, was present at Abbot Suger’s deathbed in 1151. Filled with the ambition to replace his half-ruined church by a Gothic one, he began, about 1152, the new works, and once more the abbey church of St. Denis was the model. Some of Senlis’ original vaults remain over side aisles, tribune, and apse chapels. Their intersecting ribs show a certain inexperience, and in places semicircular diagonals still are used. The framing arches of each section are lower than the keystone of the diagonals, which imparts a bombé shape to the vault. As the masons acquired skill in the making of Gothic stone roofs, this domical form died out; by stilting, by depressing, and by pointing the arches was the difficulty solved. Like Noyon, Senlis played a part in the early history of France. The Merovingian and Carolingian kings and those of the House of Capet frequented the little city in order to hunt in the forests of the Oise. Louis VII made Senlis his favorite residence, and when the new cathedral was undertaken he allowed donations to be collected over the entire kingdom.
Senlis was the second Gothic cathedral to be started. The most fertile area for early attempts at the emerging national art was between Senlis and Noyon. Thibaut, the bishop of Senlis, was there at Abbot Suger’s deathbed in 1151. Driven by the desire to replace his partly ruined church with a Gothic one, he began new construction around 1152, once again using the abbey church of St. Denis as a model. Some of the original vaults from Senlis still exist above the side aisles, tribune, and apse chapels. Their intersecting ribs display a bit of inexperience, and in some areas, semicircular diagonals are still present. The framing arches of each section are lower than the keystone of the diagonals, giving the vault a bombé shape. As the masons became more skilled in creating Gothic stone roofs, this domical form faded away; they solved the issue by stilting, lowering, and pointing the arches. Like Noyon, Senlis played a role in the early history of France. The Merovingian and Carolingian kings, as well as those from the House of Capet, often visited the small city to hunt in the forests of the Oise. Louis VII made Senlis his preferred residence, and when the new cathedral was begun, he allowed donations to be gathered from across the entire kingdom.
When Bishop Thibaut died, the succeeding prelates, Henri and Geoffrey, continued to give largely of their revenues to the new works, but the progress was slow. Senlis was a small diocese for so big a monument. About the time that the choir was finished, 1180, the sculpture of the central-western portal was set up, a gem of Primary Gothic, though sadly damaged by time. It marks a date in French mediæval sculpture. On the lintel is related the Death of the Virgin and her Assumption, in the tympanum her Coronation. Senlis was the first to use this ordinance which the XIII century frequently repeated; we find it at Chartres’ north portal, and at the entrance under the northwest tower of Notre Dame at Paris.
When Bishop Thibaut died, the following bishops, Henri and Geoffrey, continued to generously contribute from their revenues to the new projects, but progress was slow. Senlis was a small diocese for such a large monument. Around the time the choir was finished, in 1180, the sculpture of the central-western portal was installed, a stunning example of Early Gothic, though sadly worn by time. It marks an important moment in French medieval sculpture. The lintel depicts the Death of the Virgin and her Assumption, while the tympanum shows her Coronation. Senlis was the first to use this design, which the 13th century often repeated; we can see it at the north portal of Chartres and at the entrance beneath the northwest tower of Notre Dame in Paris.
M. Émile Mâle with his usual happy phrasing speaks of the lyric beauty of the lintel stone at Senlis.[50] It was partly inspired by the Golden Legend of the good Bishop James of Genoa, which in its turn had used the apocryphal gospels freely.[51] The legend relates that at the deathbed of Our Lady, the Apostles gathered, and St. John cautioned them: “Be careful when she is dead that no one weeps, lest the people, seeing our tears, be troubled, and say, ‘They fear death, who preach the Resurrection.’” For three days Our Lady rested in her tomb in the valley of Jehoshaphat, then came her Divine Son, with angels, singing the Canticle of Canticles, to escort her to Paradise. The old sculptor of Senlis has depicted the touching reverence with which the angels bend, to lift from the tomb their future Queen of Heaven. Their gesture of eager love is one of the exquisitely delicate conceptions of mediæval sculpture.
M. Émile Mâle, with his usual upbeat style, talks about the lyrical beauty of the lintel stone at Senlis.[50] It was partly inspired by the Golden Legend of the good Bishop James of Genoa, which also loosely reference the apocryphal gospels.[51] The legend tells that at Our Lady's deathbed, the Apostles gathered, and St. John warned them: “Be careful that when she dies, no one weeps, or else the people, seeing our tears, may be disturbed and say, ‘They fear death, who preach the Resurrection.’” For three days, Our Lady rested in her tomb in the valley of Jehoshaphat, and then her Divine Son came, accompanied by angels, singing the Canticle of Canticles, to guide her to Paradise. The old sculptor of Senlis has captured the touching reverence with which the angels bow to lift from the tomb their future Queen of Heaven. Their gesture of eager love is one of the exquisitely delicate expressions of medieval sculpture.
While they were carving the west portal there came to Senlis a touching figure, the young mother of the future Louis VIII, Isabelle, daughter of Baudouin V of Flanders, who claimed direct descent from Charlemagne; through her the blood of the Carolingian line passed into the third dynasty of France. She was to die, at nineteen, almost repudiated by Philippe-Auguste, because her people declined to support one of his projects. In Senlis Cathedral this gentle grandmother of St. Louis walked barefooted, candle in hand, beseeching assistance from the Mother of God with such humility that the beholders wept. She founded a chapel in the cathedral.
While they were carving the west portal, a moving figure arrived in Senlis: the young mother of the future Louis VIII, Isabelle, the daughter of Baudouin V of Flanders, who claimed direct descent from Charlemagne. Through her, the bloodline of the Carolingians merged into the third dynasty of France. She would die at nineteen, almost rejected by Philippe-Auguste, because her family refused to support one of his plans. In Senlis Cathedral, this gentle grandmother of St. Louis walked barefoot, candle in hand, pleading for help from the Mother of God with such humility that onlookers wept. She established a chapel in the cathedral.
A few years later, in 1191, the cathedral of Senlis was consecrated by that archbishop of Sens who was Philippe-Auguste’s uncle, Guillaume of Champagne, William of the White Hands, the prelate who had completed the cathedral at Sens. And there came to the dedication Bishop Nivelon de Chérisy, just starting Soissons’ Cathedral; Bishop Étienne de Nemours, at work on Noyon’s; the prelate of Meaux, who was raising that cathedral; and many another expert in the new art. Sometime later, Bishop Geoffrey resigned his see, and in his place was elected Pierre Guérin, chancellor of France under three kings, a figure worthy to stand beside those Gallo-Roman bishops who remained as bulwarks of society when the Roman Empire fell in pieces around them.
A few years later, in 1191, the cathedral of Senlis was consecrated by the archbishop of Sens, who was Philippe-Auguste’s uncle, Guillaume of Champagne, William of the White Hands, the prelate who had completed the cathedral in Sens. For the dedication, Bishop Nivelon de Chérisy was there, just starting Soissons’ Cathedral; Bishop Étienne de Nemours, working on Noyon’s; the prelate of Meaux, who was building that cathedral; and many other experts in the new art. Later on, Bishop Geoffrey resigned, and Pierre Guérin was elected to replace him. He served as chancellor of France under three kings and was a worthy figure to stand alongside those Gallo-Roman bishops who remained strongholds of society when the Roman Empire crumbled around them.
Bishop Guérin was a man possessed by a passion for the public weal. His prudence and firmness caused Philippe-Auguste and Louis VIII to name him executor of their testaments. One of his enterprises was the organizing of the royal archives. It was he who came to Blanche of Castile to break the news of her husband’s death as she rode out from Paris to meet Louis VIII returning from the southern war. For Louis IX during his minority he showed a father’s affection. “He governed marvelously well the kingdom’s needs,” says the old chronicler, and when he died, on his grave they inscribed, “Here lies Guérin, whose life was an untiring work.”
Bishop Guérin was a man driven by a passion for the common good. His wisdom and determination led Philippe-Auguste and Louis VIII to choose him as the executor of their wills. One of his initiatives was organizing the royal archives. He was the one who approached Blanche of Castile to inform her of her husband’s death while she was leaving Paris to meet Louis VIII returning from the southern war. During the minority of Louis IX, he showed a fatherly love. “He managed the kingdom’s needs exceptionally well,” says the old chronicler, and when he died, they engraved on his grave, “Here lies Guérin, whose life was an unending dedication to work.”
In early life Guérin had, in Palestine, become a Knight Hospitalier of St. John of Jerusalem, and, as bishop, continued to wear the white habit of that military order. At the battle of Bouvines, though not an actual combatant, he exhorted the troops and directed maneuvers, for he was skilled in the strategy of war. A survey of the enemy’s position made him urge Philippe-Auguste to attack at once, and the king, who knew Guérin to be sages homs et de parfont conseil, obeyed, thus winning the greatest victory of the century. “On that day French unity received its baptism.”
In his early years, Guérin became a Knight Hospitaller of St. John of Jerusalem while in Palestine, and as a bishop, he still wore the white robes of that military order. At the battle of Bouvines, although he wasn't actually fighting, he motivated the troops and guided their movements, as he was skilled in military strategy. After assessing the enemy’s position, he urged Philippe-Auguste to launch an immediate attack, and the king, who recognized Guérin as a wise man and a great advisor, complied, leading to the greatest victory of the century. "On that day, French unity was born."
The king had vowed, were his arms successful, to endow an abbey. Bishop Guérin laid for him the first stone of the Abbaye de la Victoire, near his episcopal city.[52] Before this greatest of the bishops of Senlis died, his cathedral had begun to crown its southwest tower by the octagon and spire which are the boast of all the Valois country. St. Louis must have contributed to Senlis’ famous tower, which places in foremost rank, this, the smallest cathedral in France. The unknown architect gathered features from many a beacon to unite them here in a masterpiece. He may be said to have created a new type, since his belfry at Senlis made a school in the region.[53]
The king had promised that if he succeeded in battle, he would fund an abbey. Bishop Guérin laid the first stone of the Abbaye de la Victoire, near his episcopal city.[52] Before the greatest of the bishops of Senlis passed away, construction on his cathedral had begun to complete its southwest tower with the octagon and spire that are admired throughout the Valois region. St. Louis must have played a role in Senlis’ renowned tower, which ranks this tiny cathedral among the most notable in France. The unnamed architect drew inspiration from many landmarks to create a masterpiece here. He can be credited with developing a new style, as his belfry at Senlis established a school in the area.[53]
The graduation of the upright shaft into the inclined plane, which in every tower is the crucial point, has here been accomplished with such address, such rhythm, that precisely at what instant the fusion takes place is not to be determined. It has been said that the shaft of the tower is too high in proportion to its spire; at a distance perhaps the criticism may seem justified, but not on closer view. Some have thought that Senlis’ belfry was a trifle too conscious of its charms, that it had not the calm poise of Chartres’ tower. So it may be; there is more of the woman than the archangel in it. Its personal graciousness has become so wedded with the lives of Senlis’ townspeople that they wish it good morning as they pass. The voyager will not find himself many hours in Senlis without pausing at every coign of vantage to gain some new silhouette effect of the slender beacon. It is charming when viewed in the same group as the Gallo-Roman ramparts. And from the open door of the church of St. Frambourg,[54] it can be studied at leisure.
The transition from the straight shaft to the sloping roof, which is the key point in every tower, has been done here with such skill and flow that it's impossible to pinpoint exactly when the change happens. Some people say that the tower's shaft is too tall compared to its spire; at a distance, this critique might seem valid, but not upon closer inspection. Others believe that Senlis’ bell tower is a bit too aware of its own beauty and lacks the serene balance of Chartres’ tower. That may be true; it has more of a feminine quality than an angelic one. Its unique charm has become so intertwined with the lives of Senlis’ residents that they greet it like an old friend as they walk by. A visitor won’t spend many hours in Senlis without stopping at every vantage point to capture a new angle of the slender landmark. It looks delightful alongside the Gallo-Roman walls, and from the open door of the church of St. Frambourg, it can be appreciated at a leisurely pace.
In the original plan of Senlis’ Cathedral there was only an indication of a transept—two small lateral chapels that open, to-day, from the choir aisle. When, about 1240, the radiant tower was finished they undertook to make a real transept. To insert one they had to do away with four bays of the nave; some ancient columns in the west piers of the transept witness to this change. In its present form the transept of Senlis belongs to the XIII century only in its lower walls.
In the original design of Senlis Cathedral, there was just a suggestion of a transept—two small side chapels that now open from the choir aisle. Around 1240, after completing the stunning tower, they decided to create a proper transept. To add one, they had to remove four bays of the nave; some ancient columns in the west piers of the transept are evidence of this change. In its current state, the transept of Senlis is from the 13th century only in its lower walls.
In 1504 a conflagration lasting several days destroyed the cathedral’s upper vaulting and necessitated the total reconstruction of the clearstory. In consequence, the exterior appearance of this very early Gothic church is most decidedly Flamboyant. Only the apse and the west façade have retained their Primary Gothic aspect. Chapels with complicated pendant vaults were built, aisles were added, and balustrades put before the tribune opening. Thick coats of whitewash coarsened the lines; in fact, restorations have been so radical, and many of them so over-ornate, that this cathedral has been called the Gothic of bad taste. An extreme criticism, for if some of the changes are distressing, Senlis’ transept façades, which also are later additions, are to be reckoned among the best work of the final phase of the national art.
In 1504, a fire that lasted several days destroyed the upper vaulting of the cathedral and required a complete rebuild of the clearstory. As a result, the outside of this very early Gothic church is definitely Flamboyant. Only the apse and the west façade have kept their original Gothic look. Chapels with complex pendant vaults were added, aisles were included, and balustrades were placed in front of the tribune opening. Thick layers of whitewash obscured the lines; in fact, the restorations have been so drastic, and many of them so overly decorative, that this cathedral has been labeled the Gothic of bad taste. This is an extreme criticism because, while some of the changes are jarring, the transept façades of Senlis, which are also later additions, are considered among the finest work from the final phase of national art.
After the fire of 1504 the cathedral chapter sought assistance from the king: “Plaise au Roy d’avoir pitié et compassion de la paoure église de Senlis ... laquelle, par fortune et inconvénient de feu a été bruslée, les cloches fondues, et le clocher qui est grant, magnifique et l’un des singuliers du royaume, au moyen du dit feu tellement endommagé qu’il est en danger de tomber.” Royalty responded generously as the sculpture shows; at the transept’s portals are to be seen the porcupine of Louis XII, the ermine of Anne of Brittany, and the salamander of Francis I.
After the fire in 1504, the cathedral chapter reached out for help from the king: “Please, Your Majesty, have pity and compassion for the poor church of Senlis ... which, due to unfortunate circumstances and fire, has been burned, the bells melted, and the large, magnificent bell tower, one of the most remarkable in the kingdom, has been so damaged by the fire that it is in danger of collapsing.” The monarchy responded generously, as the sculpture depicts; at the transept’s entrances, you can see the porcupine of Louis XII, the ermine of Anne of Brittany, and the salamander of Francis I.
Under the learned Bishop Guillaume Parvi, confessor to Francis I, was laid the first stone of the transept’s elaborate south façade in 1521. On it worked Pierre de Chambiges, son of the noted maker of late-Gothic frontispieces, and Jean Dixieult. And when it was nearing completion in 1560 the north façade was begun, and finished by the latter master.
Under the knowledgeable Bishop Guillaume Parvi, confessor to Francis I, the first stone of the intricate south façade of the transept was laid in 1521. Pierre de Chambiges, son of the famous creator of late-Gothic frontispieces, and Jean Dixieult worked on it. As it was nearing completion in 1560, work began on the north façade, which was completed by the latter master.
Effective, vivid, alertly handsome are Senlis’ transept fronts. The wise traveler, even if he infinitely prefers the purer lines of early Gothic, will learn to value this florid final expansion of the national art. The renewal of builders’ energy in the XV and XVI centuries was a sumptuous phase worthy of admiration. Those who are partial to English Gothic do not need to be warned against depreciating French Flamboyant work. The advice to be eclectic in travel, so as not to lose any source of artistic pleasure, is for those whose ideal of the builders’ art is that of the Ile-de-France, comprised between 1150 and 1250. For such the chief interest of Senlis will be the cathedral’s apse, its main façade, and the splendid tower. Let them widen their sympathies and take in the effective transept-fronts of the Flamboyant rebirth.
The transept fronts of Senlis are striking, lively, and really good-looking. A wise traveler, even if they prefer the simpler lines of early Gothic architecture, will come to appreciate this elaborate final phase of national art. The revival of builders' creativity in the 15th and 16th centuries was an impressive period that deserves admiration. Those who favor English Gothic don’t need to be warned against undervaluing French Flamboyant work. It’s advisable to be open-minded while traveling, so as not to miss any sources of artistic enjoyment, especially for those whose ideal of architectural beauty is from the Ile-de-France, specifically between 1150 and 1250. For them, the main attractions of Senlis will be the cathedral’s apse, its main façade, and the magnificent tower. They should expand their appreciation to include the impressive transept fronts of the Flamboyant revival.
Senlis of the towers, of the silent squares, of the quaint names—rue des Fromages, rue du Puits-Tiphane, rue des Pigeons Blancs—a charming aristocratic little city, set in an undulating Corot-like landscape, dotted with country houses, was the very epitome of well-conditioned provincial life. Before the summer of 1914 no spot on earth seemed farther removed from violence and crime. Then came the invading hordes over the Valois land. On September 2, 1914, the Germans surrounded Senlis, which, ville ouverte though it was, they proceeded to bombard. One third of the obus that fell hit the cathedral. That the guns, three miles away, were pointed on the famous tower would seem to be proved by the fact that only those houses were damaged which lay in the direct line between the German battery and Notre Dame.
Senlis, with its towers, quiet squares, and charming street names—Rue des Fromages, Rue du Puits-Tiphane, Rue des Pigeons Blancs—was a delightful little aristocratic city nestled in a rolling landscape reminiscent of Corot, sprinkled with country homes. It was the perfect example of a well-adjusted provincial life. Before the summer of 1914, no place on earth felt more removed from violence and crime. Then, the invading hordes swept across the Valois region. On September 2, 1914, the Germans surrounded Senlis, and even though it was a designated open town, they began to bombard it. A third of the shells that fell struck the cathedral. The fact that the guns, positioned three miles away, were aimed at the famous tower is evident since only the houses in a straight line between the German battery and Notre Dame were damaged.
When the enemy entered the city the mayor (shot later in reprisal) met them at the Hôtel de Ville. He had scarcely assured them that no troops remained in Senlis when shots rang out: by ill luck some colonial colored troops, on retiring, fired a salute. Thereupon followed the usual accusation that civilians were the combatants, and the usual tragic scenes of reprisal. Down the main street of the little city passed the trained wreckers of peaceful homes, prying open the doors to throw in incendiary bombs. Before night a whole section of Senlis lay an unsightly blackened ruin.... Then came the victory of the Marne and the invaders retreated. The havoc done to the cathedral can be repaired, though, in the process, must be lost the exquisite golden lichen stain which long ages had achieved. The preservation of Senlis’ tower was due to a curé of the cathedral who fearlessly pleaded for his church before the German commandant.
When the enemy entered the city, the mayor (who was later shot in retaliation) met them at the Town Hall. He had just assured them that there were no troops left in Senlis when gunfire erupted: by bad luck, some colonial troops, while withdrawing, fired a salute. This led to the usual accusations that civilians were the ones fighting, followed by the usual tragic scenes of retaliation. Down the main street of the small city marched the trained destroyers of peaceful homes, prying open doors to toss in incendiary bombs. By nightfall, a whole section of Senlis was a charred ruin.... Then came the victory at the Marne, and the invaders retreated. The damage done to the cathedral can be repaired, though the exquisite golden lichen stain that developed over centuries will be lost in the process. The preservation of Senlis’ tower was thanks to a priest from the cathedral who boldly advocated for his church in front of the German commandant.
What were Rheims and Soissons before their martyrdom but the transfiguring of stone and metal and wood; dead matter delved from the ground or hewn out of the forest, through the labor of man exalted into forms of absolute beauty, and, because of this loving labor, transformed ... into a mysterious creation that, in the words of Suger of St. Denis, was neither wholly of earth nor wholly of Heaven, but a mysterious blending of both.
What were Rheims and Soissons before they were turned into places of suffering but the transformation of stone, metal, and wood; lifeless materials taken from the earth or carved from the forest, elevated through human effort into forms of absolute beauty, and, because of this dedicated work, changed ... into a mysterious creation that, in the words of Suger of St. Denis, was neither completely of earth nor completely of Heaven, but a mysterious mix of both.
—Ralph Adams Cram.[56]
—Ralph Adams Cram. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Senlis’ Tower (c. 1230-1250)
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Senlis' Tower (c. 1230-1250)
Sens was a chief Celtic city at the intersecting of the Roman roads from Lyons to Paris, from Orléans to Troyes. Long did it dispute the title of primate of Gaul with Lyons and Rheims; even down to the XVI century Paris was within its jurisdiction. To-day as the express trains rush by from Paris to Marseilles, many a traveler looks out on a cathedral that seems to over-tower and overpower a flat, sleepy little town whose name he scarcely knows. When the cathedral was building in the XII century Sens was a center of the nation’s life, and under a succession of noteworthy archbishops reached its zenith.
Sens was a major Celtic city at the crossroads of the Roman roads from Lyons to Paris and from Orléans to Troyes. For a long time, it contested the title of the leading city of Gaul with Lyons and Rheims; even until the 16th century, Paris was under its jurisdiction. Today, as the high-speed trains zoom by from Paris to Marseilles, many travelers glance at a cathedral that seems to loom over a flat, quiet little town whose name they barely recognize. When the cathedral was being built in the 12th century, Sens was a hub of national life, and under a series of remarkable archbishops, it reached its peak.
Here at the Council of Sens, in 1140, was scheduled to take place a final contest between St. Bernard and Abélard, and in that hour of enthusiasm over abstract controversy, the king with his court and people of every degree flocked to Sens for the schoolmen’s debate on the Trinity. At the last moment Abélard, the inexhaustible arguer who had himself called for the test, quitted the combat. Some twenty years later Pope Alexander III spent a year and a half in Sens, and hither came Thomas Becket to seek papal indorsement for his opposition to Henry II’s interference in church affairs. Between these two events, 1140 to 1164, lies the building of Sens Cathedral. At the time of Abélard’s and St. Bernard’s visit the present edifice had been started. During the residence here of Alexander III and the archbishop of Canterbury it was nearing completion. The pope is recorded as dedicating an altar.
Here at the Council of Sens in 1140, there was a final showdown scheduled between St. Bernard and Abélard. In that moment of excitement over theoretical debates, the king, along with his court and people from all walks of life, gathered in Sens for the scholars' discussion on the Trinity. At the last minute, Abélard, the ever-persistent debater who had called for the challenge, backed out of the contest. About twenty years later, Pope Alexander III spent a year and a half in Sens, where Thomas Becket came to seek papal approval for his opposition to Henry II’s interference in church matters. Between these two events, from 1140 to 1164, the construction of Sens Cathedral took place. At the time of Abélard’s and St. Bernard’s visit, the current building had already begun. During Alexander III's stay here, along with the Archbishop of Canterbury, it was nearing completion. The pope is noted for dedicating an altar.
For a time Sens usurped the claim to be the oldest of the Gothic cathedrals. Its choir was started as Romanesque, but the walls rose slowly, and before a stone roof crowned the ambulatory the new system of building had conquered public opinion. The choir-aisle walls, intended to carry a groin vault, were rearranged to bear one with diagonals. On the outer wall the diagonals were caught on corbels placed above the capitals, and though such an arrangement shows maladroitness, the ribs themselves were made by no novice hand. Sens was a pioneer in the use of the broken rib to avoid the curving of diagonals: from each keystone, set precisely in the center of each section, branched the four ribs.
For a while, Sens claimed to be the oldest Gothic cathedral. Its choir started as Romanesque, but the walls went up slowly, and before a stone roof covered the ambulatory, the new style of construction had won over public opinion. The choir-aisle walls, originally meant to support a groin vault, were reshaped to hold one with diagonals. On the outer wall, the diagonals were supported by corbels placed above the capitals, and while this setup might seem clumsy, the ribs themselves were crafted by skilled hands. Sens was a trailblazer in using the broken rib to avoid curving diagonals: from each keystone, perfectly positioned in the center of each section, branched out the four ribs.
The walls of the procession path and an apsidal chapel opening on the transept’s north arm, are the oldest parts of Sens Cathedral. It is true that they antedate the dedication of St. Denis, but not by a few Romanesque vestiges can Sens substantiate its claim to be the first built of Gothic cathedrals. In its main parts it belongs to the third quarter of the XII century. It was a distinct advance on Noyon and Senlis, because it eliminated the deep tribunes over the side aisles. One of the striking characteristics of Sens is the way that light floods it from the aisle windows, which are on a noble scale. Because the church was built during a tentative hour its deficiency lies in the height of the central nave. For right proportion, when flanked by such lofty aisles, the nave should have been made considerably higher.
The walls of the procession path and the apse chapel opening into the north arm of the transept are the oldest parts of Sens Cathedral. It’s true that they were built before the dedication of St. Denis, but only a few Romanesque remains can help Sens claim to be the first Gothic cathedral. Its main sections date back to the third quarter of the 12th century. It marked a significant advancement over Noyon and Senlis by removing the deep tribunes over the side aisles. One of the most striking features of Sens is how light floods in through the aisle windows, which are impressively large. Since the church was built during a transitional period, its drawback is the height of the central nave. For proper proportions, the nave should have been much higher, especially with such lofty aisles on either side.
Sens Cathedral was begun by Archbishop Henri-le-Sanglier (1122-43) to replace a church dedicated at the end of the X century. Such strides has mediæval archaeology taken in France during the last generations, it is hard to believe that serious students, during the Congrès Archéologique held at Sens in 1840, could have considered the present edifice to be the one dedicated before 1000.
Sens Cathedral was started by Archbishop Henri-le-Sanglier (1122-43) to replace a church that was dedicated at the end of the 10th century. Considering the advances that medieval archaeology has made in France over the last few generations, it’s hard to believe that serious scholars at the Archaeological Congress held in Sens in 1840 could have thought that the current building was the one dedicated before 1000.
Henri-le-Sanglier had been appointed by Louis VI to the see of Sens before he had received holy orders, and in the lax spiritual standards of the day, he saw no harm in living like the feudal lord he was by birth. He had not Thomas of Canterbury’s unbending consistency. When his worldliness was censured by St. Bernard he changed his way of life, and ultimately proved himself a loyal and humane pastor.
Henri-le-Sanglier was appointed by Louis VI to the see of Sens before he had received holy orders, and in the relaxed spiritual standards of the time, he didn’t see any problem with living like the feudal lord he was by birth. He didn’t have Thomas of Canterbury’s strong sense of principle. When St. Bernard criticized his worldly lifestyle, he changed his way of living and ultimately showed himself to be a loyal and compassionate leader.
Of the six archbishops who were to follow him as builders of Sens’ metropolitan church, all of them were national figures. Under the long rule of Hugues de Toucy (1143-68) the church was mainly erected. He was the friend of Abbot Suger the pioneer, the friend, too, of Bernard the regenerator, who came as his guest to Sens, after preaching the Second Crusade at Vézelay. The same hospitable bishop welcomed on two occasions the exiled archbishop of Canterbury. The second visit of St. Thomas Becket was when he had been forced to quit the abbey of Pontigny, situated close by over the Burgundian border, because Henry Plantagenet swore to close every Cistercian house in his English and French domains if further refuge were offered the prelate. Moved by the welcome given him in his distress by the archbishop of Sens, the famous Englishman cried out—so his secretary, Herbert of Bosham, records: “Ah, we have proved the truth of the old saying—‘douce France! ô douce encore, ô très douce France! Oui, elle est douce, vraiment douce, la France!’”
Of the six archbishops who would succeed him as builders of Sens' metropolitan church, all of them were prominent national figures. During the long tenure of Hugues de Toucy (1143-68), the church was primarily constructed. He was friends with Abbot Suger, the trailblazer, and also with Bernard the reformer, who visited him in Sens after preaching the Second Crusade at Vézelay. This hospitable bishop welcomed the exiled archbishop of Canterbury on two occasions. St. Thomas Becket’s second visit occurred after he had to leave the abbey of Pontigny, which was nearby across the Burgundian border, because Henry Plantagenet threatened to shut down every Cistercian house in his English and French territories if the prelate was given any more refuge. Touched by the welcome he received in his time of trouble from the archbishop of Sens, the famous Englishman exclaimed—so his secretary, Herbert of Bosham, recorded: “Ah, we have proven the truth of the old saying—‘douce France! ô douce encore, ô très douce France! Oui, elle est douce, vraiment douce, la France!’”
By a series of logical inferences the name of the architect of this Primary Gothic cathedral has been added to the roll call of honor. It is known that Guillaume de Sens, a French master, was chosen in 1174 by the chapter of Canterbury to rebuild their cathedral, destroyed by fire. He drew the plan of Canterbury and had put up its apse, its Lady chapel, and two bays of the choir, when one day he fell fifty feet from a scaffold, and returned, in 1180, to his native land to die. An English architect, also named William, continued the works at Canterbury, always on the plan of French William.
Through a series of logical conclusions, the name of the architect of this Primary Gothic cathedral has been included in the list of honorees. It’s known that Guillaume de Sens, a French master, was selected in 1174 by the chapter of Canterbury to rebuild their cathedral, which had been destroyed by fire. He designed the plan for Canterbury and constructed its apse, its Lady chapel, and two bays of the choir, when one day he fell fifty feet from a scaffold and returned, in 1180, to his homeland to die. An English architect, also named William, carried on the work at Canterbury, always following the plan of the French William.
Now the chevet of Canterbury has strong analogies with that of Sens. There is the same single chapel in its axis; at Sens other apse chapels were added in the XVI and XVIII centuries. The profiles were alike in both cathedrals, and so were the sexpartite vaulting and the embryo transept. In both Canterbury and Sens is an exceptional feature, of Champagne origin, which could hardly have been used accidentally by two men in the same generation. Each alternate pier, at Sens, consists of twin columns, placed side by side according to the width, not the length, of the church. At Canterbury, despite subsequent rebuildings, the same arrangement is still to be found in the bay before the sanctuary.
Now the chevet of Canterbury has strong similarities to that of Sens. There is the same single chapel in its center; at Sens, other apse chapels were added in the 16th and 18th centuries. The profiles were similar in both cathedrals, as were the sexpartite vaulting and the early transept. In both Canterbury and Sens, there is a remarkable feature, originating from Champagne, which seems unlikely to have been coincidentally used by two architects in the same generation. Each alternate pier at Sens consists of twin columns placed side by side according to the width, not the length, of the church. At Canterbury, despite later rebuildings, the same design can still be seen in the bay before the sanctuary.
Guillaume de Sens was too prominent to have copied another man’s work, and since it is certain that the plan of Canterbury is his, it is now accepted that he built the cathedral of his native town before he proceeded to England. The homogeneous choir and nave of Sens show that they are the work of the years preceding 1175. And Guillaume’s claim to be Sens’ architect is further strengthened by a historic link. Not only did Thomas Becket spend three weeks with Archbishop Hugues de Toucy on his first arrival in the city during the pope’s stay there, but, after quitting Pontigny, he passed some years in St. Colombe monastery by the town. Without a doubt he knew the master-of-works who was erecting the cathedral, and it may have been he who, on his return to his own see, made the French architect’s skill known to his cathedral chapter. Guillaume was not called to Canterbury, however, till after the martyrdom of its great archbishop.
Guillaume de Sens was too significant to have just copied someone else's work, and since it's clear that the design of Canterbury is his, it's now recognized that he built the cathedral in his hometown before moving to England. The uniform choir and nave of Sens indicate that they were constructed in the years leading up to 1175. Additionally, Guillaume's claim to be the architect of Sens is further supported by a historical connection. Not only did Thomas Becket spend three weeks with Archbishop Hugues de Toucy when he first arrived in the city during the pope's visit, but after leaving Pontigny, he spent several years at the St. Colombe monastery near the town. It's very likely that he knew the master builder who was constructing the cathedral, and he may have been the one who, upon returning to his own diocese, made the French architect's talent known to his cathedral chapter. However, Guillaume wasn't called to Canterbury until after the martyrdom of its great archbishop.
Sens Cathedral was completed by a prince of the reigning house of Champagne, a son of Thibaut the Great, Archbishop Guillaume-of-the-White-Hands (1168-76). He, too, was Becket’s stanch supporter, and denounced his murder to the pope, though by blood he was Henry II’s cousin. In 1178 he crossed to England to pray by the tomb of the newly canonized saint—one of the first of the Canterbury Pilgrims who for over three hundred years were to wend their way to the shrine in Kent. Through his influence, Becket’s friend and adviser, John of Salisbury, the ablest scholar of his generation, was raised to the see of Chartres. Both William of Champagne and John of Salisbury received episcopal consecration from the hands of good Maurice de Sully, the builder of Paris Cathedral. In his later life Archbishop Guillaume was transferred to the see of Rheims, and in that cathedral he anointed as king his own nephew, Philippe-Auguste, whose prime minister he was; when Philippe II went on the Third Crusade he left as regents his uncle and his mother, Alix of Champagne. The archbishop’s affection for his nephew led him to sanction the king’s divorce from Ingeborg of Denmark and his marriage to Agnes of Méran, which drew on France the papal interdict, and on William of Champagne the censures of Innocent III.
Sens Cathedral was completed by a prince from the reigning family of Champagne, a son of Thibaut the Great, Archbishop Guillaume-of-the-White-Hands (1168-76). He was also a strong supporter of Becket and condemned his murder to the pope, even though he was Henry II’s cousin by blood. In 1178, he traveled to England to pray at the tomb of the newly canonized saint—one of the first of the Canterbury Pilgrims who would journey to the shrine in Kent for over three hundred years. Through his influence, Becket’s friend and advisor, John of Salisbury, the most talented scholar of his time, was appointed to the position of Bishop of Chartres. Both William of Champagne and John of Salisbury received their episcopal consecration from the hands of the good Maurice de Sully, the builder of Paris Cathedral. In his later years, Archbishop Guillaume was moved to the see of Rheims, where he anointed his own nephew, Philippe-Auguste, as king, serving as his prime minister; when Philippe II went on the Third Crusade, he left his uncle and his mother, Alix of Champagne, as regents. The archbishop’s affection for his nephew led him to approve the king’s divorce from Ingeborg of Denmark and his marriage to Agnes of Méran, which resulted in a papal interdict on France and brought down the censures of Innocent III on William of Champagne.
The house occupied by Thomas Becket, in the cloister of Sens Cathedral, was decorated by a statue of him, which disappeared during the Revolution. During excavations in the cloister, in 1899, they came upon an image representing a bishop, and marked with the seal of Archbishop Guillaume-of-the-White-Hands. The statue is now set up in the choir aisle on the site where once stood an altar dedicated to St. Thomas of Canterbury.
The house where Thomas Becket lived, in the cloister of Sens Cathedral, used to have a statue of him, which vanished during the Revolution. During excavations in the cloister in 1899, they discovered a figure of a bishop, marked with the seal of Archbishop Guillaume-of-the-White-Hands. The statue is now placed in the choir aisle where an altar dedicated to St. Thomas of Canterbury once stood.
The tutelary of Sens Cathedral is St. Stephen, the first martyr. A XII-century statue at the trumeau, or central shaft, of the west door presents him as the beautiful youthful servant of the Lord. Gazing at it one thinks of St. Augustine’s words: “The Church would never have had St. Paul but for St. Stephen’s prayer.” Paul, holding the robes of those who stoned Stephen, heard the martyr pray for his executioners. The trumeau statue of St. Etienne with its parallel feet marks the transition from the column image, such as those at Chartres’ western portal, to the XIII-century type of saintly personages at the doors of Rheims and Amiens. It escaped mutilation during the Revolution because some one had the wit to write on the stone tablet in the saint’s hand, The Book of the Law. The foliage relief on the shaft is exquisite.
The guardian of Sens Cathedral is St. Stephen, the first martyr. A 12th-century statue on the trumeau, or central shaft, of the west door depicts him as a beautiful young servant of the Lord. Looking at it, one recalls St. Augustine’s words: “The Church would never have had St. Paul without St. Stephen’s prayer.” Paul, who held the robes of those who stoned Stephen, heard the martyr pray for his killers. The trumeau statue of St. Etienne with its parallel feet represents the shift from the column image, like those at Chartres’ western portal, to the 13th-century style of saintly figures found at the doors of Rheims and Amiens. It avoided destruction during the Revolution because someone cleverly wrote on the stone tablet in the saint’s hand, The Book of the Law. The foliage relief on the shaft is exquisite.
As the XII century closed the archbishop of Sens was Michel de Corbeil (1194-99), a well-known scholastic writer. Under him and Pierre de Corbeil (d. 1222), his successor and also a learned teacher from the Paris schools, the axis chapel at Sens was rebuilt, and the upper vaulting of choir and nave reconstructed in order to enlarge the windows. As the longitudinal or wall arches were now raised to the level of the keystone, the bombé shape of the vault disappeared; in the chevet the wall ribs show as many as three sets of capitals. The vault sections of the side aisles, however, remained domical, as originally built.
As the 12th century came to a close, the archbishop of Sens was Michel de Corbeil (1194-99), a well-known scholastic writer. Under him and Pierre de Corbeil (d. 1222), his successor and also a knowledgeable teacher from the Paris schools, the axis chapel at Sens was rebuilt, and the upper vaulting of the choir and nave was reconstructed to make the windows larger. With the longitudinal or wall arches now raised to the level of the keystone, the rounded shape of the vault disappeared; in the chevet, the wall ribs display as many as three sets of capitals. However, the vault sections of the side aisles remained domical, as they were originally built.
Two other distinguished brothers, men of great lineage and intellectual attainment, ruled the see of Sens during many years, Gautier de Cornut from 1222 to 1241 and Gilles de Cornut, who died in 1254; and they had a brother who busied himself with the new cathedral at Beauvais. Gautier de Cornut, who while doctor of law in Paris University served as chaplain to Philippe-Auguste and Louis VIII, was the envoy sent in 1234 to fetch Marguerite of Provence to be married to Louis IX in Sens Cathedral, the king then being in his twentieth year. The young princess of the art-loving Midi came north accompanied by a troop of minstrels. Again in 1239 St. Louis returned to Sens for the Crown of Thorns, on its transit from Venice to Paris, and he walked out some miles from the city to meet it. Barefooted, he and his brother, Robert of Artois, bore back the previous relics to the cathedral, through streets hung with tapestries and lighted by candles. The relic rested in St. Étienne’s church all night and then in a solemn, eight-day procession was carried to Paris. The king had the archbishop write the formal account of it all. Gautier de Cornut erected the synodal hall which touches the cathedral’s façade, and his own statue and that of the young king decorated its buttresses. The best civic monument of St. Louis’ reign many think it to be, and as perfect in its own way as the hospital hall at Ourscamp, its contemporary.
Two other notable brothers, men of significance and intellectual achievement, led the diocese of Sens for many years: Gautier de Cornut from 1222 to 1241 and Gilles de Cornut, who passed away in 1254. They had a brother who worked on the new cathedral at Beauvais. Gautier de Cornut, who served as a doctor of law at the University of Paris and as chaplain to Philippe-Auguste and Louis VIII, was the envoy sent in 1234 to bring Marguerite of Provence to be married to Louis IX at Sens Cathedral, with the king then being just twenty years old. The young princess from the art-loving south traveled north with a group of minstrels. In 1239, St. Louis returned to Sens for the Crown of Thorns, which was on its way from Venice to Paris, and he walked several miles from the city to meet it. Barefoot, he and his brother, Robert of Artois, carried the relic back to the cathedral through streets adorned with tapestries and illuminated by candles. The relic spent the night in St. Étienne’s church before being taken to Paris in a formal eight-day procession. The king had the archbishop document the entire event. Gautier de Cornut built the synodal hall that connects to the cathedral’s façade, and his statue, along with that of the young king, adorned its buttresses. Many consider it the best civic monument of St. Louis’ reign, as perfect in its own way as the hospital hall at Ourscamp, its contemporary.
In 1267 the cathedral’s southwest tower fell; it may have been one built in Carolingian times from the proceeds of a gold retable, or it may have been a XII-century tower of Archbishop Hugues de Toucy’s time, as are the two lower stories of the present northwest tower. Its fall necessitated the remaking of the last two bays of the nave and of the damaged western doors during the early XIV century. The side chapels were built then, too, but they have been rehandled in the present day, and are now dissimulated behind an arcaded wall. A record of 1319 speaks of the able Nicholas de Chaumes as architect here before he proceeded to Meaux Cathedral. He demolished the ancient chapel on the transept’s southern arm, but its corresponding chapel, on the transept’s northern arm, still exists and is, with the ambulatory walls, the oldest part of the church. Not till after the Hundred Years’ War, however, was the plan to erect a new transept carried through.
In 1267, the southwest tower of the cathedral collapsed; it might have been one built during the Carolingian era using funds from a gold retable, or it could have been a 12th-century tower from the time of Archbishop Hugues de Toucy, similar to the two lower levels of the current northwest tower. Its collapse required remodeling of the last two bays of the nave and the damaged western doors in the early 14th century. The side chapels were constructed around that time as well, but they have been altered in modern times and are now hidden behind an arcaded wall. A record from 1319 mentions the skilled Nicholas de Chaumes as the architect here before he moved on to Meaux Cathedral. He tore down the ancient chapel on the southern side of the transept, but its matching chapel on the northern side still stands and, along with the ambulatory walls, is the oldest part of the church. However, it wasn't until after the Hundred Years' War that the plan to build a new transept was implemented.
Sens then possessed as its archbishop, during forty years, the energetic Tristan de Salazar (d. 1519) who had fought, sword in hand, with Louis XII in the Italian wars. Like Bishop Jacques d’Amboise, who was then finishing at Paris the present Musée Cluny as town house for his abbey of Cluny, Archbishop de Salazar built the Hôtel Sens in Paris for his diocesan house. To his own cathedral he added the southwest tower’s upper story (to which later a Renaissance lantern was attached) and he connected the synodal hall with the episcopal palace by a rich gallery. Some sculptured panels now attached to a pier in the nave of Sens Cathedral originally formed part of a tomb he had made for his parents. It was this munificent art patron who began the late-Gothic transept. In 1490 the most notable architect of the day, Martin Chambiges, was invited to direct the work, and for four years he gave it his personal supervision until called to Troyes to make the Flamboyant Gothic façade of that cathedral.
Sens was led for forty years by the dynamic Tristan de Salazar (d. 1519), who fought alongside Louis XII in the Italian wars. Similar to Bishop Jacques d’Amboise, who was then completing the Musée Cluny in Paris as a town house for his abbey of Cluny, Archbishop de Salazar constructed the Hôtel Sens in Paris for his diocese. He added an upper story to the southwest tower of his cathedral (to which a Renaissance lantern was later attached) and connected the synodal hall to the episcopal palace with an ornate gallery. Some sculpted panels now attached to a pier in the nave of Sens Cathedral were originally part of a tomb he created for his parents. This generous art patron also initiated the late-Gothic transept. In 1490, the most prominent architect of the time, Martin Chambiges, was invited to oversee the work, and he personally supervised it for four years until he was called to Troyes to design the Flamboyant Gothic façade of that cathedral.
Sens Cathedral contains some ancient windows, four of which are among the best in France and allied with Suger’s school, though probably executed as the XIII century opened, since the saddle bars follow the outline of the medallion pictures. Those four exceptional windows of the choir aisle sparkle with the jeweled intensity of the golden age of the vitrine art. In one of them is told the story of St. Eustace, often to be met with in French iconography, since he figured in the Golden Legend. Another describes the return to England of Thomas Becket and his immediate martyrdom. Originally next to it hung a companion lancet, giving Becket’s early life, but this was done away with to make room for a chapel. The other two lancets are of the Biblia Pauperum type. In one, the parable of the Prodigal Son is given. In the other is the story of the Good Samaritan, and the half medallions on either side of each central scene interpret it symbolically. Such correlation of the Old and the New Testament was most popular in the Middle Ages. Beside a medallion which shows the traveler fallen among thieves stands the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden; and the scene of the charitable Samaritan is accompanied by pictures of the Saviour’s death and resurrection. They might not be able to write and read, the ordinary men and women of that day, they had no daily journal to crowd their minds with half-digested facts, but their souls were fed by sound ethical truths set forth clearly in their one great book, the cathedral. The artisan donors of such windows we may be sure knew the symbolic meaning of every panel.
Sens Cathedral has some ancient windows, four of which are among the best in France and are connected to Suger’s school, likely created as the 13th century began, since the saddle bars follow the outline of the medallion images. Those four remarkable windows in the choir aisle shine with the dazzling intensity of the golden age of stained glass art. One of them tells the story of St. Eustace, frequently found in French iconography, as he appears in the Golden Legend. Another depicts the return of Thomas Becket to England and his immediate martyrdom. Originally, there was another lancet nearby illustrating Becket’s early life, but it was removed to make space for a chapel. The other two lancets are of the Biblia Pauperum style. One showcases the parable of the Prodigal Son. The other tells the story of the Good Samaritan, and the half medallions on either side of each scene convey its meaning symbolically. This connection of the Old and New Testament was very popular in the Middle Ages. Next to a medallion depicting the traveler who was attacked by thieves stands the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden; and the scene with the good Samaritan is accompanied by images of the Savior’s death and resurrection. While ordinary men and women of that time might not have been able to read or write, and lacked daily newspapers to clutter their minds with half-formed facts, their spirits were nourished by clear ethical teachings presented in their one grand book, the cathedral. We can be certain that the artisan donors of such windows understood the symbolic meaning behind each panel.
In the clearstory windows at the curve of Sens’ choir is more XIII-century glass, but it is later work, lacking the marvelous glow of the choir-aisle lancets. The two big roses of the transept are splendid. A celestial concert was then a favorite theme. The south rose (1500) was made by the same Champagne artists, Lyénin, Varin, Verrat, and Godon who filled the nave of Troyes Cathedral with its high-colored translucent woodcuts. The north rose of the transept finished in 1504, was the work of native masters, influenced by the noted school of Troyes. The side windows in Sens’ Flamboyant transept are equally good.[57]
In the clearstory windows at the curve of Sens’ choir, there is more 13th-century glass, but it's later work, lacking the amazing glow of the choir-aisle lancets. The two large rose windows in the transept are stunning. A celestial concert was a popular theme at that time. The south rose (1500) was created by the same Champagne artists, Lyénin, Varin, Verrat, and Godon, who filled the nave of Troyes Cathedral with its vibrant, translucent woodcuts. The north rose of the transept, completed in 1504, was made by local masters, influenced by the famous school of Troyes. The side windows in Sens’ Flamboyant transept are equally impressive.[57]
Jean Cousin, born in Sens, 1501, made two of the cathedral’s windows, the rich one of St. Eutropius, in the nave, and the Tiburtine sibyl of amplest design, in the shrine to the south of the axis chapel. Nothing could be more resplendent as picture windows, but Gothic-Renaissance work, whose tendency was to treat each light as an isolated picture, is not equal to the close-woven patterns of XII-and XIII-century mosaic glass, which kept itself in subordination to its architectural setting. The immense superiority of the earlier windows is demonstrated in Sens Cathedral, which offers us both types at their best.
Jean Cousin, born in Sens in 1501, created two windows for the cathedral: the stunning one of St. Eutropius in the nave, and the larger design of the Tiburtine sibyl in the shrine to the south of the axis chapel. These picture windows are incredibly radiant, but the Gothic-Renaissance style, which often treated each pane as a separate image, doesn’t match the intricate designs of 12th and 13th-century mosaic glass, which harmonized with its architectural context. The clear superiority of the earlier windows is evident in Sens Cathedral, which showcases both styles at their finest.
The Interior of Laon Cathedral (XII Century). View from
the Tribune Gallery
The Inside of Laon Cathedral (12th Century). View from the Tribune Gallery
And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.—Apoc. xxi:2, used in the office for the dedication of a church.
And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven from God, prepared like a bride dressed for her husband.—Apoc. xxi:2, used in the service for the dedication of a church.
While Sens, Noyon, and Senlis were building, the splendid cathedral of Laon was begun, about 1160. The usual transition features of Primary Gothic showed in its retention of tribunes over the side aisles, in the simultaneous use of round and pointed arches, the beringed colonnettes, and the salient transept arms. The chapel, in two stories, that opened on each arm of the transept, was another Romanesque tradition.
While Sens, Noyon, and Senlis were being built, the magnificent cathedral of Laon began construction around 1160. It displayed the typical transition characteristics of Early Gothic with its retention of tribunes over the side aisles, the use of both round and pointed arches, the ringed colonnettes, and the prominent transept arms. The chapel, with two levels, that opened on each arm of the transept was another Romanesque tradition.
The interior of Laon, “the cathedral of Purity, Silence, and Power,” is indeed most impressive. One bay follows another with a regularity that is accentuated by the interior elevation being in four stories—pier arcade, tribune arches, triforium wall arcade, and clearstory. It is not a lofty church, but, like English cathedrals, what it lacks in height is compensated for in length. There are eleven bays in the nave, and ten in the choir. Moreover, because it was comparatively low it could build a square transept-crossing tower, and the average French cathedral was too high for such a tower to be artistic. Laon and Braine were exceptions among Ile-de-France churches in having central lanterns; they were derived from Normandy, since the Rhenish lantern usually was octagonal. Strange as it may seem to say of the most prominent, most open, and best-lighted part of a church, there is a blessed seclusion beneath the wide white tower of Laon that “shuts the heart up in tranquillity.”
The interior of Laon, “the cathedral of Purity, Silence, and Power,” is truly impressive. One bay follows another with a regularity that’s highlighted by the interior elevation being in four levels—pier arcade, tribune arches, triforium wall arcade, and clearstory. It isn't a tall church, but similar to English cathedrals, what it lacks in height is made up for in length. There are eleven bays in the nave and ten in the choir. Additionally, because it is relatively low, it could support a square transept-crossing tower, while the typical French cathedral was too tall for such a tower to look good. Laon and Braine were unique among Ile-de-France churches for having central lanterns; these were influenced by Normandy, as the Rhenish lantern was usually octagonal. Odd as it may be to say about the most prominent, most open, and best-lit part of a church, there’s a peaceful seclusion beneath the broad white tower of Laon that “shuts the heart up in tranquillity.”
Down the long church, the stout monolithic piers make two virile lines. Only during a short period were such sturdy cylinders used, here and in Notre Dame at Paris are the chief examples, and both cathedrals were artistically right in preferring their uniform columns, even though both of them used the sexpartite vaulting that called for alternating ground supports. The coming cathedrals were to adopt once for all the barlong system of vaulting, where the concentration of loads fell equally on every bay, and to evolve a classic type of pier, consisting of a central cylinder flanked by four semi-attached columns. At Laon a few piers in the nave experimented with free-standing colonnettes, three of which were placed in front of the pillar to enlarge, there, the abacus of the capital on which stood the shafts that mounted to the vault-springing. The elliptical piers of Beauvais, longer from north to south, were to be the most perfect solution of the problem of ground supports.
Down the long church, the solid monolithic pillars form two strong lines. Only for a brief period were such sturdy cylinders used; here and in Notre Dame in Paris are the main examples, and both cathedrals were artistically correct in favoring their uniform columns, even though both employed the sexpartite vaulting that required alternating ground supports. The upcoming cathedrals were set to adopt the barlong vaulting system, where the load concentration was equally distributed across each bay, and to develop a classic type of pier made up of a central cylinder flanked by four semi-attached columns. At Laon, a few piers in the nave experimented with free-standing small columns, three of which were placed in front of the pillar to enlarge the abacus of the capital that supported the shafts reaching up to the vault-springing. The elliptical piers of Beauvais, longer from north to south, would become the most perfect solution to the problem of ground supports.
There is no denying that Laon’s interior is to-day too white, but we must remember that originally color was used on the stones, so that any effect of a hall would have been impossible in the olden times. Viollet-le-Duc called Laon the laic cathedral par excellence. He considered it a great civic hall wherein the populace “could unite and enjoy spectacles more or less profane.” And even in the flat eastern wall he found something occultly heretical. The towers, he said, were more those of a château than a church. He shut his mind to the fact that Laon was erected largely by its bishops, that it was begun by the choir end, which is suitable only for divine service, and that if its seven towers had been crowned with the sky-pointing spires of the architect’s plan, and if its sky-dreaming windows were still intact, there would be little of the aspect of a town hall about this stately church. Critics like Huysmans have exaggerated its present iciness: no one can pray in Laon, he exclaimed; its soul is fled forever. But what would be Chartres, his spot of election for prayer, were it unsoftened by its “storied windows richly dight”?
There’s no denying that Laon’s interior is way too white today, but we have to remember that originally, color was applied to the stones, so any atmosphere in a hall would have been impossible back in the day. Viollet-le-Duc called Laon the laic cathedral par excellence. He viewed it as a great civic hall where people could "gather and enjoy more or less secular spectacles." Even in the flat eastern wall, he sensed something subtly heretical. He noted that the towers resembled more of a château than a church. He ignored the fact that Laon was mainly built by its bishops, that the construction began at the choir end, which is only appropriate for divine service, and that if its seven towers had been topped with the sky-reaching spires from the architect’s plans, and if its skyward-reaching windows were still intact, it wouldn’t resemble a town hall at all. Critics like Huysmans have overblown its current coldness: no one can pray in Laon, he cried; its soul is gone forever. But what would Chartres, his chosen place for prayer, be like without its “storied windows richly dight”?
Only a slight amount of ancient glass has survived in Laon. The north rose of the transept shows pictures of the sciences. Beneath the rose window in the flat eastern wall are three handsome lancets made by the school of Chartres early in the XIII century. They show the passing away of the hieratic Byzantine gesture: in the Annunciation and Visitation medallions the robes float naturally; in the Nativity scene the natural gesture of a woman who tests the warmth of the water before bathing the Holy Child has been well rendered.
Only a small amount of ancient glass has survived in Laon. The north rose window of the transept features images of the sciences. Below the rose window on the flat eastern wall are three beautiful lancets created by the Chartres school in the early 13th century. They demonstrate the decline of the formal Byzantine gesture: in the Annunciation and Visitation medallions, the robes flow naturally; in the Nativity scene, the natural gesture of a woman checking the warmth of the water before bathing the Holy Child is skillfully depicted.
If a lack of accessories makes the interior of Laon Cathedral seem to-day more philosophic than religious, there are certain lovable individual touches in it that warm both heart and imagination. In the first place it is a church fairly garlanded with springtime foliage. The wonder of eternal youth is in its half-curled leaves which the sculptors conventionalized just enough to make them architectural. Not one sprig, not one leaf is like another. Never was nature more profoundly loved or more convincingly interpreted.
If the absence of decorations makes the interior of Laon Cathedral seem more philosophical than religious today, there are still some charming personal touches that warm both the heart and imagination. First of all, it’s a church beautifully adorned with spring foliage. The wonder of eternal youth is captured in its half-curled leaves, which the sculptors stylized just enough to fit the architectural design. No branch or leaf is alike. Nature has never been so deeply cherished or so convincingly represented.
Then there are the stone bulls of Laon. They stand high on the western towers, those sixteen massive oxen, stretching their necks, as if watching the people climb the steep hill below. Each stands under a columned canopy. The popular fancy is that they commemorate the patient beasts who dragged the stones for the cathedral up Laon’s precipitous crags, and there is nothing improbable in the idea. It was a day when St. Francis was telling man to love his dumb fellow creatures. The towers of Laon Cathedral are worthy of the magistral setting of the church on the edge of the abrupt hill where had grown the ancient city. For miles Laon’s towers command the plain, “an assembly without rival among Gothic monuments.” Incomplete though they are, Laon’s five towers come nearer to the ideal plan of seven spires than does any other cathedral. The corner tourelles pass from one form to another, as they rise, converting themselves into octagons. “Ponder it well,” wrote the XIII-century architect, Villard de Honnecourt, in his famous sketchbook. “I have been in many lands, as you can see by this book, but never in any place is to be found a tower equal to Laon.”
Then there are the stone bulls of Laon. They sit high on the western towers, these sixteen massive oxen, stretching their necks as if they're watching the people climb the steep hill below. Each one stands under a columned canopy. It's commonly believed that they honor the patient animals that pulled the stones for the cathedral up Laon's steep cliffs, and there's nothing unlikely about that idea. It was a day when St. Francis was telling people to love their mute fellow beings. The towers of Laon Cathedral are fitting for the impressive location of the church on the edge of the steep hill where the ancient city grew. For miles, Laon's towers dominate the plain, "an assembly without rival among Gothic monuments." Although they are incomplete, Laon's five towers come closer to the ideal plan of seven spires than any other cathedral. The corner turrets change shape as they rise, transforming into octagons. "Think about it deeply," wrote the 13th-century architect, Villard de Honnecourt, in his famous sketchbook. "I have traveled to many lands, as you can see in this book, but there is no other place with a tower equal to Laon."
Four of the towers are alike, each with the same long lancet openings, the same free-standing pillars at the corners. Rows of crockets mark the main lines, for the old-time masters were adepts in every device whereby to fix the eye on the essential. There are aspects when the fretwork designs made by Laon’s towers against the sky are superb.
Four of the towers are similar, each featuring the same elongated lancet openings and the same standalone pillars at the corners. Rows of crockets outline the main lines, as the old masters were skilled in every technique to draw attention to the essentials. At times, the intricate designs created by Laon’s towers against the sky are breathtaking.
The date of the cathedral long gave rise to discussion in the days when mediæval archaeology was still hazy. No one now contends that the present Notre Dame is the church which was patched up hastily by Bishop Bartholomew de Vir after the fire of 1112. That conflagration was a semi-lawless act. Laon’s bishop was also its feudal proprietor, hence a greedy baronage contended to hold the see. One Gaudry, a knight adventurer who had served under William the Conqueror in England and there grown rich, obtained the bishopric of Laon by simony. All his talk was of hawks, hounds, and hunting. During one of his absences in England the townspeople set up a commune, and Gaudry bent his energies to frustrate it. In an uprising in 1112 the infuriated populace murdered him. The fire, started during the riots, spread to the cathedral, which was practically consumed. The burghers, being unskilled in arms, were forced to call to their aid a fierce robber-baron of the house of Coucy, Thomas of Marle, who, according as he found it profitable, fought, now against, now for, the communes.[59] It took the king of France half a lifetime to destroy that “raging wolf,” as Abbot Suger called him.
The date of the cathedral has long been a topic of discussion, especially during the time when medieval archaeology was still unclear. No one claims today that the current Notre Dame is the church that was hurriedly repaired by Bishop Bartholomew de Vir after the fire in 1112. That fire was somewhat of a lawless event. Laon's bishop also held feudal power, which led greedy barons to fight for control of the see. A man named Gaudry, a knight who made his fortune serving under William the Conqueror in England, obtained the bishopric of Laon through simony. He was always talking about hawks, hounds, and hunting. While he was away in England, the townspeople established a commune, and Gaudry dedicated himself to undermining it. In a revolt in 1112, the enraged citizens killed him. The fire, which started during the riots, spread to the cathedral and nearly destroyed it. The townspeople, lacking military skills, had to seek help from a fierce robber-baron from the house of Coucy, Thomas of Marle, who fought for or against the communes depending on what was beneficial for him. It took the king of France half a lifetime to deal with that “raging wolf,” as Abbot Suger referred to him.[59] It took the king of France half a lifetime to destroy that “raging wolf,” as Abbot Suger called him.
Guizot has brought out that the XII-century uprisings against feudal exactions on the part of the burgesses were often favored by king and clergy. Such was the unformed state of society that no liberal general views could be adhered to; the king is to be found granting charters to some towns and marching against the rebellious citizens in others. The bishops of Noyon, Beauvais, and Soissons favored the people’s claims. The prelates of Rheims and Laon opposed them. Such feudalism as that of Thomas of Marle meant permanent anarchy; for the royal power to centralize authority then meant law and order.
Guizot pointed out that the uprisings in the 12th century against feudal demands by the townspeople were often supported by the king and the clergy. Society was so unstructured that no broad, liberal principles could be consistently followed; the king would grant charters to some towns while leading troops against rebellious citizens in others. The bishops of Noyon, Beauvais, and Soissons supported the people's demands, while the bishops of Rheims and Laon were against them. The type of feudalism represented by Thomas of Marle led to constant chaos; because when the royal authority was able to centralize power, it meant law and order.
It is sad to relate that no sooner did the burgess gain his civic rights than he began to oppress the peasantry. Before the XIII century closed there were outbreaks of the peasants against the prosperous townspeople. In our own day has the cry of the underman, voiced by the old Norman poet, been silenced? “We are men as they. The same in stature, the same in limb, and the same in strength—for suffering. Are we not men even as they?”
It’s unfortunate to say that as soon as the burgess gained his civic rights, he started to oppress the peasantry. Before the 13th century ended, there were uprisings of the peasants against the wealthy townspeople. In our time, has the cry of the underprivileged, expressed by the old Norman poet, been silenced? “We are men just like them. The same in height, the same in body, and the same in strength—for suffering. Are we not men just like them?”
At Laon the antagonism between bishop and citizens continued for a century; several times the charter was won, only to be abrogated later. There is food for thought that all through the embittered struggle the building of the cathedral was carried forward, and it was an enterprise that required the collaboration of bishop and people. The people might fight their baron bishop to wrench from him certain civic rights, but they were aware of the difference between his temporal claims and his spiritual authority. Their robust faith was not disconcerted by a discrepancy between “Peter’s key” and “Peter’s sword.” To the end of time Peter will show his weak human side. Had he not denied thrice? Had not another of the selected twelve betrayed for paltry lucre? Had not everyone of them run away in the hour of need?
At Laon, the conflict between the bishop and the citizens went on for a century; several times, they managed to win the charter, only for it to be canceled later. It's interesting to note that throughout the bitter struggle, the construction of the cathedral continued, which was a project that needed the cooperation of both the bishop and the people. The citizens might have clashed with their baron bishop to gain certain civic rights, but they understood the difference between his earthly claims and his spiritual authority. Their strong faith wasn't shaken by the contrast between "Peter’s key" and "Peter’s sword." Until the end of time, Peter will reveal his vulnerable human side. Had he not denied three times? Hadn't another of the chosen twelve betrayed for a meager reward? Hadn't each of them fled when it was most needed?
While Bishop Gaudri’s ill-gotten gains were buying him a bishopric there was in Laon’s cathedral chapter a famous scholar who had stoutly opposed his election. Anselm of Laon, son of a laborer, “the grave, the sweet, the prudent,” was a pupil of St. Anselm of Bec and Canterbury. For over forty years he taught in Paris and in Laon, and from the nucleus of his pupils, among whom were Guillaume de Champeaux and Abélard, was to emerge Paris University, which was not, however, to appear by name in history till 1215. Anselm of Laon (d. 1117), like his greater namesake, was a pioneer in scholasticism, which brought to the study of Christian doctrine not only the aid of tradition, the Old and New Testaments and the Church Fathers, but also the use of metaphysics and dialectics. The school of this master at Laon became a veritable university to which flocked students from Italy, Spain, Germany, and England.
While Bishop Gaudri's ill-gotten wealth helped him secure a bishopric, there was a renowned scholar in Laon's cathedral chapter who strongly opposed his election. Anselm of Laon, the son of a laborer, known for being “serious, kind, and wise,” was a student of St. Anselm of Bec and Canterbury. For over forty years, he taught in Paris and Laon, and from his group of students, which included Guillaume de Champeaux and Abélard, the University of Paris would eventually emerge, although it would not be named as such in history until 1215. Anselm of Laon (d. 1117), like his more famous counterpart, was a forerunner in scholasticism, which introduced the study of Christian doctrine not only with the support of tradition, the Old and New Testaments, and the Church Fathers, but also with metaphysics and dialectics. His school in Laon became a true university that attracted students from Italy, Spain, Germany, and England.
Laon Cathedral is justly entitled to carve the Liberal Arts on its façade. A score of the coming notable men of the XII century were Anselm’s pupils; one of them was that bishop who began the Primary Gothic tower of the cathedral at Rouen. Anselm and his brother trained the youths who, having heard St. Norbert of Cologne preach in Laon Cathedral, in 1120, followed him to Prémontré, in the forest of Coucy, which estate gave its name to the new order Norbert there founded. Like the Cistercians, so swift an increase had the white canons of Prémontré that they soon counted a thousand houses over Europe and were an evangelizing force for their century even as Cluny had been earlier and as the Franciscans and Dominicans were to be in the XIII century. The citizens of Laon clamored for Anselm as their bishop when the miserable Gaudri was killed in 1112, but he declined the honor and directed the choice to the worthy Bartholomew de Vir, who restored temporarily the cathedral.
Laon Cathedral rightly deserves to display the Liberal Arts on its façade. Many of the prominent figures of the 12th century were students of Anselm; one was the bishop who started the Primary Gothic tower of the cathedral in Rouen. Anselm and his brother educated the young men who, after hearing St. Norbert of Cologne preach in Laon Cathedral in 1120, followed him to Prémontré, in the forest of Coucy, which became the namesake for the new order Norbert established there. Similar to the Cistercians, the white canons of Prémontré grew so rapidly that they soon had a thousand houses across Europe and became an evangelizing force for their time, much like Cluny had been earlier and the Franciscans and Dominicans would be in the 13th century. The people of Laon called for Anselm to be their bishop when the unfortunate Gaudri was killed in 1112, but he turned down the honor and directed the selection to the deserving Bartholomew de Vir, who temporarily restored the cathedral.
It is not known exactly when was laid the foundation stone of Laon’s Gothic cathedral. By its sculpture, the profiles, and the noticeable keystones, the archæologists say that it belongs to the last third of the XII century and that it kept to its original plans, though its building continued into the first third of the XIII century. The bishop-founder was a pupil of Anselm’s and himself had taught rhetoric in Paris. Gautier de Mortagne (1155-71) gave generously of his own revenues to the new works. The choir he built ended in a semicircle and consisted of the present three bays next the transept. There, and in the west wall of the transept, the profiles are different from those elsewhere in the church.
It’s not exactly known when the foundation stone of Laon’s Gothic cathedral was laid. Archaeologists say that based on its sculpture, profiles, and distinct keystones, it dates back to the last third of the 12th century and that it followed its original designs, even though construction continued into the first third of the 13th century. The founding bishop was a student of Anselm and had taught rhetoric in Paris. Gautier de Mortagne (1155-71) generously contributed from his own income to the new construction. The choir he built finished in a semicircle and included the three bays next to the transept that we see today. There, and in the west wall of the transept, the profiles differ from those found elsewhere in the church.
In a second spell of work they finished the transept, the nave, the towers, and the west façade just before 1200. Laon’s façade ranks among the great western frontispieces of Gothic architecture, a model for that of Rheims. What chiefly characterizes it are the profound shadows made by cavernous porches, projecting gables, and other varied surfaces. It has been called a supreme composition in light and shade. In accentuating the upward surge of lines it was a pioneer. When the façade was finished the choir was lengthened by seven bays, and now was terminated by a flat wall whose prototype is to be found in Laon town in the church of St. Martin, an early-Gothic edifice, building about 1165. Various regional churches used the square chevet. As the custom died out in France, it struck root in England, where the Cistercians made it popular. Those accustomed to the rectagonal chevet of the English cathedral may prefer that type, but to a lover of the apse of the French cathedral, of the curving procession path with its radiating chapels that mystically suggests the thorn crown around the Sacred Head, it will ever seem a dull way to end a sanctuary precisely like a transept arm.
In their second phase of work, they completed the transept, the nave, the towers, and the west façade just before 1200. Laon’s façade is considered one of the great western front sections of Gothic architecture and served as a model for Rheims. Its main feature is the deep shadows created by the spacious porches, projecting gables, and other textured surfaces. It has been described as a masterwork of light and shadow. By emphasizing the upward flow of lines, it was groundbreaking. Once the façade was finished, the choir was extended by seven bays, leading to a flat wall whose prototype can be found in Laon town in the church of St. Martin, an early Gothic building constructed around 1165. Various regional churches adopted the square chevet. While this style faded in France, it took hold in England, where the Cistercians popularized it. Those used to the rectangular chevet of English cathedrals may prefer that style, but for someone who loves the apse of the French cathedral, with its curved procession path and radiating chapels that evoke the thorn crown around the Sacred Head, ending a sanctuary like a transept arm will always seem unexciting.
The cathedral of Laon was consecrated in 1237. That same century built the treasure hall and the large chapel beside the west façade. The XIV century added side chapels between the buttresses, and in those chapels at Laon appears the academic precision of that skilled but dry period. About the same time was made a new southern portal for the transept, and the wheel window over it was replaced by a big Rayonnant Gothic light.
The cathedral of Laon was consecrated in 1237. In that same century, the treasure hall and the large chapel next to the west facade were constructed. The 14th century saw the addition of side chapels between the buttresses, showcasing the academic precision of that skilled yet dry period. Around the same time, a new southern portal was created for the transept, and the wheel window above it was replaced by a large Rayonnant Gothic window.
The hill citadel called by Charlemagne in the Chanson de Roland “my good town of Laon” was held by the invader from August, 1914, to October, 1918. Though the city was shelled by the French, not a piece of glass in the cathedral was broken. St. Martin’s abbatial, too, is intact, and the XII-century Templar’s church, the only well-preserved monument in France built by the great military Order. The Prussians’ horses were stabled at first in the cathedral till a general public protest stopped such a desecration. When the Allies, under General Foch, drove back the German lines in the final weeks of the war, the retreat was too swift for much havoc to be wrought. On October 13, 1918, General Mangin made his triumphal entry into Laon, whose much-enduring citizens flocked around him in the cathedral to chant a solemn Te Deum.
The hilltop fortress referred to by Charlemagne in the Chanson de Roland as “my good town of Laon” was occupied by the invaders from August 1914 until October 1918. Although the city was bombarded by the French, not a single piece of glass in the cathedral was shattered. St. Martin’s abbey is also intact, as is the 12th-century Templar church, the only well-preserved monument in France built by the great military Order. At first, the Prussian horses were housed in the cathedral until a public outcry put a stop to such sacrilege. When the Allies, led by General Foch, pushed back the German lines in the final weeks of the war, the retreat was too rapid for substantial damage to occur. On October 13, 1918, General Mangin made his triumphant entry into Laon, where the resilient citizens gathered around him in the cathedral to sing a solemn Te Deum.
The other evening before the ruins of a Cistercian abbey, that once harbored St. Louis and his mother, Blanche of Castile, a group of Alpine chasseurs and Zouaves fell to recounting their daily feats of heroism just as in the times of chivalry the strong, swift strophes of the chanson de geste celebrated knightly prowess. To the north, the cannon thundered.... And the next morning, a Sunday, I assisted at Mass in a Gothic-vaulted hall that had served as promenoir for the monks of Cîteaux. Soldiers filled all the wooden seats, others thronged the threshold, bareheaded in the shadow of the ruins.... Then when the sacrifice of the body and blood of our Lord was celebrated, a song rose in the dawn: “Kyrie Eleison! God be praised!” And the soldiers within the chapel and without sang before returning to battle as in the ancient Chanson de Saucourt: “Kyrie Eleison!” Even those harnessing the great cart horses, those saddling their own restive mounts, those extinguishing the fires of the night’s bivouac, and those charging the six-wheeled camions, all took up the canticle: “God be praised! Kyrie Eleison!”.... And the implacable cannonading to the north echoed in the deep quarries, whence had come the stones builded here for God’s glory.
The other evening, in front of the ruins of a Cistercian abbey that once sheltered St. Louis and his mother, Blanche of Castile, a group of Alpine soldiers and Zouaves began sharing stories of their daily acts of bravery, much like the knights of old celebrated in the swift verses of the chanson de geste. To the north, the cannons roared... The next morning, a Sunday, I attended Mass in a Gothic-vaulted hall that had served as a promenoir for the monks of Cîteaux. Soldiers filled all the wooden seats, others gathered at the entrance, bareheaded in the shadow of the ruins... Then, when the body and blood of our Lord were offered, a song rose with the dawn: “Kyrie Eleison! God be praised!” And the soldiers inside and outside the chapel sang before heading back to battle, just like in the ancient Chanson de Saucourt: “Kyrie Eleison!” Even those harnessing the large cart horses, those saddling their restless mounts, those putting out the fires from the night’s camp, and those loading the six-wheeled trucks all joined in the chant: “God be praised! Kyrie Eleison!”... And the relentless cannon fire to the north echoed through the deep quarries, from which the stones for this place built for God’s glory had come.
The Oxen on Laon’s Towers
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The Oxen on Laon’s Towers
To-day the fair white city of Soissons lies a scene of desolation, only to be likened to a wrecked town of old-time barbarism. They say that Soissons Cathedral is more damaged than if a geological convulsion had wrecked it. Deliberately was it taken as a target, though, as French troops held the highlands round the flat town, there can be no excuse that the towers were used as posts of observation. The westernmost bays are ruined; the north side of the big church has been riddled with projectiles; flying buttresses have been cut off; great rents show in roof and sides; the vaulting hangs in air; a pier lies prone, its stones scattered like a pack of cards; the aisles are dismantled, and the windows, some of which Blanche of Castile gave in 1225, have been reduced to powdered dust. In one week of January, 1916, over three hundred projectiles fell on the church, said the old priest, who lived in the midst of the wreckage, to a visitor to whom he spoke gently of God’s mercy. In the once “sweet and tranquil provincial city, whose soul was the daughter of honorable simplicity, grass grows in the street. Soissons is a dead city. Its casementless windows fix you like the eye of the blind.” Always has it lain in the path of war, this ancient capital of Clovis that has ever been part of the very heart of France, but never war such as this!
Today, the fair white city of Soissons is a scene of desolation, likened to a wrecked town from ancient barbarism. They say Soissons Cathedral is more damaged than if an earthquake had destroyed it. It was deliberately targeted; however, with French troops holding the high ground around the flat town, there can be no justification for using the towers as observation points. The westernmost bays are ruined; the north side of the large church has been riddled with projectiles; flying buttresses have been severed; there are large gaps in the roof and walls; the vaulting hangs in mid-air; a pier lies flat, its stones scattered like a deck of cards; the aisles are stripped bare, and the windows, some of which were gifted by Blanche of Castile in 1225, have turned to dust. In one week of January 1916, over three hundred shells fell on the church, the old priest, who lived among the ruins, told a visitor to whom he spoke gently about God’s mercy. In what was once a “sweet and tranquil provincial city, whose spirit was born from honorable simplicity, grass now grows in the streets. Soissons is a dead city. Its windowless openings stare at you like the eyes of the blind.” This ancient capital of Clovis, always in the path of war and part of the very heart of France, has never seen war like this!
Here, in 486, Clovis won the battle of Soissons that annihilated the last remnant of Rome’s empire in Gaul, and conquered the land to the Loire. In the evil days of the Hundred Years’ War, Soissons suffered. So depopulated was it by the XVI-century religious wars that it took over a century to recover. Nor did the Revolution spare the seat of the ancient monarchies of France. In 1814 occurred an explosion of gunpowder that wrecked precious windows in the cathedral, some of them the gifts of Philippe-Auguste. In 1870 the Prussian bombardment of Soissons devastated what remained of the abbey church of St. Jean-des-Vignes, whose Flamboyant Gothic spires have been mutilated again in the World War.[62]
Here, in 486, Clovis won the battle of Soissons that wiped out the last remnant of Rome’s empire in Gaul and took control of the land to the Loire. During the dark days of the Hundred Years’ War, Soissons suffered greatly. It became so depopulated by the 16th-century religious wars that it took more than a century to recover. The Revolution also didn't spare the former seat of the ancient monarchies of France. In 1814, an explosion of gunpowder damaged valuable windows in the cathedral, some of which were gifts from Philippe-Auguste. In 1870, the Prussian bombardment of Soissons destroyed what was left of the abbey church of St. Jean-des-Vignes, whose Flamboyant Gothic spires were again damaged in World War.[62]
Under the southern flank of the shattered cathedral nestles the diamond of Primary Gothic art in France, the transept arm built by the crusading bishop, Nivelon de Chérisy. As by a miracle it has escaped. The most exquisite thing in France, many of us hold it to be. It has drawn its devotees back to Soissons time and time again, this perfect thing so little heralded. They would test a second and a third time the overpowering first impression it had made. Perhaps it had been some happy mood, some subtle lingering shadows of the late afternoon, that had touched it momentarily to an ethereal grace. And then standing face to face again with its small and stately beauty, those who love this early-Gothic monument of France know that its power is not a chance or borrowed comeliness.
Under the southern side of the ruined cathedral lies the gem of Primary Gothic art in France, the transept arm created by the crusading bishop, Nivelon de Chérisy. Miraculously, it has survived. Many of us believe it to be the most exquisite thing in France. It has drawn its admirers back to Soissons again and again, this perfect masterpiece that doesn't get the recognition it deserves. They would revisit, both a second and a third time, the overwhelming first impression it left on them. Perhaps it was some joyful mood or the subtle, lingering shadows of the late afternoon that briefly gave it an ethereal grace. And then, standing once more before its small yet stately beauty, those who cherish this early-Gothic monument of France understand that its power is not just a coincidence or borrowed beauty.
Sit before it for hours; study the mystery and play of its lights and shadows; try to seize in what lies its young poesy of grace, its maturity of dignity, “its invincible impression of virginity.” In vain to analyze it. Can that intangible quality which is sheer inevitable beauty be dissected? Those who fall under the spell of its supernal loveliness lose all false shame that would prune adjectives, lest their praise be excessive. No glow of words can convey the something celestial here. The nave and the choir of Soissons Cathedral are XIII-century Gothic at its prime, and yet they seem merely to be the setting for a jewel, for the small apse preceded by one bay, which is the transept’s southern arm. That apse and bay are the culmination of the Romanesque ideals, and at the same time, indissolubly part of the new and richer art, they crown the Primary Gothic hour.
Sit in front of it for hours; study the mystery and play of its lights and shadows; try to capture its youthful grace and mature dignity, “its invincible impression of virginity.” It's useless to analyze it. Can that intangible quality which is pure, inevitable beauty be taken apart? Those who fall under the spell of its heavenly loveliness lose any false shame that might hold back their words, fearing their praise might seem too much. No amount of words can truly express the celestial essence present here. The nave and the choir of Soissons Cathedral are prime examples of XIII-century Gothic, and yet they seem merely to frame a jewel, the small apse preceded by one bay, which is part of the transept’s southern arm. That apse and bay represent the pinnacle of Romanesque ideals, and at the same time, are inseparably part of the new and richer art, crowning the height of Primary Gothic.
Soissons’ chief church is better documented than Laon’s. Bishop Nivelon I de Chérisy (a Chérisy fell on the field of honor in 1914) occupied the see from 1176 to 1207. The Romanesque cathedral which he inherited had become inadequate, so the bishop gave land from his episcopal garden, and about 1180 the foundation of the south arm of the transept was laid. Like Noyon’s transept, it terminated in a hemicycle, and its interior elevation was also in four stories, but here was attained a consummate symmetry not achieved at Noyon. Soissons’ curving transept arm is exceptional in having an ambulatory. The apsidal chapel which opens in its eastern wall has over it a similar chapel that gives on the tribune gallery. Slender columns with stilted arches are planted at the entrance of each of these chapels in the gracious fashion originated by the Champagne school of Gothic. It was born of a necessity, in order that a more regular vaulting might be built over the curving aisle. St. Remi at Rheims had used the same arrangement. So many are the points of resemblance between Soissons’ transept arm and the choir of St. Remi’s abbey church that it is thought the architect of the Champagne abbatial proceeded to Soissons later; there are the same profiles, the same plan, the same encircling frieze of sculpture. At Soissons, the architect had grown bolder and dared to diminish his supports. To have made Soissons’ curving wall of arches and colonnettes proves him to have been, not only well practiced in mason-craft, but a man of genius who had visions. He here created a thing apart. The exterior of the transept’s arm is unimpressive and plain; the lower windows are round-arched. Inside, the pointed arch reigns, however. “The king’s daughter is all glorious within.”
Soissons’ main church is better documented than Laon’s. Bishop Nivelon I de Chérisy (a Chérisy who fell in battle in 1914) held the position from 1176 to 1207. The Romanesque cathedral he inherited was no longer suitable, so the bishop donated land from his episcopal garden, and around 1180, the foundation of the south arm of the transept was laid. Like Noyon’s transept, it ended in a hemicycle, and its interior elevation was also four stories, but here there was perfect symmetry that Noyon lacked. Soissons’ curved transept arm is unique because it has an ambulatory. The apsidal chapel that opens in its eastern wall has a similar chapel above it that leads to the tribune gallery. Slim columns with stilted arches are positioned at the entrance of each chapel in the elegant style that originated from the Champagne school of Gothic architecture. This was necessary to allow for a more regular vault above the curved aisle. St. Remi at Rheims had used the same design. There are so many similarities between Soissons’ transept arm and the choir of St. Remi’s abbey church that many believe the architect of the Champagne abbey later worked at Soissons; both have the same profiles, the same layout, and the same decorative frieze. At Soissons, the architect took bolder steps and dared to reduce his supports. Creating Soissons’ curving wall of arches and small columns shows he was not only skilled in masonry but also a visionary. He created something exceptional here. The outside of the transept’s arm is plain and unimpressive; the lower windows are round-arched. Inside, however, the pointed arch dominates. “The king’s daughter is all glorious within.”
The prelate who built Soissons Cathedral was a remarkable personage and played a foremost part on the Fourth Crusade. Villehardouin tells us that it was Bishop Nivelon de Chérisy who was sent as an envoy to Innocent III, when against papal commands the Crusaders had turned aside to capture the Christian city of Zara on the Dalmatian coast. The bishop-ambassador found the pope at Viterbo and obtained from him the raising of the excommunication on condition that the knights should proceed direct to Palestine. We all know how, a second time, they went filibustering. Among the first to scale the walls of Constantinople was Nivelon de Chérisy; with him was the bishop of Troyes. When the chief barons met to elect the first Latin emperor of Constantinople, it was Bishop Nivelon who passed out to the waiting crowd to announce that Baldwin of Flanders had been chosen—Baldwin who began the Cloth Hall at Ypres—and it was he who crowned Baldwin in St. Sophia. When that new emperor was captured by the Bulgars the bishop of Soissons returned to Europe for aid.
The bishop who built Soissons Cathedral was an exceptional figure and played a key role in the Fourth Crusade. Villehardouin tells us that it was Bishop Nivelon de Chérisy who was sent as an envoy to Innocent III when the Crusaders, against the pope's orders, diverted to take the Christian city of Zara on the Dalmatian coast. The bishop-ambassador found the pope in Viterbo and managed to secure the lifting of the excommunication on the condition that the knights go straight to Palestine. We all know how, once again, they went raiding. Among the first to climb the walls of Constantinople was Nivelon de Chérisy; he was accompanied by the bishop of Troyes. When the leading barons gathered to elect the first Latin emperor of Constantinople, it was Bishop Nivelon who stepped out to the waiting crowd to announce that Baldwin of Flanders had been chosen—Baldwin who started the Cloth Hall in Ypres—and he was the one who crowned Baldwin in St. Sophia. When that new emperor was captured by the Bulgars, the bishop of Soissons returned to Europe for help.
All the time that he was absent in the Holy Land Nivelon had devoted the revenues of his see toward the renewal of the cathedral. Strangely enough, it was this same prelate who also built Soissons’ choir, which in scale and plan differs so radically from the transept arm. The fleeting hour of Primary Gothic was over. The new art was moving forward swiftly; irresistible the development of its principles and impossible at such a time that the work of one decade could be similar to the decade preceding it unless, as at Laon, the primitive plan was insistently adhered to. Whoever the master that designed Soissons’ choir and nave, he incorporated the perfect transept into his bigger church with reverence. Not to dwarf it was his main care, for he bowed before the touch of perfection in his predecessor’s work, and sought to give to his own monument, different though it was, a like clarity and noble simplicity. Examine the skill with which choir and nave are joined to the small transept arm. It is lower than they, it has four vertical stories to their three, and yet no discrepancy is felt. It was as if the new builder said: “Here is a miracle of force and grace, done in a fugitive hour never to be recaptured. Let us enshrine it fittingly.”
All the time he was away in the Holy Land, Nivelon dedicated the income from his diocese to renewing the cathedral. Strangely enough, it was the same bishop who also built the choir at Soissons, which is completely different in size and design from the transept. The fleeting era of Early Gothic was over. The new style was advancing quickly; the development of its principles was unstoppable, and it was impossible for the work of one decade to look like the previous decade unless, as at Laon, the original plan was strictly followed. Regardless of who the master was that designed the choir and nave at Soissons, he respectfully incorporated the perfect transept into his larger church. His main concern was not to overshadow it; he admired the perfection of his predecessor’s work and aimed to give his own structure, despite its differences, a similar clarity and noble simplicity. Look at the skill with which the choir and nave connect to the small transept arm. It is lower than they are, has four vertical stories compared to their three, yet there’s no sense of imbalance. It was as if the new builder thought: “Here is a miracle of strength and beauty, created in a fleeting moment never to be replicated. Let’s honor it appropriately.”
In 1212 services were held in the finished choir. The nave proceeded without interruption and was in use in the first years of St. Louis’ reign. Probably the final touches were given to it by that bishop of Soissons of whom Joinville tells, Mgr. Jacques de Castel, fort et vaillant homme, who started with the king on the crusade of 1248. After Mansourah’s battle and the disastrous retreat toward Damietta good Bishop Jacques felt such a desire “to go to God” that he rushed alone to attack the infidels, whose swords soon “dispatched him to God’s company with the martyrs.”
In 1212, services took place in the completed choir. The nave continued to be used without interruption during the early years of St. Louis’ reign. It’s likely that the final touches were made by the bishop of Soissons that Joinville mentions, Mgr. Jacques de Castel, a strong and brave man, who started on the crusade with the king in 1248. After the battle of Mansourah and the disastrous retreat to Damietta, good Bishop Jacques felt such a strong urge “to go to God” that he rushed in alone to fight the infidels, whose swords soon “sent him to God’s company with the martyrs.”
Singular good taste has at all times guided the builders of Soissons. The XIV century decided to make a northern arm to the transept; and as if to avoid all hint of rivalry with its peerless neighbor, the new structure was finished by a flat end wall without a portal.
Singular good taste has always guided the builders of Soissons. In the 14th century, they decided to add a northern arm to the transept; and to avoid any hint of competition with its unmatched neighbor, the new structure was completed with a flat end wall and no entrance.
The cylinder piers of Soissons choir and nave are a distinguishing trait of the church interior, neither too high nor too short. Before each is engaged a slender shaft which rises to the level of the springing and causes the edifice to appear more lofty than its reality. Everywhere, in the church, the fitting of the stones was done with peculiar nicety, though the picking out of the mortar lines in black, a recent innovation, was a sad mistake. In the choir and nave the clearstory windows were an advance on those of Chartres, their model, for the lights were made longer, and the oculus, above the twin lancets, smaller, which gave greater compactness to the whole composition. St. Gereon at Cologne copied these windows. Marburg’s church also was aided by Soissons.
The cylindrical pillars of the Soissons choir and nave are a distinctive feature of the church's interior, perfectly balanced—not too tall and not too short. Each one has a slim shaft attached that reaches up to the springing level, making the building seem taller than it actually is. Throughout the church, the stonework was done with remarkable precision, although the recent decision to highlight the mortar lines in black was a regrettable choice. In the choir and nave, the clerestory windows were an improvement over those in Chartres, which inspired them, as they were made longer and the oculus above the paired lancets was smaller, leading to a more cohesive overall design. St. Gereon in Cologne modeled its windows after these. The church in Marburg was also influenced by Soissons.
The talc of this desolate city during the World War is heartrending. The Germans first entered Soissons on September 1, 1914. The mayor had fled. But an admirable woman, Madame Macherez, the widow of a senator, went to the état-major of the Prussians and assumed the responsibility to keep order among the civilians: “Le maire c’est moi.” Already the poets of France have enshrined the memory of this heroine of sixty winters who saved her city from pillage:
The tragic state of this abandoned city during World War I is heartbreaking. The Germans first took control of Soissons on September 1, 1914. The mayor had escaped. However, a remarkable woman, Madame Macherez, the widow of a senator, approached the Prussian command and took on the role of maintaining order among the civilians: “Le maire c’est moi.” The poets of France have already honored the memory of this sixty-year-old heroine who saved her city from being looted:
For ten days the Germans occupied the town. The first battle of the Marne caused their departure on September 12th. Then a French reverse in January, 1915, let them draw near enough to the city to bring it within the range of fire, and such was its tragic fate till the Germans’ strategic retreat in the spring of 1917. The enemy had intrenched himself solidly in the vast quarries on the left bank of the Aisne, and month after month poured his fire on desolated Soissons. Then came the final grand act of the war. Rolling forward in overwhelming numbers in March, 1918, the invaders drove the French troops from Soissons after a desperate resistance in the streets. There they encamped until the first days of the following August, when the French army re-entered the smoking ruins of a dead city over which stood a phantom cathedral.
For ten days, the Germans held the town. The first battle of the Marne forced them to leave on September 12th. Then, a setback for the French in January 1915 allowed the Germans to get close enough to the city to target it, and this tragic situation continued until their strategic retreat in the spring of 1917. The enemy had firmly entrenched themselves in the large quarries on the left bank of the Aisne and month after month unleashed their fire on the destroyed Soissons. Then came the final major event of the war. In March 1918, advancing in overwhelming numbers, the invaders pushed the French troops out of Soissons after fierce fighting in the streets. They camped there until the first days of the following August, when the French army re-entered the smoldering ruins of a dead city dominated by a ghostly cathedral.
Noyon, Senlis, Sens, Laon, and Soisson, are with Notre Dame of Paris the first cathedrals of the national art. They are far from being the complete list of Primary Gothic monuments, which includes such churches as the Trinité at Vendôme, two churches at Étampes,[63] the collegiate of Notre Dame at Mantes, the Trinité at Fécamp, and Lisieux Cathedral. There are the two towers built in an hour of religious enthusiasm: the clocher vieux at Chartres and the belfry of St. Romain at Rouen. The nave of Angers Cathedral is the Primary Gothic of the Plantagenet school.
Noyon, Senlis, Sens, Laon, and Soissons, along with Notre Dame in Paris, are the earliest cathedrals representing national art. They are not the full list of Primary Gothic monuments, which also includes churches like the Trinité in Vendôme, two churches in Étampes,[63] the collegiate church of Notre Dame in Mantes, the Trinité in Fécamp, and Lisieux Cathedral. There are two towers created during a surge of religious passion: the clocher vieux in Chartres and the belfry of St. Romain in Rouen. The nave of Angers Cathedral exemplifies the Primary Gothic style of the Plantagenet school.
The Attica of Gothic art is the Ile-de-France, and where Picardy touches it on the north, and Champagne on the south. In that land filled with never-to-be-forgotten churches speaks the clarity of French genius in its classic simplicity. The beauty of such churches comes from their rightness of proportion, that quality which gives the most enduring joy in architecture, beyond all richness of detail or startling effect. From such churches one learns the difference between the architect born and the architect made. The supreme quality of proportion must be innate; it is never acquired. The artist blessed with it may only produce a small masterpiece, such a church as that of St. Yved of Braine or a St. Leu-d’Esserent, but one is sure that he would not exchange the glow which his work gave him for the fame of building even a Strasbourg.
The Attica of Gothic art is the Ile-de-France, where Picardy meets it to the north, and Champagne to the south. In this region filled with unforgettable churches, the clarity of French genius shines through its classic simplicity. The beauty of these churches comes from their perfect proportions, a quality that brings lasting joy in architecture, surpassing all richness of detail or shocking effects. From these churches, one can learn the distinction between a born architect and a trained one. The ultimate quality of proportion must be innate; it can never be learned. An artist blessed with this talent might only create a small masterpiece, like the church of St. Yved of Braine or St. Leu-d’Esserent, but one can be certain that they wouldn’t trade the satisfaction their work gives them for the fame of building something like Strasbourg.
It is in the early-Gothic churches of the Ile-de-France that the taste is best purified and trained. There the sense of beauty is spiritualized. In them art gives an entity to what is ethereal, art seems to make tangible what is impalpable. In them the heart feels the loveliness of the space inclosed as the eye rejoices in the inclosing walls. There is something of poignancy in such churches. Standing in all the promise of their youth, of the youth of the greatest architecture the world ever produced, they gravely admonish us that beauty even as theirs is but a momentary lifting of the veil. To such churches the memory returns with nostalgic regret amid the magnificence of the Gothic expansion, when the leaves opened wide to show the golden pollen. But the sadness which the early-Gothic churches of France rouse in the soul, is it not the stumbling name we give to an eternal Hope? “There are no hours in this cathedral,” wrote Rodin of Soissons; “there is Eternity.”[64]
It’s in the early Gothic churches of the Ile-de-France that the appreciation of beauty is truly refined and elevated. Here, beauty becomes something spiritual. In these churches, art gives substance to the intangible; it makes what cannot be touched feel real. Within these spaces, the heart recognizes the beauty of the enclosed area as much as the eye delights in the walls that surround it. There’s a deep emotional impact in these churches. Standing strong in their youthful promise, representing some of the finest architecture the world has ever seen, they remind us that beauty, even as captivating as theirs, is just a brief glimpse behind the curtain. Our memories drift back to these churches with a sense of nostalgic longing among the grandeur of Gothic expansion, like leaves opening wide to reveal golden pollen. Yet, the sadness stirred by the early Gothic churches of France—could it be that it’s just a name we give to a timeless Hope? “There are no hours in this cathedral,” wrote Rodin of Soissons; “there is Eternity.”
THE ABBATIALS OF ST. REMI AT RHEIMS, AND NOTRE DAME AT CHÂLONS-SUR-MARNE[65]
THE ABBATIALS OF ST. REMI AT RHEIMS, AND NOTRE DAME AT CHÂLONS-SUR-MARNE[65]
There are two things for which all the Faithful ought to resist unto blood, Justice and Liberty.—Pierre de Celle, Abbot of St. Remi (1162-81).
There are two things that all the faithful should stand up for, even at the cost of their lives: Justice and Liberty.—Pierre de Celle, Abbot of St. Remi (1162-81).
Before closing our crowded chapter on Primary Gothic cathedrals, let us add a few notes on a few early-Gothic churches. Those of chief interest, in the story of the national art, are the big abbey churches at Rheims and at Châlons, sister monuments, equal in size to cathedrals. So closely do they resemble each other in plan and ornamentation that it is thought one architect planned both. They are the earliest Gothic edifices in Champagne.
Before we wrap up our busy section on Primary Gothic cathedrals, let’s add a few notes about some early Gothic churches. The ones that are most significant to the history of national art are the large abbey churches in Rheims and Châlons, which are sister monuments and match the size of cathedrals. They are so similar in design and decoration that it's believed one architect may have designed both. These are the earliest Gothic buildings in Champagne.
Notre Dame at Châlons-sur-Marne was reconstructed soon after 1157. Three periods of work appear in it. The transept and the four towers—which give an imposing air to the church—belong to the Romanesque rebuilding of 1130. The towers which stand between choir and transept are not set symmetrically, since, in that to the south, use was made of the foundations of an earlier tower, a boundary mark between the lands of the big abbey and those of the bishop of Châlons.
Notre Dame at Châlons-sur-Marne was rebuilt shortly after 1157. It shows three distinct periods of work. The transept and the four towers, which give the church a striking appearance, are part of the Romanesque renovation from 1130. The towers that sit between the choir and transept aren’t positioned symmetrically because the one on the south side was built using the foundations of an earlier tower, which marked a boundary between the lands of the large abbey and those of the bishop of Châlons.
In 1157, the Romanesque choir of Notre Dame collapsed, and when rebuilt the citizens of the ancient city on the Marne displayed the same pious enthusiasm as had the men and the women of Chartres in 1145. In 1165, Guy de Bazoches, then a canon of Châlons Cathedral, wrote to his sister to describe how all ages and conditions brought material to the new church of Notre Dame-en-Vaux, and how the people, harnessed to carts, sang canticles as they labored. When the new Gothic choir was under way the nave of 1130 was remodeled. The pier arches and the tribune arches were made pointed, and the upper walls were raised in order that a Gothic vaulting might be added.
In 1157, the Romanesque choir of Notre Dame collapsed, and when it was rebuilt, the people of the ancient city on the Marne showed the same devoted enthusiasm as the men and women of Chartres had in 1145. In 1165, Guy de Bazoches, who was then a canon of Châlons Cathedral, wrote to his sister describing how people of all ages and backgrounds contributed materials to the new church of Notre Dame-en-Vaux, and how they pulled carts while singing hymns as they worked. As the new Gothic choir was being constructed, the nave from 1130 was renovated. The pier arches and the tribune arches were pointed, and the upper walls were raised so that a Gothic vault could be added.
Notre Dame’s choir is very beautiful. Its three apse chapels open on the ambulatory, by columns and stilted arches, perhaps the first time this disposition of Champagne Gothic was used. Soon it was repeated in St. Remi at Rheims. Auxerre and St. Quentin also used it, and it reached its apotheosis in the ethereal charm of Soissons’ transept. Notre Dame at Châlons was in other ways a precursor; here first were set in each bay of the clearstory three windows side by side, a triplet of lancets that started the complex fenestration of the new art. In its first plan were no flying buttresses, but they were soon added when it was found that the thrust of the upper vaulting was not sufficiently counterbutted. In the XV century the Flamboyant south porch was built. Of the XVI century are some rich windows of the school of Troyes, now set in the nave’s aisles. One of them represents the victory of Spain’s crusaders over Islam at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212, and is the best battle scene depicted in colored glass. With its beautiful Gothic cathedral, its immense abbatial, and all of its churches rich with storied windows, one is profoundly grateful that Châlons-sur-Marne only for a short hour early in the World War formed part of that “ligne doulereuse et triomphale, ce ruban de pourpre et de lumière qui s’étend de Belfort au rivage des Flandres, la Voie Sacrée.”
Notre Dame's choir is stunning. Its three apse chapels open into the ambulatory, supported by columns and raised arches, possibly the first time this arrangement of Champagne Gothic was used. It was soon seen again in St. Remi at Rheims. Auxerre and St. Quentin also adopted it, and it reached its peak in the ethereal beauty of Soissons’ transept. Notre Dame in Châlons was groundbreaking in other ways; it was the first to feature three windows side by side in each bay of the clearstory, a triplet of lancets that initiated the complex glazing of the new style. Initially, there were no flying buttresses in its design, but they were added later when it became apparent that the thrust of the upper vaulting wasn't adequately supported. In the 15th century, the Flamboyant south porch was constructed. The 16th century brought some ornate windows from the Troyes school, now located in the nave’s aisles. One of these depicts the victory of Spain’s crusaders over Islam at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212, and it's the best battle scene captured in stained glass. With its beautiful Gothic cathedral, its vast abbey, and all its churches filled with detailed windows, one is deeply thankful that Châlons-sur-Marne was only briefly part of that “ligne doulereuse et triomphale, ce ruban de pourpre et de lumière qui s’étend de Belfort au rivage des Flandres, la Voie Sacrée” during World War I.
Tragic the fate of its sister abbatial, St. Remi, in martyred Rheims. That grand ancestral church lies well-nigh mortally wounded on the field of honor. It stood up above the city as prominently as the cathedral itself, and has been mercilessly wrecked. The vaulting has fallen, and great rents have been torn in the walls of the precious Primary Gothic choir. A recent traveler found that its devastated nave recalled gaunt Jumièges.
Tragic is the fate of its sister abbey, St. Remi, in martyred Reims. That grand historic church lies nearly mortally wounded on the battlefield. It stood above the city as prominently as the cathedral itself, and has been mercilessly destroyed. The ceiling has collapsed, and huge holes have been ripped in the walls of the valuable Primary Gothic choir. A recent traveler noted that its ruined nave reminded them of the bare Jumièges.
Some ten years after the reconstruction of Notre Dame at Châlons, the monks of St. Remi began to make over their abbey church under the inspiration of Abbot Pierre de Celle, of the same lineage as the heiress of Braine who, with her husband, a brother of Louis VII, built the church of St. Yved. While John of Salisbury was a young student in France, Pierre de Celle entered into a friendship with him which continued to deepen till their death, both of them being men of the highest culture, strong literary abilities, and solid character. Pierre de Celle succeeded the English scholar as bishop of Chartres in 1181; summi et incomparabilis viri, so his epitaph sums him up.
About ten years after the reconstruction of Notre Dame at Châlons, the monks of St. Remi started renovating their abbey church, inspired by Abbot Pierre de Celle, who was from the same family as the heiress of Braine, who, along with her husband, a brother of Louis VII, built the church of St. Yved. While John of Salisbury was a young student in France, Pierre de Celle developed a friendship with him that grew stronger until their deaths, both being highly educated individuals with strong literary skills and solid character. Pierre de Celle became the bishop of Chartres in 1181, succeeding the English scholar; the epitaph describes him as summi et incomparabilis viri.
It was this distinguished churchman who built, about 1170, the superb choir of St. Remi, and who remodeled as Gothic the ancient Romanesque nave. The choir had five radiating chapels, each of which opened on the ambulatory in the beautiful Champagne way, by slender columns bearing stilted arches. As tribunes were built over the aisles, the wall elevation was in four stories, and below two of them ran friezes of sculptured foliage. As if the architect felt that he had thus over-accentuated the horizontal line, he bound his triforium and clearstory into one composition by continuous moldings, a precocious first step toward the glazed triforia of Rayonnant Gothic. Originally no flying buttresses braced this early-Gothic choir; those that were added, about 1180, are probably the first ever made. Nothing could better show the swift development of Gothic structure than to compare the plain old flying buttresses of St. Remi with the luxuriant counterbutting members of Rheims Cathedral built fifty years later.
It was this prominent church leader who built, around 1170, the impressive choir of St. Remi and transformed the ancient Romanesque nave into a Gothic style. The choir featured five radiating chapels, each opening onto the ambulatory in the lovely Champagne style, supported by slender columns with stilted arches. With tribunes built above the aisles, the wall elevation reached four stories, and two of those levels displayed friezes of carved foliage. As if the architect sensed that he had overly emphasized the horizontal lines, he unified the triforium and clearstory with continuous moldings, a notable early move towards the glazed triforia of Rayonnant Gothic. Initially, this early-Gothic choir had no flying buttresses; the ones added around 1180 are likely the first ever made. Nothing illustrates the rapid evolution of Gothic architecture better than comparing the simple old flying buttresses of St. Remi with the elaborate counterbutting structures of Rheims Cathedral built fifty years later.
Between St. Remi’s choir and the hemicycle transept of Soissons Cathedral there is such similitude of profile, detail, and plan that it is thought the same architect designed both. The able Pierre de Celle built the two westernmost bays of St. Remi’s nave, and opened the tribune on the middle vessel with Gothic arches. He also built the west façade, which to-day is ancient only in its lower stories, as it was reconstructed in 1840. The north tower was re-done in the XII century; the south one is of the XI century, Abbot Herimar’s time.
Between St. Remi’s choir and the semi-circular transept of Soissons Cathedral, there is such similarity in profile, detail, and layout that it is believed the same architect designed both. The skilled Pierre de Celle built the two westernmost bays of St. Remi’s nave and created the tribune on the central vessel with Gothic arches. He also constructed the west facade, which today is only ancient in its lower levels, as it was rebuilt in 1840. The north tower was redone in the 12th century; the south one dates back to the 11th century, during Abbot Herimar’s time.
With book in hand should be read the complicated story of St. Remi’s nave and transept, the ancient Romanesque edifice re-dressed as Gothic in 1170. Nothing remains of the church built in the IX century under Bishop Hincmar of Rheims. The oldest parts extant are the piers of the nave, which belonged to the reconstruction of the abbatial by Abbot Airard (1005-33). His successor, Thierry (d. 1041), decided that the works then under way were on too elaborate a scale to be within his means, so he simplified the plan. The outer side aisles were suppressed, the archivolts were doubled, the bays widened, and the old columns replaced by compound piers. In the transept his work still exists in the west wall (north arm) where are two stories of arcades supported by thick, short, cylinder piers whose capitals are coarsely carved acanthus leaves.
With a book in hand, you should explore the complex story of St. Remi’s nave and transept, the ancient Romanesque building transformed into Gothic style in 1170. Nothing remains of the church built in the 9th century under Bishop Hincmar of Rheims. The oldest parts still standing are the piers of the nave, which were part of the reconstruction by Abbot Airard (1005-33). His successor, Thierry (d. 1041), decided that the ongoing works were too elaborate for his budget, so he simplified the plan. The outer side aisles were removed, the archivolts were doubled, the bays were widened, and the old columns were replaced by compound piers. In the transept, his work is still visible in the west wall (north arm), where there are two stories of arcades supported by thick, short cylinder piers topped with coarsely carved acanthus leaves.
The rest of the transept (save what was added in 1170 to connect it with the Gothic choir and the re-dressed nave) is the work of Abbot Herimar who raised the west towers. Under him occurred the notable dedication of St. Remi’s new Romanesque church, in 1049, by Leo IX, the reformer, with whom the Benedictine Order took possession of the papacy for some vital years of needed regeneration.
The rest of the transept (except for what was added in 1170 to link it to the Gothic choir and the refinished nave) was built by Abbot Herimar, who constructed the west towers. During his time, the significant dedication of St. Remi’s new Romanesque church took place in 1049, led by Leo IX, the reformer, when the Benedictine Order held the papacy for several crucial years of necessary renewal.
St. Bruno of Cologne, the future founder of the Carthusian Order, was a student in the episcopal school of Rheims while Romanesque St. Remi was building. And later he returned from Germany to direct the school from 1057 to 1075 with great prestige. His most notable pupil, Eudes de Châtillon, became the pope of the First Crusade, Urban II. Feeling the call for a life of prayer and retirement, Bruno thought of joining the group of earnest men about to commence the Cistercian Order, but his destiny led him to Grenoble, near which in the mountains he began the Grande Chartreuse (1084) where they say reform never was needed.[66]
St. Bruno of Cologne, who would later found the Carthusian Order, was a student at the episcopal school of Rheims while Romanesque St. Remi was building. He eventually returned from Germany to lead the school from 1057 to 1075, earning great respect. His most notable student, Eudes de Châtillon, became Pope Urban II, the pope of the First Crusade. Feeling called to a life of prayer and solitude, Bruno considered joining the dedicated group that was starting the Cistercian Order, but fate took him to Grenoble, where he began the Grande Chartreuse in the mountains in 1084, a place said to have never needed reform.
In St. Remi’s abbatial the last phase of Gothic art was to be represented. The transept’s south façade is Flamboyant, and over its sculptured portal is a highly colored XV-century window. The façade was finished by Abbot Robert de Lenoncourt (d. 1531), who later became archbishop of Rheims. To his abbey church he presented ten rich tapestries relating the life of the first bishop of the city, St. Remigius, who baptized Clovis in 496, and whose rule of seventy years is the longest spiritual reign on record. Clovis and Clotilda founded the abbey. At its church altar St. Louis was knighted. On the day of Charles VII’s coronation the barons rode their steeds into the basilica, dismounting at the sanctuary to ask for the sacred ampulla needed for the king’s anointing in the cathedral.
In St. Remi's abbey, the final phase of Gothic art is showcased. The south façade of the transept is Flamboyant, and above its sculpted entrance is a vividly colored 15th-century window. This façade was completed by Abbot Robert de Lenoncourt (d. 1531), who later became the archbishop of Rheims. He gifted the abbey church ten lavish tapestries that depict the life of the city's first bishop, St. Remigius, who baptized Clovis in 496 and whose 70-year reign is the longest recorded spiritual leadership. Clovis and Clotilda established the abbey. St. Louis was knighted at its church altar. On the day of Charles VII’s coronation, the barons rode into the basilica on horseback, dismounting at the sanctuary to request the sacred ampulla needed for the king's anointing in the cathedral.
In the clearstory windows of St. Remi’s choir were thirty-three lancets in which were portrayed the archbishops of Rheims from holy Remigius to Robert of France, brother of Louis VII, who was ruling here from 1162 to 1175, while Abbot Pierre was building his choir. The windows were probably set up in the time of Archbishop Robert’s successor, Archbishop Guillaume of Champagne, who had finished the cathedral at Sens. They were memorable for their lovely browns and greens, and were allied, undoubtedly, with St. Denis’ glass, though executed by local workers. Deep borders surrounded each lancet. Similar ornate borders and a magnificent deep blue color distinguished still older XII-century windows in the tribune gallery. The central lancet was an extraordinary Crucifixion, somewhat like that at Poitiers. An irreparable loss to art is the destruction of St. Remi’s windows, though it is said that some of them were dismounted in time and carried to a place of safety.
In the clearstory windows of St. Remi’s choir were thirty-three lancets showing the archbishops of Rheims from the holy Remigius to Robert of France, brother of Louis VII, who ruled here from 1162 to 1175 while Abbot Pierre constructed his choir. The windows were likely installed during the time of Archbishop Robert’s successor, Archbishop Guillaume of Champagne, who completed the cathedral at Sens. They were notable for their beautiful browns and greens, and were definitely associated with the glass from St. Denis, although created by local craftsmen. Deep borders surrounded each lancet. Similar ornate borders and a stunning deep blue color distinguished even older 12th-century windows in the tribune gallery. The central lancet featured an extraordinary Crucifixion, reminiscent of the one at Poitiers. The destruction of St. Remi’s windows is a significant loss to art, although some of them were reportedly removed in time and taken to a safe place.
ST. QUIRIACE CHURCH[67] AT PROVINS
ST. QUIRIACE CHURCH __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ IN PROVINS
Provins, une des plus charmantes villes de France, rivalise avec la vallée de Cachemire.... Des croisés rapportèrent les roses de Jéricho dans cette délicieuse vallée, où, par hasard, elles prirent des qualités nouvelles, sans rien perdre de leur couleurs.—Balzac, Pierrette (whose scene is Provins).
Provins, one of the most charming towns in France, rivals the Kashmir Valley.... Crusaders brought back the roses of Jericho to this delightful valley, where, by chance, they acquired new qualities without losing any of their color.—Balzac, Pierrette (whose scene is Provins).
Another Primary Gothic church in Champagne is St. Quiriace at Provins, which one goes out of one’s way to see because Provins is one of the most individual little towns in France, still in part surrounded by massive XII-and XIII-century ramparts. Thibaut IV the Singer added to the great walls of the lower town about 1230. They say that when crusaders drew near to Jerusalem on its hill encircled by its walls and towers they often cried out, “Provins!” Once the population of this shrunken little city rivaled that of Paris. Here were held annual fairs to which flocked the merchants of Europe, and the sensible counts of Champagne encouraged their visitors by wise regulations and strictest justice. The money of Provins was accepted in Florence and Rome.
Another main Gothic church in Champagne is St. Quiriace in Provins, which is definitely worth a visit because Provins is one of the most unique little towns in France, still partly surrounded by massive 12th and 13th-century ramparts. Thibaut IV the Singer added to the great walls of the lower town around 1230. It’s said that when crusaders approached Jerusalem, which was perched on a hill encircled by its walls and towers, they often shouted, “Provins!” At one time, the population of this small town rivaled that of Paris. Annual fairs were held here that attracted merchants from all over Europe, and the wise counts of Champagne supported their visitors with fair regulations and strict justice. The currency of Provins was accepted in Florence and Rome.
The valley of roses was the favorite residence of the reigning counts. Here Thibaut IV, the most celebrated lyric poet of the Middle Ages, wrote his songs that wedded the art of the Midi troubadour with the salt of the northern trouvère. His son, Thibaut V, married the daughter of St. Louis and brought her in state to Provins, “où ils firent leur entrée accompagnés d’une grande foison de barons,” wrote Joinville, who had helped to arrange the match. Thibaut V’s heart is contained in a XIII-century monument now in the chapel of the Hôtel Dieu, which hospital was originally the ancient palace of the countesses of Champagne. Thibaut V and his wife died returning from the tragic last crusade of Louis IX. Their niece Jeanne married the king of France, and the prosperous days of Champagne ended when it merged its independence in the royal domain, for new regulations soon impaired the popularity of its famous fairs. It was Countess Jeanne of Navarre who persuaded her seneschal, Joinville, to write his reminiscences.
The valley of roses was the favorite home of the ruling counts. Here, Thibaut IV, the most famous lyric poet of the Middle Ages, wrote his songs that combined the art of the Midi troubadour with the spirit of the northern trouvère. His son, Thibaut V, married the daughter of St. Louis and brought her in style to Provins, “où ils firent leur entrée accompagnés d’une grande foison de barons,” wrote Joinville, who helped arrange the match. Thibaut V’s heart is housed in a 13th-century monument now located in the chapel of the Hôtel Dieu, which was originally the ancient palace of the countesses of Champagne. Thibaut V and his wife died while returning from the tragic last crusade of Louis IX. Their niece Jeanne married the king of France, and the prosperous days of Champagne ended when it lost its independence to the royal domain, as new regulations soon diminished the popularity of its famous fairs. It was Countess Jeanne of Navarre who convinced her seneschal, Joinville, to write his memories.
In the days when Provins was a world center St. Quiriace church was begun about 1160 by Henry the Liberal, the reigning count who was warmest patron of John of Salisbury when the latter, forced to quit England, lived in Provins. Little more than the choir of St. Quiriace now remains. In the tympanum of a late-Gothic portal is a XIII-century image of Christ. The semicircular chevet is boxed in a square ambulatory on which open square eastern chapels. The shafts are banded with annulets. There is Romanesque feeling in the zigzag ornamentation on the heavy ribs; the round arch reigns in the triforium, although the pier arcades below are pointed. The choir shows a curious experiment in vaulting hardly to be called successful: three bays are embraced by the vault section of eight branches.
In the days when Provins was a global hub, work on St. Quiriace church started around 1160 under Henry the Liberal, the reigning count who was a strong supporter of John of Salisbury when he had to leave England and lived in Provins. Only the choir of St. Quiriace remains today. In the tympanum of a late-Gothic doorway, there's a 13th-century image of Christ. The semicircular chevet is surrounded by a square ambulatory with square eastern chapels opening off of it. The columns are wrapped with rings. There's a Romanesque feel to the zigzag designs on the heavy ribs; the round arch dominates the triforium, even though the arcade below has pointed arches. The choir features a peculiar attempt at vaulting that's hardly successful: three bays are covered by a vault that branches into eight sections.
St. Quiriace crowns the hilltop; in the lower town is St. Ayoul, whose portal sculpture (c. 1160) is of the same type as the three western doors at Chartres, as is the portal of St. Loup-de-Naud (Seine-et-Marne), close by.[68] Those who have fallen under the spell of Chartres’ fascinating column statues will always study their sister images with interest.
St. Quiriace stands proudly on the hilltop; in the lower town, you'll find St. Ayoul, whose portal sculpture (around 1160) is similar to the three western doors at Chartres, just like the portal of St. Loup-de-Naud (Seine-et-Marne), which is nearby.[68] Those who have been captivated by the enchanting column statues of Chartres will always look at their similar counterparts with interest.
Epitaphs on the walls of St. Quiriace recall two true shepherds of this church, one, who went daily into the hills to teach children and to tend on the sick poor in their homes, and the other, who opened up the forgotten crypt and left a school and presbytery to his parish. There is a quaintly worded tablet of the XVI century telling of the haute et puissante dame, the Marquise de Chenoise, who had “for God a tender solid piety; for her husband a submissive, respectful love; for her children a Christian and reasonable tenderness; for her friends a sincere and generous affection; for the poor charity without limit; and for the rest of the world une bonté, une douceur, une honestété charmante.” One would not mind being the rest of the world for this gracious person. Both her sons were killed in one week, fighting under Turenne, so she passed the last years of her life in a retirement, which “she sanctified by prayer, and her prayer she nourished and sustained by good works.” The robust piety of Bossuet’s preaching breathes in such records. In St. Remi’s abbatial at Rheims is the eulogy of another good lady of Champagne who was “Rachel in beauty, Rebecca in fidelity, Suzanna in purity, Tabitha in piety of heart, Ruth in sentiment, and Anna by good works.” Paragons those old-time ladies seemed to be!
Epitaphs on the walls of St. Quiriace remember two genuine shepherds of this church: one who went into the hills every day to teach children and care for the sick and needy in their homes, and the other who opened the forgotten crypt and left a school and presbytery to his parish. There’s a quaintly phrased tablet from the 16th century that mentions the haute et puissante dame, the Marquise de Chenoise, who had “a deep and sincere piety for God; a respectful and loving submission to her husband; a Christian and sensible tenderness for her children; a sincere and generous affection for her friends; unlimited charity for the poor; and for the rest of the world une bonté, une douceur, une honestété charmante.” One wouldn’t mind being part of the rest of the world for this gracious woman. Both of her sons were killed in a single week while fighting under Turenne, so she spent her last years in a seclusion that “she sanctified by prayer, and she sustained her prayer through good works.” The strong piety of Bossuet’s preaching resonates in such records. In St. Remi’s abbey in Rheims is the eulogy of another good woman from Champagne who was “Rachel in beauty, Rebecca in fidelity, Suzanna in purity, Tabitha in heartfelt piety, Ruth in sentiment, and Anna by good works.” Those old-time ladies truly seemed to be paragons!
I am just back from the battle line in that Royal Domain of Soissons, where the soul of ancient France seems more itself than in any other region, country of martyrs, and of kings, of Merovingian crypts, of the donjon of Coucy, of the five apses of St. Yved—realm of the first race of rulers bearing vestiges of the greatest history of France.—Gabriele d’Annunzio, 1914.
I just returned from the front lines in the Royal Domain of Soissons, where the spirit of ancient France feels more alive than anywhere else—land of martyrs and kings, home to Merovingian tombs, the dungeon of Coucy, and the five apses of St. Yved—a realm of the first dynasty of rulers, holding traces of the greatest history of France.—Gabriele D'Annunzio, 1914.
Strictly speaking, St. Yved at Braine is not so much a Primary Gothic monument as it is a link between that first tentative hour and the fuller development of the national art represented by Rheims and Amiens. In the same group as Braine, between Primary Gothic and the Era of the Great Cathedrals, are St. Leu d’Esserent, Montréal, Vézelay’s choir, and the church of St. Laumer at Blois.
Strictly speaking, St. Yved at Braine isn't just a Primary Gothic monument; it's more of a connection between that initial phase and the more developed national art seen in Rheims and Amiens. Alongside Braine—between Primary Gothic and the Era of the Great Cathedrals—are St. Leu d’Esserent, Montréal, the choir at Vézelay, and the church of St. Laumer at Blois.
Braine, on the ancient Roman highroad between Rheims and Soissons, had been a farm of the Frankish kings. In the VII century it belonged to the father of St. Ouen, and it was here that the future bishop of Rouen, as a child, was blessed by a passing guest, the Irish missionary St. Columbanus, whose Celtic rule of Luxeuil dominated, in Gaul, the century called of saints.
Braine, located on the old Roman road between Rheims and Soissons, used to be a farm for the Frankish kings. In the 7th century, it was owned by the father of St. Ouen, and it was here that the future bishop of Rouen was blessed as a child by a visiting guest, the Irish missionary St. Columbanus, whose Celtic rule of Luxeuil influenced the century known as the age of saints in Gaul.
Lady Agnes of Braine espoused a son of Louis VI, the turbulent Count of Dreux (d. 1188), and, from them came the funds for St. Yved, the second foundation of the new Order of Prémontré. The recorded date of the enterprise is from 1180 to 1216, but as the church is perfectly homogeneous, it must have been built in one campaign, probably in main part before the dedication of 1216.
Lady Agnes of Braine married a son of Louis VI, the restless Count of Dreux (d. 1188), and from them, the funds for St. Yved, the second foundation of the new Order of Prémontré, were provided. The recorded dates of the project range from 1180 to 1216, but since the church is completely uniform, it was likely built in a single campaign, mostly before its dedication in 1216.
As a composition, the plan of the collegiate is original. The apse chapels on each side of the choir chapel are placed on the bias so that the sanctuary opens out like a fan, with five altars visible at the same time. The arrangement was copied in far-off Hungary in St. Martin’s church at Kassovie, built for the king by the wandering Picard artist Villard de Honnecourt. In Cologne the church of St. Gereon, and in Marburg that of St. Elizabeth, show the influence of Braine. St. Léger’s abbatial at Soissons copied it. St. Yved has a square transept-crossing tower that opens still farther the central part of the edifice. Carved about the interior is a cordon of free springtime foliage. There is youth in every line of this beautiful white church. The superb monocylindrical columns and their capitals are robust virility itself. Everywhere is firmness of touch, and never has the unity been marred by patchwork reconstructions. Like its neighbor, Soissons, the same nicety of stonework is shown.
As a design, the layout of the college is unique. The apse chapels on either side of the choir chapel are angled so that the sanctuary spreads out like a fan, making five altars visible at once. This arrangement was replicated in distant Hungary at St. Martin’s church in Kassovie, built for the king by the traveling Picard artist Villard de Honnecourt. In Cologne, the church of St. Gereon, and in Marburg, that of St. Elizabeth, reflect the influence of Braine. St. Léger’s abbey in Soissons adopted this style. St. Yved has a square transept-crossing tower that further opens up the central area of the building. The interior is adorned with a band of free springtime foliage carvings. Every aspect of this stunning white church exudes youth. The impressive single-cylinder columns and their capitals embody robust strength. There is a sense of firmness throughout, and the unity has never been disrupted by patchwork repairs. Like its neighbor Soissons, it showcases the same attention to detail in stonework.
Before the Revolution the collegiate at Braine harbored an unparalleled collection of tombs, since here for centuries were laid to rest the barons and bishops of the proud family of Dreux, warriors at Bouvines, crusaders, and donors of storied windows at Chartres and Rheims. The four west bays of the church of Braine were stupidly demolished after the Revolution, because funds for repairs were at that time lacking. From the destroyed portal were saved the two statues now set in the choir’s wall. They represent the Coronation of Our Lady; the robes flow easily and there is scarcely a touch of Byzantine rigidity left in them.
Before the Revolution, the college at Braine housed an unmatched collection of tombs, as it had been the resting place for centuries of the barons and bishops from the distinguished family of Dreux, warriors from Bouvines, crusaders, and patrons of the famous windows at Chartres and Rheims. The four western bays of the church in Braine were foolishly torn down after the Revolution because there were no funds available for repairs at that time. From the destroyed entrance, the two statues now placed in the choir's wall were saved. They depict the Coronation of Our Lady; the robes flow gracefully, and there's barely any trace of Byzantine stiffness left in them.
Twice during the late World War was Braine’s collegiate in the direct path of invasion. The first battle of the Marne freed it, but in May, 1918, the Germans again entered the little town. Then swept forward the second battle of the Marne, and Braine was liberated in September. One can only pray that, in such hasty retreats, St. Yved escaped mutilation.
Twice during the late World War, Braine’s college was directly in the path of invasion. The first battle of the Marne freed it, but in May 1918, the Germans entered the small town again. Then came the second battle of the Marne, and Braine was liberated in September. One can only hope that, in such quick retreats, St. Yved was not damaged.
ST. LEU D’ESSERENT[70]
ST. LEU D’ESSERENT __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
I think that that style which is called Gothic is endowed with a profound and a commanding beauty, such as no other style possesses ... and which probably the Church will not see surpassed till it attain to the Celestial City.... The Gothic style is as harmonious and as intellectual as it is graceful.—Cardinal Newman.
I believe that the style known as Gothic has a deep and impressive beauty like no other style... and that the Church probably won't see anything surpass it until it reaches the Celestial City. The Gothic style is as harmonious and intellectual as it is elegant. —Cardinal Newman.
St. Leu d’Esserent is one of the small but perfect churches of the classic Ile-de-France that satisfy both eye and soul by the exquisite justness of their proportions. Its serene white charm is unobtrusive. Only a master of the inmost heart of France could have produced the assured rightness of its proportions. Unforgettable are the moments spent in this Benedictine abbatial on the Oise; sometimes up and down its lovely white avenue flits some happy lost bird, rejoicing in the paradise of quietude he has found.
St. Leu d’Esserent is one of the small but perfect churches of classic Ile-de-France that delights both the eye and the soul with the exquisite balance of its proportions. Its calm white beauty is subtle. Only someone who truly understands the heart of France could have created its perfectly fitting dimensions. The time spent in this Benedictine abbey by the Oise is unforgettable; occasionally, a joyful, wandering bird flits up and down its lovely white path, celebrating the peace it has discovered.
The quarries round St. Leu d’Esserent were noted, and many a church of France has been made of their firm white stones. The origin of Gothic art is comprised, thinks M. Lefèvre-Pontalis, in this region where good quarries abounded, with Senlis taken as a center. A line from Senlis to Laon, if carried round, would pass through Rheims, Provins, Montereau, Étampes, Vernon, Amiens, Péronne, St. Quentin. Well within that circumference lies St. Leu d’Esserent.
The quarries around St. Leu d'Esserent are well-known, and many churches in France have been built using their strong white stones. M. Lefèvre-Pontalis believes that the origin of Gothic art is found in this area, where good quarries were plentiful, with Senlis as the focal point. If you draw a line from Senlis to Laon and extend it, it would include Rheims, Provins, Montereau, Étampes, Vernon, Amiens, Péronne, and St. Quentin. St. Leu d'Esserent is well within that area.
The Benedictine church stands on prominent foundations overlooking the river loved of Corot and Daubigny. The priory was founded and presented to great Cluny by a knight of Esserent as thank-offering for his ransom from the Saracens by monks of St. Benedict. Of the church built in that XI century, there remain only the two stout columns, with archaic capitals, which now are embedded in the westernmost bay of the nave.
The Benedictine church is built on strong foundations overlooking the river cherished by Corot and Daubigny. The priory was established and donated to the great Cluny by a knight of Esserent as a thank-you for being rescued from the Saracens by monks of St. Benedict. From the church built in the 11th century, only the two sturdy columns with old-style capitals remain, now integrated into the westernmost bay of the nave.
About 1150 the present church was begun, and for a century continued building, in three distinct bouts of work. First was made the west façade, only one of whose Romanesque towers was ever finished with a spire, the octagonal faces of which were relieved by curious lancelike ridges not repeated elsewhere. In the narthex, or porch between the towers, was tried an experiment to eliminate the so-called domical shape of the first Gothic vaults. The transverse arches were loaded with masonry to raise them to the vault’s apex. Experimental also are the ungainly diagonals, in part ornamented with Norman chevrons, that span the tribune over the forechurch (c. 1150). The ribs are not free of the vault web, so elasticity is missing.
About 1150, the current church started construction, which continued for a century in three distinct phases. First, the west façade was created, and only one of its Romanesque towers was completed with a spire, featuring octagonal sides adorned with unique lancelike ridges not found anywhere else. In the narthex, or porch between the towers, an experiment was conducted to eliminate the traditional domical shape of early Gothic vaults. The transverse arches were weighted with masonry to lift them to the vault's peak. Also experimental are the awkward diagonal supports, partly decorated with Norman chevrons, that stretch across the tribune above the forechurch (c. 1150). The ribs are not separate from the vault's web, resulting in a lack of elasticity.
During the last quarter of the XII century, the chevet was built, as were the two towers placed beside the apse, an arrangement derived from Rhenish churches. Of that time, too (c. 1180), is the double bay, surmounted by a sexpartite vault which precedes the apse. There is no transept. The recently finished choir of Senlis Cathedral influenced the ambulatory and apse chapels of St. Leu. At Senlis and here occur the earliest examples of double flying buttresses. The six bays of the nave were added about 1220, after a pause in the works. Previously, each bay of the church had been lighted by a single lancet; now two lancets surmounted by an oculus were used, which added much dignity to the exterior aspect of the edifice. Over the axis chapel was built a second story. The unvaulted tribunes, above the side aisles, were transformed into a sort of triforium by building a wall slightly behind their arcaded openings. As that wall was pierced by some odd little square windows, this may be regarded as one of the first essays of a glazed triforium, the feature which was soon to develop into the decorative richness of St. Denis, Troyes, Le Mans, Tours, and Beauvais.
During the last quarter of the 12th century, the chevet was built, along with the two towers next to the apse, a design inspired by Rhenish churches. From around 1180, there's the double bay topped by a sexpartite vault that leads to the apse. There's no transept. The newly completed choir of Senlis Cathedral influenced the ambulatory and apse chapels of St. Leu. Senlis and here feature the earliest examples of double flying buttresses. The six bays of the nave were added around 1220, after a break in construction. Before that, each bay of the church was lit by a single lancet; now, two lancets topped with an oculus were used, significantly enhancing the building's exterior appearance. Above the axis chapel, a second story was added. The unvaulted tribunes above the side aisles were converted into a sort of triforium by constructing a wall slightly behind their arcaded openings. This wall included some odd little square windows, making it one of the first attempts at a glazed triforium, a feature that would soon evolve into the decorative richness of St. Denis, Troyes, Le Mans, Tours, and Beauvais.
CHAPTER IV
Notre Dame of Paris and Other Churches of the Capital[71]
It is important to meditate often and with ardor and respect on the documents which the ancestors have left us.—St. Thomas Aquinas.
It’s essential to regularly and passionately reflect on the documents that our ancestors have provided us.—St. Thomas Aquinas.
HE Era of the Great Cathedrals was inaugurated by Notre Dame of Paris,
the most imposing Gothic church hitherto attempted. The popular voice
has chosen to group it among the chief four, with Chartres, Rheims, and
Amiens—all four of them dedicated to Our Lady, though in a special way
Notre Dame of the capital seems to have appropriated the name.
THE Era of the Great Cathedrals began with Notre Dame of Paris, the most impressive Gothic church ever built. People generally consider it one of the top four, along with Chartres, Rheims, and Amiens—all four dedicated to Our Lady, but Notre Dame in the capital particularly has claimed the name as its own.
Of the four, the cathedral of Paris was the first built, and traits of the Romanesque epoch lingered in it, such as the tribune galleries over the side aisles, the division of its interior wall into four vertical stories, and the Byzantine feeling of its earlier sculpture. The piers were massive single columns of true majesty. In the sixth pier of the nave, counting from the east, an experiment was tried when an engaged shaft was added to its front. The seventh pier (c. 1192) marks a date in the development of Gothic structure since with it was made the type of ground support which was to predominate in the XIII century—four engaged shafts around a central pillar. When the middle core was made elliptical, as at Beauvais, the type pier was achieved.
Of the four, the Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris was the first to be built, and elements from the Romanesque period can still be seen in it, like the gallery over the side aisles, the division of its interior walls into four vertical sections, and the Byzantine feel of its earlier sculptures. The piers were impressive single columns of true grandeur. In the sixth pier of the nave, counting from the east, they tried something new by adding an engaged shaft to its front. The seventh pier (c. 1192) marks an important moment in the development of Gothic architecture because it introduced the type of ground support that would dominate in the 13th century—four engaged shafts around a central pillar. When the central core was made elliptical, as seen at Beauvais, the typical pier was established.
Notre Dame of Paris. View from the South
Notre Dame of Paris. View from the South.
Notre Dame of Paris used the sexpartite system which calls for alternating ground supports. Either the uniform piers here were laid before a sexpartite vault was thought of, or else the architect preferred them for æsthetic reasons, and in this case he certainly was right. Double aisles about both nave and choir differentiate the interior of Notre Dame of Paris from that of the average cathedral. The far-stretching aisles of this church compose vistas of unsurpassed picturesqueness and variety of perspective. Some have said that the central nave is not sufficiently wide for such a stretch of lateral aisles, and have found a certain monotony in the clearstory, tribune, and pier arcade being of equal height. Originally, beneath the clearstory were small circular unglassed apertures giving on the rafters over the tribune. Those oculi were done away with during the XIII century, when the clearstory windows were lengthened for the better lighting of the church. During his able restoration of Notre Dame, M. Viollet-le-Duc found hidden under the pavement some of the discarded window frames, and he took the liberty (which many regret) of replacing a few in the bays near the transept, thus marring the uniformity of the interior.
Notre Dame of Paris used a six-part system that features alternating ground supports. Either the uniform piers were built before the idea of a six-part vault was considered, or the architect chose them for aesthetic reasons, and in that case, he was definitely right. The double aisles around the nave and choir set the interior of Notre Dame of Paris apart from the average cathedral. The long aisles of this church create stunning views and a variety of perspectives. Some have argued that the central nave isn't wide enough for such extensive side aisles and that there's a certain monotony in the equal height of the clerestory, tribune, and pier arcade. Originally, there were small circular openings beneath the clerestory that led to the rafters over the tribune. Those openings were removed in the 13th century when the clerestory windows were made longer to better light the church. During his skilled restoration of Notre Dame, M. Viollet-le-Duc discovered some of the discarded window frames hidden under the floor and took the liberty (which many people regret) of replacing a few in the bays near the transept, thus disrupting the uniformity of the interior.
Despite the enlargement of the upper windows and the changes made to give more light to the tribunes, none can deny that, in gloomy weather, Notre Dame can be somber and even cavernous. Yet who, of its devotees, would have it different? Supreme cathedral it is for that supremest of hymns, the Dies Iræ—sound and sense and vision welded. To exchange its severe majesty for an expanse of brilliant glass—save Suger’s glass—is unthinkable. In Notre Dame you comprehend the spectacular repentances of the Middle Ages. Here, when pestilence stalked the city or the enemy was at the gate, have echoed the Miserere and the Libera nos, Domine.[72]
Despite the larger upper windows and the changes made to let in more light for the seating areas, no one can deny that, on gloomy days, Notre Dame can feel dark and even cavernous. Yet, who among its fans would want it any other way? It is the ultimate cathedral for the most profound of hymns, the Dies Iræ—a blend of sound, meaning, and sight. Swapping its strong presence for a space filled with bright glass—except for Suger’s glass—is unimaginable. In Notre Dame, you grasp the dramatic repentances of the Middle Ages. Here, when disease swept through the city or enemies were at the gates, the Miserere and the Libera nos, Domine have echoed.
There is an individuality in the cathedral of Paris that overrides every criticism. Perpetually does the worshiper find in it new aspects, in the dim, low aisles full of mystery, in the gleam of transept windows as seen through the tribune arches while one listens, perhaps, to a lenten friar preacher discoursing of sin, justice, and the judgment to come; here on the very spot where Dominic himself taught the same sobering lessons; here where, six hundred years later, his son, Lacordaire, held the manhood of Paris spellbound. Or, again, one gazes down the length of the church, with its incomparable perspective, while around one rise the voices of strong men fresh from the battle of Verdun, fresh from their firm “They shall not pass,” and their Magnificat of thanksgiving to Notre Dame swells in a volume of sound like the eternal sea. The crusaders of St. Louis’ time prayed, too, for strength in Notre Dame of Paris.[73]
There’s a unique character to the Cathedral of Paris that surpasses any criticism. Worshipers constantly discover new facets of it, from the dim, mysterious low aisles to the glow of the transept windows seen through the tribune arches, all while listening to a Lenten friar preaching about sin, justice, and the coming judgment; right here, on the very spot where Dominic himself taught those same serious lessons; and where, six hundred years later, his follower Lacordaire captivated the men of Paris. Alternatively, one can gaze down the length of the church, taking in its unmatched perspective, as the powerful voices of men just returned from the Battle of Verdun rise around, echoing their firm “They shall not pass,” and their Magnificat of thanks to Notre Dame swells like the eternal sea. The crusaders of St. Louis’ time also prayed for strength in Notre Dame of Paris.[73]
The curve of the sanctuary as seen from the west end of the nave is one of the splendors of the monument, and no chevet ever built surpassed it. The cause of the magic is practical—a structural problem solved, as is the case with the best aspects of Gothic art. At that eastern curve extra piers were inserted between the double aisles in order to obviate the difficulty of vaulting such irregular trapeze-shaped sections.
The curve of the sanctuary as viewed from the west end of the nave is one of the highlights of the monument, and no chevet ever constructed has surpassed it. The source of its magic is practical—a structural problem addressed, as is typical with the finest elements of Gothic art. At that eastern curve, extra piers were added between the double aisles to solve the challenge of vaulting those irregular trapeze-shaped sections.
The enthusiast maintains that the exterior of Notre Dame surpasses that of all other cathedrals. Certainly better transept façades were never made nor was apse more romantic than that of the chief church of Paris, as it rises in three grandiose steps, with flying buttresses of wide span leaping with an audacity that fairly catches the breath; and again the success is a case of sound science solving a problem.
The enthusiast insists that the outside of Notre Dame is better than that of any other cathedral. There have definitely never been better transept façades, and no apse is more romantic than that of the main church of Paris, which rises in three magnificent tiers, with boldly arching flying buttresses that take your breath away; again, this success is due to good engineering tackling a challenge.
The west façade is an accepted classic, “an architectural glory of France,” irreproachable. Once the intelligence has grasped its pre-eminence, allegiance to it will never waver. The frontispieces of Rheims and of Rouen are richer and may appeal more to the imagination. It is possible that the severe dignity of Paris may even chill at first. But what clarity of plan! Four strong buttresses accentuate the big square parallelogram. Excess of ornamentation has been avoided in order that the whole may stand forth. Lest the two towers might appear to rise abruptly from the massive, some master hand made there the graceful open colonnade.[74]
The west façade is a recognized classic, “an architectural glory of France,” beyond reproach. Once you understand its superiority, your loyalty to it will never fade. The façades of Rheims and Rouen may be more elaborate and inspire more imagination. It’s possible that the austere elegance of Paris might feel a bit off-putting at first. But just look at that clarity of design! Four strong buttresses highlight the large square parallelogram. There’s been a conscious effort to avoid excessive decoration so that the entire structure can stand out. To prevent the two towers from seeming to spring abruptly from the solid base, a skilled hand designed the graceful open colonnade.[74]
The façade of Notre Dame is true to its epoch in its appeal to the intellect rather than to the emotions. It was built in the golden age of scholasticism, when religion and philosophy went hand in hand, when the teachers in the schools of Paris, the cité lettré, the œil du monde, thought that Faith and Reason could give mutual aid one to the other, that the truths of Revelations could coincide with the natural judgment.
The façade of Notre Dame reflects its era by appealing to the intellect more than the emotions. It was constructed during the golden age of scholasticism, when religion and philosophy were closely linked, and the teachers in the schools of Paris, the cité lettré, the œil du monde, believed that Faith and Reason could support each other, and that the truths of Revelation could align with natural judgment.
Scholasticism has been belittled by the modern sophists from the time of the XVIII-century Encyclopædist to the XIX-century superman. Yet scholasticism was an important factor in the formation of the French intellect, which, in its virile youth, it put through a course of useful mental gymnastics. Precisely the race, whose ancestors sharpened their wits in the Sic-et-Non debates of the mediæval schools of Paris, is to-day pre-eminent in precision of language and freedom from fogginess of thought. Easy enough for the modern mind to ridicule the quarrel of generations over nominalism and realism, pursued with the personal heat of a modern political campaign.[75] Certainly the abuse of the scholastic system led to hair-splitting disputes, for the deductive method, when carried to excess, ends in thin subtlety. But why judge a system by its extremes? Because XIV-century architecture grew rigid with set formulas and the abuse of its own laws, does that discredit the virile period to which it succeeded?
Scholasticism has been dismissed by modern thinkers since the 18th-century Encyclopédists to the 19th-century superman. However, scholasticism played a crucial role in shaping French thought, which, in its youthful vigor, underwent a rigorous exercise of the mind. The very people whose ancestors honed their logic in the Sic-et-Non debates of medieval Paris are now distinguished by their precise language and clarity of thought. It's easy for today's mindset to mock the disputes of past generations over nominalism and realism, fought with as much passion as a modern political campaign.[75] Certainly, the misuse of the scholastic system led to overly detailed arguments, as the deductive method, when pushed too far, results in trivial subtleties. But why judge a system based on its extremes? Just because 14th-century architecture became rigid with strict formulas and the misuse of its own principles, does that diminish the robust era that came before it?
The bishops who built Notre Dame were notable scholastics. The generations who built cathedrals were impregnated with the certainty that what was Christian was rational. Scholasticism produced St. Thomas Aquinas, whose philosophy has outlived a dozen systems, whose Summa was placed on the assembly table of the Council of Trent, the sole companion of the Scriptures, Aquinas, whose sanity of ethics and doctrine was held up by Leo XIII as the best guide amid current errors.
The bishops who built Notre Dame were influential scholars. The generations that constructed cathedrals were deeply convinced that what was Christian was also rational. Scholasticism produced St. Thomas Aquinas, whose philosophy has endured far beyond many other systems, whose Summa was presented at the Council of Trent, standing alongside the Scriptures. Aquinas, whose clear ethics and teachings were highlighted by Leo XIII as the best guide in the midst of contemporary mistakes.
With Aquinas, who taught the inextricable union of Faith and Reason, Christian philosophy reached its zenith.[76] Too long has it been the fashion to look on orthodoxy as a sign of mental inferiority. Professors still dismiss the Summa with a scathing line. They have never opened its pages, perhaps, but second-hand knowledge to vast regions of human thought is no impediment to a chair in the modern university. “Abstractions as repulsive as they are frivolous,” is the dictum of a group of present-day French scholars who seem to think that to belittle things mediæval is proof of patriotism.
With Aquinas, who taught the inseparable connection between Faith and Reason, Christian philosophy reached its peak.[76] For too long, it has been a trend to view orthodoxy as a sign of intellectual inferiority. Professors still dismiss the Summa with a cutting remark. They may have never opened its pages, but second-hand knowledge about extensive areas of human thought doesn't stop someone from holding a position at a modern university. “Abstractions as unappealing as they are trivial,” is the opinion of a group of current French scholars who seem to believe that criticizing medieval ideas is a mark of patriotism.
We have looked on at the rehabilitation of certain mediæval saints. It was not so long ago that the poor man of Assisi was patronized as an ignorant fanatic. The appeal of St. Francis is to the emotions, while that of St. Thomas Aquinas is to the intellect, so, perhaps, it is expecting too much to hope that some day the average man may appreciate this thinker who set sane boundaries round the human mind. Too long have the prime sanities of reason been flouted by hazy abstract thinking in the void; too long has man shut his eyes to the fact that a crime of the intellect is of more consequence to mankind than a crime against the civil law; too long has applause been given to philosophers who obliterated the distinctions between right and wrong—like Hegel, teaching the identity of Being and non-Being—so that the very soul of the peoples grew perverted and appalling cataclysms threatened civilization.
We have observed the rehabilitation of certain medieval saints. It wasn't that long ago that the poor man from Assisi was seen as an ignorant fanatic. St. Francis appeals to emotions, while St. Thomas Aquinas appeals to the intellect, so perhaps it’s asking too much to hope that one day the average person will appreciate this thinker who provided reasonable limits to the human mind. For too long, the fundamental truths of reason have been disrespected by vague, abstract thinking in the void; for too long, people have ignored the fact that a crime against intellect is more significant to humanity than a crime against civil law; for too long, praise has been given to philosophers who blurred the lines between right and wrong—like Hegel, who taught that Being and non-Being are the same—leading to the perversion of the very soul of societies and causing horrific upheavals that threatened civilization.
What the older centuries thought of Aquinas, the painter as well as the poet tells us. In the Louvre hangs Benozzo Gozzoli’s picture of the doctor angelicus sitting in luminous repose amid pope, doctors, saints, and the sages of antiquity, and the inscription runs: “Vere hic est lumen ecclesiæ.” And in Milan hangs Piero della Francesca’s profound study of the saint. “I place Plato high,” wrote a sound French thinker, “but as I see Aquinas he is as superior to Plato, and even more, than is our knowledge of the physical world to that of the Greeks.... He embraces St. Augustine, Aristotle, and Plato.”
What earlier centuries thought of Aquinas, the painter as well as the poet tells us. In the Louvre, Benozzo Gozzoli’s painting of the doctor angelicus hangs, showing him in bright tranquility surrounded by a pope, doctors, saints, and ancient philosophers, with the inscription: “Vere hic est lumen ecclesiæ.” And in Milan, Piero della Francesca’s deep portrayal of the saint is displayed. “I hold Plato in high regard,” wrote a notable French thinker, “but when I look at Aquinas, he is superior to Plato, and even more so, than our understanding of the physical world compared to that of the Greeks.... He encompasses St. Augustine, Aristotle, and Plato.”
Often has it been said that a Gothic cathedral is the Summa translated into stone, logical, ordered, interlinked, leaving nothing to chance, a sound skeleton on a sound base, so securely balanced that great windows could be opened on the sky, like flashes of intuitive genius lifting the soul to the infinite. Many were the points by which St. Thomas touched Gothic art in its heyday. He was a student in Cologne when its mighty cathedral was begun. He was in Paris during the years when the transept of Notre Dame was building, and the Sainte-Chapelle and St. Denis’ abbatial. By blood he was related to St. Louis, and often was his guest at table, where talk must have turned on that keen interest of the hour—the making of Gothic churches.[77] He was to die (1274) in Cistercian Fossanuova, the first Gothic monument of Italy. And his great work, like many a cathedral, was left unfinished.
People often say that a Gothic cathedral is the Summa turned into stone—logical, organized, interconnected, leaving nothing to chance; a solid structure on a sturdy foundation, so well balanced that enormous windows could open to the sky, like flashes of intuitive brilliance lifting the spirit to the infinite. St. Thomas encountered many aspects of Gothic art at its peak. He was studying in Cologne when its magnificent cathedral was started. He was in Paris during the years when the transept of Notre Dame was being built, as well as the Sainte-Chapelle and St. Denis' abbey. By blood, he was related to St. Louis and often dined at his table, where conversation surely revolved around the popular topic of the time—the construction of Gothic churches.[77] He was destined to die (1274) in Cistercian Fossanuova, the first Gothic monument in Italy. And like many cathedrals, his great work was left unfinished.
Never was aspiration toward the infinite more passionate than in that scholastic disputing, commune-winning, cathedral-building, crusading age. The absorbing interest for old and young, for bishop and layman, for king and poor student, was to know God, to know their own souls, to learn how to make life more worthy of God. “In the entire length of France,” wrote the archbishop of Sens to the pope, in 1140, “in towns and even in villages, in the schools and outside them, all, even simple people and children, are disputing on the Holy Trinity.” Paris became the center of the seething new interest in theology and philosophy. In 1109 Guillaume de Champeaux opened a school of logic on the slopes of St. Geneviève’s hill (where to this day reigns Paris University), and soon all Christendom frequented it.[78] His pupil, and later his opponent, was Abélard, brilliant, restless knight-errant of dialectics, whom the modern orthodox student finds to be a forerunner of the new method of biblical criticism rather than a rationalist.
Never has the desire for the limitless been more intense than during that era of scholarly debate, community-building, cathedral construction, and crusades. The compelling quest for knowledge, shared by everyone from bishops to laypeople, kings to poor students, was to understand God, know their own souls, and learn how to live a life more deserving of God. “Throughout the entirety of France,” wrote the archbishop of Sens to the pope in 1140, “in towns and even in villages, in the schools and outside them, everyone—simple folks and children alike—are arguing about the Holy Trinity.” Paris became the hub for this intense new interest in theology and philosophy. In 1109, Guillaume de Champeaux established a school of logic on the slopes of St. Geneviève’s hill (where Paris University still stands today), quickly attracting students from all over Christendom. His student, and later rival, was Abélard, a brilliant and restless seeker of dialectical truth, whom modern orthodox students view as a pioneer of the new method of biblical criticism rather than a rationalist.
In the abbey of St. Victor, whose free classes were founded by Guillaume de Champeaux when harried by Abélard, there gathered a group of mystic scholars and poets: Hugues de St. Victor, the Augustine of his day (d. 1141), whose work on the sacraments was an interlinked system of theology. Lucid in intellect, tender in sentiment, was this friend of St. Bernard, whom Dante places in Paradise with St. Anselm and St. Bonaventure (Par., xii: 30); and Hugues’ disciple, Richard de St. Victor (d. 1173), ranked in Paradise as the companion of the Venerable Bede and St. Isidore of Seville, “Richard, who in contemplation was more than man” (Par., x: 132); and Adam de St. Victor, one of the best poets of the XII century, whose sequences and rimed proses fill the liturgy. Another pupil of the learned Hugues was Pierre Lombard, who died bishop of Paris in 1160; his Book of Sentences became a textbook in European universities for centuries to come.
In the abbey of St. Victor, which was established by Guillaume de Champeaux when he was troubled by Abélard, a group of mystic scholars and poets gathered: Hugues de St. Victor, the Augustine of his time (d. 1141), whose work on the sacraments was a connected system of theology. Clear in thought and gentle in feeling, he was a friend of St. Bernard, whom Dante places in Paradise alongside St. Anselm and St. Bonaventure (Par., xii: 30); and Hugues' disciple, Richard de St. Victor (d. 1173), who is ranked in Paradise with the Venerable Bede and St. Isidore of Seville, “Richard, who in contemplation was more than man” (Par., x: 132); and Adam de St. Victor, one of the finest poets of the 12th century, whose sequences and rhymed prose enrich the liturgy. Another student of the learned Hugues was Pierre Lombard, who died as bishop of Paris in 1160; his Book of Sentences became a standard textbook in European universities for centuries.
From the cathedral school and the mount of St. Geneviève and St. Victor’s cloister[79] evolved the University of Paris, “elder daughter of France,” whose title first appears in 1215, the oldest university in Europe with that of Bologna—one the high priestess of theology, the other the leader in canon and civil law. In the XII-century schools of Paris, John of Salisbury met Thomas Becket and Nicholas Breakspear (the English pope, Adrian IV), and there the future Innocent III became the friend of Stephen Langton.
From the cathedral school and the hill of St. Geneviève and St. Victor’s cloister[79] came the University of Paris, the “eldest daughter of France,” a title that first appeared in 1215, making it the oldest university in Europe alongside Bologna—one being the high priestess of theology and the other the leader in canon and civil law. In the 12th-century schools of Paris, John of Salisbury met Thomas Becket and Nicholas Breakspear (the English pope, Adrian IV), and it was there that the future Innocent III became friends with Stephen Langton.
By the XIII century over thirty thousand students thronged the colleges in Paris. Aquinas taught in the Dominicans’ branch of the university, in which same convent, called the Jacobins, lived the reader of Louis IX, Vincent de Beauvais, whose four Mirrors were depicted in the imagery of the great cathedrals. No age was ever more enamored of encyclopædias. To overclassify was a characteristic of the times which even the great Aquinas could not escape. They say that over five hundred monks, under the guidance of the Dominican cardinal, Hugues de Saint-Cher, were busy in the rue St. Jacques preparing the first concordance of Scriptures. The entire Bible was translated into French in the XIII century. In the Franciscans’ branch of the University St. Bonaventure taught. The king’s chaplain, Robert de Sorbon, founded a house where poor students could live in common. Canterbury’s archbishop, St. Edmund Rich, was a pupil in Paris, then a teacher. Roger Bacon, first to grasp the importance of experimental science, studied there, and so did Robert Grosseteste, builder of Lincoln Cathedral, whom Bacon said excelled all other masters in his range of useful knowledge.
By the 13th century, over thirty thousand students crowded the colleges in Paris. Aquinas taught at the Dominicans’ branch of the university, where Vincent de Beauvais, the reader of Louis IX, lived in the convent called the Jacobins. His four Mirrors were depicted in the imagery of the great cathedrals. No era was ever more obsessed with encyclopedias. The tendency to overclassify was a hallmark of the time, one even the great Aquinas couldn't avoid. It's said that over five hundred monks, led by the Dominican cardinal Hugues de Saint-Cher, were working on the first concordance of Scriptures on rue St. Jacques. The entire Bible was translated into French in the 13th century. St. Bonaventure taught at the Franciscans’ branch of the University. The king’s chaplain, Robert de Sorbon, established a house where poor students could live together. St. Edmund Rich, the archbishop of Canterbury, studied in Paris before becoming a teacher. Roger Bacon, who first recognized the importance of experimental science, studied there, as did Robert Grosseteste, the builder of Lincoln Cathedral, whom Bacon said surpassed all other masters in his breadth of useful knowledge.
The smelting pot of modern society those fecund formative years of the XII and XIII centuries have been called. A life-time’s study it would be to draw adequately the picture of the one city of Paris then, when Philippe-Auguste and his grandson, St. Louis, were busy raising their Louvre and their Cité palaces, their Notre Dame, and their Sainte-Chapelle, busy cleaning the city streets and the city laws; when one scholarly bishop succeeded another as slowly rose the capital’s cathedral, when lovely Latin hymns poured from St. Victor’s abbey, while in the street the students sang the new lays of trouvère and troubadour, telling of “love that is a thing so high,” of Roland and the gestes of paladins, of the Celtic heroes, Tristan, Lancelot, and Percival; when all the newly awakened intellectual and art life was astir welding old blood and new, making Frenchmen, at last, of Celt and Latin and Frank, making a kind of commonwealth of the nations that met in universities whose common speech still was Latin.[80]
The melting pot of modern society was those productive formative years of the 12th and 13th centuries. It would take a lifetime to fully capture what Paris was like then, when Philippe-Auguste and his grandson, St. Louis, were busy building their Louvre and Cité palaces, their Notre Dame, and their Sainte-Chapelle, while also cleaning up the city streets and laws; when one scholarly bishop followed another as the capital's cathedral slowly rose, when beautiful Latin hymns flowed from St. Victor's abbey, and students in the streets sang the new songs of trouvère and troubadour, speaking of “love that is such a high thing,” of Roland and the deeds of paladins, of Celtic heroes like Tristan, Lancelot, and Percival; when all the newly awakened intellectual and artistic life was bustling, blending old heritage with new, finally making Frenchmen out of Celt, Latin, and Frank, creating a kind of commonwealth of the nations that gathered in universities where Latin was still the common language.[80]
That there were black shadows in the picture, none deny. There were pillages and massacres. It was an agitated day full of tumults and heresies and terrible reprisals. One has only to read the censures of St. Bernard and of Innocent III to learn of the cupidity and the lust. Joinville has told of a sink of corruption lying within a stone’s throw of the saint-king’s crusading camp. But, above all the lawlessness, the men of those ages of faith aspired. Their acts might fall short; their principles remained sound. “No easy-going doctrines, then, to legitimize vice,” says Ozanam. Man knew how to beat his breast in humble repentance. He lifted his eyes toward an ideal so far above himself that it was given his human weakness to build cathedrals such as Notre Dame of the capital. Not so does he build when as superman he sits on a self-raised altar.
That there were dark aspects in the picture is undeniable. There were looting and massacres. It was a chaotic day filled with turmoil, heresies, and terrible revenge. One only needs to read the criticisms of St. Bernard and Innocent III to understand the greed and desire. Joinville described a pit of corruption right near the saint-king’s crusading camp. But, above all the lawlessness, the people of that faith-driven age aspired to more. Their actions may have fallen short; their ideals remained intact. “No lenient doctrines, then, to justify wrongdoing,” says Ozanam. Humanity knew how to genuinely repent. They looked up to an ideal so far beyond themselves that they were able to create cathedrals like Notre Dame in the capital. That's not how one builds when, like a superman, one sits on a self-made pedestal.
The virtuous bishop, who had most to do with the erection of the cathedral of Paris, had been a student and later a teacher of scholasticism. Maurice de Sully was born of simple parentage in the village of Sully-sur-Loire, and he came as a poor scholar to the great city. His abilities and the integrity of his conduct won him recognition, and after teaching belles-lettres, he was elected to the see of Paris as the seventy-second successor of St. Denis. From 1160 to 1196 he directed his diocese, a true shepherd whose special care was the training of young priests. Crowds flocked to his sermons, wrote a contemporary. He took an active part on the side of Thomas Becket during the English archbishop’s struggle with Henry II, and it was he who consecrated as bishop of Chartres Becket’s friend, the intellectual John of Salisbury. To Bishop Maurice, who had baptized him, Philippe-Auguste left the care of the Royal Treasury when he went on the Third Crusade. So wisely did this churchman administer his revenues that he was able to build hospitals and abbeys, as well as erect, in larger part by his personal donations, his own cathedral.
The virtuous bishop, who played a key role in the building of the Cathedral of Paris, had been a student and later a teacher of scholasticism. Maurice de Sully was born to humble parents in the village of Sully-sur-Loire and came to the big city as a poor scholar. His skills and integrity earned him recognition, and after teaching literature, he was elected to the see of Paris as the seventy-second successor of St. Denis. From 1160 to 1196, he led his diocese, truly embodying a shepherd whose primary focus was training young priests. A contemporary noted that crowds flocked to his sermons. He actively supported Thomas Becket during the archbishop's conflict with Henry II, and he was the one who consecrated Becket’s friend, the intellectual John of Salisbury, as the bishop of Chartres. Bishop Maurice, who had baptized him, was entrusted with the care of the Royal Treasury by Philippe-Auguste when he went on the Third Crusade. This churchman managed his resources so wisely that he was able to build hospitals and abbeys, and largely through his personal donations, he constructed his own cathedral.
The first stone of Notre Dame was laid in 1163, and tradition says that Alexander III officiated in the same month that he dedicated for the Benedictines the new choir of St. Germain-des-Prés; the exiled pontiff resided in France for four years. Though the name of the architect of Notre Dame has not survived, his design was adhered to during a century and a half. A transept was not in his plan; however, a short one was inserted before the nave was laid down. That nave was nearly finished when Bishop Maurice de Sully died, in 1196, leaving large sums, in his testament, for the completion of his beloved church. The two westernmost bays of the nave are not of the bishop-founder’s time.
The first stone of Notre Dame was laid in 1163, and tradition holds that Alexander III officiated in the same month he dedicated the new choir of St. Germain-des-Prés for the Benedictines; the exiled pope lived in France for four years. Although the architect of Notre Dame isn't known, his design was followed for a century and a half. A transept wasn't part of his original plan, but a short one was added before the nave was laid down. The nave was almost finished when Bishop Maurice de Sully passed away in 1196, leaving a significant amount in his will for the completion of his beloved church. The two westernmost bays of the nave were not from the time of the bishop-founder.
Notre Dame, because of interruptions in its construction, presents an irregular alignment, and it is easy to perceive, as one gazes along its vaulting, that its choir slopes toward the north. Archæologists have given up the poetic explanation that the slanting choir was symbolic of the droop of Christ’s head on the cross. Nor can the symbol seeker now call the Porte Rouge (an extra door in the north wall of the choir) a souvenir of the spear wound of the Saviour, since if made with such intention it would have been placed below the extended arms of the transept.
Notre Dame, due to interruptions in its construction, has an uneven alignment, and it's easy to notice, when looking along its arches, that its choir slopes toward the north. Archaeologists have abandoned the poetic idea that the slanting choir symbolizes the droop of Christ's head on the cross. Likewise, those searching for meaning can no longer interpret the Porte Rouge (an extra door in the north wall of the choir) as a reminder of the Savior's spear wound, since if it had been intended as such, it would have been positioned below the outstretched arms of the transept.
Three campaigns of work built Notre Dame, and each time that the work was resumed the axis deviated slightly. First rose the choir and a short transept. Then was done the nave, save its westernmost bays. And finally, at the beginning of the XIII century, they undertook the west façade and the two bays behind it. The carving on the pier’s capitals shows the gradual advance in sculpture: in the choir they cut the large leaves of water plants which were the first nature models copied when the conventional Byzantine models were discarded. Then, in the nave, the foliage grew richer, and oak and vine and curled-up ferns appeared. Capital by capital should be studied, for their sculpture is masterly. The capitals of the nave’s triforium are said to mark the culmination of Gothic art in foliate design. While unity was kept throughout the entire arcade, there was unceasing variation in details.
Three construction phases built Notre Dame, and each time work resumed, the alignment shifted slightly. First, they built the choir and a short transept. Then they completed the nave, except for its westernmost bays. Finally, at the start of the 13th century, they tackled the west façade and the two bays behind it. The carvings on the piers’ capitals reflect the gradual evolution of sculpture: in the choir, they sculpted large water plant leaves, which were the first natural models adopted after moving away from conventional Byzantine designs. Then, in the nave, the foliage became more intricate, featuring oak, vine, and curled ferns. Each capital should be examined individually, as their sculpture is masterful. The capitals of the nave’s triforium are considered the peak of Gothic art in foliate design. While there was a consistent overall unity throughout the entire arcade, there was constant variation in the details.
When Bishop Maurice de Sully, the peasant, died, he was succeeded by Bishop Eudes de Sully, the feudal baron, descended from the reigning counts of Champagne, from Louis VII and Aliénor of Aquitaine, and in whose veins ran the blood of William the Conqueror through his daughter Adela. The ability to build was his by inheritance. He began the west façade, and probably at his death all three of the portals were in place. To him we owe that fairest of sculptured entrances, the Virgin’s door, under the northwest tower, called “the most beautiful page of stone that the Middle Ages have left us.” Visibile palare are Dante’s words for such art as this. In the carved tympanum, “Gothic art reached the simple perfection of Phidias.” The draperies flow easily; only in the abrupt turning up of the edges of the robes lingers an archaic touch. Below are represented kings and prophets, the ancestors of Mary. Above them is a moving version of the Assumption; and in the upper triangle is the Coronation of the Queen of Heaven by her Divine Son—she, the mortal, turned toward Him, the divinity, with a gesture of adoration. The Christ is the Nazarene, a noble Oriental.
When Bishop Maurice de Sully, the peasant, died, he was succeeded by Bishop Eudes de Sully, the feudal baron, descended from the ruling counts of Champagne, from Louis VII and Aliénor of Aquitaine, and whose bloodline included William the Conqueror through his daughter Adela. He inherited the ability to build. He started on the west façade, and probably by the time of his death, all three portals were completed. We owe him the stunningly sculpted entrance, the Virgin’s door, under the northwest tower, known as “the most beautiful page of stone that the Middle Ages have left us.” Visibile palare are Dante’s words for such art as this. In the carved tympanum, “Gothic art reached the simple perfection of Phidias.” The draperies flow gracefully; only in the sudden lifting of the edges of the robes does an archaic touch remain. Below are kings and prophets, the ancestors of Mary. Above them is a moving depiction of the Assumption; and in the upper triangle is the Coronation of the Queen of Heaven by her Divine Son—she, the mortal, turned toward Him, the divinity, with a gesture of worship. The Christ is the Nazarene, a noble man from the East.
No haziness then in their knowledge that the patroness in whose care they placed their cathedrals was a fellow creature. To the common sense of the Middle Ages, it would have seemed a muddle-headed way of thinking to have called Jesus, God, and at the same time to have refused homage to His Mother, the one whom God chose to honor above all mortals, “she who didst so ennoble human nature that its own Maker scorned not to become its making.”[81] It was only logical, they thought, that the best advocate with the son should be the mother. “All of us who fear the wrath of the Judge, fly to the Judge’s mother,” wrote Abélard. “Que Dieu nous l’octroie par la prière de sa douce mère,” wrote the crusader Joinville. So, without worrying over future carpers who might murmur “Mariolatry,” the Middle Ages chanted “Laus Deo et Beatæ Mariæ laudum.” And the cathedral of Paris dared to dedicate four of its six doors to the Queen of Heaven.
There was no confusion in their understanding that the patroness responsible for their cathedrals was a fellow human being. To the common sense of the Middle Ages, it would have seemed foolish to refer to Jesus as God while simultaneously refusing to honor His Mother, the one God chose to exalt above all others, “she who did so much to elevate human nature that its own Maker did not disdain to become part of it.”[81] They thought it was only logical that the best advocate with the son would be the mother. “All of us who fear the wrath of the Judge run to the Judge’s mother,” wrote Abélard. “Que Dieu nous l’octroie par la prière de sa douce mère,” wrote the crusader Joinville. So, without worrying about future critics who might say “Mariolatry,” the Middle Ages proclaimed “Laus Deo et Beatæ Mariæ laudum.” And the cathedral of Paris boldly dedicated four of its six doors to the Queen of Heaven.
The door under the southwest tower commemorates St. Anne, the Blessed Virgin’s mother. It is a composite work, carved in Bishop Maurice’s time, between 1160 and 1170, but not set up here till Bishop Eudes de Sully had undertaken the façade; in its tympanum are representations both of Louis VII and of Maurice de Sully. St. Anne’s door was a link between the still archaic western doors of Chartres and the clearly enunciated Gothic portal under the northwest tower of Paris Cathedral. In the multitudinous folds of the draperies is Byzantine feeling, and sacerdotal is the Madonna who gravely presents her son to be adored. By the middle of the XIII century, the Madonna had become a natural mother, and so she is sculptured at the north entrance to Notre Dame’s transept.
The door under the southwest tower honors St. Anne, the mother of the Blessed Virgin. It’s a combined work, carved during Bishop Maurice’s time, between 1160 and 1170, but wasn’t installed here until Bishop Eudes de Sully took on the façade; in its tympanum are depictions of both Louis VII and Maurice de Sully. St. Anne’s door served as a connection between the still outdated western doors of Chartres and the distinctly Gothic portal under the northwest tower of Paris Cathedral. In the numerous folds of the drapery is a Byzantine feel, and the Madonna solemnly presents her son to be worshiped. By the middle of the 13th century, the Madonna had evolved into a more relatable mother, as seen in the sculpture at the north entrance of Notre Dame’s transept.
Bishop Eudes de Sully, like his predecessor, had many a link with scholasticism and with other bishop-builders. He had been fellow student in Paris with the future Innocent III, and that expert in men when pope called on his aid to find capable occupants for the French sees. Eudes’ own brother Henry was the archbishop of Bourges who initiated the new cathedral there; and when his brother died, Eudes assisted in placing in his see the saintly Guillaume, who built the chevet of Bourges. Through Eudes de Sully, the bishop-builder of Rheims Cathedral, Albéric de Humbert, was elected, and he also helped to elect Bishop Hervé, who began the cathedral of Troyes. Able men ever found a protector in the capable bishop of Paris, whose strict sense of duty was incorruptible. When Philippe-Auguste, his near kinsman, broke the marriage law, Bishop Eudes went into exile rather than sanction the scandal. To him Innocent III sent St. Jean de Matha, that the prelate might draw up a Rule for the new Order of Trinitarians, established to redeem captives from Islam. It was Eudes de Sully who founded, in 1204, the abbey of Port Royal, a name to become of note in French letters.
Bishop Eudes de Sully, like the bishop before him, was closely connected to scholasticism and other bishop-builders. He had been a fellow student in Paris with the future Innocent III, and that knowledgeable pope sought his help in finding capable leaders for the French sees. Eudes’ brother Henry served as the archbishop of Bourges, where he started the new cathedral; after Henry’s death, Eudes helped appoint the saintly Guillaume to his see, who went on to build the chevet of Bourges. Through Eudes de Sully, Albéric de Humbert was elected as the bishop-builder of Rheims Cathedral, and he also supported the election of Bishop Hervé, who began the cathedral of Troyes. Able individuals consistently found a protector in the competent bishop of Paris, whose unwavering sense of duty was untainted. When Philippe-Auguste, his close relative, violated the marriage law, Bishop Eudes chose exile over approving the scandal. Innocent III sent St. Jean de Matha to him so the prelate could establish a Rule for the new Order of Trinitarians, created to free captives from Islam. It was Eudes de Sully who founded the abbey of Port Royal in 1204, a name that would become significant in French literature.
The bishop of Paris from 1208 to 1219 was Pierre de Nemours, one of four brothers who were bishop-builders, at Paris, at Noyon, at Châlons, and at Meaux. He died a crusader under the walls of Damietta. Scarcely a cathedral but has its crusade memory. The façade of Notre Dame had almost reached the crowning open arcade when the scholarly Guillaume de Seignelay was transferred to the see of Paris from Auxerre where he had begun the Gothic cathedral. The galerie des rois, whose date is about 1223, was no doubt his work. Such galleries are found only in cathedrals in the royal domain, and it is just as likely that they honor the kings of France as the kings of Judea as some maintain. The majority of the larger statues of Paris Cathedral are restitutions. Viollet-le-Duc had an English sculptor, George Frampton, make the gargoyles and grotesques of Notre Dame, since the Revolution wrecked most of the exterior sculpture.
The bishop of Paris from 1208 to 1219 was Pierre de Nemours, one of four brothers who served as bishops and were known for building churches in Paris, Noyon, Châlons, and Meaux. He died as a crusader under the walls of Damietta. Nearly every cathedral has its own crusade story. The façade of Notre Dame was close to being finished when the learned Guillaume de Seignelay moved to the bishopric of Paris from Auxerre, where he had started the Gothic cathedral. The galerie des rois, which dates around 1223, was probably his creation. Such galleries are found only in cathedrals within the royal domain, and it's likely that they celebrate both the kings of France and the kings of Judea, as some argue. Most of the larger statues at Paris Cathedral are restorations. Viollet-le-Duc had an English sculptor, George Frampton, create the gargoyles and grotesques for Notre Dame because the Revolution destroyed most of the original exterior sculptures.
Still another noted scholastic, Guillaume d’Auvergne (1228-29), was to rule the see of Paris while its chief church was building. He finished the northwest tower, which differed slightly in size and details from that to the south; across the face of the former are ten statues, whereas nine only are set before its companion tower. Perhaps a change of architects caused the disparity, or it may be that when the houses were cleared away for the erection of the north tower, more space was available. Bishop Guillaume d’Auvergne’s writings show him to have been one of the most original thinkers in the XIII century, a theologian, a philosopher, a mathematician, and one versed in Arab and in Greek literature. He became for St. Louis a kind of prime minister in ecclesiastical business, and, like the king, he founded hospitals and houses of charity. There is a charming page in Joinville’s reminiscences concerning this able man. A priest expressed his doubts to him on the Eucharist. Bishop Guillaume asked if he tried to resist the temptations, and he replied that he did so with all his force. “Now I,” said the good bishop, “have not a single doubt about the Real Presence. I am like the fortress of Montleheri, safe in the heart of France, far from the danger line; but you, who fight unceasingly, are like the king’s fortress of Rochelle in Poitou, on the frontier. Now, of us two, whom will the king most honor for guarding his fortresses?”
Still another well-known scholar, Guillaume d’Auvergne (1228-29), oversaw the see of Paris while its main church was being built. He completed the northwest tower, which was slightly different in size and design from the south tower; the former has ten statues on its front, while only nine are placed on its companion tower. Perhaps a change in architects caused this difference, or it might be that when the houses were cleared for the north tower, more space became available. Bishop Guillaume d’Auvergne's writings reveal him to be one of the most original thinkers of the 13th century—a theologian, philosopher, mathematician, and someone knowledgeable in Arabic and Greek literature. He became a kind of prime minister for St. Louis in ecclesiastical matters and, like the king, founded hospitals and charitable institutions. There’s a delightful passage in Joinville’s memories about this capable man. A priest shared his doubts about the Eucharist with him. Bishop Guillaume asked if he tried to resist temptation, and the man replied that he did so with all his might. “As for me,” said the good bishop, “I have no doubts about the Real Presence. I am like the fortress of Montleheri, secure in the heart of France, far from the danger line; but you, who are always fighting, are like the king’s fortress of Rochelle in Poitou, on the frontier. So, of the two of us, who do you think the king will honor more for guarding his fortresses?”
Peasant and prince, crusader and scholar, humanist and mathematician, men of exemplary lives, born rulers and guides, such were the builders of Notre Dame of Paris, and their ability and sincerity live eternally in their work.[82] They gave free wing to the soul in raising their great church, while they cheerfully accepted the human law of working within limits. No cathedral in France shows more clearly the relation between builders and building, more clearly vindicates the ideals of its age. The partisan historian may cite his instances to prove that the religion of that age was superstitious. While Notre Dame stands, such charges are refuted. It is a historical document as potent for the vindication of the truth as the Divina Commedia itself.
Peasants and princes, crusaders and scholars, humanists and mathematicians, men of exemplary lives, natural leaders and guides—these were the builders of Notre Dame of Paris, and their skill and sincerity live on in their work.[82] They unleashed their creativity in constructing this grand church while willingly adhering to the human rule of working within constraints. No cathedral in France demonstrates more clearly the connection between its builders and the building itself, nor better represents the ideals of its time. A biased historian might point out examples to argue that the religion of that era was superstitious. Yet, as long as Notre Dame stands, those claims are disproven. It serves as a historical document as powerful in defending the truth as the Divina Commedia itself.
When Bishop Guillaume d’Auvergne had finished the towers of Notre Dame he caused to be made the open arcade from which they emerge, as from a royal peristyle. About the same time side chapels were inserted between the buttresses, and the line of small rose windows, which had hitherto marked the triforium story, was done away with, in order that the clearstory windows might be lengthened. Only step by step were the builders learning that they might open the entire space between the active members of a Gothic structure; the upper windows of Chartres had passed on the lesson to Paris.
When Bishop Guillaume d’Auvergne finished the towers of Notre Dame, he had the open arcade created from which they rise, like a royal peristyle. Around the same time, side chapels were added between the buttresses, and the line of small rose windows that had previously defined the triforium level was removed to allow for longer clearstory windows. The builders were gradually discovering that they could open up the entire space between the key elements of a Gothic structure; the upper windows of Chartres had taught Paris this lesson.
The plan of the first architect was adhered to throughout, and since the later masters-of-works were likewise natives of the Ile-de-France and innate in them a classic restraint and a hardy daring (the hall-mark of the best Parisian art to this day), the cathedral of Paris was homogeneous. Midway in the XIII century Jean de Chelles, a precursor of Rayonnant Gothic, lengthened the transept arms by a bay and finished them with admirable façades. His name, and the date 1257, are cut on the foundation stone of the south façade. The sculpture of that southern entrance honors St. Stephen, since on the site had once stood a church dedicated to the first martyr; the tympanum of the door is another chef-d’œuvre of Notre Dame. Jean de Chelles was the first to use perforated gables. It is thought that on the north façade worked Pierre de Montereau, the architect of St. Denis. As the XIII century merged in the XIV Pierre de Chelles, probably a son of Jean, directed the making of the apse chapels and the superb flying buttresses which leap unhesitatingly over chapels and aisle and tribune gallery. He added the big tribune windows with gables.
The plan of the first architect was followed throughout, and since the later builders were also from the Ile-de-France, they brought with them a blend of classic restraint and bold creativity (the signature of the best Parisian art even today), the cathedral of Paris remained consistent in style. In the mid-13th century, Jean de Chelles, a pioneer of Rayonnant Gothic, extended the transept arms by one bay and completed them with stunning façades. His name and the date 1257 are engraved on the foundation stone of the south façade. The sculpture on that southern entrance honors St. Stephen, as a church dedicated to the first martyr once stood on that site; the tympanum of the door is another chef-d’œuvre of Notre Dame. Jean de Chelles was the first to use perforated gables. It is believed that Pierre de Montereau, the architect of St. Denis, worked on the north façade. As the 13th century transitioned into the 14th, Pierre de Chelles, likely Jean's son, oversaw the construction of the apse chapels and the impressive flying buttresses that boldly stretch over the chapels and aisle and tribune gallery. He added the large tribune windows with gables.
The classic restraint which is the leading quality of Notre Dame was never poverty. Sculpture was lavish where it should be. At the portals the Scriptures were set forth in detail and saints were held up for the edification of the people. The signs of the zodiac were carved, as well as the personification of the seasons and the months. Pinnacle and parapet were weighted with winged beast or demon, and the useful water spouts, or gargoyles, were chiseled as crabbed images. However, one should always remember, in climbing the towers of Notre Dame, that most of the present stone monsters are modern, and it is one of the weaknesses of the restorer to overemphasize the grotesque in the art of the Middle Ages.
The classic restraint that defines Notre Dame was never about poverty. The sculpture was abundant where it needed to be. At the doors, the Scriptures were presented in detail and saints were showcased for the people's inspiration. The zodiac signs were carved, along with representations of the seasons and the months. Pinnacles and parapets were adorned with winged beasts or demons, and the practical water spouts, or gargoyles, were shaped into grim figures. However, one should always keep in mind that as you climb the towers of Notre Dame, most of the current stone creatures are modern, and it's a flaw of the restorers to place too much emphasis on the grotesque in the art of the Middle Ages.
A strange world of fabulous creatures dwell on the roof of Our Lady’s church—conceptions that are half terrible and half fantastic, imaginations that are survivals of the old pagan superstitions which Christianity could not wholly extirpate. The XII and XIII centuries were not so far removed in time from the invasions of the northern Barbarians, and the Church made concessions to primitive inheritances. Artists were allowed to carve on roof or pinnacle the chimeras and vampires which through long centuries had haunted the imagination of their ancestors, provided that they expounded the truths of Christian doctrine in such principal places as portals, façades, and choir screens. Might not a mocking grotesque beside an angel be taken as emblem of the external antagonism of the animal and the spirit in man? The choir screen of Notre Dame of Paris is sculptured with the apparitions of the risen Lord, from Easter Day to the Ascension. “If Christ be not risen again, then is our preaching vain.”[83]
A strange world of amazing creatures lives on the roof of Our Lady’s church—figures that are part terrifying and part fantastic, remnants of old pagan superstitions that Christianity couldn't completely erase. The 12th and 13th centuries were not too far removed from the invasions of the northern Barbarians, and the Church made concessions to these primitive legacies. Artists were permitted to carve chimeras and vampires on roofs or pinnacles, which had haunted their ancestors' imaginations for centuries, as long as they depicted the truths of Christian doctrine in key places like portals, façades, and choir screens. Could a mocking grotesque next to an angel symbolize the ongoing conflict of the animal and the spirit in humans? The choir screen of Notre Dame in Paris features sculptures of the risen Lord from Easter to the Ascension. “If Christ be not risen again, then is our preaching vain.”[83]
The cathedral of Paris during the first centuries of its existence was the setting of many national scenes. Here the kings of France deposited their crown and renewed their vow to be just fathers of their people. Before its altar their newborn heir was blessed. In 1182 the main altar of Notre Dame was consecrated, and three years later the patriarch of Jerusalem preached from it the Third Crusade. On the eve of both his crusades St. Louis prayed here, and in 1270, when his remains were brought back from Tunis, they rested in Notre Dame for a solemn night of chanted mourning.
The cathedral of Paris, in its early centuries, was the backdrop for many significant national events. Here, the kings of France placed their crowns and reaffirmed their commitment to be just rulers for their people. Before its altar, their newborn heirs were blessed. In 1182, the main altar of Notre Dame was consecrated, and three years later, the patriarch of Jerusalem preached from it regarding the Third Crusade. On the eve of both his crusades, St. Louis prayed here, and in 1270, when his remains were returned from Tunis, they rested in Notre Dame for a solemn night of chanted mourning.
In Notre Dame the Duke of Bedford had his nephew, Henry VI of England, crowned as king of France. Factional hate and a foreign enemy in control caused a Te Deum of rejoicing to be sung in this, the most national of French cathedrals, when the news came that Jeanne the Maid had been taken prisoner before Compiègne, in 1429, but solemn reparation was made in 1456, when, in the presence of Jeanne’s mother and brothers, the bishop of Paris (a Norman, and brother of the poet Alain Chartier) opened in Notre Dame the inquest that was to lead to the Rehabilitation of the heroine of Orleans.
In Notre Dame, the Duke of Bedford had his nephew, Henry VI of England, crowned as the king of France. Amid factional hate and foreign control, a Te Deum of celebration was sung in this, the most national of French cathedrals, when the news arrived that Jeanne the Maid had been captured before Compiègne in 1429. However, in 1456, solemn reparations were made when the bishop of Paris (a Norman and brother of the poet Alain Chartier) opened an inquiry in Notre Dame in the presence of Jeanne’s mother and brothers, which would lead to the rehabilitation of the heroine of Orleans.
To the hidden places over the vaults of Notre Dame fled the illustrious chancellor of Paris University, Gerson, to whom during two centuries was attributed the Imitation of Christ. In 1407 he had reprobated the murder of the Duke of Orléans (builder of Pierrefonds) by the Duke of Burgundy (of the regal Dijon tomb), and the mob rose and sacked his house. It is said that for months Gerson lay concealed in Notre Dame, alone with his books, and given over to prayer and meditation.
To the hidden areas above the vaults of Notre Dame ran the famous chancellor of Paris University, Gerson, who was credited with the Imitation of Christ for two centuries. In 1407, he condemned the murder of the Duke of Orléans (the builder of Pierrefonds) by the Duke of Burgundy (associated with the royal Dijon tomb), prompting the crowd to rise up and attack his home. It's said that for months Gerson stayed hidden in Notre Dame, alone with his books, dedicating himself to prayer and reflection.
The present stained glass in Notre Dame is modern, save for the north, south, and west rose windows, the trilogy of light usually found in big cathedrals. The roses of the transept belong to the Paris school which led in the art of glassmaking during the second half of the XIII century. So large were the spaces then to be filled that the scrupulous patience of the St. Denis craftsmen was no longer possible. Backgrounds had to be made quickly by bold, simple trellis designs, and as the most frequent background was a red trellis on a blue field, and the juxtaposition of red and blue makes violet, in too many of the windows of that period prevails a melancholy purplish hue. Originally the choir of Notre Dame boasted some glass given by Abbot Suger himself to the preceding Romanesque cathedral. In the XVIII century, those over-confident gens de goût, the cathedral canons, whose taste admitted only the neo-classic, substituted uncolored glass for the ancient windows. They say that when the workmen were removing Suger’s priceless glass, they were dumfounded by its deep, ineffable blue.[84]
The stained glass in Notre Dame today is modern, except for the north, south, and west rose windows, which are a trio of light typically found in large cathedrals. The rose windows in the transept belong to the Paris school, which excelled in glassmaking during the second half of the 13th century. The spaces that needed filling were so large that the meticulous craftsmanship of the St. Denis artisans was no longer feasible. Backgrounds had to be created quickly using bold, simple trellis designs, and since the most common background was a red trellis on a blue field, the combination of red and blue resulted in too many windows appearing to have a melancholy purplish hue. Originally, the choir of Notre Dame featured some glass provided by Abbot Suger himself for the earlier Romanesque cathedral. In the 18th century, the overly confident taste-makers, the cathedral canons, who only accepted neo-classical style, replaced the ancient windows with uncolored glass. It's said that when the workers were taking out Suger’s priceless glass, they were astonished by its deep, indescribable blue. In the XVIII century, those over-confident gens de goût, the cathedral canons, whose taste admitted only the neo-classic, substituted uncolored glass for the ancient windows. They say that when the workmen were removing Suger’s priceless glass, they were dumfounded by its deep, ineffable blue.[84]
Many a treasure of Notre Dame was destroyed by the Revolution, and the church itself was put up for sale and escaped demolition by merest chance. It served as Temple of Reason, as warehouse, as fête hall. Again, during the Commune, in 1871, for the purpose of destroying it, chairs were piled high in the choir and set on fire, but brave men broke in the doors and extinguished the flames. Early in the World War, in 1914, a German airship dropped a bomb on Notre Dame which pierced the roof of the transept’s northern arm.
Many treasures of Notre Dame were destroyed during the Revolution, and the church itself was almost sold off but narrowly avoided demolition. It was used as a Temple of Reason, a storage space, and a celebration hall. Again, during the Commune, in 1871, there were attempts to destroy it; chairs were stacked high in the choir and set on fire, but courageous people broke down the doors and put out the flames. Early in World War I, in 1914, a German airship dropped a bomb on Notre Dame that went through the roof of the northern arm of the transept.
THE SAINTE-CHAPELLE[85]
THE SAINTE-CHAPELLE__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
All closed off to the earth and open to the sky.
—(Old song from the Middle Ages).
On the same isle in the Seine with Notre Dame stands the Sainte-Chapelle, the reliquary of stone and jeweled glass which the saint-king had made to enshrine the Crown of Thorns redeemed from Constantinople. To-day it is a body without a soul, as the revered crown is kept in the treasury of Notre Dame, and until a memorial service during the World War, Mass had not been said in the reliquaire de souvenirs for fifteen years.
On the same island in the Seine as Notre Dame stands Sainte-Chapelle, the stone and jeweled glass shrine that the saint-king built to hold the Crown of Thorns brought back from Constantinople. Today, it is like a body without a soul, as the cherished crown is stored in the treasury of Notre Dame, and until a memorial service during World War, Mass hadn't been held in the reliquaire de souvenirs for fifteen years.
The chapel, which was connected with the king’s palace, was begun in 1246 and dedicated in 1248. “It was,” said one who knew St. Louis well, “the king’s citadel against the adverses of the world.” He would rise at midnight to pass into the chapel for the singing of matins. “Into this shrine Louis IX put all the memories of his crusading ancestors, all the hues of the Orient. It was his vision of the Heavenly Jerusalem.” The walls were rich with gold and color. The present polychromatic decorations of the walls are a deplorable modern experiment. Fifteen splendid windows told the Bible story in a thousand small medallions; ninety-one scenes related Genesis; one hundred and twenty-one gave Exodus. A window on the south side told the True Cross story, and the three central windows were devoted to the lives of the Saviour and John the Baptist. The western rose was added during the Flamboyant Gothic revival following the expulsion of the English invaders.
The chapel, which was connected to the king’s palace, was started in 1246 and finished in 1248. “It was,” said someone who knew St. Louis well, “the king’s stronghold against the challenges of the world.” He would get up at midnight to go to the chapel for the singing of matins. “In this shrine, Louis IX placed all the memories of his crusading ancestors, all the colors of the East. It was his vision of the Heavenly Jerusalem.” The walls were adorned with gold and vibrant colors. The current multicolored decorations of the walls are a disappointing modern attempt. Fifteen stunning windows illustrated the Bible story in a thousand small medallions; ninety-one scenes depicted Genesis, and one hundred and twenty-one illustrated Exodus. A window on the south side told the story of the True Cross, and the three central windows were dedicated to the lives of the Savior and John the Baptist. The western rose was added during the Flamboyant Gothic revival, following the expulsion of the English invaders.
The making of the vast windows of the Sainte-Chapelle raised Paris to the leadership of the vitrine industry during the second half of the XIII century. Of that school are windows in the cathedrals of Angers and Clermont, and Soissons’ western rose. Though of splendid effect, such windows do not equal those of the preceding hundred years, when Chartres and St. Denis led. The borders round each medallion had now become mere zigzags, since expedition was required for the glazing of enormous spaces.
The creation of the large windows at Sainte-Chapelle established Paris as the leader in the stained glass industry during the latter half of the 13th century. This style can be seen in the windows of the cathedrals in Angers and Clermont, as well as the western rose in Soissons. While these windows are impressive, they don't match the ones from the previous hundred years, when Chartres and St. Denis set the standard. The borders around each medallion had now turned into simple zigzags, as there was a need to quickly glaze massive areas.
The Sainte-Chapelle, as Gothic science, could be carried no farther without violating its own laws and becoming what an English critic said of the late-Gothic of France, “all muscle and glass.” Everywhere was the ascending line accentuated; over the windows are some of the earliest gables extant. They break the horizontal band of the balustrade above, and serve structurally as weights on the longitudinal wall arches.
The Sainte-Chapelle, as a representation of Gothic architecture, reached its limits without breaking its own rules and becoming, as one English critic of late Gothic architecture in France put it, “all muscle and glass.” The upward lines were emphasized everywhere; above the windows are some of the earliest gables still in existence. They interrupt the horizontal line of the balustrade above and function structurally as weights on the longitudinal wall arches.
Perhaps it was because the architect felt he was overemphasizing the ascending line that he interrupted the soar of the columns marking the chapel walls, by placing against each shaft the amply draped statue of an apostle—the twelve pillars of the Church. To-day only the forth and fifth statues on the north side are originals; there are merely ancient fragments in the other images. For some time it was thought that the Sainte-Chapelle was the work of Pierre de Montereau, the king’s own architect. A newly discovered record proves that he designed St. Denis’ abbatial, which shows, however, no family likeness with the chapel of the Cité palace. Now, that chapel does display a certain likeness to the façades of Notre Dame’s transept, and it has been suggested that Jean de Chelles, who designed the transept, was the architect of the Sainte-Chapelle.
Maybe the architect felt he was overdoing the upward lines, so he interrupted the height of the columns marking the chapel walls by placing draped statues of apostles—the twelve pillars of the Church—against each column. Today, only the fourth and fifth statues on the north side are original; the others are just ancient fragments. For a while, it was believed that the Sainte-Chapelle was designed by Pierre de Montereau, the king’s architect. A newly discovered document proves he designed St. Denis’ abbey, which, however, doesn’t resemble the chapel of the Cité palace at all. The chapel does resemble the façades of Notre Dame’s transept, and it has been suggested that Jean de Chelles, who designed the transept, was the architect of the Sainte-Chapelle.
ST. JULIEN-LE-PAUVRE[86]
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Paris is the heart. —Henry IV.
Close to the Seine, under the hill of St. Geneviève, stands a small contemporary of the choir of Notre Dame, St. Julien-le-Pauvre, built by the Cistercians of Longpont, about 1180, and claiming as its patrons three saints of the same name, St. Julian, martyr, St. Julian, bishop of Le Mans, and a humble St. Julian who had founded a hospice for pilgrims by the Seine and used to help the poor across the river. It is said that a leper whom he was piloting over vanished in midstream, whereupon the people said it had been the Lord himself come to test the holy man’s charity.
Close to the Seine, beneath the hill of St. Geneviève, stands a small contemporary of the Notre Dame choir, St. Julien-le-Pauvre, built by the Cistercians of Longpont around 1180. It honors three saints with the same name: St. Julian, a martyr; St. Julian, bishop of Le Mans; and a humble St. Julian who founded a hospice for pilgrims by the Seine and helped the poor across the river. It’s said that a leper he was helping across disappeared in midstream, leading people to believe it was the Lord himself testing the holy man’s charity.
The western bays of St. Julien-le-Pauvre have been demolished and all that remains intact of the Primary Gothic church are the choir, with three apsidal chapels, the side aisles’ vaulting, and the columns against the side walls. The same sculptor who worked at Notre Dame made the virile capitals of this little church.
The western bays of St. Julien-le-Pauvre have been torn down, and all that's left of the original Gothic church is the choir, which includes three apse chapels, the vaulting of the side aisles, and the columns along the side walls. The same sculptor who worked on Notre Dame created the strong capitals of this small church.
St. Julien to-day is used by the Greek-Melchite rite of Roman Catholics. It long was the patron church of letters and science, and every year from its altar started the procession of the University of Paris to the fair at St. Denis called Lendit, for the solemn purchase of a twelve months’ supply of parchment. The rector of the university led the throng, and so vast was the concourse of students that the head of the procession was in St. Denis’ abbatial before the rear ranks had quitted St. Julien-le-Pauvre. For four hundred years Paris University elected its rector in this little church, and tradition says that Dante prayed here when he crossed the Alps in 1304. In his imagination was then surging his mighty poem, and the men of France have pictured him pausing to muse over the images of Hell at their own cathedral doors. The great exile of Florence was himself the purest product of scholasticism, as impassioned as were the cathedral builders for theology and philosophy, for symmetry and rhythm and the mysterious beauty of numbers. The Divina Commedia was a poetic Summa.
St. Julien today is used by the Greek-Melchite rite of Roman Catholics. It was long the patron church of education and science, and every year from its altar, the procession of the University of Paris started for the fair at St. Denis called Lendit, where they solemnly purchased a year’s supply of parchment. The rector of the university led the crowd, and the number of students was so large that the front of the procession arrived at St. Denis’ abbey before the last ranks had even left St. Julien-le-Pauvre. For four hundred years, Paris University chose its rector in this little church, and tradition says that Dante prayed here when he crossed the Alps in 1304. At that time, his great poem was stirring in his imagination, and the people of France have pictured him stopping to reflect on the images of Hell at their own cathedral doors. The great exile of Florence was himself the purest product of scholasticism, as passionate as the cathedral builders were for theology and philosophy, for symmetry and rhythm, and the mysterious beauty of numbers. The Divina Commedia was a poetic Summa.
ST. GERMAIN-DES-PRÉS, ST. MARTIN-DES-CHAMPS, AND ST. PIERRE-DE-MONTMARTRE[87]
ST. GERMAIN-DES-PRÉS, ST. MARTIN-DES-CHAMPS, AND ST. PIERRE-DE-MONTMARTRE[87]
Ces vénérables bénédictines dont la science n’était égalée que par leur modestie—F. Brunetière.
These esteemed Benedictines, whose knowledge was matched only by their humility—F. Brunetière.
There are in Paris three abbey churches that show steps in the transition to Gothic art: St. Germain of the meadows, St. Martin in the fields, and St. Peter’s church on the martyr’s hill, names that keep alive early Christian traditions—the first bishop and martyr of Paris, St. Peter whom always “the eldest daughter of the Church” was glad to honor; St. Martin, first beloved of the apostles of Gaul, and Bishop Germain (d. 576) who founded outside the city walls the abbey called later by his name, and who helped to Christianize the new Frankish conquerors. So disinterested was he that, to feed the poor, he sold a horse given him by the king; whether riding or walking, the saint-bishop ever went in prayer.
There are three abbey churches in Paris that mark the steps in the transition to Gothic art: St. Germain des Prés, St. Martin des Champs, and St. Peter's Church on the hill of the martyr. These names preserve early Christian traditions—the first bishop and martyr of Paris, St. Peter, whom "the eldest daughter of the Church" was always proud to honor; St. Martin, the first beloved of the apostles of Gaul; and Bishop Germain (d. 576), who founded the abbey just outside the city walls that was later named after him, and who helped to Christianize the new Frankish conquerors. He was so selfless that to feed the poor, he sold a horse given to him by the king; whether riding or walking, the saint-bishop was always in prayer.
The present church of St. Germain-des-Prés has a tower that in part predates the year 1000; it was erected by an abbot who ruled from 990 to 1014, and shows the small stones used at that period. The nave and transept, finished before the XI century closed, under a bishop of Paris who was uncle of Godfrey de Bouillon, comprise the only remaining Romanesque work in the capital. Twice in the XII century the choir was reconstructed by the monks, first about 1125, and at the same time the ancient tower’s upper story was built; and again, after Suger, in 1144, had demonstrated the superiority of Gothic vaulting. St. Germain’s abbot wrote, in 1163, that he had repaired his church in a new fashion. In the ambulatory the round and the pointed arch appeared side by side, and the groin vault was used simultaneously with the diagonals. The capitals were altogether Romanesque, since sculpture changed less swiftly than construction in those transitional years. Perhaps the new choir of St. Germain was not wholly finished when Pope Alexander III dedicated it in 1163, the year that the foundation stone of Notre Dame was laid. The choir’s triforium arches were cut off, later, to lengthen the clearstory windows, and the nave has been revaulted.
The current church of St. Germain-des-Prés has a tower that partially dates back to before the year 1000; it was built by an abbot who was in charge from 990 to 1014, and it features the small stones typical of that era. The nave and transept, completed before the end of the 11th century under a bishop of Paris who was the uncle of Godfrey de Bouillon, represent the only remaining Romanesque work in the city. In the 12th century, the choir was rebuilt twice by the monks, first around 1125, at which time the upper story of the old tower was constructed; and again, after Suger had shown the advantages of Gothic vaulting in 1144. The abbot of St. Germain wrote in 1163 that he had renovated his church in a new style. In the ambulatory, both round and pointed arches appeared side by side, with groin vaults used alongside diagonal ones. The capitals were entirely Romanesque, as sculpture evolved more slowly than construction during those transitional years. It’s possible that the new choir of St. Germain wasn’t fully completed when Pope Alexander III dedicated it in 1163, the same year that the foundation stone of Notre Dame was laid. Later, the triforium arches of the choir were trimmed to enlarge the clerestory windows, and the nave has been re-vaulted.
In the abbey inclosure a Sainte-Chapelle, a cloister, and a refectory were built by Pierre de Montereau; he and his wife, Agnes, were buried in the chapel. Fragments of his work have been collected in the small garden beneath the Carolingian tower of the abbatial, as well as in the gardens of the Musée Cluny.[88] The Revolution entirely wrecked the monk’s quarters.
In the abbey grounds, a Sainte-Chapelle, a cloister, and a refectory were built by Pierre de Montereau; he and his wife, Agnes, were laid to rest in the chapel. Pieces of his work have been gathered in the small garden under the Carolingian tower of the abbey, as well as in the gardens of the Musée Cluny.[88] The Revolution completely destroyed the monks' living quarters.
St. Germain-des-Prés, in popular speech, was The Abbey. Here gathered the learned men of Paris for mental stimulus. In its priceless library, destroyed by the Revolution, worked those famous scholars Dom Luc d’Achery (d. 1685), Dom Mabillon (d. 1707), and Dom Rivet (d. 1749), whose tireless patience and scrupulous respect for historical truth made the name Benedictine a synonym for “savant.” Three monumental works were begun by the XVII-century reformers who renewed the love of letters in the leading monastic houses of France: the Acta Sanctorum; the annals of the Benedictine Order; and that pride of French letters, the Histoire Littéraire de la France, which to-day the Institute of France is continuing. “Gros livres inutiles,” Voltaire glibly called the invaluable books which for the modern school of mediæval archæology have made flesh-and-blood men of the old prelate-builders of cathedrals.
St. Germain-des-Prés was commonly known as The Abbey. Here, the intellectuals of Paris came together for inspiration. In its priceless library, which was destroyed during the Revolution, worked renowned scholars like Dom Luc d’Achery (d. 1685), Dom Mabillon (d. 1707), and Dom Rivet (d. 1749), whose relentless patience and careful commitment to historical accuracy made the name Benedictine synonymous with “scholar.” Three significant works were started by the 17th-century reformers who renewed the love of literature in the leading monastic houses of France: the Acta Sanctorum; the annals of the Benedictine Order; and the pride of French literature, the Histoire Littéraire de la France, which is still being continued today by the Institute of France. Voltaire casually referred to these invaluable books as “Gros livres inutiles,” yet they have brought to life the old prelate-builders of cathedrals for the modern study of medieval archaeology.
The parts which have survived of that other notable Benedictine establishment in Paris, St. Martin-des-Champs, are now comprised in the Arts et Métiers establishment. Affiliated with great Cluny, St. Martin’s priory was as like it, said Peter the Venerable, as seal is like signet. To-day in the ancient church is installed an exhibit of machinery. The beautiful hall, once the monks’ refectory, and now a technical library, is thought to be the work of Pierre de Montereau. The slender pillars dividing it into two aisles, the well-carved capitals, the elaborate keystones, and the portal’s foliage all belong to the golden hour of the national art.
The remaining parts of the other famous Benedictine institution in Paris, St. Martin-des-Champs, are now part of the Arts et Métiers institution. Connected to the great Cluny, St. Martin’s priory was, as Peter the Venerable said, just as similar as a seal is to a signet. Today, the old church houses an exhibit of machinery. The beautiful hall, which used to be the monks’ dining room and is now a technical library, is believed to have been designed by Pierre de Montereau. The slender pillars that separate it into two aisles, the finely carved capitals, the intricate keystones, and the detailed foliage of the portal all belong to the golden age of national art.
For the student it is the choir of the church (c. 1135), built by the prior who surrounded the monastery lands with walls (1130-40), which is of chief interest, for in it were taken marked strides in the advance of Gothic structure. Here first was attempted a double ambulatory, an idea which Suger within a few years was to carry out in its fulfillment at St. Denis. The Lady chapel, a lobed half dome—the sacred trefoil—developed further the ribbed apse first found at Bury (c. 1125); here the ribs are structural, not merely decorative. Like other monuments of the transitional hour, St. Martin used simultaneously intersecting ribs and groins, round and pointed arches. Its XIII-century nave was never vaulted.
For the student, the choir of the church (c. 1135), built by the prior who enclosed the monastery lands with walls (1130-40), is the main point of interest, as it marked significant advancements in Gothic architecture. Here, a double ambulatory was first attempted, an idea that Suger would fulfill a few years later at St. Denis. The Lady chapel features a lobed half dome—the sacred trefoil—that further developed the ribbed apse first seen at Bury (c. 1125); in this structure, the ribs are functional, not just decorative. Like other monuments from this transitional period, St. Martin simultaneously employed intersecting ribs and groins, along with round and pointed arches. Its 13th-century nave was never vaulted.
The third monument of the capital which shows other stumbling first steps of the national art is the little church of St. Pierre under the towering new basilica of the Sacred Heart on Montmartre.[89] Till the XII century there stood on the site of St. Pierre a church dedicated to St. Denis, for tradition said that the first martyr of Paris had here been interred until his relics were removed to the new abbey of St. Denis on the Roman road outside Paris. In the crypt, by St. Peter’s, on Montmartre, it is said that the earliest Christians of the region held their rites. And to that hallowed spot has come many a soul to beseech enlightenment on the eve of some projected good work. Here, in 1534, St. Ignatius Loyola, St. Francis Xavier, and the first Jesuits passed a night in prayer and vowed themselves to God’s service. Here came St. Francis de Sales before founding the Visitation Order, St. Vincent de Paul before founding the Lazarists, and M. Olier before he organized St. Sulpice. Ursulines and Carmelites also have memories with St. Pierre-de-Montmartre.
The third monument of the capital that reflects the early struggles of national art is the small church of St. Pierre beneath the towering new basilica of the Sacred Heart on Montmartre.[89] Until the 12th century, there was a church on the site of St. Pierre dedicated to St. Denis, since tradition holds that the first martyr of Paris was buried here until his relics were moved to the new abbey of St. Denis on the Roman road outside Paris. It is said that the earliest Christians in the area held their services in the crypt beside St. Peter’s on Montmartre. Many souls have come to that sacred spot seeking guidance before embarking on a significant endeavor. In 1534, St. Ignatius Loyola, St. Francis Xavier, and the first Jesuits spent a night in prayer there and dedicated themselves to God's service. St. Francis de Sales visited before founding the Visitation Order, St. Vincent de Paul visited before establishing the Lazarists, and M. Olier went there before he organized St. Sulpice. The Ursulines and Carmelites also have their memories connected to St. Pierre-de-Montmartre.
A Benedictine priory was installed here by Louis VI and his queen, Adelaide, niece of Pope Calixtus II of the Capetian house of Burgundy. They began the present church as Romanesque, but soon the new system of vaulting was employed. Slowly but consecutively throughout the XII century St. Peter’s church was built. Its oldest Gothic vault is the one over the section of the choir preceding the apse; the stout ribs have profiles like those which Abbot Suger was making about that same time in the forechurch of his abbatial.
A Benedictine priory was established here by Louis VI and his queen, Adelaide, who was the niece of Pope Calixtus II from the Capetian house of Burgundy. They started building the current church in the Romanesque style, but soon incorporated the new vaulting technique. Throughout the 12th century, St. Peter’s church was gradually constructed. Its oldest Gothic vault is located over the part of the choir before the apse; the thick ribs have profiles similar to those that Abbot Suger was creating around the same time in the forechurch of his abbey.
The solemn dedication of St. Pierre-de-Montmartre took place in 1147 with Pope Eugene III officiating and St. Bernard and Peter the Venerable acting as deacon and subdeacon. Since the rebuilding of the apse, at the end of the XII century, numerous reconstructions have gone on in order to preserve the revered church.[90]
The formal dedication of St. Pierre-de-Montmartre happened in 1147, with Pope Eugene III presiding, and St. Bernard and Peter the Venerable serving as deacon and subdeacon. Since the apse was rebuilt at the end of the 12th century, there have been many renovations to maintain the beloved church.[90]
ST. LOUIS AND JOINVILLE[91]
STL AND JOINVILLE__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
From now on, the poor will be able to call out to __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ When the good king died, who knew how to love them so well? —Return of King Louis.
The greatest glory of the Middle Ages was the saint-king himself. He was essentially of his epoch both in his love of theology and his enthusiasm for building. Under his grandfather, Philippe-Auguste, most of the Gothic cathedrals of France were begun. The majority of them continued building under Louis IX. In his reign Beauvais Cathedral was started, that of Meaux rebuilt, as was also St. Denis’ cathedral-like abbatial. There rose now a host of lesser Gothic edifices, such as the Sainte-Chapelle at Paris, the synodal hall at Sens, and the hospital hall at Ourscamp. “And as a writer who has made his book, illuminating it with gold and azure, so our king illuminated his kingdom with the beautiful abbeys he built,” wrote his friend Joinville.
The greatest glory of the Middle Ages was the saint-king himself. He truly represented his time, both in his passion for theology and his excitement for construction. Under his grandfather, Philippe-Auguste, most of the Gothic cathedrals in France were started. Many continued to be built during Louis IX's reign. During his time, Beauvais Cathedral was begun, Meaux Cathedral was rebuilt, and St. Denis' abbey was also restored. Numerous smaller Gothic buildings were constructed, like Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, the synodal hall in Sens, and the hospital hall in Ourscamp. “And just as a writer who has finished his book adorns it with gold and blue, our king adorned his kingdom with the beautiful abbeys he built,” wrote his friend Joinville.
All too many of his abbatials have been swept away—Royaumont,[92] built with the proceeds from his father’s jewels, where Louis IX had worked side by side with the masons, where he had passed his saddest hours, for in its church was laid to rest his promising eldest son, whose beautiful tomb now is harbored at St. Denis. Gone, too, is Maubuisson Abbey, where was buried his mother, Blanche of Castile. Her bronze tomb was melted up and made into cannon during the Revolution, but one knows that the something high and Spanish in Blanche (whom her contemporaries compared to stag and eagle) would have preferred a cannon to the copper pennies into which were transmuted all too many of the ancient tombs. The mother of St. Louis was a woman cast in a heroic mold, daughter of that Spanish king who at Las Navas de Toloso saved Europe from an avalanche of 400,000 Mussulmans and granddaughter of art-loving Aliénor of Aquitaine and Henry II, Plantagenet.
Too many of his abbeys have been lost—Royaumont,[92] built with the money from his father's jewels, where Louis IX worked alongside the masons, where he spent his saddest moments, for in its church lay his promising eldest son, whose beautiful tomb is now at St. Denis. Also gone is Maubuisson Abbey, where his mother, Blanche of Castile, was buried. Her bronze tomb was melted down for cannon during the Revolution, but one knows that the noble and Spanish spirit in Blanche (who her contemporaries compared to a stag and an eagle) would have preferred a cannon to the copper coins that so many ancient tombs were turned into. The mother of St. Louis was a woman of heroic stature, the daughter of the Spanish king who at Las Navas de Toloso saved Europe from an onslaught of 400,000 Muslims and the granddaughter of the art-loving Aliénor of Aquitaine and Henry II, Plantagenet.
The prudence of Blanche of Castile saved the kingdom for her son against the insurgent barons of France. She hastened to have him crowned at Rheims, in 1226, in the same year that St. Francis died, in Italy. It is said that the lad of twelve held up firmly the sword of the Emperor Charlemagne, whose blood ran in his veins. The barons tried to kidnap the young king from his mother, and when he escaped the snare and rode back to Paris all the countryside poured out to bless him. Years later he told Joinville it was from that hour he dedicated himself to the welfare of his people.
The wisdom of Blanche of Castile saved the kingdom for her son from the rebelling barons of France. She quickly arranged for him to be crowned in Rheims in 1226, the same year that St. Francis died in Italy. It's said that the twelve-year-old held the sword of Emperor Charlemagne firmly, as it ran in his blood. The barons tried to kidnap the young king from his mother, but when he evaded their trap and rode back to Paris, the entire countryside came out to bless him. Years later, he told Joinville that it was from that moment he committed himself to the well-being of his people.
In 1234, at twenty, he was married in Sens Cathedral to a princess of the cultivated house of Provence; Dante has a line for the daughters of Raymond Berenger IV, patron of the troubadours: “Four daughters had he and each a queen.”[93] Marguerite of Provence was somewhat overridden by the stronger personality of Blanche, her mother-in-law. For his valiant mother, Louis IX retained always a passionate admiration. On his first crusade he left his kingdom in her charge, which, however, he did not do for his queen, when he last went crusading. He had seen her sister, on the throne of England, tamper with that country’s interests for the advancement of her own family, and he recognized in his Marguerite a strain of the same intriguing. She could rise to her lord’s level, however, and was his faithful lifelong companion. A sublime word of hers has come down to us: they were sailing back to France after four years’ sojourn in Palestine; off Cyprus the ship was well-nigh wrecked, and an attendant rushed to ask if he should awaken the royal children. “No,” cried the queen, “let them go to God in their sleep.”
In 1234, at the age of twenty, he got married in Sens Cathedral to a princess from the cultured house of Provence; Dante mentioned the daughters of Raymond Berenger IV, the patron of the troubadours: “He had four daughters, and each was a queen.”[93] Marguerite of Provence was somewhat overshadowed by the stronger personality of her mother-in-law, Blanche. Louis IX always held a deep admiration for his brave mother. During his first crusade, he entrusted his kingdom to her, which he didn't do for his queen on his last crusade. He had seen her sister, on the throne of England, manipulate the country's interests for the benefit of her own family, and he recognized a similar tendency in Marguerite. However, she could rise to the occasion and remained his loyal companion for life. A profound remark of hers has been remembered: they were sailing back to France after spending four years in Palestine; off the coast of Cyprus, their ship nearly sank, and an attendant hurried to ask if he should wake the royal children. “No,” the queen said, “let them go to God in their sleep.”
That a king whose forebears had fought in all the crusades should, in his turn, strike a blow for Christendom, was inevitable. Jerusalem had fallen in 1244, and the instinct of Europe felt the menace of the Mongol advance from the East. Was not the fate of Spain close at hand to prove the possibility of Oriental invasion? So St. Louis took the crusader’s vow, and with him went the turbulent lords whose departure gave France some needed years of peace. He had in vain tried to negotiate peace between Papacy and Empire, in whose protracted duel he remained neutral.
That a king whose ancestors had fought in all the crusades would, in turn, fight for Christendom was inevitable. Jerusalem fell in 1244, and Europe sensed the threat of the Mongol advance from the East. Wasn’t the situation in Spain a clear warning of the possibility of an invasion from the East? So, St. Louis took the vow of a crusader, and with him went the restless lords whose departure gave France several much-needed years of peace. He had unsuccessfully tried to negotiate peace between the Papacy and the Empire, remaining neutral in their prolonged conflict.
In Cyprus, in 1248, the crusaders paused before descending on Egypt, and there St. Louis and Joinville drew together. The hereditary seneschal of Champagne was a very great lord, his mother being of Burgundy’s Capetian line, and his Joinville forebears notable crusaders.[94] The contingent which he provided for the holy wars consisted of nine knights and seven hundred men, but because of the long winter’s halt in Cyprus he found himself in straits to meet their expenses. Louis IX, ten years his senior, came to his aid, although the ruler of Champagne and not the king of France was Joinville’s suzerain. Side by side the two friends went through the disastrous campaign in Egypt—the delayed march on Cairo, which ended in Mansourah’s defeat. Together they shared imprisonment, and the king’s elevation of soul won the Mussulmans’ respect. Then, their ransom paid, they sailed together for Palestine, and there, in the daily intimacy of years, the affection of these two loyal knights struck deep root. To Joinville the king intrusted his wife and children in the perilous overland journey in Syria, before they embarked for France.
In Cyprus, in 1248, the crusaders took a break before heading to Egypt, where St. Louis and Joinville connected. The hereditary seneschal of Champagne was a significant lord, as his mother came from Burgundy’s Capetian line, and his ancestors in Joinville were notable crusaders.[94] The group he supplied for the holy wars included nine knights and seven hundred men, but due to the long winter stoppage in Cyprus, he struggled to cover their expenses. Louis IX, who was ten years older, came to his rescue, even though the ruler of Champagne was Joinville’s lord, not the king of France. The two friends faced the unfortunate campaign in Egypt together—the delayed march on Cairo, which ended in defeat at Mansourah. They shared imprisonment, and the king’s noble spirit earned the respect of the Muslims. Once their ransom was paid, they sailed together to Palestine, where, during their years of close friendship, the bond between these two loyal knights grew strong. Joinville was entrusted by the king with his wife and children during the dangerous overland journey in Syria before they set sail for France.
When, in 1254, Louis IX came back from the East, he gave himself up for fifteen years to his country’s welfare, “the most conscientious man who ever sat on a throne,” touched to the core by that divine unrest which is man’s highest faculty and does lasting work for God, revered by the “little people of the Lord” as their champion for justice and social progress. “Il est en doulce France un bon roy Loeys,” sang the minstrels then. Never did king love more la doulce France and prove it more conclusively. Justice was inherent in him. A most sensitive feeling of duty ruled his every act. Yet he knew how to mete out deserved punishment unflinchingly. From his shrewd and capable grandfather, so little of a saint, he had learned that no one could govern well who could not refuse as well as grant.
When, in 1254, Louis IX returned from the East, he dedicated himself to his country's well-being for fifteen years, being “the most conscientious man who ever sat on a throne,” deeply moved by that divine restlessness which is humanity’s highest ability and does lasting work for God. He was revered by the “little people of the Lord” as their champion for justice and social progress. “Il est en doulce France un bon roy Loeys,” sang the minstrels back then. Never did a king love la doulce France more or prove it more clearly. Justice was instinctive to him. A profound sense of duty governed all his actions. Yet he knew how to administer deserved punishment without hesitation. From his shrewd and capable grandfather, who was far from a saint, he had learned that no one could govern well if they couldn’t refuse as well as grant.
That Louis IX understood his age is shown in his dealings with the feudal system. He made no attempt to destroy it, which would then have been impossible, and, moreover, his respect for the rights of others always kept him from extreme measures; but he regulated its excesses, knowing that organized anarchy could be broken only by organized laws. One of the best laws he passed was that of the quarantaine-le-roy, which forbade any baron to wage war on his fellows without a notice of forty days. The king favored the written law to offset the law of custom, on which feudal abuses were based. During a generation he had his agents all over France collect old laws and customs—Roman law, canon law, feudal privileges, and from their composite mass was created the great code called the Établissements de St. Louis. He substituted jurisprudence by inquest, and witnesses for that by force, and he made a supreme court by instituting the right of appeal. Admirable were some of his treaties such as that which made the Pyrenees the natural boundary between Spain and France. His reform of the coinage was another link of unity for France.
That Louis IX understood his time is evident in how he dealt with the feudal system. He didn’t try to destroy it, which would have been impossible, and his respect for others' rights kept him from taking extreme actions; instead, he regulated its excesses, knowing that organized chaos could only be resolved by organized laws. One of the best laws he enacted was the quarantaine-le-roy, which prohibited any baron from waging war against others without a notice of forty days. The king preferred written law to counter the customs that led to feudal abuses. For a generation, he sent agents throughout France to gather old laws and customs—Roman law, canon law, feudal privileges—and from this collected body, he created the great code known as the Établissements de St. Louis. He replaced force with inquest-based legal proceedings and introduced witnesses, and he established a supreme court by allowing the right of appeal. Some of his treaties, like the one that set the Pyrenees as the natural boundary between Spain and France, were remarkable. His reforms to the currency also helped unify France.
In Paris he organized a police, protected commerce by regulations, put an end to the selling of magistratures, and he began, there, the library which to-day is the richest in Europe. In the garden of the Cité and under the oaks of Vincennes, the king held open courts of justice, and when his youngest brother, Charles d’Anjou,[95] tried to browbeat one of lesser rank, the king gave a legal councilor to the poor knight who won the case against the prince. Louis IX’s very enemies chose him as arbiter. Little wonder that the people of France have sung of him:
In Paris, he set up a police force, regulated commerce, put an end to the sale of judicial positions, and started the library that is now the largest in Europe. In the garden of the Cité and under the oaks of Vincennes, the king held open courts of justice. When his youngest brother, Charles d’Anjou,[95] tried to intimidate a noble of lower rank, the king provided a legal counselor to the humble knight, who ended up winning the case against the prince. Even Louis IX’s enemies chose him as their arbitrator. It's no surprise that the people of France have sung his praises:
Simple, ignorant support Pauvres, mendians soutenus,
Observant de Jhusys faith,
Fear God—
Ha! the good King!
Joinville has drawn for all time the picture of the years between the saint-king’s two crusades, a golden age, if ever there was one. The friendship begun during their years of Syrian comradeship continued, and the seneschal often came up to Paris. It was he who arranged the marriage of the king’s daughter with his own suzerain, the son of Thibaut IV, the song maker, in whose court of Champagne Joinville had acquired his delightful mode of speech.
Joinville has forever captured the image of the years between the saint-king’s two crusades, a golden era, if there ever was one. The friendship that started during their time together in Syria continued, and the seneschal often traveled to Paris. He was the one who organized the marriage of the king’s daughter to his own lord, the son of Thibaut IV, the songwriter, in whose court of Champagne Joinville had developed his charming way of speaking.
Then, again, came the call of the East. Jaffa and Antioch had fallen to Islam, and the condition of the Oriental Christians was heartrending. Louis IX could not resist their cry for aid. In 1270, twenty-two years after his first departure from Aigues-Mortes, the king sailed again from that half-finished fort by the dead waters. Joinville was not with him, for he was needed by his “little people,” an excuse which his friend acknowledged.
Then, once more, the call of the East emerged. Jaffa and Antioch had fallen to Islam, and the situation for the Eastern Christians was heartbreaking. Louis IX couldn't ignore their plea for help. In 1270, twenty-two years after his initial departure from Aigues-Mortes, the king set sail again from that incomplete fort by the still waters. Joinville was not with him, as he was needed by his "little people," a reason his friend accepted.
The crusaders had scarcely landed on the coast of Africa when plague struck them down. First died Tristan, the son born to St. Louis in the sorrowful, earlier days in Egypt. Then the saint-king himself passed away; and on his lips was the prayer that his race might learn to despise the prosperity of this world and not to fear adversity, and that France might never deny the name of Christ. The night before he died they heard him singing, “Nous irons en Jerusalem,” the holy city he had never seen, the aspiration, the magic name that stirred those strong generations.[96] Before the century closed the Church canonized him. “House of France,” announced the pope, “rejoice to have given the world so great a prince, and to heaven so great a saint. People of France, rejoice to have had so great a king.”
The crusaders had barely landed on the coast of Africa when plague struck them down. First, Tristan, the son born to St. Louis during the sorrowful days in Egypt, died. Then the saint-king himself passed away, and on his lips was the prayer that his lineage might learn to despise the wealth of this world and not fear hardship, and that France might never deny the name of Christ. The night before he died, they heard him singing, “Nous irons en Jerusalem,” the holy city he had never seen, the aspiration, the magic name that inspired those strong generations.[96] Before the century ended, the Church canonized him. “House of France,” announced the pope, “rejoice to have given the world such a great prince, and to heaven such a great saint. People of France, rejoice to have had such a great king.”
“If ever the golden age of the good old times existed,” wrote Sainte-Beuve, “it certainly was under St. Louis, and it is by the pen of Joinville that it exists for us. They believed then in their king, they believed above all in their God, as if God were present in the smallest occurrences of daily life.” In the Histoire de St. Louis by Jean, sire de Joinville, there is not a mawkish note, and considering what happens to too many saints in their biographies, it must be acknowledged that the seneschal accomplished a feat. As depicted by his contemporaries, Louis IX is so convincingly himself that later efforts to stereotype him as the sacristan’s ideal of piety have failed. His “pleasant manner of speech seasoned with wit” had nothing of the prig in it. From his childhood to his deathbed of ashes in ancient Carthage (birthplace of his favorite Augustine), St. Louis possessed a direct personal touch with God. “Beau Sire Dieu, garde-moi mes gens!” he rose at night to petition with insistent outstretched arms when, in Egypt, the “Greek fire” was hurled into the Christian camp. And Joinville, who had a wholesome dread of the Saracens’ projectiles, turned to rest, feeling secure while such prayers were beseeching Heaven.
“If the golden age of the good old times ever existed,” wrote Sainte-Beuve, “it definitely was during St. Louis’s reign, and it’s through Joinville’s writing that it lives on for us. Back then, people believed in their king and, above all, in their God, as if God were part of every little detail of everyday life.” In the Histoire de St. Louis by Jean, sire de Joinville, there’s not a sentimental note, and considering what often happens to many saints in their biographies, it has to be said that the seneschal achieved something remarkable. According to his contemporaries, Louis IX is so genuinely himself that later attempts to portray him as the ideal of piety have fallen short. His “charming way of speaking, sprinkled with wit,” lacked any stuffiness. From his childhood to his deathbed made of ashes in ancient Carthage (the birthplace of his favorite Augustine), St. Louis had a direct personal connection with God. “Beau Sire Dieu, garde-moi mes gens!” he would rise at night to pray with outstretched arms when, in Egypt, the “Greek fire” was thrown into the Christian camp. And Joinville, who had a healthy fear of the Saracens’ projectiles, went to rest feeling secure while such prayers were sent up to Heaven.
Louis IX was a tireless student of the Bible and works of the Church Fathers. He had a passion for the liturgy. The number of hours which he spent in prayer has roused the sarcasm of our indifferent generation. His hours before the Tabernacle bore fruit in deeds. His temper was naturally quick, and he had a keen sense of irony, but his friend, the seneschal, was able to bear witness, at his canonization process, that in an intimacy of over twenty years never had he heard a word of disparagement of others fall from the king’s lips. “There was something in the mere sight of him that found a way to the heart and affections,” wrote one who knew him; “the eyes of a dove,” said another. “He seemed pierced to the heart with pity for the unfortunate,” wrote Queen Marguerite’s chaplain who had daily intercourse with him. An observant Italian who saw the king on his way to his first crusade described the something of rare refinement and grace in his bearing.
Louis IX was a devoted student of the Bible and the writings of the Church Fathers. He had a love for the liturgy. The amount of time he spent in prayer has drawn mockery from our indifferent generation. His hours spent before the Tabernacle led to meaningful actions. Although he had a naturally quick temper and a sharp sense of irony, his friend, the seneschal, testified during his canonization process that in over twenty years of friendship, he never once heard the king speak negatively about others. “There was something in just seeing him that touched the heart and feelings,” wrote someone who knew him; “the eyes of a dove,” said another. “He seemed deeply moved with compassion for the unfortunate,” wrote Queen Marguerite’s chaplain who interacted with him daily. An observant Italian who saw the king on his way to his first crusade noted his rare refinement and grace in how he carried himself.
Not a touch of self-consciousness was in Louis; barefooted, in a white tunic, he carried the Crown of Thorns through the streets of Paris. In his sublime other-worldliness, he bathed the feet of beggars, dressed the sores of lepers, and when he felt that his soul needed it he scourged himself. And at the same time he was a model of knightly prowess, who many a time had fought
Not a bit of self-consciousness was in Louis; barefoot in a white tunic, he carried the Crown of Thorns through the streets of Paris. In his sublime, otherworldly state, he washed the feet of beggars, tended to the sores of lepers, and when he felt his soul needed it, he whipped himself. At the same time, he was a perfect example of knightly skill, having fought many times.
Streaming the flag of the Christian cross
Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens.[97]
At the battle of Mansourah, Joinville saw the king, “the most beautiful of men,” to his eyes, fair, gallant, in stature head and shoulders above those around him, defend himself alone with great slashing sword cuts from the onslaught of six paynims. He was a true prud’homme, a name for which he had a weakness, for to be a prud’homme meant to be a knight, not only bodily, but in one’s soul.
At the battle of Mansourah, Joinville observed the king, “the most handsome of men,” in his view, fair, brave, and towering above everyone else, defending himself solo with powerful sword strokes against six enemies. He was a true prud’homme, a title he cherished, as being a prud’homme meant being a knight, not just in body, but also in spirit.
Side by side with his other-worldliness went a sound practical sense. When his son-in-law, Thibaut V of Champagne, gave overgenerously to a monastery in Provins, all the while that he was in debt, St. Louis asked him was it fair to bestow alms with other people’s money. His personal tastes were unostentatious, but he held court sumptuously when the occasion required, and he advised his lords to dress well so that their wives would love them better. He was ever human; when word came to him in Palestine that the mother he adored had died in France, he shut himself away from sympathy for two days, then sent for the friend he loved best. As Joinville approached, the king opened his arms to him with the cry, “Ah, seneschal, I have lost my mother!”
Side by side with his otherworldly nature was a sound practical sense. When his son-in-law, Thibaut V of Champagne, made a generous donation to a monastery in Provins while being in debt, St. Louis asked him if it was fair to give away charity with other people's money. His personal tastes were modest, but he hosted lavish courts when the occasion called for it, and he advised his lords to dress well so their wives would love them more. He was always human; when he got word in Palestine that his beloved mother had died in France, he isolated himself from sympathy for two days before summoning his closest friend. As Joinville approached, the king opened his arms to him and cried, “Ah, seneschal, I have lost my mother!”
Joinville has recounted a scene which took place between him and his friend, that is one of the fairest things in literature, slight episode though it is. In council, in Palestine, the barons urged the king to return to France. Almost alone, Joinville held out against such a course while their retainers were still unredeemed from captivity. For he remembered how a knight of his family had admonished him: “You are going beyond the seas. Be careful how you come back. For no knight, rich or poor, can return an honored man if he leaves in Saracen hands the humble folk of Our Lord with whom he started forth.”
Joinville shared a moment between him and his friend that is one of the most beautiful in literature, even if it's just a brief episode. In a council in Palestine, the barons pushed the king to return to France. Almost all alone, Joinville opposed this idea while their followers were still trapped. He recalled how a knight from his family had warned him: “You are going overseas. Be mindful of how you come back. No knight, whether rich or poor, can return with honor if he leaves the humble people of Our Lord, with whom he set out, in the hands of the Saracens.”
The king listened in silence at the council, and in silence sat through the banquet that followed, paying no heed to Joinville, who was placed by his side. The seneschal, saddened by what he thought to be his friend’s displeasure, was standing alone, leaning against a casement, thinking that when the others returned to France, he would join the Prince of Antioch, his cousin, till another crusade came to deliver the “little people of the Lord” unransomed still in Egypt. As he leaned against the window bars he felt friendly arms laid about his shoulders: “Have done, Monseigneur,” he cried, thinking it was one of the barons come to mock him, “leave me in peace.” Then the loving hands slipped over his face and he recognized the emerald ring worn by the king. The dear words of mock reproach: “What you, the youngest, dare advise me against all the great and the wise men of France? Tell me, you think I would do wrong in leaving?” Then sturdy Joinville, who paints his friend, too, by the confession, “Never did I lie to him,” made answer, “Yes, Sire, as God is my aid.” “And if I stay, will you stay?” asked the king.
The king listened quietly at the council and sat in silence through the banquet that followed, ignoring Joinville, who sat next to him. The seneschal, feeling upset by what he thought was his friend's discontent, stood alone, leaning against a window, thinking that once everyone returned to France, he would join his cousin, the Prince of Antioch, until another crusade came to rescue the “little people of the Lord” still captured in Egypt. As he leaned against the window bars, he felt friendly arms around his shoulders: “Enough, Monseigneur,” he exclaimed, thinking it was one of the barons come to tease him, “leave me alone.” Then the comforting hands brushed over his face, and he recognized the emerald ring worn by the king. The affectionate words of teasing reproach came: “What? You, the youngest, dare to advise me against all the great and wise men of France? Tell me, do you think I would be wrong to leave?” Then sturdy Joinville, who also describes his friend in his confession, “I never lied to him,” replied, “Yes, Sire, as God is my witness.” “And if I stay, will you stay?” asked the king.
The bloom of the exquisite moment has come to us across the dividing centuries because Joinville was not thinking of making a book when he wrote his reminiscences. His object was to have others understand the gracious distinction, the tender familiarity with him of this king-crusader whom he loved and who loved him. Written artlessly, and in entire good faith, his book is full of that indefinable quality called charm. The seneschal’s honest heart is in its infinitely precious pages.
The beauty of this special moment has reached us across the centuries because Joinville wasn’t trying to write a book when he shared his memories. His goal was for others to understand the kind affection and warm bond he had with this king-crusader whom he admired and who returned that affection. Written simply and sincerely, his book is filled with that indescribable quality called charm. The seneschal’s genuine heart is present in its incredibly valuable pages.
In that other early monument of French prose, the grave Villehardouin rises to the historian’s plane in depicting the Fourth Crusade. Joinville cannot be said to have taken in the Sixth Crusade as a whole; he muddles the battle scenes; he digresses to right and to left in idle details, then catches himself up with happy ease, as if saying, “Dear me! I forgot to mention,” imparting to his chronicle an inimitable quality all its own. No one would have Joinville different. Amiable, jocund, unaffected, the soul of honor, candor itself, he does not fear to acknowledge that he could tremble with fright in battle despite his stalwart six feet and over. He beguiled his captivity by trying to convert a Mohammedan by highly colored descriptions of hell. He whiled away the long hours in Syria in composing a treatise of theology, a Credo, wherein he warns every prud’homme to hold on to God with both arms lest that felon, the devil, come between. And the two arms by which a man was to hold on to God were Faith and Good Works. “You must have both, if you wish to keep God: one without the other is worthless,” warns the young seneschal. No quibbling then!
In that other early example of French prose, the serious Villehardouin steps up as a historian while describing the Fourth Crusade. Joinville can't be said to have fully captured the Sixth Crusade; he confuses the battle scenes, goes off on tangents about trivial details, and then quickly brings himself back, as if to say, “Oh dear! I forgot to mention,” giving his chronicle a unique and personal flair. No one would want Joinville to be any other way. Kind, cheerful, and genuine, with a strong sense of honor and honesty, he isn’t afraid to admit that he could tremble in fear during battle, despite being over six feet tall. He passed the time in captivity by trying to convert a Muslim with vivid descriptions of hell. He spent the long hours in Syria writing a theological treatise, a Credo, where he warns every prud’homme to cling to God with both hands to prevent the wicked one, the devil, from getting in between. The two hands by which a person should hold on to God are Faith and Good Works. “You must have both if you want to keep God: one without the other is useless,” the young seneschal cautions. No arguing about it!
Joinville had also that quality which the French term enjouement, hard to translate, a playful, most lovable frankness, a mocking vivacity which was for St. Louis a source of relaxation. The king loved conversation; he thought there was no book so good as quolibet, or say what you please. Some Armenian pilgrims besought of the seneschal a glimpse of the saint-king. Joinville came merrily to tell his friend, warning him that he, the seneschal, was not yet prepared to kiss his bones. And the king laughed, too, but because he knew it would give the devout Armenians pleasure, he accorded them an interview. Stroke by stroke, Joinville filled in the picture of Louis IX, and all the while he unconsciously paints himself as well. He is so eager to make you love his hero that you learn to love himself. A tear is always close to the eye in reading Joinville, not that what he relates is sad, but because this story of a high soul, written by his loyal friend, touches things that lie deep in all true hearts.
Joinville also had that quality the French call enjouement, which is hard to translate—a playful, incredibly charming honesty, a teasing liveliness that brought St. Louis a sense of relief. The king loved to talk; he believed there was no book better than quolibet, or say whatever you want. Some Armenian pilgrims asked the seneschal for a chance to see the saint-king. Joinville happily went to tell his friend, warning him that he, the seneschal, wasn't ready to kiss his bones yet. The king laughed too, but since he knew it would please the devout Armenians, he agreed to meet with them. Little by little, Joinville painted the picture of Louis IX, and in doing so, he unintentionally portrayed himself as well. He is so eager to make you love his hero that you end up loving him too. A tear is always close to the eye while reading Joinville, not because what he shares is sad, but because this tale of a noble soul, written by his loyal friend, touches on feelings that lie deep within all true hearts.
Joinville was to survive his friend for half a century. He died in 1317. With a character ripened by six years of intimacy with the bon saint-homme roy, he came back from the East and set himself to work for his people’s welfare, the “little people of the Lord” by whom he had stood in their hour of need. He was then but thirty. In his old age he was the accepted arbiter of good taste, admired as the last of a generation of courtesy. When over ninety, this vigorous old crusader rode into Flanders on a military expedition for the crown. He had seen the reigns of six French kings and the passing away of the crusader’s spirit. He had seen his own Champagne become a part of the royal domain, when the heiress Jeanne was married to the grandson of St. Louis. And it was at the bidding of that queen of Philippe-le-Bel that Joinville wrote down his memories of Louis IX.
Joinville outlived his friend by half a century. He died in 1317. With a character shaped by six years of close friendship with the bon saint-homme roy, he returned from the East and committed himself to working for the welfare of his people, the “little people of the Lord,” who had relied on him in their time of need. He was only thirty at the time. In his old age, he became the go-to authority on good taste, admired as the last of a courteous generation. Over age ninety, this spirited old crusader participated in a military campaign in Flanders for the crown. He had witnessed the reigns of six French kings and the decline of the crusader spirit. He saw his own Champagne become part of the royal domain when the heiress Jeanne married the grandson of St. Louis. And it was at the request of that queen of Philippe-le-Bel that Joinville recorded his memories of Louis IX.
France has high advocates to plead for her before the Throne in hours of national peril. Jeanne d’Arc said that she saw St. Louis petitioning God in the dire hour of foreign invasion. “May they never deny Thy name,” prayed the saint-king at Tunis, as he rendered “his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, under whose colors he had fought so long.” And in the men of 1914-18, true prud’hommes after the heart of St. Louis and his dear friend Joinville, stirred the crusader blood of their ancestors.
France has strong advocates to speak on her behalf before the Throne in times of national danger. Joan of Arc said she saw St. Louis praying to God during the critical moment of foreign invasion. "May they never deny Your name," prayed the saint-king in Tunis, as he offered "his pure soul to his captain, Christ, under whose banner he had fought for so long." And among the men of 1914-18, true prud’hommes in the spirit of St. Louis and his close friend Joinville, the crusader blood of their ancestors was stirred.
THE COLLEGIATE OF MANTES[98]
THE COLLEGIATE OF MANTES__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
The king was very well built, of easy bearing and smiling countenance, bald, high-colored, a great eater and drinker. Toward his friends he was most generous; toward those who displeased him he was very firm; in his designs he was foresighted and tenacious, very catholic in his beliefs, and he judged rapidly and with great perspicacity. Easy to arouse, he was also easy to appease. Upon the great who disobeyed him he was hard, and he enjoyed sowing discord among them, and to make use of the little people in his purposes.—Portrait of Philippe-Auguste by a canon of St. Martin, Tours.
The king was well-built, approachable, and had a smiling face; he was bald, had a rosy complexion, and loved to eat and drink a lot. He was very generous with his friends but very strict with those who upset him. He was forward-thinking and persistent, held a wide range of beliefs, and made quick and insightful judgments. He was easy to anger but also easy to calm down. He was tough on the powerful who disobeyed him and took pleasure in creating discord among them, often using common people to achieve his goals.—Portrait of Philippe-Auguste by a canon of St. Martin, Tours.
Notre Dame of Mantes (1160-1200). The Contemporary of
Paris Cathedral
Notre Dame of Mantes (1160-1200). The Contemporary of the Paris Cathedral
From Paris can best be visited the cathedral-like collegiate at Mantes on the Seine to the east, and the cathedral of Meaux on the Marne to the west. Mantes-la-Jolie, the “well-beloved” city of Philippe-Auguste, and where he died in 1223, is set picturesquely above the Seine, in whose widened course are wooded islands. From the bridge crossing the river[99] may be had the best view of the town. The collegiate church of Notre Dame stands above the houses of the pleasant little city, in the high-shouldered way of many a French church. Happily, it has never been reconstructed. It has various traits in common with Notre Dame of Paris, and some think that the same architect planned both.
From Paris, you can best visit the cathedral-like college in Mantes on the Seine to the east, and the cathedral of Meaux on the Marne to the west. Mantes-la-Jolie, the “well-loved” city of Philippe-Auguste, where he died in 1223, is beautifully situated above the Seine, which includes wooded islands in its wider part. From the bridge crossing the river[99] you can get the best view of the town. The Notre Dame collegiate church overlooks the houses of this charming little city, in the tall style typical of many French churches. Fortunately, it has never been remodeled. It shares several features with Notre Dame of Paris, and some believe that the same architect designed both.
Mantes’ Primary Gothic church was begun about 1160, at the same time as the cathedral in the capital, but, being on a lesser scale, it was finished sooner, and thus appears more archaic. Normandy’s Romanesque zigzag ornamentation was still retained, and the cells of certain vault sections show the hesitating rough work of masons as yet unpracticed. While the transverse arches are pointed, those of the diagonal-crossing ribs are round. Too wide an expanse of plain wall space was left between tribune and clearstory, for it was to take half a century longer before architects dared fill their entire upper wall with windows. Like Notre Dame of Paris, the tribunes open on the middle church by wide, graceful arches. And this smaller Notre Dame also has western towers that are connected by an open colonnade. The collegiate has no transept, and one recalls that neither had Paris Cathedral in its first plan. The flying buttresses here are among the first ever made. A striking feature of the exterior of the church is the row of litt ble oculi that light the tribunes over the aisles, some of which have been changed to windows of Rayonnant tracery. The deep galleries once were entirely vaulted by transverse half cradles borne on low lintels, an experiment in masonry roofing first tried at Tournus, but which never became popular; at Caen the tribunes of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes had been vaulted by similar half cylinders whose axial lines were at right angles to that of the nave.
Mantes' main Gothic church started around 1160, around the same time as the cathedral in the capital. However, since it’s smaller, it was finished sooner and looks more old-fashioned. Normandy’s Romanesque zigzag decoration was still in use, and some vault sections show the rough work of masons who were still learning their craft. While the transverse arches are pointed, the diagonal-crossing ribs have rounded arches. There’s too much plain wall space between the tribune and clearstory, as it took architects another fifty years to fill the entire upper wall with windows. Like Notre Dame in Paris, the tribunes open to the main church through wide, elegant arches. This smaller Notre Dame also features western towers connected by an open colonnade. The collegiate church lacks a transept, just as Paris Cathedral did in its original design. The flying buttresses here are among the first ever built. A striking aspect of the exterior of the church is the row of small oculi that light the tribunes above the aisles, some of which have been replaced with windows featuring Rayonnant tracery. The deep galleries were originally entirely vaulted with transverse half-cradles supported by low lintels, an experiment in masonry roofing first attempted at Tournus, which never really caught on; at Caen, the tribunes of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes were vaulted with similar half-cylinders whose axial lines were perpendicular to that of the nave.
The first Gothic rose window of big dimensions adorns the west façade of Mantes collegiate. It is what they call plate tracery—that is, the pattern is formed of voids, the window being a group of variously shaped openings, and not, as in bar tracery, a single opening with the pattern made by solids, or stone mullions. The western rose at Laon stands halfway between plate and bar tracery. Mantes’ rose was the prototype for that at Chartres.
The first large Gothic rose window decorates the west façade of Mantes collegiate. It's what they call plate tracery—that is, the design consists of voids, with the window being a collection of openings in different shapes, unlike bar tracery, which is a single opening with the pattern created by solid elements, or stone mullions. The western rose at Laon is a blend of plate and bar tracery. Mantes’ rose served as the model for the one at Chartres.
Like most of the larger XII-century churches, the sexpartite system of vaulting was used. Mantes also followed Noyon and Senlis in having alternating piers and, like Noyon, it showed the Rhenish trait of a western transept, formed by the two lower stories of the towers and the westernmost bay of the middle vessel. Two of the portals are of the XII century, but the largest—the one under the south tower—was made by Raymond du Temple. And probably that same XIV-century architect of Charles V added the gracious chapel of Navarre which is among the best works of Rayonnant Gothic. In it are four charming statuettes of the donors, the princesses of Navarre, portrait work showing personal mannerisms. When the sister of the art-loving Valois king, Charles V, married Charles the Wicked (a scion of Capetian stock who was count in Évreux and king in Navarre) she brought the town of Mantes in her dowry, and it was probably her daughters who are sculptured in this chapel of Navarre—their gift to Mantes collegiate.
Like most of the larger 12th-century churches, the sexpartite system of vaulting was used. Mantes also followed Noyon and Senlis with its alternating piers, and like Noyon, it showed the Rhenish feature of a western transept, formed by the two lower stories of the towers and the westernmost bay of the main vessel. Two of the portals date back to the 12th century, but the largest—the one under the south tower—was created by Raymond du Temple. It was likely that this same 14th-century architect for Charles V added the beautiful chapel of Navarre, which is among the finest examples of Rayonnant Gothic. Inside, there are four charming statuettes of the donors, the princesses of Navarre, depicted with personal details. When the sister of the art-loving Valois king, Charles V, married Charles the Wicked (a descendant of Capetian lineage who was count in Évreux and king in Navarre), she brought the town of Mantes as part of her dowry, and it was probably her daughters who are sculpted in this chapel of Navarre—their gift to Mantes collegiate.
On the site of the present church once stood a Romanesque edifice built by funds donated by William the Conqueror on his deathbed, to atone for his having set fire to the ancient church (1087). Angered by a coarse joke of the French king’s, he had sworn his usual oath, “by the splendor and resurrection of God,” that he would light a hundred thousand candles when he went to his churching Mass; so he marched against his tormentor and set fire to Mantes that lay in his path. For, as Mr. Henry Adams has picturesquely expressed it, “Mantes barred the path of Norman conquest in arms, as in architecture.” As the corpulent Conqueror rode around the place, his horse stumbled, and from the injury then received he died in Rouen in a few weeks. That burning of Mantes by the Duke of Normandy and King of England has been called the prelude to the Hundred Years’ War between France and England, whose actual span was from 1337 to 1453. And in a way Waterloo was its epilogue. The shoulder-to-shoulder fight of the ancient rivals, from 1914 to 1918, let us hope, has put the seal on their pact of peace.
On the site of the current church once stood a Romanesque building funded by donations from William the Conqueror on his deathbed, as a way to atone for having set fire to the ancient church (1087). Upset by a rude joke from the French king, he had sworn his usual oath, “by the splendor and resurrection of God,” that he would light a hundred thousand candles when he attended his church Mass; so he marched against his tormentor and burned Mantes that was in his way. As Mr. Henry Adams vividly put it, “Mantes barred the path of Norman conquest in arms, as in architecture.” While riding around the area, his horse stumbled, and from that injury, he died in Rouen a few weeks later. The burning of Mantes by the Duke of Normandy and King of England has been called the prelude to the Hundred Years’ War between France and England, which lasted from 1337 to 1453. In a way, Waterloo was its epilogue. The direct conflict between the ancient rivals from 1914 to 1918, we hope, has solidified their peace agreement.
White Horsemen who ride white horses, the Knights of God!
They have sacrificed for their Lord and their Lover
Everyone, except for the sweetness of walking where He first walked!
These through the darkness of death, the control of night,
Swept away, and they wake in white spaces at morning. Now, wherever He goes, they go with Him;
White Horsemen riding on white horses, oh, beautiful to behold!
They ride, where the Rivers of Paradise shine and move,
White Horsemen, with Christ as their leader: forever Him!
—Lionel Johnson, The Martyrs' Candidate.[101]
To decipher Meaux Cathedral has been a student’s tour-de-force, so early and unceasing have been its rebuildings. With Troyes and Séez, it was the only Gothic cathedral that had a flaw in its structure. Begun with the choir, in the last decades of the XII century, it still retained the Romanesque idea of deep galleries over the side aisles. Whether poor foundations were laid or whether the tribune vaults were made too cumbersome, the edifice gave signals of insecurity from the start.
Deciphering Meaux Cathedral has been a student's tour-de-force, given its early and ongoing reconstructions. Along with Troyes and Séez, it was the only Gothic cathedral that had a structural flaw. Started with the choir in the last decades of the 12th century, it still kept the Romanesque concept of deep galleries over the side aisles. Whether the foundations were poorly laid or the tribune vaults were too heavy, the building showed signs of instability from the very beginning.
As the XIII century opened, the transept and that part of the nave near it were building with the tribunes still, although by that time such galleries had fallen into disuse. Repeated restorations delayed the works. Cracks continued to show until, about 1270, when the collapse of the whole church was threatened, a complete reconstruction was undertaken by Bishop Jean de Poincy.
As the 13th century began, the transept and the nearby part of the nave were still under construction with the tribunes, even though by that time such galleries were no longer in use. Ongoing restorations caused delays in the work. Cracks continued to appear until around 1270, when the entire church was at risk of collapsing, prompting Bishop Jean de Poincy to initiate a complete reconstruction.
Already, in 1220, the choir had been redone and two more chapels added, making five apsidioles in all. In 1270 they demolished throughout the church the tribunes over the side aisles, and thus the aisles became twice their intended height. In the first three bays of the choir were retained the arches of the tribune, so that now certain bays of the choir aisles open on the central vessel by pier arcades surmounted by false-tribune arches. Striking effect is made in the nave by some giant cylinder piers whose height is double what was originally planned and whose capitals are gems of interpretative sculpture, vine leaf and fern. Much mechanical dexterity was shown in the recutting of piers and the elimination of the tribunes, but even now a few of the shorter columns are to be found embedded in the newer parts, and a few sections of the triforium show their primitive plan.
By 1220, the choir had been renovated and two more chapels added, totaling five apsidioles. In 1270, they removed the tribunes over the side aisles throughout the church, effectively doubling the height of the aisles. The arches of the tribune were kept in the first three bays of the choir, allowing certain bays of the choir aisles to connect to the central nave via pier arcades topped with false-tribune arches. The nave features impressive giant cylinder piers, which are now twice as tall as originally intended, with capitals showcasing exquisite sculptural details of vine leaves and ferns. A great deal of skill was demonstrated in recutting the piers and removing the tribunes, but even now, a few of the shorter columns can be found integrated into the newer sections, and some parts of the triforium still reflect their original design.
By the time Meaux Cathedral was completed it was practically an edifice of the end of the XIII century. Its chief patroness was the queen of Philippe-le-Bel (St. Louis’ grandson), the Jeanne of Champagne who brought that rich province to the Crown, as well as the kingdom of Navarre, the same princess who encouraged Joinville to write his reminiscences. The city of Meaux was in her dowry, and they say that her portrait was carved on a keystone of the choir. When she died, in 1305, she named the bishop of Meaux as her executor and donated a legacy to his church.
By the time Meaux Cathedral was finished, it was pretty much a building from the late 13th century. Its main patron was Queen Jeanne of Champagne, the wife of Philippe le Bel (St. Louis' grandson), who brought that wealthy region into the royal fold, along with the Kingdom of Navarre. She was also the same princess who inspired Joinville to write his memories. The city of Meaux was part of her dowry, and it's said that her portrait was carved into a keystone in the choir. When she died in 1305, she named the bishop of Meaux as her executor and left a donation to his church.
A well-known XIV-century architect, Nicolas de Chaumes, worked on the west façade, two of whose portals are of that period, and one of the XV century. Unfortunately, use was made of a soft stone which time has sadly eroded. Flamboyant Gothic sculpture, with foliage in gracious disorder, appears in the western bays: the undulating flora of the XIV century, and the nervous, deeply indented, pointed leaves of the XV century when such complicated forms as the curly cabbage were taken as models. Wiser were the earlier sculptors who had interpreted and arranged their leaves with architectural fitness. The south portal of Meaux’s transept must have had in mind St. Stephen’s door of the cathedral at Paris. At Meaux the sculptured figures show certain mannerisms, such as the throwing out of one hip, a trait soon to be exaggerated. The carvings throughout the church were mutilated by the Huguenots in 1562, and from that date no further work was done on the edifice. One tower of the façade remains painfully stunted.
A well-known 14th-century architect, Nicolas de Chaumes, worked on the west façade, which has two portals from that time and one from the 15th century. Unfortunately, they used a soft stone that has sadly worn away over time. Flamboyant Gothic sculpture, featuring beautifully disordered foliage, is seen in the western bays: the flowing plants of the 14th century and the sharply defined, pointed leaves of the 15th century, showcasing models like the curly cabbage. The earlier sculptors were wiser in how they interpreted and arranged their leaves with architectural purpose. The south portal of Meaux’s transept likely drew inspiration from St. Stephen’s door of the cathedral in Paris. At Meaux, the sculpted figures exhibit certain style traits, like the tilted hip, a characteristic that would soon be exaggerated. The carvings throughout the church were damaged by the Huguenots in 1562, and since then, no further work has been done on the building. One tower of the façade stands painfully short.
The church of Meaux would stand well in the front rank of Gothic cathedrals were it not for certain flaws of proportion. Such exceptionally high side aisles call for a nave twice as long, and the clearstory appears dwarfed by the lofty pier arcades of the chevet. Yet though made piecemeal, and without uniformity of style in its main parts, Meaux possesses a unity of its own, and its effect as a whole is one of elegance and even radiance.
The church of Meaux would rank among the top Gothic cathedrals if it weren’t for some issues with its proportions. The unusually high side aisles require a nave that is twice as long, and the clearstory seems small compared to the tall pier arcades of the apse. However, even though it was built in sections and lacks a consistent style in its main parts, Meaux has its own sense of unity, and its overall appearance is one of elegance and even brilliance.
The tomb of its greatest bishop is an immense slab of marble in the pavement of the choir. Bossuet devoted himself to his diocese for over twenty years (1681-1704). Frequently he preached in the cathedral built by the generosity of Jeanne of Champagne, the founder of the College of Navarre, where he had studied in his youth. There is something akin in Meaux Cathedral to the high soul and courtliness of Bossuet. The two most religious and national epochs in French history were the XIII and XVII centuries.
The tomb of its greatest bishop is a huge marble slab in the floor of the choir. Bossuet dedicated more than twenty years (1681-1704) to his diocese. He often preached in the cathedral that was built through the generosity of Jeanne of Champagne, the founder of the College of Navarre, where he had studied during his youth. There’s a certain connection between Meaux Cathedral and the high spirit and elegance of Bossuet. The two most religious and national periods in French history were the 13th and 17th centuries.
Few churches in France present a better setting for a festival of solemn joy than the cathedral of Meaux. It is the church for Noël, for the white radiance of First Communion gatherings, for the Te Deum of victory. Fitting is it that the victory of the Marne should here have become a personal heritage. At the very gates of Meaux came the turning of the tide on September 5, 1914, when the thunderous advance on Paris was suddenly arrested. The password for that day of miracle was “Jeanne d’Arc.” Near by, on the Oureq, Jeanne’s troubadour, Péguy,[102] fell on that same September 5th, he who had chanted prophetically:
Few churches in France offer a better backdrop for a festival of solemn joy than the cathedral of Meaux. It’s the church for Noël, for the bright glow of First Communion gatherings, and for the Te Deum of victory. It’s fitting that the victory of the Marne has become a personal legacy here. At the very gates of Meaux, the tide turned on September 5, 1914, when the thunderous march on Paris was suddenly halted. The password for that miraculous day was “Jeanne d’Arc.” Nearby, on the Oureq, Jeanne’s troubadour, Péguy, fell on that same September 5th, he who had chanted prophetically:
Happy are the earthen grains and the harvested wheat,
Happy are those who died in great battles,
Lying on the ground in the presence of God.
Close to Meaux the battle raged outside, and the wounded, in bewildering numbers, were carried into the desolated town which lacked a civic head. The bishop of Meaux, Monseigneur Marbeau, stepped forth as the accepted leader, as in the time of those earlier invasions when the bishops of Gaul saved Latin civilization.
Close to Meaux, the battle was intense outside, and the wounded, in staggering numbers, were brought into the devastated town that had no city leader. The bishop of Meaux, Monseigneur Marbeau, emerged as the recognized leader, just like during those earlier invasions when the bishops of Gaul preserved Latin civilization.
Again, in 1918, the invader drew perilously near, and a second victory of the Marne swept back the avalanche. From the fields around the city forever will an invisible white army of martyrs swell this cathedral’s Te Deum. In Meaux on the Marne, God will always be the omnipotent Lord God of Battles, the Dominus Deus Sabaoth of the great hymn of thanksgiving.[103]
Again, in 1918, the enemy came dangerously close, and a second victory at the Marne pushed back the onslaught. From the fields surrounding the city, an invisible white army of martyrs will forever add to this cathedral’s Te Deum. In Meaux on the Marne, God will always be the all-powerful Lord God of Battles, the Dominus Deus Sabaoth of the great hymn of thanksgiving.[103]
The Cathedral of Meaux, Viewed from the Nave’s Aisle
The Cathedral of Meaux, Viewed from the Side Aisle
CHAPTER V
Era of the Great Cathedrals, Chartres, Rheims, Amiens
Where the devoted figures of saints and kings,
Stern faces blurred from ages of watching,
Gazed down with a kind yet serious expression, and seemed to say:
"You come and go endlessly, we stay." Safe in the sacred silence of the past.
Be respectful, you who drift and are forgotten
Of faith made so clear and real as this.
—James Russell Lowell, The Cathedral.
F the four master cathedrals of France, that of Paris was begun first.
Thirty years later, in 1194, the cornerstone of Chartres was laid, that
of Rheims in 1211, and that of Amiens in 1220. In the case of Chartres,
Rheims, and Amiens, rebuilding was undertaken when fire had destroyed
their Romanesque cathedrals. All four of these great churches have the
same patroness, Our Lady, “the glorious mother of God, our advocate
against our enemy of hell”—thus those generations spoke of her of whom
Dante chanted: “Lady, thou art so great, and hast such worth that if
there be who would have grace, yet betaketh not himself to thee, his
longing seeketh to fly without wings.”[104]
The four main cathedrals of France started with the one in Paris. Thirty years later, in 1194, the foundation of Chartres was laid, followed by Rheims in 1211, and Amiens in 1220. For Chartres, Rheims, and Amiens, rebuilding took place after fire had destroyed their Romanesque cathedrals. All four of these magnificent churches share the same patroness, Our Lady, “the glorious mother of God, our advocate against our enemy of hell”—this is how people referred to her in those times, of whom Dante wrote: “Lady, you are so great and have such worth that if anyone seeks grace but does not turn to you, their desire tries to fly without wings.”[104]
It is difficult for many a modern mind to understand the passion of spiritual chivalry felt by the generations that built cathedrals for her whom they called their sovereign lady, but unless some comprehension of that mystic ideal is grasped no complete sympathy for mediæval art is possible. Mr. George Santayana, who would renew our sense of the moral identity of all the ages, may see in the mediæval devotion to Our Lady a development of Platonic love, which he calls the transformation of the love of beauty into the worship of an ideal beauty, the transformation of the love of a creature into the love of God. All love is to lead to God. All true beauty leads to the idea of perfection, said Michael Angelo, who practiced Platonism, even as had Dante, who was of the very essence of the great scholastic century that built Chartres, Rheims, and Amiens.
It can be hard for many people today to grasp the intense emotional connection to spiritual chivalry that drove the generations who built cathedrals for what they called their sovereign lady. Without some understanding of that mystical ideal, it's impossible to fully appreciate medieval art. Mr. George Santayana, who wants to awaken our awareness of the moral connections across ages, might see in the medieval devotion to Our Lady a form of Platonic love. He describes this as the shift from loving beauty to worshiping an ideal beauty, moving from the love of a person to the love of God. All love should lead to God. According to Michelangelo, all true beauty points to the idea of perfection. He embraced Platonism, just like Dante, who is at the heart of the great scholastic era that created Chartres, Rheims, and Amiens.
Chartres was Our Lady’s shrine in a peculiar way, her “special chamber.” A local tradition, so old that it reached back to the dimmest past, told of a prophecy concerning a virgin mother, pronounced by the Druids, a hundred years before the Christian era on the site where Chartres now stands, and in the cathedral first built on the revered spot the bishop retained a pagan well which from time immemorial had been honored by the populace. That Puits des Saints-Forts has been included in the crypt of each succeeding cathedral of Chartres. Finally some priggish XVII-century prelates looked with disfavor on the policy, advocated by the apostle of the gentiles, to make use of the ancient superstition for the spread of the true faith. So the pagan well was filled in, and trace of it was lost till M. René Merlet discovered it in 1900 and had it excavated.
Chartres was uniquely Our Lady’s shrine, her “special chamber.” An old local tradition, so ancient that it stretches back to the earliest times, spoke of a prophecy about a virgin mother, proclaimed by the Druids a hundred years before the Christian era on the very site where Chartres now exists. In the cathedral that was first built on this sacred ground, the bishop preserved a pagan well that had been venerated by the people for as long as anyone could remember. That Puits des Saints-Forts has been part of the crypt of each new cathedral of Chartres. Eventually, some prudish 17th-century bishops disapproved of the approach, supported by the apostle of the gentiles, to use the old superstition to promote the true faith. So, the pagan well was filled in, and any trace of it was lost until M. René Merlet found it in 1900 and had it excavated.
That Chartres was a meeting place of the Druids, we know from Cæsar, and the XIII-century sons of the Gauls, as if in souvenir, carved the druidical oak leaf freely upon the present cathedral. Is it fanciful to feel that in the grave forest stillness of Chartres’ interior lingers much of the theocratic nostalgia that forever haunts the Celt? In druidic times priest, teacher, and lawmaker were honored above brute force of arms. The present crypt of Chartres includes part of the Gallo-Roman walls. The V-century Merovingian cathedral abutted on the city ramparts. Then came wars which in part demolished the town walls, so that the reconstructed church was able to extend itself beyond the ramparts. It was doubtless after the Norman inroads that was built, in the IX century, the chapel of St. Lupus which forms the core of the present crypt. The Carolingian cathedral of Chartres was destroyed by a terrible fire in 1020.
That Chartres was a gathering place for the Druids is known from Cæsar, and the 13th-century descendants of the Gauls, as a memory, carved the druid oak leaf freely into the current cathedral. Is it too much to think that in the solemn forest silence of Chartres' interior, a lot of the theocratic longing that continually affects the Celt still lingers? In druidic times, priests, teachers, and lawmakers were valued more than mere physical power. The current crypt of Chartres contains part of the Gallo-Roman walls. The 5th-century Merovingian cathedral was adjacent to the city walls. Then came wars that partially destroyed the town's defenses, allowing the rebuilt church to extend beyond the ramparts. It was probably after the Norman invasions that the chapel of St. Lupus was built in the 9th century, which is at the heart of the present crypt. The Carolingian cathedral of Chartres was ruined by a devastating fire in 1020.
Now, in 1020, the see of Chartres was occupied by one of the notable bishops of French history, Fulbert (1007-29), revered of the people, a scholar enamored of the life of study, though the events of that agitated age forced him to play an active part in the national life. Like Abbot Suger, he was of lowly extraction. He had studied in the cathedral school of Rheims, made notable by Archbishop Gerbert, who later became Sylvester II, the pope of the year 1000. Fulbert, too, like his master, was a versatile genius—doctor in medicine as well as theologian, and one of the first to take up the new musical system of the Benedictine Guy d’Arezzo. He made the cathedral school of Chartres a center of learning, and men who were to be the leaders of the age were his pupils. Like Socrates, he taught his disciples as they paced up and down the cathedral precincts. In his exhortations there was an appealing tenderness that had a singular power in moving men’s hearts, and letters from his pupils still exist, complaining of the exile they felt when separated from him.[107]
Now, in 1020, the see of Chartres was held by one of the prominent bishops in French history, Fulbert (1007-29), respected by the people, a scholar deeply devoted to study, though the turmoil of the time forced him to take an active role in national affairs. Like Abbot Suger, he came from humble beginnings. He studied at the cathedral school of Rheims, notable for Archbishop Gerbert, who later became Pope Sylvester II in the year 1000. Fulbert, like his mentor, was a multifaceted genius—he held degrees in medicine as well as theology, and was among the first to adopt the new musical system by the Benedictine Guy d’Arezzo. He transformed the cathedral school of Chartres into a center of learning, and his students went on to become the leaders of the time. Like Socrates, he taught his disciples as they walked around the cathedral grounds. His encouragement had a touching warmth that powerfully moved people's hearts, and letters from his students still exist, expressing their feelings of exile when they were away from him.
To rebuild his cathedral, Bishop Fulbert gave up his own revenues. Gifts poured in from the kings of England and Denmark, from the bishop’s schoolmate of Rheims, the good and cultivated King Robert of France, from the Duke of Aquitaine, who donated the treasure accumulated in St. Hilary’s abbatial at Poitiers. The work was pushed forward with such energy that after four years Bishop Fulbert was able to write that, by winter, his lower church would be vaulted.
To rebuild his cathedral, Bishop Fulbert sacrificed his own income. Donations came in from the kings of England and Denmark, from the bishop’s schoolmate in Rheims, the kind and educated King Robert of France, and from the Duke of Aquitaine, who contributed the treasure collected at St. Hilary’s abbey in Poitiers. The work progressed so quickly that after four years, Bishop Fulbert could write that by winter, his lower church would have a vaulted ceiling.
The present magnificent crypt under Chartres Cathedral is the very one built by St. Fulbert. It is the most extensive crypt in France. Its soundly constructed groin vaults stood firm when, two hundred years later, the upper church was destroyed by fire. In times of public calamity the people have fled to Fulbert’s subterranean passages, and the devotion of generations has hallowed his shrine. If you would know the soul of this mystic cathedral, gather at dawn with the silent worshipers who choose that hour to kneel daily in the secluded intimacy of Notre-Dame-sous-Terre. The true hour for Chartres is not at noontime, when the tourists flock to the empty church, but in the morning with the dawn.[108]
The beautiful crypt under Chartres Cathedral was built by St. Fulbert. It’s the largest crypt in France. Its solidly built groin vaults remained intact when the upper church was destroyed by fire two hundred years later. During times of public disaster, people have sought refuge in Fulbert’s underground passages, and the devotion of countless generations has honored his shrine. If you want to understand the spirit of this mystical cathedral, gather at dawn with the quiet worshipers who choose that time to kneel daily in the peaceful setting of Notre-Dame-sous-Terre. The true time for Chartres isn’t at noon, when tourists fill the empty church, but in the morning with the sunrise.[108]
Fulbert’s Romanesque cathedral was finished in the same XI century by St. Ives of Chartres, another born leader of the nation, who righted many abuses. He dared stand up against Philip I himself, because of the king’s adulterous marriage with the beautiful Bertrada de Montfort, stolen from the Count of Anjou. The bishop wrote thus to the king, refusing to attend his wedding, “out of respect for my own conscience, which I wish to keep pure before God, and because I would retain the good repute by which a priest of Christ should honor himself before the faithful. I would rather be flung into the bottom of the sea, with a millstone round my neck, than be a stumbling block to the weak. Nor do I fail in the fidelity I owe you, in speaking thus to you, but rather I give you proof of it, for I believe that you are risking your immortal soul and are putting your crown in jeopardy.” The king’s answer was to throw him into prison and to pillage his church.
Fulbert’s Romanesque cathedral was completed in the 11th century by St. Ives of Chartres, another natural leader of the nation, who corrected many wrongs. He boldly stood up to King Philip I himself because of the king’s adulterous marriage to the beautiful Bertrada de Montfort, taken from the Count of Anjou. The bishop wrote to the king, refusing to attend his wedding: “Out of respect for my own conscience, which I want to keep pure before God, and because I want to maintain the good reputation that a priest of Christ should uphold before the faithful. I would rather be thrown into the depths of the sea with a millstone around my neck than be a stumbling block to the weak. I do not fail in the loyalty I owe you by speaking to you in this way; rather, I provide you with proof of it, for I believe you are risking your immortal soul and endangering your crown.” The king’s response was to imprison him and plunder his church.
Bishop Ives, in 1095, attended the preaching of the First Crusade at Clermont, after which he accompanied Urban II to the Council of Tours. Scarcely a big event of his day or a leading personage that he was unassociated with, and the three hundred of his letters which are extant form a valuable contribution to history. Twice was the exiled St. Anselm of Canterbury his guest, and in 1107 Paschal II—the pope who built the upper church of S. Clemente at Rome—stopped with him in Chartres. Bishop Ives had been a pupil at Bec, of the celebrated Lanfranc, so he was fully competent to keep up the prestige of his cathedral school.
Bishop Ives attended the preaching of the First Crusade at Clermont in 1095, after which he went with Urban II to the Council of Tours. He was connected to nearly every major event and prominent figure of his time, and the three hundred letters of his that still exist are a valuable historical resource. Twice, the exiled St. Anselm of Canterbury was his guest, and in 1107, Paschal II—the pope who constructed the upper church of S. Clemente in Rome—stayed with him in Chartres. Bishop Ives had studied under the famous Lanfranc at Bec, so he was fully equipped to maintain the reputation of his cathedral school.
The Romanesque basilica, begun by Fulbert and finished by Bishop Ives, lasted for over two hundred years. The present northwest tower was started probably in 1134, when the nave’s western bays had been damaged by fire. Following a pre-Romanesque tradition, the tower was placed a little distance before the church, apart from it, and so it remained for some ten years. Then, one day in June, 1144, the eloquent Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves, successor of St. Ives, was the guest of the abbot of St. Denis during the dedication of Suger’s abbatial, and what he there saw of the new system of building made him determined to reconstruct his own church of Chartres. Being an excellent administrator, he was able to start the new works immediately.
The Romanesque basilica, which was started by Fulbert and completed by Bishop Ives, stood for over two hundred years. The current northwest tower likely began construction in 1134, after the western bays of the nave were damaged by fire. Following a pre-Romanesque tradition, the tower was built a short distance in front of the church, and it remained that way for about ten years. Then, one day in June 1144, the articulate Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves, who succeeded St. Ives, was a guest of the abbot of St. Denis during the dedication of Suger’s abbey. What he saw there of the new building style inspired him to decide to rebuild his own church in Chartres. Being an excellent administrator, he was able to initiate the new construction right away.
Within a year was begun the southwest tower of Chartres (1145), which many hold to be the most beautiful in the world. While it was building, the side aisles of Fulbert’s basilica were lengthened to meet both western towers. That the one to the south never was intended to stand isolated is shown by the absence of windows on the two sides where it joins the church, whereas the tower to the north had windows on all four sides. While these works were in progress St. Bernard came to Chartres to preach the Second Crusade. He and Bishop Geoffrey had recently traveled together through Aquitaine, combating the Cartharist heresy.
Within a year, work began on the southwest tower of Chartres (1145), which many consider to be the most beautiful in the world. While it was being built, the side aisles of Fulbert’s basilica were extended to connect with both western towers. The fact that the one to the south was never intended to stand alone is evident from the lack of windows on the two sides that connect to the church, whereas the tower on the north has windows on all four sides. During this time, St. Bernard came to Chartres to preach the Second Crusade. He and Bishop Geoffrey had recently traveled together through Aquitaine, fighting against the Cathar heresy.
It was Geoffrey de Lèves who accompanied the future Louis VII to Bordeaux for his marriage with Aliénor of Aquitaine, and when the death of the king suddenly called Louis away, he left his bride in the care of the bishop of Chartres. Geoffrey was long the sincere defender of Abélard, though finally he disapproved of what was overhardy in his doctrine; with Peter of Cluny he held that the errors of the brilliant schoolman were of the head rather than the heart.
It was Geoffrey de Lèves who went with the future Louis VII to Bordeaux for his marriage to Aliénor of Aquitaine, and when the king's sudden death called Louis away, he left his bride in the care of the bishop of Chartres. Geoffrey was a loyal supporter of Abélard for a long time, though eventually he disagreed with what he thought was excessive in his teachings; alongside Peter of Cluny, he believed that the mistakes of the brilliant scholar were more intellectual than emotional.
Two often-quoted ancient records described the surge of religious fervor which raised the western end of Chartres Cathedral. In 1145 the archbishop of Rouen wrote to the bishop of Amiens to relate how the people of his diocese, knights and ladies, townspeople and peasants, went in a spirit of penitence to Chartres, there to help in the new work of Notre Dame. No one could join the pilgrimage who had not confessed, and renounced all enmities and revenges. As the quarries were some miles from the city, it was a heavy task to drag in the big stones. In that same 1145 Abbot Haimon of St. Pierre-sur-Dives in Normandy, wrote to some monks in England to picture the scenes at Chartres: “Whoever heard tell in times past of powerful princes brought up in honors and wealth, of noble men and women bending their proud necks to the harness of carts, and like beasts of burden dragging stones, cement, wood, to build the abode of Christ? And while men of all ranks drag these heavy loads—so great the weight that sometimes a thousand are attached to one wagon—they march in such silence that not a murmur is heard. When they halt by the roadside, only the confessing of sins, and prayer, humbly suppliant, ascend to God. If anyone is so hardened as to refuse to pardon his enemies, he is detached from the cart and refused companionship in that holy company. When they have reached the church they arrange the wagons about it like a spiritual camp, and during the whole night they celebrate the watch by hymns and canticles.”
Two often-quoted ancient records described the surge of religious fervor that raised the western end of Chartres Cathedral. In 1145, the archbishop of Rouen wrote to the bishop of Amiens to share how the people of his diocese—knights and ladies, townspeople and peasants—went to Chartres with a spirit of repentance to contribute to the new work of Notre Dame. No one could join the pilgrimage unless they had confessed and let go of all grudges and revenge. Since the quarries were several miles from the city, it was a tough task to haul in the large stones. In that same year, Abbot Haimon of St. Pierre-sur-Dives in Normandy wrote to some monks in England to describe the scenes at Chartres: “Whoever heard in the past of powerful princes raised in honor and wealth, of noble men and women bending their proud necks to the task of carts, like beasts of burden, dragging stones, cement, wood, to build the home of Christ? And while men of all ranks drag these heavy loads—so great the weight that sometimes a thousand are attached to one wagon—they march in such silence that not a murmur is heard. When they stop by the roadside, only the confession of sins and humble prayers ascend to God. If anyone is so hardened as to refuse to forgive their enemies, they are removed from the cart and excluded from that holy company. When they arrive at the church, they arrange the wagons around it like a spiritual camp, and throughout the night they keep a vigil with hymns and songs.”
It was not long after this wave of enthusiasm that the Portal Royal was begun, probably about 1155, though some have placed those three western doors earlier and some later. As they resembled the doors of St. Denis (now destroyed), they were made, doubtlessly, within ten or fifteen years of Suger’s work. By 1175 cracks appeared in the new west foundations, and the three doors were moved forward, stone by stone, and placed on a line with the towers. In their first position, set back between the advancing towers, they had shown to better advantage, but it is to the advance of Chartres’ western façade that we owe the preservation of its priceless glass and sculpture.
It wasn't long after this burst of excitement that the Portal Royal was started, likely around 1155, although some people think the three western doors were made earlier or later. Since they looked similar to the doors of St. Denis (which is now gone), they were definitely created within ten or fifteen years of Suger’s work. By 1175, cracks appeared in the new western foundations, and the three doors were moved forward, stone by stone, to align with the towers. In their original position, set back between the towers, they looked better, but it’s the advancement of Chartres’ western façade that helped preserve its priceless glass and sculpture.
At the time of these changes the bishop of Chartres was John of Salisbury (1176-80), perhaps the most learned man of his century, and certainly one of the wisest, sincerest, and most likable men who ever lived. In his works this humanist advocated a proper use of dialectics, as opposed to the sterile subtlety then increasing among scholars. His stand on the problem which agitated the thinkers then—how our ideas correspond to things existing outside our intellect—was one of moderate realism. Abélard had led up to such an outlook, and the scholastics of the XIII century, notably Aquinas, also classed themselves as moderate realists. John of Salisbury possessed what the French call esprit, and he poked some fun at the hair-splitting in the schools. Hebrew and Greek he knew, and his Latin was of good literary quality, which was rather an exception among scholastic writers.
At the time of these changes, the bishop of Chartres was John of Salisbury (1176-80), probably the most educated man of his century and definitely one of the wisest, most genuine, and most likable people to ever live. In his works, this humanist promoted a proper use of dialectics, as opposed to the pointless subtleties that were becoming more common among scholars. His view on the issue that bothered thinkers at the time—how our ideas relate to things that exist outside our minds—was one of moderate realism. Abélard had paved the way for this perspective, and the scholastics of the 13th century, especially Aquinas, identified themselves as moderate realists as well. John of Salisbury had what the French call esprit, and he joked about the nitpicking in the schools. He was familiar with Hebrew and Greek, and his Latin was of good literary quality, which was quite unusual among scholastic writers.
When Thomas Becket was raised to the see of Canterbury, his friend, John of Salisbury, became his chief adviser, and though the latter held principles equally firm, he endeavored to curb the primate’s excess of zeal. Through the years of Becket’s exile, John lived in France, returned with his archbishop to England, and witnessed his martyrdom in Canterbury Cathedral. At Sens he, too, must have watched with interest that cathedral building, being himself an artist and modeler in clay. Sens’ archbishop, Guillaume de Champagne, admired the balanced character and solid scholarship of the Englishman, and after the Canterbury tragedy proposed him for the see of Chartres. No one could have appreciated better than John of Salisbury the strange charm and beauty of the column statues which one by one were moved to a new position at his cathedral’s west doors while he governed this see.
When Thomas Becket became the Archbishop of Canterbury, his friend, John of Salisbury, became his main advisor. While John shared similar strong principles, he tried to temper Becket’s overly passionate nature. During Becket's years in exile, John lived in France, returned to England with him, and saw his martyrdom at Canterbury Cathedral. At Sens, he likely watched with interest as the cathedral was built, as he was an artist and clay modeler himself. The Archbishop of Sens, Guillaume de Champagne, admired the Englishman’s balanced character and solid scholarship, and after the tragedy at Canterbury, he suggested John for the position at Chartres. No one understood better than John of Salisbury the unique charm and beauty of the column statues that were gradually relocated to new spots at his cathedral's west doors while he was in charge of that see.
And no one was more fitted to comprehend the glory of the three XII-century windows, also dismounted and reset in those years, than John of Salisbury’s successor at Chartres, his intimate of many years past, Pierre de Celle, who, while abbot of St. Remi at Rheims, had adorned the lovely Primary Gothic choir he built there with admirable colored lights. The south tower was crowned with its mighty spire in his day, and he paved the streets of Chartres and raised the town walls. Both these best types of scholastic authors were interested in maintaining the high repute of their cathedral school. As Pierre de Celle died in 1183, he was spared the sight of his cathedral’s destruction.
And no one was better equipped to appreciate the beauty of the three 12th-century windows, which were taken down and reinstalled during those years, than John of Salisbury’s successor at Chartres, his longtime friend, Pierre de Celle. While he was the abbot of St. Remi in Rheims, he decorated the beautiful Primary Gothic choir he built there with stunning colored lights. The south tower reached its impressive height with a spire during his time, and he paved the streets of Chartres and built up the town walls. Both of these leading scholastic figures were committed to maintaining the excellent reputation of their cathedral school. Since Pierre de Celle died in 1183, he was spared witnessing the destruction of his cathedral.
On the night of June 10, 1194, a terrible conflagration wiped out Fulbert’s Romanesque basilica. To its cavernous crypt the clerks bore the treasured relics, and after three days emerged, when the fire was spent. Only the crypt and the more recent west façade, with its two towers, escaped destruction; the north tower at the time still lacked its upper stories.
On the night of June 10, 1194, a devastating fire destroyed Fulbert’s Romanesque basilica. The clerks carried the precious relics to its deep crypt, and after three days, they emerged when the fire was out. Only the crypt and the newer west façade, with its two towers, survived the blaze; the north tower still hadn’t been completed at the time.
On the smoking ruins the pope’s legate made an appeal to the people’s generosity, and once again Chartres presented the devotional scenes of 1145. Bishop and canons gave up three years of their revenue, and pious confraternities dragged in the big stones. Those passionate rivals, Richard Cœur-de-Lion and Philippe-Auguste, were donors. Thus every part of Chartres Cathedral has been raised by the hands and hearts of faith, and surely the personality which builders impart to their work breathes here in a piety of the soul that not all the science of later times has ever been able to simulate. Non est hic aliud nisi Domus Dei et porta coeli.
On the smoking ruins, the pope's representative made a call for the people's generosity, and once again, Chartres showcased the devotional scenes of 1145. The bishop and canons gave up three years' worth of their income, and dedicated groups of worshippers carried in the large stones. Those passionate rivals, Richard the Lionheart and Philip Augustus, were contributors. Thus, every part of Chartres Cathedral has been built by the hands and hearts of faith, and surely the spirit that builders infuse into their work breathes here in a devotion of the soul that not even the advances of later times have ever been able to replicate. Non est hic aliud nisi Domus Dei et porta coeli.
The new cathedral went forward apace; early in the XIII century the big west rose was added to the much-transformed façade. By 1224 the upper vaulting was entirely closed in. The formal dedication was postponed till 1260, to allow for the completion of the two elaborate porches before the transept’s doors. To that delayed consecration came St. Louis and his court.
The new cathedral progressed rapidly; early in the 13th century, the large west rose was added to the significantly changed façade. By 1224, the upper vaulting was fully enclosed. The formal dedication was delayed until 1260 to complete the two ornate porches before the transept doors. For that postponed consecration, St. Louis and his court attended.
The name of the architect of Chartres is unknown, but its unity of plan is proof that it emanated from the brain of one man. The choir had double aisles, the nave a single one. It is believed that to the absence of side chapels in the nave is due the exceptionally good acoustic properties of this church in which the preacher’s voice carries to every part. Unknown, too, is the architect of the tower built in the dawn of Gothic art, two generations before the present cathedral. The veriest amateur as he gazes at it is conscious that he has before him one of the supreme things of France.
The name of the architect of Chartres is unknown, but the cohesive design shows that it came from one person's vision. The choir features double aisles, while the nave has a single aisle. It's thought that the lack of side chapels in the nave contributes to the exceptional acoustics of this church, allowing the preacher’s voice to reach every corner. The architect of the tower, built at the beginning of Gothic art, is also unknown, two generations before the current cathedral. Even a complete novice can see that he is staring at one of the greatest masterpieces of France.
The more closely the clocher vieux is analyzed, the more it becomes a touchstone by which will be judged other towers. A miracle of just gradation, it sprang in one jet from the brain of a man of genius. With a pleasurable sense of harmony the eye travels from the base to the tip of the spire. Proportion, not ornament, is the secret of its transcendent influence. The width is right—and so many towers fail there—the division of the stories is right, and radiantly right is that crucial point, the transition from the vertical square shaft to the inclined octagonal spire, accomplished here by means of dormers and turrets. An innovator was the architect of Chartres’ belfry when he placed open windows in the gables. To obviate any monotonous optical effect, he made a ridge down each inclined plane of the spire, which spire is a massive pyramid forming almost half of the tower’s height. Its bare nobility surpasses the richer open stonework of the spire to the north.
The more closely the clocher vieux is examined, the more it becomes a standard to evaluate other towers. A marvel of perfect proportions, it emerged in one burst from the mind of a brilliant architect. With a pleasing sense of balance, the eye moves from the base to the tip of the spire. Proportion, rather than decoration, is the key to its extraordinary impact. The width is just right—and that’s where many towers fail—the division of the levels is accurate, and that crucial point, the transition from the vertical square shaft to the sloped octagonal spire, is achieved here through dormers and turrets. The architect of Chartres’ belfry was an innovator when he put open windows in the gables. To prevent any dull visual effect, he created a ridge down each sloping surface of the spire, which is a massive pyramid making up almost half of the tower’s height. Its simple grandeur exceeds the more elaborate open stonework of the spire to the north.
The Cathedral of Chartres (1194-1240). The Southern
Aspect
The Chartres Cathedral (1194-1240). The South View
It is confusing that the north tower at Chartres façade should be called the clocher neuf because of its Flamboyant Gothic upper stories, for its lower Romanesque parts were built before the clocher vieux. When towers were rising in every part of France as the XVI century opened, the chapter of Chartres Cathedral invited a local architect, Jean de Texier, called Jean de Beauce,[109] to complete their truncated northern tower, whose temporary top had just been consumed by fire. Jean de Beauce saw that the XIII-century rose window had crowded the south belfry. While the rose was making, a new story had been added to the north tower. To that tower he decided to add still another story before he topped it with an elaborate lacework spire. In consequence the clocher neuf is out of all proportion to its mate. Nor does it carry the eye smoothly from soil to tip; its renewals are abrupt. However, if it lacks subtlety, its crown is none the less a strikingly effective monument of the final phase of Gothic architecture. The spire is adjusted to the shaft by means of little flying buttresses which spring from the angle and face turrets, and help to unify the design.
It’s confusing that the north tower at the Chartres façade is called the clocher neuf because of its Flamboyant Gothic upper stories, considering that its lower Romanesque sections were built before the clocher vieux. As towers were being constructed all over France at the beginning of the 16th century, the chapter of Chartres Cathedral invited a local architect, Jean de Texier, also known as Jean de Beauce,[109] to finish their unfinished northern tower, whose temporary top had recently been destroyed by fire. Jean de Beauce noticed that the 13th-century rose window was overcrowding the south belfry. While the rose was being made, a new story had already been added to the north tower. He decided to add yet another story to that tower before topping it with an elaborate lacework spire. As a result, the clocher neuf is disproportionate to its counterpart. It also fails to guide the eye smoothly from bottom to top; the changes are abrupt. However, despite lacking subtlety, its crown is still a remarkably striking monument of the final phase of Gothic architecture. The spire connects to the shaft with small flying buttresses that spring from the angles and face turrets, helping to unify the design.
Some human vanity the north tower of Chartres displays, but no arrogant pride, no Renaissance pretentiousness. And in the inscription commemorating its renewal still breathes the reverential, loving, personal note of the Middle Ages:
Some human vanity is shown in the north tower of Chartres, but there’s no arrogant pride or Renaissance pretense. The inscription celebrating its restoration still carries the reverential, loving, personal touch of the Middle Ages:
Under his belfry tower, Jehan de Beauce built a pretty pavilion to regulate its chimes. Sculptor as well as architect, he designed the sumptuous screen about the choir, on whose exterior wall is portrayed the life of Our Lord in groups made during seven generations. The oldest and best scenes are those in the south aisle nearest the transept.
Under his belfry tower, Jehan de Beauce built a beautiful pavilion to control its chimes. As both a sculptor and architect, he designed the lavish screen around the choir, on whose exterior wall is depicted the life of Our Lord in scenes created over seven generations. The oldest and finest scenes are located in the south aisle closest to the transept.
The mystery plays gave to the iconography of the late XV century its realistic character. In these sculpture panels at Chartres, not only were the costumes of the religious theater copied, but the stage settings. A group was represented in a room, whereas in earlier work the sacred personages “stood with a sort of spiritualized detachment, clad in the long tunic of no country, of no time, the very vestment itself for the life eternal.”[110]
The mystery plays gave the iconography of the late 15th century its realistic vibe. In these sculpture panels at Chartres, not only were the costumes from the religious theater copied, but so were the stage settings. A group was shown in a room, while in earlier works, the sacred figures “stood with a kind of spiritual detachment, dressed in a long tunic from no specific country or time, the very garment for eternal life.”[110]
One of the earlier scenes of Chartres’ choir screen presents Our Lady seated in the cosiest of interiors, like a XVI-century housewife, a reticule by her side and a chaplet, which last touch was a charming anachronism. She sews serenely while poor distracted St. Joseph dreams. A complete contrast to this human Virgin Mother is a XIII-century lancet across the aisle from it—the much-venerated Notre-Dame-de-la-belle-verrière, a mother of God, the austere symbolic Throne of Solomon, almost uncanny in her solemn passiveness. In some of the later groups sculptured on the outer walls of the choir screen appears the icy hand of the Renaissance, though the setting remained Gothic throughout.
One of the earlier scenes of Chartres’ choir screen shows Our Lady sitting in a warm and cozy interior, like a 16th-century housewife, with a small bag by her side and a rosary, which adds a charming anachronism. She sews serenely while the distracted St. Joseph dreams. This human Virgin Mother stands in stark contrast to a 13th-century lancet across the aisle—the much-admired Notre-Dame-de-la-belle-verrière, a mother of God, on the austere symbolic Throne of Solomon, almost unnervingly passive in her solemnity. In some of the later groups sculpted on the outer walls of the choir screen, you can see the cold touch of the Renaissance, even though the setting remained Gothic throughout.
The two decorative glories of Chartres Cathedral are its sculptured portals and its wealth of stained glass, “an assemblage unique in Europe, the thought of the Middle Ages made visible.” Though over ten thousand personages are represented, decoration is kept subordinate to structure with an instinct for discipline inherent in the best Gothic art.
The two decorative highlights of Chartres Cathedral are its carved portals and its impressive stained glass, “a collection unlike any in Europe, making the ideas of the Middle Ages visible.” Even though over ten thousand figures are depicted, the decoration remains secondary to the structure, exhibiting the natural discipline found in the finest Gothic art.
For the archæologist, the three western doors are of prime importance, last of the Romanesque, first of the Gothic portals, call them whichever you wish. To speak of a transition is to be metaphysical, employing words for what has no existence in reality, since there was no break in the sequence of sculpture from the first imaged portals of French Romanesque art, at Beaulieu, Moissac, Autun and Vézelay to those at Le Mans and Chartres, and to that masterpiece of Gothic sculpture, the portal of Our Lady under the northwest tower of Paris Cathedral.
For the archaeologist, the three western doors are extremely important, marking the end of the Romanesque period and the beginning of the Gothic style—call them whatever you like. To talk about a transition is to be abstract, using words to describe something that doesn’t truly exist since there was no break in the progression of sculpture from the earliest portals of French Romanesque art, like those at Beaulieu, Moissac, Autun, and Vézelay, to those at Le Mans and Chartres, and to that masterpiece of Gothic sculpture, the portal of Our Lady beneath the northwest tower of Paris Cathedral.
For the making of his three western doors at Chartres, Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves must have obtained workers from his friend, Abbot Suger of St. Denis. Archaic enough seem these kings and queens with their strange, haunting faces, their slim, parallel feet, with their slender figures more architectural than sculptural as they stand against the pillars to which they conform, yet none the less they show freedom from the stereotyped Byzantine traditions. The attitudes are less rigid than in previous column statues, and personality is dawning in the faces. The Madonna is own sister of the Eastern empress of St. Anne’s door at Paris, made about fifteen years later under Bishop Maurice de Sully.
For the creation of his three western doors at Chartres, Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves likely got craftsmen from his friend, Abbot Suger of St. Denis. These kings and queens appear quite old-fashioned with their unusual, haunting faces, their slim, matching feet, and their slender figures that are more architectural than sculptural as they stand against the columns they fit so well. Yet, they still show a break from the rigid Byzantine conventions. The poses are less stiff than those seen in earlier column statues, and you can start to see personality in their faces. The Madonna resembles the Eastern empress on St. Anne’s door in Paris, which was made around fifteen years later under Bishop Maurice de Sully.
The “celestial portal” of Chartres portrayed the life of Christ from his birth to his ascension. At the northern doors of the transept was set forth the Creation, to the coming of the Messiah, and Our Lady was especially honored. And the southern portal commemorated from the coming of the Lord to his second advent at the Last Judgment. It was the custom to represent this last scene at the west façade, where it might be illumined by the setting sun of the world’s final day, the dies iræ long dreaded. But since the west portal of Chartres had followed a Romanesque tradition by carving in its place of honor a Christ in the elliptical aureole of eternity, accompanied by the symbols of the four evangelists, the Last Judgment was relegated to the transept’s south entrance.
The "celestial portal" of Chartres depicted the life of Christ from his birth to his ascension. The northern doors of the transept illustrated Creation leading up to the arrival of the Messiah, with Our Lady receiving special honor. Meanwhile, the southern portal represented events from the Lord's coming to his second coming at the Last Judgment. It was customary to depict this final scene on the west façade, where it could be illuminated by the setting sun on the world's last day, the dies iræ long feared. However, since the west portal of Chartres adhered to a Romanesque tradition by carving a Christ in the elliptical aura of eternity, flanked by the symbols of the four evangelists, the Last Judgment was moved to the south entrance of the transept.
Between the two lateral portals of Chartres there is little choice. In them Gothic sculpture appears in full bloom. Each is a national heritage. In the first plan of the transept the entrances lacked their magnificent porches begun as afterthoughts (about 1240), but so well adjusted to the doors that they appear to be of the same date. Among the seven hundred statues at the northern entrance, some show that they were portrait studies, but it is mere hypothesis to give names to them. Not a statue was placed haphazard. A prearranged dogmatic scheme was consistently followed, since to the mediæval mind art was before all else a teacher. Our Lady stands at the central door, accompanied by ten big figures representing Melchisedek, Abraham, Moses, Samuel, and David on her right, and Isaac, Jeremiah, Simeon, John the Baptist, and St. Peter on her left. They are the patriarchs who prefigured her Son and the prophets who foretold Him, and the two who witnessed His coming, one as foreteller, the other to be His symbol in the future. Each personified a period of history: “Fathers of the people, pillars of humanity, contemporaries of the first days of the world, they seem to belong to another humanity than ours. They are to be counted among the most extraordinary images of the Middle Ages.” It is inevitable that M. Mâle be quoted on all points of mediæval iconography.
Between the two side entrances of Chartres, there isn't much variation. Here, Gothic sculpture is at its peak. Each one is a national treasure. In the initial design of the transept, the entrances didn’t have their stunning porches, which were added later (around 1240), but they fit the doors so well that they seem to have been created at the same time. Among the seven hundred statues at the northern entrance, some appear to be based on real people, but it's just a guess to assign names to them. Not a single statue was placed randomly. A well-planned, dogmatic scheme was followed, because for the medieval mind, art was primarily a teacher. Our Lady stands at the central door, flanked by ten large figures representing Melchisedek, Abraham, Moses, Samuel, and David on her right, and Isaac, Jeremiah, Simeon, John the Baptist, and St. Peter on her left. They are the patriarchs who prefigured her Son and the prophets who foretold Him, along with the two who witnessed His arrival, one as a foreteller and the other as His future symbol. Each figure represents a distinct period in history: “Fathers of the people, pillars of humanity, contemporaries from the world’s early days, they seem to belong to a different humanity than ours. They are among the most remarkable images of the Middle Ages.” It’s essential to cite M. Mâle on all matters of medieval iconography.
Usually under each large statue was carved a pedestal scene having some connection with it. Thus beneath the Queen of Sheba is a negro; beneath Balaam, his ass. At the south porch, under St. Jerome, translator of the Bible, is the Synagogue with bandaged eyes, and under St. Gregory the Great is a crouching scribe, who cranes his neck to see the saint, for the legend was that one day as the pope dictated to his secretary, a long pause came, and the scribe peeped through the curtain that hung between them and saw a dove perched on the saint’s shoulder, symbolic of the Holy Spirit directing him. St. George and St. Theodore garbed as crusaders are the only youthful images at the south porch, and must have been studied from some of St. Louis’ knights.
Usually, under each large statue, there was a carved pedestal scene that had some connection to it. So, beneath the Queen of Sheba, there’s a Black person; beneath Balaam, there’s his donkey. At the south porch, under St. Jerome, the translator of the Bible, is the Synagogue with bandaged eyes, and under St. Gregory the Great is a crouching scribe who stretches his neck to see the saint because the legend says that one day, while the pope was dictating to his secretary, there was a long pause, and the scribe peeked through the curtain that separated them and saw a dove sitting on the saint’s shoulder, symbolizing the Holy Spirit guiding him. St. George and St. Theodore, dressed as crusaders, are the only youthful figures at the south porch and must have been modeled after some of St. Louis’ knights.
At her entranceways Chartres set forth the calendar of months in small medallioned allegories, and here and at Amiens, Paris, and Rheims was given a complete system of moral philosophy through the contrast of virtues with vices. On the north façade of Chartres is carved “Libertas” under the image of a virtue. Bishop John of Salisbury would have approved this: “For there is nothing more glorious than freedom,” he wrote, “save virtue, if indeed freedom may be rightly severed from virtue, for all who know anything know that true freedom has no other source.”
At its entrances, Chartres displayed a calendar of months with small medallion illustrations, and here, as well as in Amiens, Paris, and Rheims, a complete system of moral philosophy was illustrated by contrasting virtues with vices. On the north facade of Chartres, “Libertas” is carved beneath the image of a virtue. Bishop John of Salisbury would have approved this: “For there is nothing more glorious than freedom,” he wrote, “except for virtue, if freedom can indeed be separated from virtue, because everyone who understands anything knows that true freedom has no other source.”
In structural technique the fenestration of Chartres was a stride forward, and both the cathedrals of Paris and Soissons learned immediately from its clearstory arrangement—the first attempt to fill with colored glass the entire space between the active wall shafts. “In certain parts of the cathedral of Chartres,” says M. Mâle, “is a magnificent amplitude, a superabundance of power. Each of the nave’s windows is surmounted by an immense rose as wide as the bay, a conception as proud as ever an architect realized. It is one of those flashes of genius such as came to Michael Angelo. Those great orbs of light, those wheels of fire that dart sparkling rays are one of the beauties of the cathedral.”[111]
In terms of structural design, the window arrangement of Chartres was a major advancement, and both the cathedrals of Paris and Soissons quickly adopted its clearstory layout—the first effort to fill the entire space between the support walls with colored glass. “In certain sections of the Chartres cathedral,” says M. Mâle, “there’s a magnificent openness, an overwhelming sense of power. Each window in the nave is topped by a massive rose window that’s as wide as the bay, a design as grand as any architect has ever created. It’s one of those flashes of genius that are seen in figures like Michelangelo. Those great spheres of light, those fiery wheels that send out sparkling rays, are some of the cathedral's greatest features.”[111]
Notre Dame has preserved over two hundred of the ancient, imaged windows. The oldest and the best are three large lancets under the western rose which, like the Royal Portal beneath them, are the work of Suger’s craftsmen who came here from St. Denis. One of these noted windows relates the childhood of Christ, another His Passion and Resurrection, and the third is a tree of Jesse, similar to one in St. Denis.[112] The iron bars supporting the sheet of glass do not conform to the outline of the medallions, hence it is somewhat more difficult to decipher the scenes than in XIII-century work. None the less, these, the oldest windows of the cathedral, are the peer of any colored glass ever made, because of their inherent genius for decorative effect and their conscientious workmanship. Many a pen has tried—in vain—to describe the marvelous deep blue which blends together the other colors—the streaky ruby, the emerald green, the sea-green white, the brownish purple and pink, the yellow pot metal.
Notre Dame has preserved over two hundred of the ancient stained glass windows. The oldest and finest are three large lancet windows beneath the western rose, which, like the Royal Portal below them, were created by Suger’s craftsmen who came from St. Denis. One of these notable windows depicts the childhood of Christ, another illustrates His Passion and Resurrection, and the third is a tree of Jesse, similar to one in St. Denis.[112] The iron bars supporting the glass don’t follow the shape of the medallions, making it a bit harder to decipher the scenes than in 13th-century work. Nonetheless, these windows, the oldest in the cathedral, rival any colored glass ever made due to their innate talent for decorative effect and meticulous craftsmanship. Many writers have tried—in vain—to describe the amazing deep blue that harmonizes with the other colors—the streaky ruby, emerald green, sea-green white, brownish purple and pink, and yellow pot metal.
Even after the opening of the XIII century the St. Denis school exerted influence, as is shown by the Charlemagne-Roland windows in Chartres’ ambulatory, whose outline was taken from a crusader window of Suger’s abbey. The majority of Chartres’ windows belong to the early XIII century, when the city was mistress of the vitrine art and supplied the cathedrals of Bourges, Rouen, Sens, Laon, Auxerre, Tours, Le Mans, Poitiers, and even Canterbury. In the nave’s north aisle, the St. Eustace window (the third) is held to be of faultless artistry. The large lancets which light the aisles scintillate as with precious jewels. Only some five or six have floral scrolls filling the spaces between the medallions and the deep border that surrounds each window; in France a geometric pattern for such interstices was more frequent.
Even after the start of the 13th century, the St. Denis school still had an impact, as seen in the Charlemagne-Roland windows in Chartres’ ambulatory, which were modeled after a crusader window from Suger’s abbey. Most of the windows in Chartres date back to the early 13th century, when the city was a leader in the art of stained glass, supplying cathedrals in Bourges, Rouen, Sens, Laon, Auxerre, Tours, Le Mans, Poitiers, and even Canterbury. In the north aisle of the nave, the St. Eustace window (the third) is considered to be an example of flawless artistry. The large lancet windows illuminating the aisles sparkle like precious gems. Only about five or six of them feature floral scrolls filling the spaces between the medallions and the deep border surrounding each window; in France, geometric patterns were more commonly used for these gaps.
At the base of each window is what is called its signature—a medallion which usually represents the avocation of the donors, whether kings, knights, priests, butchers, shoemakers, furriers, or water carriers. Thus below the Charlemagne-Roland windows tradesmen display rich fur mantles, and we know that the pelletiers were the donors. Splendid were the gifts of the old artisan guilds. The tanners presented an apse-chapel window in honor of St. Thomas Becket, the vintners one that related the story of Noe, planter of vines. An overpowering sensation it must have been for those mediæval workmen to worship beneath the vaults they themselves had helped to build, under the windows they had contributed. Kings and knights were their fellow donors, but in the cathedrals of France the gifts of the lowly were the most plentiful, a Christian quality which endured till the XVI-century disunion.
At the bottom of each window is what’s known as its signature—a medallion that usually represents the profession of the donors, whether they were kings, knights, priests, butchers, shoemakers, furriers, or water carriers. For example, below the Charlemagne-Roland windows, tradespeople show off rich fur coats, and we know that the pelletiers were the donors. The gifts from the old artisan guilds were magnificent. The tanners donated a window for the apse chapel in honor of St. Thomas Becket, while the vintners contributed one that told the story of Noah, the planter of vines. It must have been an overwhelming feeling for those medieval workers to worship under the vaults they helped build, beneath the windows they had funded. Kings and knights were their fellow donors, but in the cathedrals of France, the contributions from the humble were the most abundant, a Christian trait that lasted until the disunion of the 16th century.
To Chartres St. Louis gave a window in honor of St. Denis, patron of his kingdom. The splendid red northern rose, “The Rose of France,” is a glorification of Our Lady. The donjons of Castile adorn it in honor of the queen regent. Directly opposite is the big south rose presented by Blanche’s enemy, Pierre Mauclerc, who tried to kidnap Louis IX from his mother, but who was to die fighting the infidels under his cousin the king, as did Pierre de Courtenay, another donor of a window at Chartres. Pierre de Dreux, it is said, began the porch before the southern entrance to commemorate his marriage with the heiress of Brittany, a granddaughter of Henry II, Plantagenet. Like every door of this church of the resplendent entranceways, it is a mass of sculpture. Mauclerc was grandson of the builder of St. Yved at Braine, and brother of Archbishop Henri de Dreux, who donated windows to his cathedral at Rheims. Below the Dreux rose at Chartres, four of the Prophets are borne on the shoulders of the four Evangelists, for never could those generations, enamored of symmetry, resist the opportunity to weave together the Old and New Testaments.
To Chartres, St. Louis gave a window in honor of St. Denis, the patron of his kingdom. The stunning red northern rose, “The Rose of France,” is a celebration of Our Lady. The donjons of Castile decorate it in honor of the queen regent. Directly across from it is the large south rose donated by Blanche’s enemy, Pierre Mauclerc, who attempted to kidnap Louis IX from his mother but died fighting the infidels alongside his cousin the king, just like Pierre de Courtenay, another donor of a window at Chartres. It’s said that Pierre de Dreux started the porch before the southern entrance to commemorate his marriage to the heiress of Brittany, a granddaughter of Henry II, Plantagenet. Like every door of this church with its magnificent entrances, it is full of sculpture. Mauclerc was the grandson of the builder of St. Yved at Braine and the brother of Archbishop Henri de Dreux, who donated windows to his cathedral in Rheims. Below the Dreux rose at Chartres, four of the Prophets are carried on the shoulders of the four Evangelists, as those generations, obsessed with symmetry, could never resist the chance to connect the Old and New Testaments.
A first cousin of St. Louis, Ferdinand III, the saint-conqueror of Seville and Cordova, donated to Chartres a window commemorating the patron of Spain. Three times was St. James honored here, so popular was the Santiago Compostela pilgrimage. St. Martin and St. Nicolas of Bari are also commemorated, the former some seven times, for it pleased the voyagers to noted shrines to record their travels. By pilgrimages French art and song spread in Italy and Spain.
A first cousin of St. Louis, Ferdinand III, the saint-conqueror of Seville and Cordoba, donated a window to Chartres to commemorate the patron of Spain. St. James was honored here three times, reflecting the popularity of the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage. St. Martin and St. Nicholas of Bari are also commemorated, the former appearing around seven times, as it pleased travelers to visit noted shrines to mark their journeys. Through pilgrimages, French art and music spread to Italy and Spain.
Single monumental figures of prophet or saint were used in the clearstory windows instead of small medallions, which would be indistinct when viewed at such a height. Although most of the windows in the cathedral belong to the XIII century, the XV century is represented in the Vendôme chapel, begun in 1417 by Louis de Bourbon, an ancestor of Henry IV. Much white was then employed for the better lighting of the church, and the straight saddle-bars of Suger’s time were again made use of.
Single large figures of prophets or saints were used in the clearstory windows instead of small medallions, which would be hard to see from that height. While most of the windows in the cathedral date back to the 13th century, the 15th century is represented in the Vendôme chapel, which was started in 1417 by Louis de Bourbon, an ancestor of Henry IV. A lot of white was used to improve the lighting in the church, and the straight saddle-bars from Suger’s time were used again.
No attempt was made for perspective in the earlier glass, which was treated like a translucent mosaic: relief was obtained by the skilled juxtaposition of tones. The old workers had taught themselves many of the secrets of optics. They knew that designs on a background of blue—an expansive color—should be larger than those on red—an absorbent. They knew that blue was a sedative, that red excited the vision, and that yellow stopped contours, hence it was to be employed in borders.
No effort was made for perspective in the earlier glass, which was treated like a see-through mosaic: depth was achieved through the expert arrangement of colors. The old craftsmen had learned many of the secrets of optics. They understood that designs on a blue background—an expansive color—should be larger than those on red—an absorptive color. They knew that blue was calming, that red stimulated the eyes, and that yellow defined edges, so it was used in borders.
It is not of technique that one thinks when standing face to face with the windows of Chartres. “Create in me a new heart, O God!” one murmurs when gazing at them. When at noon the sun renders the colors dazzling and bewildering, the cathedral seems to be chanting “Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus!” with the seraphim proclaiming that the whole earth is full of the glory of the Lord. Live coals from heaven’s high altar are the windows of Chartres, then, cleansing us of our iniquities; and seeing with our eyes we see, and hearing with our ears we hear, and understanding with our heart we comprehend the vision and are converted and healed.
It’s not just technique that comes to mind when you stand before the windows of Chartres. “Create in me a new heart, O God!” you whisper as you look at them. When the sun hits at noon, making the colors bright and mesmerizing, the cathedral seems to be singing “Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus!” with the seraphim declaring that the whole earth is filled with the glory of the Lord. The windows of Chartres are like live coals from heaven’s high altar, purifying us of our wrongdoings; and with our eyes we see, and with our ears we hear, and with our hearts we understand the vision and are transformed and healed.
When evening blots out the rest of the church, and in luminous obscurity the windows hang ethereally in space, they are psalms of intercession and penitence. To gaze at such windows is to pray, think the Levites who serve in this temple. At sunset it is no unusual sight to see a young student of theology seated with his back to the choir, his forgotten breviary open on his knee, gazing spellbound at the western lancets, in his face a rapt reverence, indicating that his soul is in prayer. Each evening the windows of Abbot Suger’s craftsmen hymn the suave and lovely Te Lucis ante which ushers in night’s purity. A mediæval cathedral was designed for the Real Presence, and without that soul of all ritual it stands bereft. Windows such as Chartres’ proclaim the miracle of the Tabernacle as symbolically as do those pillars of humanity sculptured by the northern doors, Melchisedek and Peter, types of the Christ, each holding a chalice, or as do the transept’s outspread arms that recall the sacrifice on Calvary, renewed daily in the sacrifice of the Mass.
When evening darkens the rest of the church, and the windows appear to float in the soft light, they act as psalms of intercession and repentance. To look at these windows feels like praying, believe the Levites who serve in this temple. At sunset, it’s common to see a young theology student sitting with his back to the choir, his forgotten prayer book resting on his lap, gazing in awe at the western windows, his face showing a deep reverence that reveals his soul is in prayer. Each evening, the windows crafted by Abbot Suger’s artisans sing the gentle and beautiful Te Lucis ante, which welcomes the purity of night. A medieval cathedral was built for the Real Presence, and without that essence of all rituals, it feels empty. Windows like those in Chartres proclaim the miracle of the Tabernacle just as powerfully as those figures of humanity carved into the northern doors, Melchisedek and Peter, symbols of Christ, each holding a chalice, or like the outstretched arms of the transept that remind us of the sacrifice on Calvary, renewed daily in the sacrifice of the Mass.
That Chartres Cathedral has preserved its wealth of colored glass is proof that it came gently through the ages; moreover, it was constructed solidly, being a pioneer in the use of flying buttresses with double arches united by an arcature. Its lower walls never were weakened by the insertion of side chapels, those customary XIV-century additions. That academic period built at Chartres merely the semi-detached chapel of St. Piat, to which a stair ascends from the ambulatory. In the XVIII century some well-intentioned but misguided canons of the cathedral lined their sanctuary with neo-classic marbles and stucco, and cluttered the plain wall spaces over the pier arches with needless ornament.
That Chartres Cathedral has kept its impressive collection of colored glass shows that it has gracefully survived the ages; furthermore, it was built robustly, being a pioneer in the use of flying buttresses with double arches connected by an arcature. Its lower walls were never compromised by the addition of side chapels, which were common in the 14th century. During that academic period, only the semi-detached chapel of St. Piat was built at Chartres, accessible by a staircase from the ambulatory. In the 18th century, some well-meaning but misguided canons of the cathedral adorned their sanctuary with neo-classical marbles and stucco, and cluttered the plain wall spaces above the pier arches with unnecessary decorations.
In the time of the Revolution, the entire demolition of the big church was proposed, but happily the embarrassment of how to dispose of such a mountain of stone prevented the vandalism. Lead was stripped from the roof to make bullets and pennies. In the XIX century the vast timber covering of the masonry vaults, called la forêt, was burned, but the new steep-pitched roof covered with lead has taken on a greenish hue that blends well with the ancient gray stones.
In the time of the Revolution, there was a plan to completely demolish the large church, but fortunately, the challenge of figuring out what to do with such a massive amount of stone stopped the vandalism. Lead was removed from the roof to make bullets and pennies. In the 19th century, the extensive wooden framework of the masonry vaults, known as la forêt, was burned, but the new steep roof covered with lead has developed a greenish tint that complements the old gray stones.
The easy hill of the town serves as pedestal for Chartres Cathedral. Walk through the little city, whose air of cold propriety is very typical of French provincial life, pass through the Porte Guillaume, and from the boulevard beside the stream study the chief edifice of this Beauce which is “the granary of France.” Observe how salient are the transept arms. Another Romanesque trait is the placing of two towers—unfinished here—between choir and transept. What Huysmans called the maigreur distinguée of youth is a characteristic of this church. In Rheims, the next begun of the big Gothic cathedrals, is no trace of youth’s structural plainness.
The gentle hill of the town acts as a base for Chartres Cathedral. Stroll through the small city, where the cool formality is quite typical of life in the French countryside, walk through the Porte Guillaume, and from the boulevard by the stream, take a look at the main building of this Beauce, known as “the granary of France.” Notice how prominent the transept arms are. Another Romanesque feature is the placement of two towers—still unfinished here—between the choir and the transept. What Huysmans referred to as the maigreur distinguée of youth is a defining characteristic of this church. In Rheims, the next of the large Gothic cathedrals under construction, there is no sign of the straightforward simplicity of youth.
As you sit by the stream watching Notre Dame of Chartres, its Flamboyant Gothic tower, perfect of its kind, seems to ride imperiously over the nave; none the less it will be the weather-beaten southwest tower on which the eye will linger longest. Though it was designed to accompany a church of lesser proportions, though it labors under the disadvantage of being overtopped by its sister beacon, nothing can diminish its unparalleled unity. Virile, virginal, aërial, majestic, venerable in youth and youthful in its venerable age, the clocher vieux of Chartres is one of the supreme things of the national art, “full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing.”
As you sit by the stream looking at Notre Dame of Chartres, its Flamboyant Gothic tower, the perfect example of its style, seems to rise assertively above the nave; still, it will be the weathered southwest tower that grabs your attention the longest. Even though it was built to complement a smaller church, and despite the disadvantage of being overshadowed by its sister tower, nothing can take away from its unmatched unity. Strong, pure, airy, majestic, and both ancient yet youthful, the clocher vieux of Chartres is one of the greatest achievements of national art, “full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing.”
The nation that made a compact with God at the baptismal font of Rheims will be converted and will return to her first vocation. Her errors may not go unpunished, but the child of such virtues, of so many sighs, of so many tears, will not perish. A day will come, and we hope it may not long tarry, when France, like Saul on the road to Damascus, will be enveloped in a supernal light whence will proceed a voice, asking: “Why persecutest thou me? Rise up and wash the stains that disfigure thee. Go, first-born of the Church, predestined nation, race of election, go carry as in the past my name before all the peoples and before all the kings of the earth.”—Address of Pope Pius X, in 1912, to the visiting French cardinals.
The nation that made a pact with God at the baptismal font of Rheims will be transformed and will return to its true calling. Its mistakes might not go unpunished, but a nation with such virtues, so many sighs, and so many tears will not be lost. A day will come, and we hope it won't take long, when France, like Saul on the road to Damascus, will be surrounded by a divine light from which a voice will call out: “Why are you persecuting me? Stand up and cleanse the marks that mar you. Go, first-born of the Church, chosen nation, elected people, go and carry my name before all nations and all the kings of the earth.” —Address of Pope Pius X, in 1912, to the visiting French cardinals.
The other two of the four great cathedrals have no setting equal to the hill pedestal of Chartres or to the river island of Notre Dame of Paris. Seldom is a French cathedral surrounded by the pleasant precincts and cloisters preserved by the English minsters, and Rheims Cathedral is no exception in its abrupt rise from flat city streets. Its druidical massiveness can easily dispense with a pedestal. Rheims imposes itself. Even in the night its prodigy of magnificence endures. “The huge bas-relief is always there in the darkness,” wrote Rodin. “I cannot distinguish it, but I feel it. Its beauty persists. It triumphs over shadows and forces me to admire its powerful black harmony. It fills my window, it almost hides the sky. How explain why, even when enveloped in night, this cathedral loses nothing of its beauty? Does the power of that beauty transcend the senses, that the eye sees what it sees not?... O Nuit! tu es plus grande ici que partout ailleurs!”[114]
The other two of the four great cathedrals don’t have a setting as striking as the hilltop at Chartres or the river island at Notre Dame in Paris. Rarely is a French cathedral surrounded by the charming grounds and cloisters that the English cathedrals enjoy, and Rheims Cathedral is no exception as it suddenly rises from the flat city streets. Its impressive mass is more than enough to stand without a platform. Rheims demands attention. Even at night, its incredible magnificence remains. “The huge bas-relief is always there in the darkness,” wrote Rodin. “I can’t see it, but I can feel it. Its beauty remains. It conquers the shadows and compels me to admire its powerful black harmony. It fills my window, nearly obscuring the sky. How can I explain why, even when cloaked in night, this cathedral loses none of its beauty? Does the power of that beauty go beyond the senses, allowing the eye to perceive what it cannot see?...O Nuit! tu es plus grande ici que partout ailleurs!”[114]
The “masters of the living stone” who built Rheims Cathedral are known to us to-day. Their names were commemorated in a labyrinth that once formed part of the nave’s pavement, a drawing of which has been unearthed by M. Louis Demaison. The obliterated figure in the middle of the labyrinth no doubt represented the bishop who laid the foundation stone. He was Albéric de Humbert, formerly archdeacon of Notre Dame at Paris while the bishops Maurice and Eudes de Sully were raising that cathedral. Builder and crusader, Albéric was a true product of his age. He marched into Languedoc, in 1208, to chastise the Albigensian heretics; he attended Innocent III’s great Council of the Lateran in 1214, and when he ventured again to the East to take part in the crusade of Jean de Brienne, he was captured by Saracens and ransomed by the Spanish knights of Calatrava. He died on the return journey, 1218.
The “masters of the living stone” who constructed Rheims Cathedral are recognized today. Their names were memorialized in a labyrinth that used to be part of the nave's pavement, a drawing of which has been discovered by M. Louis Demaison. The erased figure in the center of the labyrinth likely represented the bishop who laid the foundation stone. His name was Albéric de Humbert, who was previously the archdeacon of Notre Dame in Paris while bishops Maurice and Eudes de Sully were building that cathedral. A builder and a crusader, Albéric embodied his era. He marched into Languedoc in 1208 to punish the Albigensian heretics; he attended Innocent III’s significant Council of the Lateran in 1214, and when he ventured east again to participate in the crusade led by Jean de Brienne, he was captured by Saracens and was ransomed by the Spanish knights of Calatrava. He died on the way back in 1218.
For a man of such energy, it could have been with slight regret that he witnessed, in May, 1210, the destruction by fire of the decrepit church he had inherited, one of whose builders had been Archbishop Hincmar in the IX century. That early cathedral of Rheims had been redressed with a façade by Archbishop Sampson, a friend of Abbot Suger’s, and among the prelates who attended the memorable dedication of St. Denis. His Primary Gothic work, wiped out in the conflagration of 1210, was a loss indeed for art.
For such an energetic man, it must have been with a bit of regret that he saw the old church he had inherited burn down in May 1210. One of its builders was Archbishop Hincmar from the 9th century. That early cathedral in Rheims had been redesigned with a new façade by Archbishop Sampson, a friend of Abbot Suger’s, and one of the bishops present at the memorable dedication of St. Denis. His significant Gothic work, destroyed in the fire of 1210, was truly a loss for art.
Bishop Albéric de Humbert set vigorously to work, and within a year of the fire had laid the corner stone of the present cathedral (1211). By 1241 services were held in the finished choir. An archbishop of the Dreux line (1227-40) gave windows to the upper apse, and although he and the townsfolk were at bitter odds, the building of the great church by both prelate and people went on unabated. The imperious Henri de Dreux, like Pierre Mauclerc, the donor of Chartres’ south rose, was a grandson of that brother of King Louis VII who built the beautiful church of St. Yved at Braine on the highway between Rheims and Soissons. While the cathedral of Rheims was building, another of its archbishops was a Joinville, and in 1270 its sixtieth ruler died on St. Louis’ last crusade.
Bishop Albéric de Humbert got to work quickly, and within a year of the fire had laid the cornerstone of the current cathedral (1211). By 1241, services were being held in the finished choir. An archbishop from the Dreux family (1227-40) donated windows for the upper apse, and even though he and the townspeople were in conflict, the construction of the great church continued without interruption, supported by both the bishop and the community. The commanding Henri de Dreux, like Pierre Mauclerc, who donated the south rose window of Chartres, was a grandson of the brother of King Louis VII, who built the beautiful St. Yved church in Braine on the road between Rheims and Soissons. While the Rheims cathedral was being constructed, one of its archbishops was a Joinville, and in 1270, its sixtieth leader died during St. Louis’ last crusade.
The plan of the cathedral was made by Jean d’Orbais, who had watched the erection of the abbatial (1180) in his native town of Orbais,[115] a church modeled on the choir of St. Remi which the celebrated schoolman Pierre de Celle had built from 1170 to 1180. Thus Orbais is the intermediary between the big abbey church of Rheims and Rheims Cathedral.
The design of the cathedral was created by Jean d’Orbais, who had seen the construction of the abbatial (1180) in his hometown of Orbais,[115] a church inspired by the choir of St. Remi that the well-known scholar Pierre de Celle built from 1170 to 1180. So, Orbais serves as the link between the large abbey church of Rheims and Rheims Cathedral.
For twenty years Jean d’Orbais directed the works at Rheims, so stated the inscription in the labyrinth; and on his death Jean de Loup became directing architect for sixteen years (1231-47), during which the transept and its portals were constructed. The third architect, Gaucher de Rheims (1250-59), began the west portals and worked on the nave. In his precious notebook, Villard de Honnecourt sketched a bay of the nave before 1250. The fourth master-of-works at Rheims, whose name was inscribed in the labyrinth, was Bernard de Soissons. He worked here for thirty-five years; the inscription states that he made five bays of the nave—no doubt the westernmost ones—and that he opened the big O, the rose window of twelve mammoth petals that flowers in the west façade, and is one of the most beautiful designs of the age. By the end of the XIII century, therefore, Rheims Cathedral was completed in its main parts. Carried on with scarcely a pause, and always after the original plan of Jean d’Orbais, the great church kept its unity throughout. The first four architects who during a century had directed the works were succeeded by Robert de Coucy, to whom for a time was erroneously attributed the original plan, but who really continued to build the elaborate west façade.
For twenty years, Jean d’Orbais oversaw the construction at Rheims, as noted in the inscription in the labyrinth. After his death, Jean de Loup took over as the lead architect for sixteen years (1231-47), during which the transept and its portals were built. The third architect, Gaucher de Rheims (1250-59), started on the west portals and worked on the nave. In his valuable notebook, Villard de Honnecourt sketched a bay of the nave before 1250. The fourth master builder at Rheims, whose name is recorded in the labyrinth, was Bernard de Soissons. He worked there for thirty-five years; the inscription mentions that he completed five bays of the nave—likely the westernmost ones—and that he designed the large O, the rose window with twelve massive petals that adorns the west façade and is one of the most stunning designs of the era. By the end of the XIII century, Rheims Cathedral was finished in its main features. Carried on with little interruption, and consistently following the original plan of Jean d’Orbais, the great church maintained its unity throughout. The first four architects who directed the work for a century were succeeded by Robert de Coucy, to whom the original plan was incorrectly attributed for a time, but he actually continued the construction of the intricate west façade.
That frontispiece of Rheims Cathedral, with its cloud of witnesses, is a culmination of Gothic art. Some have called it a work of the XIV century, but the labyrinth, set in the pavement before Robert de Coucy’s day, distinctly attributed the placing of the big rose window to Bernard de Soissons, who was in the city till 1298. Also a text of 1299 refers to one of the west towers, and the armor worn in the David-Goliath group of the gable is of the 1280 type. All critics acknowledge that the big statues of the portals belong in main part to the golden period of Gothic sculpture, and were done between 1250 and 1260.[116] The images under the southwest tower had been prepared about thirty years earlier, in the time of Jean d’Orbais. The façade of Rheims inspired many a later Gothic frontispiece—Meaux, Tours, Rouen, Troyes, and Abbeville.
That front page of Rheims Cathedral, with its crowd of witnesses, represents the peak of Gothic art. Some have referred to it as a 14th-century work, but the labyrinth in the pavement, set before Robert de Coucy's time, clearly links the placement of the large rose window to Bernard de Soissons, who was in the city until 1298. Additionally, a text from 1299 mentions one of the west towers, and the armor worn in the David-Goliath group on the gable is of the 1280 style. All critics agree that the large statues of the portals are primarily from the golden age of Gothic sculpture, created between 1250 and 1260.[116] The images under the southwest tower were made about thirty years earlier, during the time of Jean d’Orbais. The façade of Rheims inspired many later Gothic front pages—Meaux, Tours, Rouen, Troyes, and Abbeville.
The cathedral went on perfecting itself in detail, and was nearing a complete finish when, four months after the raising of the siege of Orléans, Jeanne d’Arc brought her king to be crowned in the city where two hundred years earlier St. Louis had been anointed. Three gentlemen of Anjou wrote a letter to the queen of Charles VII, Marie of Anjou, and to her mother, Jolande of Aragon, to describe the ceremonies at Rheims on that fifth day of August, 1429. As the crown was set on the king’s head trumpets rang out, till it seemed that the vaults would crack, and every man cried “Noël!” and drew his sword. A fair sight it was to see the gallant bearing of Jeanne the Maid as she stood by the king, holding the banner she cherished more than the sword.
The cathedral was perfecting its details and was almost finished when, four months after the siege of Orléans was lifted, Jeanne d’Arc brought her king to be crowned in the city where St. Louis had been anointed two hundred years earlier. Three gentlemen from Anjou wrote a letter to Charles VII's queen, Marie of Anjou, and to her mother, Jolande of Aragon, to describe the ceremonies in Rheims on that fifth day of August, 1429. As the crown was placed on the king’s head, trumpets sounded so loud that it felt like the vaults would break, and everyone shouted “Noël!” while drawing their swords. It was a beautiful sight to see the brave stance of Jeanne the Maid as she stood by the king, holding the banner she valued more than the sword.
At her trial in Rouen even her standard was used against her. “Why,” asked her judges, “was your banner carried into the church of Rheims to the consecration rather than those of the other captains?” And Jeanne made one of her ringing answers: “It had been in the fray, surely there was good reason it should be at the victory”—à la peine ... à l’honneur—her phrase was to become a proverb of France.[117] Jeanne liked fair play. In her army she would tolerate no pillage, nor eat of food which she thought had been so obtained. But then Jeanne had no Kultur. She was merely an unlettered peasant girl of the Middle Ages, who called it plain thieving to carry off household goods in an invaded country. For her good friends of Rheims la bonne Lorraine kept a warm place in her memory, as her letter to them showed: “Mes chiers et bons amis les bons et loyaulx Franxois de la cité de Rains, Jehanne la Pucelle vous faict à savoir de ses nouvelles ... je vous promect et certiffy que je ne vous abandonneray poinct.”
At her trial in Rouen, even her banner was used against her. "Why," asked her judges, "was your flag taken into the church of Rheims for the consecration instead of those of the other captains?" And Jeanne gave one of her powerful replies: "It had been in battle; surely there was good reason it should be at the victory"—à la peine ... à l’honneur—her phrase would become a saying in France.[117] Jeanne valued fairness. In her army, she allowed no looting and wouldn't eat food she believed was taken that way. But Jeanne had no Kultur. She was just an uneducated peasant girl from the Middle Ages, who considered it plain stealing to take household items from an invaded country. Her good friends from Rheims la bonne Lorraine held a special place in her heart, as her letter to them showed: “Mes chiers et bons amis les bons et loyaulx Franxois de la cité de Rains, Jehanne la Pucelle vous faict à savoir de ses nouvelles ... je vous promect et certiffy que je ne vous abandonneray poinct.”
Not many years after that national hour of rejoicing the cathedral of Rheims suffered a disaster which put a stop to further construction; henceforth only restorations went on. In 1481 some careless plumbers set on fire the timber overroof and the molten lead ran like a river into the streets. Many a citizen perished in the effort to check the flames. The stone roof of the cathedral stood firm, justifying those generations whose life struggle had been the problem how to cover their churches enduringly. Though all France contributed, the huge edifice was never to be crowned by the six spires of Jean d’Orbais’ plan; yet even as it is, Rheims presents the ideal exterior of a Gothic cathedral.
Not long after that national celebration, the cathedral of Rheims experienced a disaster that halted further construction; from then on, only restorations took place. In 1481, some careless plumbers accidentally set fire to the wooden roof, and molten lead flowed like a river into the streets. Many citizens lost their lives trying to extinguish the flames. The stone roof of the cathedral remained intact, validating the efforts of generations who had struggled to find a lasting way to cover their churches. Although all of France contributed, the enormous structure was never completed with the six spires of Jean d’Orbais’ design; yet even as it stands, Rheims showcases the perfect exterior of a Gothic cathedral.
The main façade was made most appropriately a thing of pomp and circumstance, regal and gorgeous for the royal coronations. No need to hang such walls with tapestries for the feast. The three deep portals were united as one by means of an unbroken line of thirty or more large images, deriving from similar arrays at Chartres and Amiens, but possessing a pronounced indigenous genius. In the groups of the Annunciation and the Presentation the Blessed Virgin is a figure of spotless purity, meek and infinitely touching in her little mantle that falls in straight simplicity from her slender shoulders. “By humility the holy Virgin merited to become the mother of God,” was the answer given by St. Isabelle of France, the only sister of St. Louis, when asked why she named her convent at Longchamp, L’Humilité-Notre-Dame. A very different Virgin is that in the Visitation group. She and St. Elizabeth are draped voluminously like stately Roman matrons. Those two statues (imitated by Bamburg Cathedral in 1280) must have been inspired by some work of antiquity, of which Rheims possessed a number. Classic influences in the imagery of northern France during the Middle Ages was transitory, however. First and last mediæval sculpture was a building-stone sculpture.
The main facade was designed to be grand and impressive, fitting for royal coronations. There was no need to decorate the walls with tapestries for the celebration. The three deep doorways were connected by an unbroken line of thirty or more large images, , inspired by similar works at Chartres and Amiens but with a distinct local style. In the Annunciation and Presentation scenes, the Blessed Virgin is portrayed with pure innocence, gentle and deeply touching in her simple mantle that falls straight from her slender shoulders. “Through her humility, the holy Virgin earned the right to be the mother of God,” was the response given by St. Isabelle of France, the only sister of St. Louis, when asked why she named her convent at Longchamp, L’Humilité-Notre-Dame. In contrast, the Virgin in the Visitation scene appears regal, draped elegantly like noble Roman women along with St. Elizabeth. Those two statues (replicated by Bamberg Cathedral in 1280) must have drawn inspiration from some antique works, of which Rheims had several. However, classic influences in northern France’s medieval imagery were fleeting; ultimately, medieval sculpture was a form of architectural art.
In the eyes and on the lips of a few of the entranceway statues hovered a half-smile, a fleeting, rare expression which, long centuries before, the Greek sculptors preceding Phidias had achieved. Again, at the Renaissance, Da Vinci was obsessed by the same expression, “born of a miracle, meant to gladden men’s souls forever.” To-day, the angel image La Sourire stands headless at the portal under the north tower.
In the eyes and on the lips of a few of the entranceway statues lingered a half-smile, a fleeting, rare expression that, centuries earlier, the Greek sculptors before Phidias had captured. Again, during the Renaissance, Da Vinci was captivated by the same expression, “born of a miracle, meant to uplift people’s spirits forever.” Today, the angel figure La Sourire stands headless at the entrance under the north tower.
Not only was the west frontispiece of Rheims unique, but its transept façades would have distinguished any cathedral. One of the three doors of the north façade is composed of fragments from a monument which had been in the Romanesque metropolitan burned in 1210. The middle door commemorates local saints, for cathedrals were historians and linked the generations with that continuance of tradition which makes the strength of a race. To honor their spiritual forefathers was held to be patriotism by those believing generations. At both west and north façades was an image of St. Nicaise, the eleventh bishop of Rheims, who had been martyred as he knelt by his cathedral door. Tradition relates that he was reciting the Psalmist’s words, “My soul is bowed to earth,” when the Vandals struck off his head, and that the severed head finished the verse: “Verify me, O Lord, according to thy word.”[118]
Not only was the west front of Rheims unique, but its transept facades would stand out in any cathedral. One of the three doors on the north facade is made up of pieces from a monument that had been in the Romanesque cathedral burned in 1210. The middle door honors local saints, as cathedrals served as historians and connected generations through a tradition that strengthens a race. Honoring their spiritual ancestors was seen as a form of patriotism by those who believed in it. On both the west and north facades was an image of St. Nicaise, the eleventh bishop of Rheims, who was martyred while kneeling by his cathedral door. Tradition says that he was reciting the Psalmist’s words, “My soul is bowed to earth,” when the Vandals beheaded him, and that his severed head finished the verse: “Verify me, O Lord, according to thy word.”[118]
The fifteenth bishop (459-533), St. Remigius, apostle of the Franks, is honored by a statue. In the cathedral of his day he baptized Clovis, and thus made France the first orthodox Christian kingdom of the West, since Gaul’s other conquerors had fallen into the Arian heresy. Many an archbishop of Rheims played a foremost part in the life of the nation. The military prowess of Turpin, the twenty-seventh prelate here, is related in the Chanson de Roland.[119] The forty-first archbishop was the learned Gerbert, who died Pope Sylvester II (1003). He made the cathedral school famous, among his pupils being the king’s son and Bishop Fulbert of Chartres.
The fifteenth bishop (459-533), St. Remigius, apostle of the Franks, is honored by a statue. In the cathedral of his time, he baptized Clovis, making France the first orthodox Christian kingdom in the West, as Gaul’s other conquerors had adopted the Arian heresy. Many archbishops of Rheims played a key role in the national life. The military exploits of Turpin, the twenty-seventh prelate mentioned here, are detailed in the Chanson de Roland.[119] The forty-first archbishop was the scholarly Gerbert, who later became Pope Sylvester II (1003). He made the cathedral school renowned, with notable students including the king’s son and Bishop Fulbert of Chartres.
One of the students in Rheims in that age was St. Bruno of Cologne, founder of the Carthusian Order. For long years he directed the cathedral school, guiding the people during the misrule of a scandalous archbishop. A pupil of his at Rheims became Urban II, who instigated the First Crusade. And a century later one of his ablest and holiest sons, St. Hugh of Avalon, built the cathedral choir of Lincoln, as well as its small transept, and part of the big transept—the oldest examples of Early-English Gothic. In 1180, the archbishop of Rheims, Guillaume de Champagne, crowned as king his nephew, Philippe-Auguste. Only those shepherds of the flock who attained to canonized sainthood were honored by statues at the church entrances.
One of the students in Rheims during that time was St. Bruno of Cologne, the founder of the Carthusian Order. He led the cathedral school for many years, guiding the people through the mismanagement of a scandalous archbishop. One of his students at Rheims became Urban II, who sparked the First Crusade. A century later, one of his most capable and holy followers, St. Hugh of Avalon, constructed the cathedral choir of Lincoln, along with its small transept and part of the large transept—the oldest examples of Early-English Gothic architecture. In 1180, the archbishop of Rheims, Guillaume de Champagne, crowned his nephew, Philippe-Auguste, as king. Only those shepherds of the flock who achieved canonized sainthood were honored with statues at the church entrances.
The Beau Dieu of Rheims of most benign majesty is the central image of the transept’s northern façade. Surmounting it is a Last Judgment that speaks well for the honesty of the clerics whose pupils were the sculptors. Here at the king’s own basilica, whither he came for the most brilliant hour of his life, was sculptured a crowned monarch, as the front figure, marching to hell, and behind him walked a bishop. No pharisees were the men of the XIII century. Sin was sin, and all men were equal before sin’s punishment.
The Beau Dieu of Rheims, with its majestic presence, is the central image of the northern façade of the transept. Above it is a depiction of the Last Judgment that reflects well on the integrity of the clerics who trained the sculptors. Here, at the king's own basilica, where he came for the most glorious moment of his life, is the carved image of a crowned monarch, the front figure, marching toward hell, followed by a bishop. The men of the 13th century were not hypocrites. Sin was sin, and all men were equal before the punishment of sin.
There are statues on the towers of that same north frontispiece to which names have been given. One has been called Philippe-Auguste, and it certainly was a portrait study, whether or not it represented the most able monarch of the feudal ages, the victor of Bouvines, who tripled the area of France and under whom was begun almost every Gothic cathedral in the land. The name of his grandson, St. Louis, has been given to another image. In a niche of the façade stands a charming Eve holding a very mediæval serpent.
There are statues on the towers of that same northern front that have been named. One is referred to as Philippe-Auguste, and it definitely appears to be a portrait, whether or not it depicts the most capable king of the feudal era, the victor of Bouvines, who expanded France's territory threefold and under whom nearly every Gothic cathedral in the country was started. Another statue is named after his grandson, St. Louis. In a niche of the façade, there’s an enchanting Eve holding a rather medieval serpent.
One can merely indicate, in passing, the astounding wealth of Rheims—five thousand images whose verve and fecundity are marvelous. “If your heart is right, all creatures will be for you a book of holy doctrine,” so they dared to carve clown, dog, cat, or sheep on pinnacle, or in hidden nook, and their flora was as generous as their fauna. A local botanist has found that every leaf growing to-day by the roadsides was reproduced in the cathedral. It was only natural that in Champagne the vine leaf should be popular; on one of the capitals of the nave a pleasant vintage scene is represented.
One can simply mention, in passing, the incredible wealth of Rheims—five thousand images whose energy and richness are amazing. “If your heart is pure, all living things will serve as a book of sacred teachings for you,” so they boldly carved clowns, dogs, cats, or sheep on pinnacles or in hidden corners, and their plant life was as abundant as their animal life. A local botanist discovered that every leaf growing today along the roadsides was depicted in the cathedral. It makes sense that in Champagne the vine leaf would be favored; on one of the capitals of the nave, there’s a charming depiction of a vintage scene.
If the gorgeous west approaches of the Cathedral-Royal were suited for earthly pageantry, its eastern end paid homage, in holier simplicity, to the Spiritual King. Around the exterior wall of the apse was set a guard of angels, each carrying an emblem of the Passion, or of its symbol, the Mass—chalice, censer, missal, spear—and the procession met at the Christ image placed in the center of the curving wall. The ordinance was derived from Byzantine art. Many an artist has said of the apse sculpture of Rheims that the Greeks can show no lovelier work. A few years later, more angelic thrones, dominations, and powers were set around this, the Cathedral of the Angels. A seraphic sentry adorned each buttress and at the same time increased its counterbutting force, and were agents toward the swifter grounding of the load.
If the beautiful west entrances of the Cathedral-Royal were perfect for earthly celebrations, the eastern side paid tribute, in a more spiritual way, to the Divine. Around the outside of the apse stood a guard of angels, each holding a symbol of the Passion or the Mass—chalice, censer, missal, spear—and the procession met at the image of Christ placed in the center of the curved wall. The design was inspired by Byzantine art. Many artists have remarked that the apse sculpture of Rheims rivals anything the Greeks could produce in beauty. A few years later, additional angelic thrones, dominations, and powers were added around this, the Cathedral of the Angels. Each buttress was adorned with a seraphic guardian, which not only enhanced its structural support but also helped distribute the weight more effectively.
And now, having touched superficially on the exterior of this inexhaustible church, let us step inside its imaged doors. On the inner wall of the three western portals is an elaborate decoration found nowhere else. Tier upon tier of statues shrined in foliage-covered niches rise to the level of the triforium. Never has a wall been more glorified both within and without. Lavish leaf ornamentation forms the capitals of the piers. Each pier consists of a circular shaft cantoned by four lesser columns; the capitals of the latter are divided into two stories because their diameter is less—a skillful contrivance that solves the difficulty of grouping pillars of different sizes.
And now, after briefly looking at the outside of this incredible church, let’s step through its impressive doors. On the inner wall of the three western entrances is a detailed decoration that you won’t find anywhere else. Rows of statues nestled in niches covered with greenery rise up to the level of the triforium. No wall has ever been more beautifully adorned inside and out. Rich leaf designs make up the capitals of the piers. Each pier is made up of a circular shaft surrounded by four smaller columns; the capitals of these smaller columns are split into two levels because they are thinner—this clever design solves the problem of arranging pillars of different sizes.
The Angel Apse of Rheims
(around 1220)
The nave of Rheims was never weakened by the addition of side chapels, which always diminishes the integrity of an edifice. In fact, the lower walls[120] as well as the piers were made oversolid for what they bear, since it had not yet been learned how to apply exactly the right counterforce to the pressure of the vaulting. Amiens was to be the first to achieve that perfect equilibrium.
The nave of Rheims was never weakened by the addition of side chapels, which always reduces the integrity of a building. In fact, the lower walls[120] and the piers were built too solid for what they support, since people had not yet learned how to apply just the right counterforce to the pressure of the vaulting. Amiens would be the first to achieve that perfect balance.
The interior proportions of Rheims are harmonious; the side aisles are relatively right with the central vessel, and the nave leads up well to the sanctuary, which, inside and out, is beyond criticism. As a whole, however, the interior of this cathedral has not the slender upwardness of Amiens nor the ascetic holiness of Chartres. It stands more than it soars. It praises the deity in another fashion than does the mystic cathedral. The keynote here is a right-minded human splendor. Robust and majestic, this is the church for state pageants, the regal temple for national festivals.
The interior of Rheims is well-balanced; the side aisles are relatively aligned with the central nave, and the nave nicely leads up to the sanctuary, which is flawless both inside and out. Overall, though, the interior of this cathedral lacks the slender height of Amiens and the austere holiness of Chartres. It feels more grounded than elevated. It honors the divine in a different way than the mystical cathedral. The main theme here is a wholesome human grandeur. Strong and impressive, this is the church for state ceremonies, the grand temple for national celebrations.
Alas! poor battle-worn Rheims! Alas for the bons et loyaulx Franxois de la cité de Rains! Has Jehanne la Purcelle forgotten her promise never to abandon you?
Alas! poor battle-worn Rheims! Alas for the bons et loyaulx Franxois de la cité de Rains! Has Jeanne the Maid forgotten her promise never to abandon you?
Masquant sous sa visière une efficacité ...
Casting an entire army at the feet of prayer....
So wrote the poet who fell on the field of honor, in September, 1914, of St. Jeanne, whose martyrdom was a victory; so he might have written of Rheims Cathedral. Again a sublime holocaust was needed for the saving of the soul of France.
So wrote the poet who died bravely in September 1914, about St. Jeanne, whose martyrdom was a triumph; he might have said the same about Rheims Cathedral. Once again, a noble sacrifice was needed to save the soul of France.
RHEIMS SINCE 1914
RHEIMS SINCE 1914
How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people. How is she become a widow, she that was great among the nations.—Jerimiah: Lamentations.
How does the city sit alone now that it was full of people? How has she become a widow, she who was great among the nations?—Jeremiah: Lamentations.
Ah! Must you burn the wood before you can draw with it? —Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven.
In the first days of September, 1914, after the battle of the Marne, the Germans evacuated Rheims, which they had occupied for little over a week. Before they quitted the city, some cans of inflammable liquids, with bundles of straw, were set on the roof of the cathedral, and there they were found and made note of officially by Frenchmen who ascended the towers to hang out the Red Cross flag. The destruction of Rheims Cathedral was planned deliberately and in cold blood it was carried out. No military excuse for the crime is possible, since General Joffre made a formal statement that at no time were the church towers used as posts of observation.
In early September 1914, after the Battle of the Marne, the Germans left Rheims, which they had occupied for just over a week. Before leaving the city, they placed some cans of flammable liquids and bundles of straw on the roof of the cathedral, which were discovered and officially noted by the French who went up the towers to hang out the Red Cross flag. The destruction of Rheims Cathedral was planned intentionally and executed coldly. There's no military justification for this act, as General Joffre officially stated that the church towers were never used as observation posts.
From the heights a few miles away the enemy opened fire on the city. It is said that Baron von Plattenburg ordered the bombardment. General von Haeringen is also cited as an executioner of Rheims Cathedral. On September 17th and 18th the church was riddled with projectiles. Between dawn and sunset, on September 19th, over five hundred of them struck the mammoth church. About four o’clock on that fateful day, Saturday, September 19, 1914, the timber roof caught fire from an inflammable bomb. In less than an hour flames were devouring the wooden scaffolding which, by ill luck, because of repairs in progress, framed part of the edifice. Fire lapped and calcined the outer walls, obliterating the kings and the angels and the saints, wiping out all the loving handicraft of the old stonecutters. Once again molten lead ran in the streets of Rheims. Fire lapped the sculptured screen inside the western doors, and the lovely lavish chiseling has become a blurred, amorphous mass. Projectiles tore through the gaping windows and crashed against the opposite walls. Some of the burning timber from the overroof fell through the apertures of the vault’s keystones and ignited the straw spread on the pavement for the wounded German soldiers who had been left behind when the invaders evacuated the city.
From a few miles away, the enemy began firing on the city. It's said that Baron von Plattenburg ordered the bombardment. General von Haeringen is also mentioned as responsible for the destruction of Rheims Cathedral. On September 17th and 18th, the church was hit by projectiles. Between dawn and sunset on September 19th, over five hundred of them struck the massive church. Around four o'clock that day, Saturday, September 19, 1914, the wooden roof caught fire from an incendiary bomb. In less than an hour, flames consumed the wooden scaffolding, which, unfortunately due to ongoing repairs, had become part of the structure. Fire scorched the outer walls, destroying the kings, angels, and saints, erasing all the skilled work of the old stonecutters. Once again, molten lead flowed in the streets of Rheims. Flames licked at the sculptured screen inside the western doors, turning the beautifully detailed carvings into a vague, shapeless mass. Projectiles shattered the gaping windows and slammed into the opposite walls. Some of the burning timber from the roof fell through the openings of the vault's keystones and ignited the straw spread on the pavement for the wounded German soldiers who had been left behind when the invaders evacuated the city.
Let an eyewitness relate the burning of Rheims Cathedral: “It stood enveloped in flames, one towering flame itself. Before the outrage something surged unchained at the root of our being. Our cathedral! Our hearts broke as we watched its desecration. An aged woman of the city intoned solemnly: ‘This will bode them no good!’ (‘Ca ne leur portera pas bonheur!’) We stood in groups watching with fierce anger the conflagration. We walked, we spoke, but like automatons, for our souls were groaning with anguish. Our cathedral! Première page de France! Geste des aïeux! Legs des siècles devenant aujourd’hui, en ce poignant martyre, l’hostie nationale!” Suddenly word came that the German wounded inside the church must be saved. The archpriest of the cathedral, Canon Landrieux (to-day a bishop), called for aid from the onlookers. He was answered by angry murmurs: “What! must we then risk our lives to save these bombarders of hospitals, these incendiaries of cathedrals?” Then a young girl’s voice rose, trembling with tears: “On est de France, nous autres!” And instantly men stepped forward to aid the heroic priest save their enemies from the flaming furnace.
Let an eyewitness describe the burning of Rheims Cathedral: “It stood engulfed in flames, like a massive inferno itself. Before the devastation, something raw surged deep within us. Our cathedral! Our hearts shattered as we witnessed its desecration. An elderly woman from the city solemnly declared: ‘This won’t bring them any good!’ (‘Ca ne leur portera pas bonheur!’) We stood in groups, watching the fire with fierce anger. We walked and talked, but like machines, as our souls were aching with grief. Our cathedral! First page of France! Legacy of our ancestors! Gift of the centuries now becoming, in this poignant martyrdom, the national host!” Suddenly, word came that the German wounded inside the church needed saving. The archpriest of the cathedral, Canon Landrieux (now a bishop), called for help from the bystanders. He was met with angry murmurs: “What! Must we risk our lives to save those who bomb hospitals and burn cathedrals?” Then a young girl’s voice rose, trembling with tears: “We are from France, after all!” And immediately, men stepped forward to help the brave priest save their enemies from the blazing inferno.
Poor martyred Rheims! Its once illuminated western front is battered and corroded past restoral, and is falling flake by flake. With a touch of the finger the stone crumbles into dust. The towers are mutilated. One after another the rapt and fearless angels on the buttresses have been toppled down. As the incessant rain of fire and iron came from the northeast, the transept’s northern entranceway is wrecked—its historic statues mere unsightly stumps. Never again will the hardy lesson of the Last Judgment be preached at the ruined portal.
Poor martyred Rheims! Its once shining western front is battered and corroded beyond repair, and it's falling apart flake by flake. With just a touch, the stone crumbles into dust. The towers are damaged. One by one, the enthralled and fearless angels on the buttresses have been knocked down. As the unending rain of fire and metal poured in from the northeast, the northern entrance of the transept was destroyed—its historic statues reduced to unsightly stumps. The resilient lesson of the Last Judgment will never again be preached at the ruined portal.
No more will the triple-winged seraphim chant hosannas in the great western rose. No coming generations of travelers will carry away an undying memory of the sunset hour in the great church, when the western inclosure became a resplendent sheet of flame, and those who paced up and down the basilica gazed with awe at that majestic spectacle of Art and Faith. The XIII-century windows of the clearstory are pulverized; scarcely a fragment is left of the forty lancets of the nave where, in superimposed rows, the kings of France stood, with the archbishops who had crowned them, big-eyed barbaric images, so intense of hue that one remembers them as blood-red rubies. The loss of the windows of Rheims has been expressed poignantly by Pierre Loti, who spent a Sunday in October, 1915, in the cathedral. He found the silence of death within its ravaged walls that for centuries had echoed the music of the liturgy. Only a cold wind now and then made fitful psalmody. When it blew strongly he could hear a patter as of delicate light pearls. It was the falling to oblivion of what still remained of the ancient windows.
No longer will the three-winged seraphim sing praises in the great western rose. Future generations of visitors won't carry away lasting memories of the sunset hour in the grand church, when the western enclosure transformed into a brilliant sheet of flame, and those walking back and forth in the basilica looked on in awe at that stunning display of Art and Faith. The 13th-century windows of the clearstory are shattered; barely a piece is left of the forty lancets of the nave where, in stacked rows, the kings of France stood, along with the archbishops who crowned them, wide-eyed barbaric figures, so vibrant in color that they are remembered as blood-red rubies. The loss of the windows of Rheims was powerfully captured by Pierre Loti, who spent a Sunday in October 1915 in the cathedral. He discovered a deathly silence within its devastated walls that had echoed for centuries with the music of the liturgy. Now, only a cold wind occasionally created a sporadic melody. When it blew strongly, he could hear a sound like delicate light pearls falling. It was the remnants of the ancient windows fading into oblivion.
The hammer of Odin and of Thor has gone on beating down relentlessly the national church, and a Berlin poet has sung, exultantly: “The bells sound no more in the two-towered Dom. We have closed with lead, O Rheims, thy house of idolatry.” Rheims was hated of old. In its cathedral of 1119 Calixtus II, of the blood of the Capetians, had excommunicated the would-be autocrat of Europe, the German emperor, who had proved himself an unnatural son, a treacherous neighbor, and one who laid sacrilegious hands on holy things. As the pope pronounced the sentence the four hundred prelates gathered in the cathedral dashed down their candles. Yes, Rheims was hated.
The hammer of Odin and Thor has been relentlessly striking down the national church, and a Berlin poet has triumphantly declared: “The bells no longer ring in the two-towered cathedral. We have sealed shut, O Rheims, your house of idolatry.” Rheims was despised from long ago. In its cathedral in 1119, Calixtus II, of the Capetian line, excommunicated the self-proclaimed ruler of Europe, the German emperor, who had proven himself a disloyal son, a treacherous neighbor, and one who desecrated holy things. As the pope delivered the sentence, the four hundred bishops gathered in the cathedral dropped their candles. Yes, Rheims was indeed hated.
Every check to the invader’s troops in the trenches was immediately revenged on the defenseless church. Rheims Cathedral bombarded became a tragically recurrent line in the war’s official bulletin. On October 14, 1914, a hole, meters wide, was torn in the most beautiful of Gothic apses. On February 21 and 22, 1915, the bombardment surpassed in savagery the horrors of the fateful September 19th. On March 29, 1915, a German airship dropped inflammable bombs on the choir, and before many months of this rain of iron and fire the masonry roof began to give way. During the half year preceding the armistice a veritable avalanche of shells fell on the stricken city, where remained only a few hundred of its hundred and thirty thousand inhabitants. From June 15 to June 28, 1918, over sixteen thousand shells fell on Rheims, and, strange to tell, amid it all Dubois’ statue of Jeanne d’Arc mounted on her charger on the cathedral parvis stood unscathed.[121] On July 5th eight shells crashed into the western entrances; and so on runs the sinister record.
Every time the invader's troops were pushed back in the trenches, the defenseless church was immediately targeted in revenge. Rheims Cathedral bombarded became a sadly repeated line in the war's official updates. On October 14, 1914, a massive hole was torn in the most beautiful Gothic apse. On February 21 and 22, 1915, the bombardment was even more brutal than the horrors of that fateful September 19th. On March 29, 1915, a German airship dropped incendiary bombs on the choir, and after many months of this rain of iron and fire, the masonry roof began to collapse. In the six months leading up to the armistice, a true avalanche of shells fell on the devastated city, which was left with only a few hundred of its original hundred and thirty thousand residents. From June 15 to June 28, 1918, over sixteen thousand shells rained down on Rheims, and strangely enough, amid it all, Dubois' statue of Jeanne d’Arc on her horse in front of the cathedral remained unharmed.[121] On July 5th, eight shells struck the western entrances; and the grim record continued from there.
“We wait for a chastisement equal to the crime,” is the word of Enlart, the archæologist. And the world’s heart echoes the verdict. When on that fatal September day of 1914, the staggering almost unbelievable report first spread over France, “Rheims Cathedral is in flames”—many a strong man wept on the streets of French cities, and throughout the tragic night of the conflagration the French soldiers, camped over the plains for miles, watched in anguish the destruction of their patrimony, of their ancestress cathedral, l’holocauste de la patrie. In Jeanne’s century it had taken a long and cruel war and the sacrifice of her who was the incarnation of France to remake the stricken soul of the nation, and again an overwhelming martyrdom was needed to set right the grievous pitié there was in the country of France.
“We’re waiting for a punishment that matches the crime,” says Enlart, the archaeologist. And the heart of the world echoes this verdict. On that fateful September day in 1914, when the shocking, almost unbelievable news first spread across France that “Rheims Cathedral is on fire”—many strong men wept in the streets of French cities, and throughout the tragic night of the fire, French soldiers camped over the plains for miles watched in anguish as their heritage, their ancestral cathedral, l’holocauste de la patrie, was destroyed. In Jeanne’s century, it took a long and brutal war and the sacrifice of her, who was the embodiment of France, to reshape the wounded spirit of the nation, and once again, a profound martyrdom was needed to heal the deep pitié that existed in the country of France.
The city of Rheims is to-day a shapeless mass, resembling a place wrecked by ancient barbarism. The archiepiscopal palace, whose two-storied chapel was built by the same hands that laid the choir stones of Notre Dame, is entirely demolished. The cathedral, though ravaged irreparably, still towers above the ruined city. Had Amiens been subjected to the same bombardment as Rheims, it would have collapsed long ago. It is the surplus strength of Rheims’ foundations, somewhat criticized by architects, that has saved the church from utter destruction. Notre Dame of Rheims was built for eternity.
The city of Rheims today is a jumbled mess, looking like a place destroyed by ancient barbarism. The archiepiscopal palace, with its two-story chapel built by the same hands that created the choir stones of Notre Dame, is completely demolished. The cathedral, although irreparably damaged, still stands tall over the ruined city. If Amiens had gone through the same bombardment as Rheims, it would have crumbled long ago. It’s the extra strength of Rheims’ foundations, which architects have somewhat critiqued, that has saved the church from total destruction. Notre Dame of Rheims was built to last forever.
The mystic wonder of the severed head of St. Nicaise has been repeated. Immolated Rheims has stirred anew the latent crusading blood. “Honor” and “sacrifice” and all the brave words of the days of chivalry are again on the lips of Frenchmen, and many a scoffer has been beaten to his knees by the same spirit which actuated the generations who built the cathedrals and, building them, welded a nation’s unity. Those who committed the sacrilege of Rheims forgot that when mankind is robbed of a heritage it sets the criminal in the pillory of history. To-day Rheims Cathedral lies wounded on the field of honor; Rheims Cathedral is forever the symbol of a people’s resurrection. À la peine!... À l’honneur!
The mystical wonder of the severed head of St. Nicaise has been echoed. Burned Rheims has reignited the latent crusading spirit. “Honor” and “sacrifice” and all the brave words from the days of chivalry are again on the lips of the French, and many a scoffer has been brought to his knees by the same spirit that inspired the generations who built the cathedrals and, in doing so, forged a nation’s unity. Those who committed the sacrilege in Rheims forgot that when humanity is stripped of its heritage, it places the criminal in the pillory of history. Today, Rheims Cathedral lies wounded on the field of honor; Rheims Cathedral is forever the symbol of a people’s resurgence. À la peine!... À l’honneur!
There have been, in humanity’s story, only two great schools of art—that of Greece, and that of the Gothic era. For only then was expressed the ideas and the religious spirit of the peoples that gave birth to them. The Greeks rendered the Pagan spirit, the Pagan emotion; they left us the Parthenon. The Gothic School rendered the Christian idea, the Christian spirit. It has left us Notre Dame of Amiens.—Émile Lambin.[123]
Throughout human history, there have been only two major schools of art: that of Greece and that of the Gothic period. Only during these times were the ideas and religious sentiments of the cultures that created them truly expressed. The Greeks captured the Pagan spirit and emotions; they gifted us the Parthenon. The Gothic School expressed the Christian ideas and spirit, leaving us with Notre Dame of Amiens.—Émile Lambin.[123]
The terrors and the thunder of the World War menaced Amiens through the long four years, but the grand doctrinal temple, almost superhuman in its majesty, was spared the fate of Rheims, Soissons, and the noble church of St. Martin at Ipres, begun in the same twelvemonth as itself. The statues at the portals of Amiens have seen pass the great personages of the mediæval centuries. The kings of this world felt honored to visit the church of Our Lady and St. Firman. Its reconciliation Mass put the seal on a treaty of goodwill between France and England, and united the English ruler with his rebellious people; St. Louis, the peace maker, prayed in its sanctuary. On its very enemies it imposed veneration. When Charles le Téméraire attacked the city in 1471 he ordered his troops to respect the cathedral.
The fears and the chaos of World War threatened Amiens for four long years, but the grand doctrinal cathedral, almost superhuman in its grandeur, was spared the same fate as Rheims, Soissons, and the beautiful church of St. Martin at Ypres, which had started construction in the same year. The statues at the entrance of Amiens have witnessed the arrival of great figures from the medieval ages. The kings of this world felt privileged to visit the church of Our Lady and St. Firman. Its reconciliation Mass sealed a treaty of goodwill between France and England, uniting the English ruler with his rebellious subjects; St. Louis, the peacemaker, prayed in its sanctuary. It even commanded respect from its enemies. When Charles the Bold attacked the city in 1471, he instructed his troops to honor the cathedral.
While the upper vaulting of Chartres was being finished and the choir of Rheims was building, there was laid the first stone of Notre Dame of Amiens in 1220. Amiens is the Gothic cathedral par excellence, recognized from the first as a masterpiece—the Parthenon of Gothic—and immediately taken as a model. The cathedrals of Tours and of Troyes, already begun, were now continued like the big church of Picardy. The Sainte-Chapelle in Paris was modeled on the Lady chapel of Amiens. The cathedrals of Clermont, Narbonne, Rodez, and Limoges are “daughters of Amiens.” Its influence extended to the church of St. Sauveur at Bruges, to the cathedral of Prague, and to the choir of Cologne, the latter being almost a replica.[124]
While the upper vaulting of Chartres was being completed and the choir of Rheims was under construction, the first stone of Notre Dame of Amiens was laid in 1220. Amiens is the quintessential Gothic cathedral, recognized from the start as a masterpiece—the Parthenon of Gothic architecture—and quickly became a model. The cathedrals of Tours and Troyes, which were already underway, continued to be developed like the large church in Picardy. The Sainte-Chapelle in Paris was inspired by the Lady chapel of Amiens. The cathedrals in Clermont, Narbonne, Rodez, and Limoges are considered "daughters of Amiens." Its influence spread to the church of St. Sauveur in Bruges, the cathedral in Prague, and the choir in Cologne, the latter being almost a replica.[124]
Amiens carried the Gothic principle of equilibrium farther than Rheims. The aisles were made higher, the bays wider, the points of ground support fewer, and the piers less heavy. No energy was wasted. Each part was made just strong enough. To go beyond this culminating point of constructive boldness was inevitably to decline.
Amiens pushed the Gothic principle of balance further than Rheims. The aisles were taller, the bays wider, there were fewer support points, and the piers were lighter. No energy was wasted. Each part was made just strong enough. Going beyond this peak of structural boldness would inevitably lead to a decline.
No one has better summed up the amplitude of this inspired church than M. Georges Durand, its latest historian, whose monograph is a model: “A vast space inundated with air and light has here been covered by stone vaults, as light and solid as possible; those vaults have been raised to a height never before attained; no longer any walls; the solidity of the edifice is assured by a play of pushes and resistances; flying buttresses exactly meeting the necessary spot to counterbut the great vault; the system of equilibrium perfectly known, and applied with a rigor and audacity unbelievable; the least possible sharpness given to transverse arches; the collaterals raised to a great height—all contribute to give this interior its expression of immensity.”
No one has captured the greatness of this remarkable church better than M. Georges Durand, its most recent historian, whose study is a fine example: “A vast space filled with air and light has been covered by stone vaults, as light and solid as possible; those vaults have been raised to an unprecedented height; there are no longer any walls; the strength of the building is supported by a balance of pushes and resistances; flying buttresses precisely placed to counter the massive vault; the system of balance is completely understood and applied with an unbelievable level of precision and boldness; the sharpness of the transverse arches is minimized; the side aisles elevated to a great height—all of these factors contribute to giving this interior its feeling of vastness.”
Amiens is a “triumphal chant.” The “vast space inclosed” produces an impression that is confounding. When first you step inside the western doors of Amiens, you pause in awe. The emotion felt has the efficacy of a prayer.
Amiens is a “triumphal chant.” The “vast space enclosed” creates a bewildering impression. When you first step inside the western doors of Amiens, you stop in amazement. The emotion you feel is as powerful as a prayer.
The edifice is prodigious and appears so; only St. Sophia, Cologne Cathedral, and St. Peter’s at Rome cover larger areas. Now in St. Peter’s each detail was enlarged in proportion to the giant scale chosen; thus, a cherub would have a thigh the size of an elephant’s. The result is that the great church appears less than its real size. The method of the mediæval architect was precisely opposite. He saw no advantage in making his edifice appear smaller than it really was. He observed that no matter how big a tree might grow, its leaves were no larger than those on smaller trees. The mediæval architect took for his scale of measurement the height of man. His doorways were made for man to walk under. In the bases of his piers, in the triforium arches, in the normal size of his sculpted flora and fauna, he recalled to the eye the scale of a man, his chosen échelle: “And he measured the wall thereof ... the measure of a man, which is of an angel.”[125] No matter how large a Gothic church might be, the statues decorating it did not increase in scale. To those who prefer a cathedral of the north there will always seem to be a touch of the artificial, of the tour de force in St. Peter’s.
The building is massive and looks the part; only St. Sophia, Cologne Cathedral, and St. Peter’s in Rome cover larger spaces. In St. Peter’s, every detail is scaled up to match its gigantic proportions; for example, a cherub would have a thigh the size of an elephant’s. Because of this, the great church seems smaller than it actually is. The approach of the medieval architect was completely different. He didn't see any benefit in making his structure look smaller than it truly was. He noted that no matter how large a tree grows, its leaves remain the same size as those on smaller trees. The medieval architect based his measurements on the height of a person. His doorways were designed for people to walk through comfortably. In the bases of his piers, in the triforium arches, and in the typical size of his carved plants and animals, he reminded viewers of the scale of a human, which was his chosen échelle: “And he measured the wall thereof ... the measure of a man, which is of an angel.”[125] No matter how large a Gothic church is, the statues that adorn it do not increase in size. For those who prefer a northern cathedral, there always seems to be an element of artificiality, a tour de force, in St. Peter’s.
The name of the master mind who designed the cathedral of Picardy was Robert de Lusarches, recorded in a labyrinth formerly in the nave’s pavement, as were his two successors, Thomas de Cormont and his son Renaud. The occasion for a new structure was the fire of 1218 which partly destroyed the Romanesque cathedral. As its old choir was preserved sufficiently to serve for a while longer, the new cathedral was begun by the nave, not the usual procedure. The nave rose in one supreme effort; from start to finish its plan never deviated. It has been taken as the typical masterpiece. “The façade of Paris, the tower of Chartres, the sculpture of Rheims, the nave of Amiens” is a popular summing up.
The mastermind behind the design of the cathedral in Picardy was Robert de Lusarches, noted in a maze that used to exist in the pavement of the nave, along with his two successors, Thomas de Cormont and his son Renaud. The need for a new building arose after the fire in 1218 that partially destroyed the Romanesque cathedral. Since the old choir was still usable for a while, construction on the new cathedral began with the nave, which was not the usual approach. The nave was built in one impressive effort; its plan remained consistent from beginning to end. It is regarded as a quintessential masterpiece. “The façade of Paris, the tower of Chartres, the sculpture of Rheims, the nave of Amiens” is a common summary.
The Transept of Amiens Cathedral (1220-1280)
The Transept of Amiens Cathedral (1220-1280)
By 1236 the nave of Amiens was finished, whereupon the Romanesque choir was replaced by a Gothic one whose plan had been drawn by Robert de Lusarches at the same time with that of the nave. His feeling for proportion was unfaltering; the relation between every part of his church is perfect. The interior elevation in three vertical stories was to become classic—a pier arcade—which is one-third of the entire height, and of the remaining upper wall a clearstory which occupies two-thirds and a triforium one-third. The church is three times as wide as the side aisle is high, and height and span correlate with length. Subtlety of calculation is seen everywhere. The perspective view became a kind of classic type. As you gaze down the church toward the curving east wall which closes the vista, you see beneath the pier arcades of the sanctum sanctorum the windows of the apse chapels behind; they appear to fill the apertures symmetrically, whereas at Beauvais, where the side aisle is exceedingly high, the windows of the chapels rise to merely half the height of the pier arches. The cathedrals of Tours and Clermont followed the more satisfactory arrangement of Amiens.
By 1236, the nave of Amiens was completed, leading to the replacement of the Romanesque choir with a Gothic one, the plan for which was created by Robert de Lusarches at the same time as the nave. His sense of proportion was unwavering; the relationship between every part of his church is perfect. The interior design features three vertical stories that would become classic—a pier arcade—which is one-third of the total height, and of the remaining upper wall, a clearstory that takes up two-thirds and a triforium one-third. The church is three times as wide as the height of the side aisle, and height and width correspond with length. You can see the precision in the calculations everywhere. The perspective view became a classic type. As you look down the church toward the curved east wall that completes the view, you see under the pier arcades of the sanctum sanctorum the windows of the apse chapels behind; they seem to fill the openings symmetrically. In contrast, at Beauvais, where the side aisle is extremely high, the chapel windows only rise to about half the height of the pier arches. The cathedrals of Tours and Clermont adopted the more effective layout of Amiens.
In the last days of Gothic architecture the dislike of the horizontal line was to be carried to such an extent that even the capitals, which the custom of all nations had approved for three thousand years, were eliminated. At Amiens a sane balance was kept. Under its triforium runs a deeply carved band of foliage broken only at the triumphal arches of the transept-crossing. Only there does the ascending line rise unobstructed from pavement to vault. And yet no church ever soared more confidently. The very hall-mark of genius is Amiens’ strong horizontal leaf garland—just the needed touch to give variety to regularity as grandiose as this. In the nave the frieze was cut before the posing of the stones, but in the choir the sculpture was done in situ.
In the final days of Gothic architecture, the aversion to the horizontal line became so extreme that even the capitals, which had been standard for three thousand years, were removed. At Amiens, a sensible balance was maintained. Beneath its triforium runs a deeply carved band of foliage, only interrupted at the triumphal arches of the transept-crossing. It is only there that the ascending line rises freely from the floor to the ceiling. Yet, no church ever soared with more confidence. Amiens’ strong horizontal leaf garland is the true hallmark of genius—just the right detail to add variety to such grand regularity. In the nave, the frieze was cut before the stones were set, but in the choir, the sculpture was done in situ.
The fenestration of this cathedral of St. Louis’ reign shows the national art in its prime. The glazed triforium is a kind of pedestal for the clearstory, with which it is bound in a single composition by means of continuous mullions. The original glass was of the Sainte-Chapelle type, made by the Paris school which led in the second half of the XIII century, and were it still in existence the interior of Amiens would be a gorgeous sight. Only vestiges have survived; in some of the choir chapels are patchwork panels of ancient fragments. No one denies that the light enters this cathedral too profusely for the mystic seclusion beloved of the soul.
The windows of this cathedral built during St. Louis’ reign showcase national art at its peak. The glazed triforium acts like a base for the clerestory, seamlessly connected by continuous mullions. The original glass was of the Sainte-Chapelle type, created by the Paris school that dominated in the latter half of the 13th century, and if it still existed, the interior of Amiens would be breathtaking. Only remnants remain; in some of the choir chapels, there are patchwork panels made of ancient fragments. No one disputes that the light floods into this cathedral too abundantly for the spiritual solitude that the soul cherishes.
The prelate who laid the foundation stone of Amiens in 1220 was Evrard de Fouilloy, cousin of that archbishop of the great house of Joinville who was a builder at Rheims. Intimate with Innocent III, connoisseur in notable men, the bishop of Amiens was one of the many building prelates who attended the Lateran Council whose séances must often have appeared like an Amis des Cathédrales reunion. Bishop Evrard’s splendid bronze tomb, cast at one flow, escaped the smelting pot of the Revolution, and with that of his successor, Geoffrey d’Eu, who chanted the first Mass in his cathedral in 1236, the year of his death, is now placed under the pier arcades of the nave. “Here lies Evrard,” runs the inscription, “a man compassionate to the afflicted, the widows’ protector, the orphans’ guardian, who fed the people, who laid the foundations of this structure, to whose care the city was given.” The hand of the bishop is raised in a grave gesture of power. The image of Geoffrey d’Eu is less personal. “Bright-shining man of Eu,” runs his epitaph, “by whom the throne of Amiens rose into immensity.” The saintly bishop used to encourage even the beggars to give their penny toward raising the new house of God.
The church leader who laid the foundation stone of Amiens in 1220 was Evrard de Fouilloy, cousin of the archbishop from the prominent Joinville family who was a builder at Rheims. Close with Innocent III and knowledgeable about notable figures, the bishop of Amiens was one of the many building bishops who attended the Lateran Council, which must have often felt like a gathering of the Amis des Cathédrales. Bishop Evrard’s magnificent bronze tomb, created in a single casting, survived the melting pot of the Revolution. Alongside that of his successor, Geoffrey d’Eu, who celebrated the first Mass in his cathedral in 1236, the year he died, it is now located under the supporting arches of the nave. “Here lies Evrard,” the inscription reads, “a man kind to the suffering, the protector of widows, the guardian of orphans, who fed the people, who laid the foundations of this structure, to whose care the city was entrusted.” The bishop’s hand is raised in a solemn gesture of authority. The image of Geoffrey d’Eu is less personal. “Bright-shining man of Eu,” reads his epitaph, “by whom the throne of Amiens reached great heights.” The saintly bishop would even encourage beggars to contribute their pennies toward building the new house of God.
By 1245 bells were placed in the western towers; then came a lull in the work, from 1247 to 1257, for the bishop had accompanied St. Louis to the holy wars. Louis IX was in Amiens on several occasions and his Sainte-Chapelle at Paris proved his admiration for the classic church. As the XIII century closed, a chapel was added to Amiens by her bishop, the learned Guillaume de Mâcon, a personal friend of St. Louis, and present at his death in Tunis, 1270. The son and successor of Louis IX sent Guillaume to Rome to solicit his father’s canonization. During the XIV century other side chapels were added, and in the one erected by Bishop La Grange, from 1373 to 1375, appeared for the first time in France some of the characteristics of Flamboyant Gothic—the flame tracery and ramified vaulting. As early as 1270, however, Amiens had made a sporadic use of supplementary ribs, in the square over the transept-crossing, employing them there, no doubt, in order to break up the immense expanses of infilling.
By 1245, bells were installed in the western towers; then there was a break in the work from 1247 to 1257 because the bishop had gone with St. Louis to the holy wars. Louis IX visited Amiens multiple times, and his Sainte-Chapelle in Paris showed his admiration for the classic church. As the 13th century came to a close, a chapel was added to Amiens by its bishop, the learned Guillaume de Mâcon, a personal friend of St. Louis, who was present at his death in Tunis in 1270. The son and successor of Louis IX sent Guillaume to Rome to request his father's canonization. During the 14th century, other side chapels were built, and in the one constructed by Bishop La Grange from 1373 to 1375, some characteristics of Flamboyant Gothic first appeared in France—the flame tracery and ramified vaulting. However, as early as 1270, Amiens had started using supplementary ribs sporadically, in the square over the transept crossing, likely to break up the vast spaces of infilling.
Though the cathedral of Amiens has lost its stained glass, it has retained that other glory of decorative art—its sculpture. The three western entrance arches, in nine orders, are sovereign compositions. Probably as a scheme of dogmatic theology Amiens is even more complete than Chartres or Rheims. The main façade, with its strong buttress lines unbroken from ground to tower, would be the grandest of all the Gothic frontispieces had it been completed as first planned. But only in its lower stories is it of the XIII century, and the towers scarcely rise above the enormous parallelogram.
Though the cathedral of Amiens has lost its stained glass, it still boasts another form of decorative art—its sculpture. The three western entrance arches, arranged in nine sections, are masterful designs. As a representation of religious theology, Amiens is probably more complete than Chartres or Rheims. The main façade, with its strong buttress lines uninterrupted from the ground to the tower, would have been the most impressive of all Gothic front façades if it had been finished as originally intended. However, only its lower sections date back to the 13th century, and the towers barely rise above the massive rectangular base.
At the trumeau of the central door stands le Beau Dieu of Amiens, of stronger personality than that of Rheims, a Christ of the West more than the East. “He is the master, wise, steadfast, fraternal, with the patience and the human sympathy that comprehend man’s eternal weaknesses.”[126] He treads on monsters that symbolize Satan and Sin: “Thou shalt walk upon the asp and the basilisk; the lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under foot.”[127] About him stand the best loved of all the saints, the apostles—plain, primitive men in whose upturned foreheads shines the serenity of certitude. We are His witnesses, they seem to be saying, and our testimony we sealed usque ad sanguinem: “That which we have seen and have heard we declare unto you....” “We were eyewitnesses of His greatness....” “This Voice we heard brought from heaven....” “These things we write to you that you may rejoice and your joy be full.” The prophets and patriarchs at Amiens’ portals lack the assurance of joy which shines in the faces of the humble men chosen for the hierarchy of the New Law; the earlier ones had not themselves seen and heard and touched.
At the central door’s trumeau stands le Beau Dieu of Amiens, with a stronger presence than that of Rheims, representing a Christ of the West rather than the East. “He is the master, wise, steadfast, fraternal, with the patience and the human compassion that understand humanity’s eternal weaknesses.”[126] He stands on monsters that symbolize Satan and Sin: “You shall walk upon the asp and the basilisk; the lion and the dragon you shall trample underfoot.”[127] Around Him are the most beloved saints, the apostles—simple, straightforward men whose upturned foreheads reflect the calmness of certainty. They seem to be proclaiming, We are His witnesses, and our testimony is sealed usque ad sanguinem: “That which we have seen and heard we declare to you....” “We were eyewitnesses of His greatness....” “This Voice we heard from heaven....” “These things we write to you so that you may rejoice and your joy may be complete.” The prophets and patriarchs at the portals of Amiens lack the assurance of joy that lights up the faces of the humble men chosen for the hierarchy of the New Law; the earlier ones had not seen, heard, or touched Him themselves.
Never was the meaning of the Messiah’s coming set forth more sublimely than in this archetype cathedral. The soul of the Middle Ages had brooded over the Gospels till it had pierced to their spiritual sense. “The house of the Lord built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone in whom all the building being framed together, growing up into an holy temple in the Lord.”[128]
Never has the meaning of the Messiah’s arrival been expressed more beautifully than in this iconic cathedral. The spirit of the Middle Ages contemplated the Gospels until it reached their spiritual essence. “The house of the Lord built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Jesus Christ himself as the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure is joined together, growing into a holy temple in the Lord.”[128]
When the apostles were placed at the cathedral doors, the tradition was to have St. Peter stand to the right of his Master, and St. Paul to the left; the latter was substituted for Matthias, elected to Judas’ place. St. Peter, tonsured, carried the key and a cross; his beard was short and curly. St. Paul bore a sword, since his Roman citizenship had saved him from death by crucifixion; he was represented with a bald forehead and a long beard. St. Andrew carried the peculiar-shaped cross on which he died; St. Bartholomew a knife, emblem of his martyrdom.
When the apostles were placed at the cathedral doors, the tradition was to have St. Peter stand to the right of his Master and St. Paul to the left; the latter replaced Matthias, who was chosen to take Judas’ place. St. Peter, with a tonsured head, held the key and a cross; his beard was short and curly. St. Paul carried a sword, as his Roman citizenship had saved him from being crucified; he was depicted with a bald forehead and a long beard. St. Andrew bore the uniquely shaped cross on which he died, and St. Bartholomew had a knife, symbolizing his martyrdom.
At the western doors of Amiens is an Annunciation group in which the Virgin is the prototype of the gentle Ancilla Domini at Rheims. The St. Elizabeth of the Visitation group is a noble aged woman; the St. Simeon of the Presentation has been called the Nunc dimittis in person. Local saints are in a position of honor at the right-hand door, the chief here being St. Firman, the first bishop of Amiens, and the pioneer who preached the Word in Picardy, where he was martyred in 289. On his tomb rose the first cathedral of the city. His statue at the trumeau is a masterpiece of its period.
At the western doors of Amiens is a group representing the Annunciation, where the Virgin is the model of the gentle Ancilla Domini at Rheims. The St. Elizabeth from the Visitation group portrays a dignified elderly woman; St. Simeon from the Presentation is known as the Nunc dimittis in person. Local saints hold a place of honor at the right-hand door, with the most prominent being St. Firman, the first bishop of Amiens, who was a pioneer in preaching the Word in Picardy, where he was martyred in 289. The first cathedral of the city was built over his tomb. His statue at the trumeau is a masterpiece from that era.
In his Bible of Amiens,[129] Ruskin gives enlightening interpretations of the quatrefoils adorning the wall under the big images at the western entrance. Little genre studies of agricultural life typify the seasons, and the vices and virtues are rendered with movement and subtlety. There is a connection between certain of the small bas-reliefs and the large statues standing above them.
In his Bible of Amiens,[129] Ruskin provides insightful interpretations of the quatrefoils decorating the wall beneath the large images at the western entrance. Small genre scenes of rural life represent the seasons, capturing both vices and virtues with dynamic detail and nuance. There’s a link between some of the small bas-reliefs and the large statues positioned above them.
About 1288 they carved the images at the transept’s southern portal. Fifty years had elapsed since the making of the western entrance, and already the early reverential awe had passed away. Our Lady is now shown as a radiant young matron whose smile is somewhat mannered, but to call the charming vierge dorée “the soubrette of Picardy,” as did Ruskin, is an absurd exaggeration. The apostles are no longer of the ideal type. They are mediæval schoolmen, debating some point of dialectics.
Around 1288, they carved the figures at the southern portal of the transept. Fifty years had passed since the creation of the western entrance, and the initial sense of reverent awe had faded. Our Lady is depicted as a glowing young woman with a slightly affected smile, but to refer to the lovely vierge dorée as “the soubrette of Picardy,” like Ruskin did, is a ridiculous overstatement. The apostles no longer have an idealized appearance. They look like medieval scholars, arguing over some point of logic.
Each century was to add to the sculpture of Amiens. André Beauneveu, an illustrious French-Flemish master, made buttress statues of Charles V and his sons, realistic portrait work. The king was one of the four Valois brothers who were, with the Avignon popes, the chief art patrons of the XIV century. As Amiens Cathedral suffered comparatively little during the two cataclysms which emptied the churches of France, it is still a museum of treasures. When, in 1562, the Huguenots, sword in hand, rushed into the church to shatter the altars, the town’s tocsin sounded and the citizens assembled in such numbers that they saved their church. Again, during the Revolution, when brutal soldiery began to mutilate the choir screen’s groups, the women of Amiens who lived about the cathedral lustily beat the vandals with chairs. Of course the Revolution set up here the usual altar with its living Goddess of Reason, Marat’s bust was honored, and over the portal was inscribed the grandiloquent boast: “Fanaticism is destroyed: Truth triumphs.”
Each century contributed to the sculpture of Amiens. André Beauneveu, a renowned French-Flemish master, created buttress statues of Charles V and his sons, showcasing realistic portrait work. The king was one of the four Valois brothers who, along with the Avignon popes, were the main art patrons of the 14th century. Since Amiens Cathedral experienced relatively little damage during the two cataclysms that emptied the churches of France, it remains a museum of treasures. When the Huguenots stormed into the church with swords in 1562 to destroy the altars, the town’s alarm bells rang, and the citizens gathered in such large numbers that they saved their church. Later, during the Revolution, when ruthless soldiers began to vandalize the choir screen’s groups, the women of Amiens nearby fiercely struck back at the vandals with chairs. Naturally, the Revolution set up the usual altar with its living Goddess of Reason, Marat’s bust was celebrated, and over the portal, it was boldly proclaimed: “Fanaticism is destroyed: Truth triumphs.”
The tombs, bas-reliefs, and paintings were left intact, as well as the famous carved stalls finished in 1522. In the choir-screen sculpture of XVI-century Gothic the Renaissance had only just begun to appear. St. Firman’s mission was related quaintly—no prudery shown in the scene of the baptism of Amiens’ first Christians. The life of St. John the Baptist was set forth because crusaders had brought his relics to this church from Constantinople. The tourist guide enjoys leading his clients behind Amiens’ sanctuary to show them a plump little cupid weeping a marble tear over the tomb of some good canon who founded a local orphanage. M. Durand remarks that for one who appreciates the magnificent bronze tombs of the bishop-builders, or the realistic late-Gothic groups of the choir screen, there are ten who are moved by that banal little ange pleurant.
The tombs, bas-reliefs, and paintings were left untouched, along with the famous carved stalls finished in 1522. In the choir-screen sculpture of 16th-century Gothic, the Renaissance was just starting to emerge. St. Firman’s mission was connected in a charming way—there's no modesty in the depiction of the baptism of Amiens’ first Christians. The life of St. John the Baptist was highlighted because crusaders brought his relics to this church from Constantinople. The tour guide enjoys taking his clients behind Amiens’ sanctuary to show them a chubby little cupid shedding a marble tear over the tomb of some good canon who established a local orphanage. M. Durand notes that for every person who appreciates the magnificent bronze tombs of the bishop-builders or the realistic late-Gothic groups of the choir screen, there are ten who are touched by that trivial little ange pleurant.
In the transept are some marble slabs inscribed with the names of the presidents of a religious-literary association called Puy-Notre-Dame. Such Puys (from podium, or platform) were poetic contests that sprang up in the XIV century, with the disappearance of the wandering minstrels, and they led in turn to a real literary movement.[130] At Amiens it was the custom each year for a new picture in honor of Notre Dame to be presented to her church, and at the festival a poem was read in her praise. Eventually statues were substituted for pictures, which explains the wealth of XVII-century sculpture in the side chapels and aisles of Amiens Cathedral. A number of the ancient paintings have been placed in the Museum of the city, whose walls have been embellished by Puvis de Chavannes’ Ave Picardia nutrix.
In the transept, there are marble slabs engraved with the names of the presidents of a religious-literary group named Puy-Notre-Dame. These Puys (from the Latin word for podium or platform) were poetry contests that emerged in the 14th century with the decline of wandering minstrels, leading to a genuine literary movement.[130] At Amiens, it became a yearly tradition to present a new painting in honor of Notre Dame to her church, and during the festival, a poem was recited in her praise. Eventually, statues replaced paintings, which accounts for the abundance of 17th-century sculptures in the side chapels and aisles of Amiens Cathedral. Many of the old paintings have been moved to the city’s museum, where the walls have been adorned by Puvis de Chavannes’ Ave Picardia nutrix.
CHAPTER VI
Six of the Lesser Great Cathedrals: Bourges, Beauvais, Troyes, Tours, Lyons, Le Mans
Every work of art truly beautiful and sublime throws the soul into a gracious or serious reverie that lifts it toward the Infinite. Art of itself is essentially moral and religious, since it expresses everywhere in its manifestation the eternal beauty, or else it is false to its own law, to its own genius.
Every piece of art that is genuinely beautiful and sublime takes the soul into a thoughtful or profound daydream that elevates it toward the Infinite. Art, by its very nature, is fundamentally moral and spiritual, as it expresses eternal beauty in all its forms; otherwise, it betrays its own principles and its own essence.
—Victor Cousin, Du vrai, du beau, et du bien.
—Victor Cousin, The True, the Beautiful, and the Good.
CATTERED over France are a number of cathedrals that would stand in the
first rank in any other land but one in which were such supreme churches
as Chartres, Rheims, and Amiens. It is convenient to group here six of
these lesser Great Cathedrals, since they will not fall properly within
the coming four chapters, which deal with the regional schools of
Normandy, Burgundy, the Midi, and Plantagenet Gothic.
Scattered across France are several cathedrals that would be considered major landmarks in any other country, except for one that boasts extraordinary churches like Chartres, Rheims, and Amiens. It's useful to group six of these lesser Great Cathedrals here, as they don't fit neatly into the upcoming four chapters, which focus on the regional styles of Normandy, Burgundy, the Midi, and Plantagenet Gothic.
According to the classification used by M. Lefèvre-Pontalis, there are six schools of Gothic architecture in France. Their differences lie in secondary characteristics such as ground-plan, ramifications of ribs, and the form of piers, window tracery, and ornamentations. Of the Ile-de-France and Champagne schools we have already gained some idea in tracing the first steps of the national art, and in following its highest development at Paris, Rheims, and Amiens. Of the six cathedrals here grouped that of Beauvais belongs to the Ile-de-France Picard school and that of Troyes to the Gothic of Champagne. But the four others—Bourges, Tours, Lyons, and Le Mans—show the influences of two or more schools and therefore fit more reasonably into this heterogeneous chapter. In speaking of Gothic schools it is well to recall that in the Flamboyant development there were no distinct regional groups. A similar Gothic style was used in the Midi as in Normandy, in Picardy as in Burgundy.
According to M. Lefèvre-Pontalis's classification, there are six schools of Gothic architecture in France. Their differences are based on secondary features like ground plans, rib configurations, pier shapes, window designs, and decorations. We’ve already gained some insight into the Ile-de-France and Champagne schools by tracing the early steps of national art and following its peak development in Paris, Rheims, and Amiens. Among the six cathedrals grouped here, Beauvais belongs to the Ile-de-France Picard school, while Troyes is part of the Gothic of Champagne. However, the other four—Bourges, Tours, Lyons, and Le Mans—show influences from two or more schools, making them fit better into this diverse chapter. When discussing Gothic schools, it’s important to remember that in the Flamboyant development, there weren't distinct regional groups. A similar Gothic style was used in the Midi as well as in Normandy, and in Picardy as in Burgundy.
Though not of the greatest, these six churches are splendid monuments. With hesitation one places such a cathedral as Bourges in a secondary group. Had Beauvais and Le Mans been completed on the same scale as their grandiose choirs, they would stand with the foremost. At Troyes are windows, of the same epochs as the stones framing them, that for splendor are second only to those of Chartres and Bourges. The cathedral of Tours is the personification of the equipoise of Touraine’s art, and its storied windows are notable. The metropolitan church of Lyons possesses a grave individuality of the most singular interest, and its windows, too, are masterpieces.
Though not the greatest, these six churches are impressive landmarks. With some hesitation, one might place a cathedral like Bourges in a secondary category. If Beauvais and Le Mans had been finished to match their magnificent choirs, they would belong among the top. In Troyes, the windows, from the same period as the stones that frame them, are only outshined by those of Chartres and Bourges. The cathedral of Tours embodies the balance of Touraine’s art, and its famous windows are remarkable. The metropolitan church of Lyons has a unique and serious individuality, and its windows are masterpieces as well.
During an astonishing century—roughly speaking from 1170 to 1270—France built about eighty Gothic cathedrals, and more than three hundred fine churches. And the miracle is that each had its own distinct personality, which etches itself clearly on the traveler’s mind. Such was the super-abounding joy of creation in the golden age of the national art that no two churches are alike.
During an incredible century—from about 1170 to 1270—France constructed around eighty Gothic cathedrals and over three hundred beautiful churches. The amazing part is that each one had its own unique character, which stands out clearly in the mind of any traveler. The sheer joy of creativity during this golden age of national art was so immense that no two churches are identical.
One goes before the Lord’s altar, one bends the knee, one stays there in an attitude of prostrate humility, and perhaps, in it all, one has not rendered to God a single homage. Why? Because religion does not consist of inclinations of the body, or of modesty of the eyes, but of humbleness of spirit, and not for an instant has the spirit been one with those demonstrations of respect and adoration.
One approaches the Lord’s altar, kneels down, and stays there in a position of complete humility, and maybe, through all of this, one hasn’t given God a single act of worship. Why? Because religion isn’t just about body postures or eye modesty; it’s about humility of the spirit, and at no point has the spirit truly been connected to those acts of respect and devotion.
One visits the hospitals and prisons, one consoles the afflicted, one tends the sick and helps the poor, and perhaps the very one who displays in all this the most assiduity and zeal is he who possesses the least Christian mercy. Why? Because he is carried on by a certain natural activity, or an entirely human pity touches him, or is it any other motive, except God, that leads him.—On True and False Piety, Bourdaloue (1632-1704; born in Bourges).
One visits hospitals and prisons, comforts those in pain, cares for the sick, and helps the poor, and perhaps the very person who shows the most effort and enthusiasm in all of this is the one who has the least Christian compassion. Why? Because they are driven by a certain natural impulse, or perhaps just human sympathy moves them, or is it some other motivation, apart from God, that guides them.—On True and False Piety, Bourdaloue (1632-1704; born in Bourges).
The cathedral of St. Étienne stands on a slight hill in the center of Bourges, and is a landmark for forty miles over the Berry plains that are the tranquil heart of France. The best architectural view of it is obtained from the park once attached to the archbishop’s palace and said to have been laid out by Le Nôtre, master of this type of cold distinction which is so eminently French. As the entire south flank of the church is exposed to view there, the absence of a transept is what first strikes the attention. Bourges is the only XIII-century cathedral without the extended arms of the cross. Had it a transept it might appear short, whereas now its four hundred feet of length make the most imposing effect.
The cathedral of St. Étienne sits on a slight hill in the middle of Bourges and is a landmark visible from forty miles across the serene Berry plains, which are the peaceful heart of France. The best architectural view of it comes from the park that used to be part of the archbishop’s palace, which is said to have been designed by Le Nôtre, a master of this type of cool elegance that is so distinctly French. Since the entire south side of the church is visible from there, the lack of a transept is what stands out first. Bourges is the only 13th-century cathedral without the extended arms of the cross. If it had a transept, it might seem shorter, but now its four hundred feet of length create the most impressive impact.
Bourges, Paris, Troyes, and Clermont are the only cathedrals with double aisles about choir and nave. Bourges is exceptional in that the inner aisle is twice as high as the outer—so high that it possesses its own triforium and clearstory; so high that the pier arches around the middle church rise to more than half the height of the edifice. Indeed, many an English cathedral could stand under the pier arches of Bourges. Each pillar is encircled by eight shafts—an arrangement that accentuates its loftiness. It may be claimed that there is over-emphasis in a procession of such giant columns about the interior of a church, and that there is something spectacular in a colonnade of such stupendous arches. Certainly the main clearstory is dwarfed by comparison, and the contrast in height between inner and outer aisle is too violent. Bourges must pass as a superb experiment rather than the restrained achievement from which emanates a school. Subsequent architects preferred to take as model the more classic division of Amiens’ interior wall elevation.
Bourges, Paris, Troyes, and Clermont are the only cathedrals that have double aisles around the choir and nave. Bourges is unique because its inner aisle is twice as tall as the outer one—so tall that it has its own triforium and clearstory; so tall that the pier arches around the main church rise to over half the height of the building. In fact, many English cathedrals could fit under the pier arches of Bourges. Each pillar is surrounded by eight shafts—this design highlights its height. It could be argued that there's an excessive emphasis in the procession of such immense columns inside the church, and that a colonnade with such enormous arches is quite impressive. Certainly, the main clearstory looks small in comparison, and the difference in height between the inner and outer aisles is too stark. Bourges should be seen as a remarkable experiment rather than a restrained achievement that leads to a distinct style. Later architects chose to model their work after the more traditional layout of Amiens’ interior wall elevation.
None the less is this most original basilica magnificently and romantically beautiful. Upon entering the church for the first time one feels the gripping sensation of beholding a thing audacious and gigantic. And yet the impression conveyed is not that of overweening pride. There is reverence here. Bishop Durandus tells us that the piers of a church are the bishops and doctors who sustain the temple of God by their doctrines, that the length of a church representeth fortitude which patiently endureth till it attain heaven; its breadth, charity; its height, courage that despiseth prosperity and adversity, hoping to see the gladness of the Lord in the land of the living. The windows are hospitality with cheerfulness, and tenderness with charity. They are Holy Scriptures which expel the wind and the rain—that is, all things hurtful—but transmit the light of the true Sun—that is, God—into the hearts of the faithful.[132] So wrote the wise old XIII-century Midi bishop for whom the whole world and everything in it were symbols.
Nonetheless, this incredibly original basilica is magnificently and romantically beautiful. Upon entering the church for the first time, you feel the powerful sensation of witnessing something bold and massive. Yet the impression it leaves isn't one of excessive pride. There is a sense of reverence here. Bishop Durandus explains that the piers of a church represent the bishops and scholars who support the temple of God with their teachings, that the length of a church symbolizes strength that endures patiently until it reaches heaven; its width stands for love; its height signifies courage that disregards both prosperity and hardship, hoping to experience the joy of the Lord in the land of the living. The windows represent hospitality with joy and kindness with love. They are like Holy Scriptures that block out the harmful elements—the wind and the rain—but allow the light of the true Sun—God—to shine into the hearts of the faithful.[132] This is how the wise old bishop from the XIII century, who viewed the world and everything in it as symbols, described it.
Sound doctrine, fortitude, and warm protecting hospitality—such are qualities supremely understood of Bourges. There is awe in this church and there is magic. Of the boundless imagination of dreams are certain sunset aspects here, when from the wide western window of Jean de Berry gleams of light strike athwart these vast arches of wonderland, across these sixty big pillars of stone, and night-time hours—during the May evening services of Our Lady—when the great church as in fearsome meditation is shrouded in shadow.
Sound doctrine, strength, and genuine hospitality—these are the qualities best represented by Bourges. There is a sense of awe in this church, and it feels almost magical. At certain sunset moments, when light from the large western window of Jean de Berry filters through, it illuminates the impressive arches and the sixty massive stone pillars. During the evening services of Our Lady in May, the great church seems to be in a state of deep reflection, enveloped in shadows.
The Apse of Bourges (1200-1225)
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The Apse of Bourges (1200-1225)
Some four or five cathedrals have stood, in turn, on the same site which was close by the Gallo-Roman city walls. For the early Christians were despised as pariahs, and allowed to build only on the outskirts of cities, until the edict of Constantine permitted them to exercise their religion with honor. All over France churches are to be found abutting on the ancient ramparts of towns. Of the early cathedrals of Bourges only the core of the present crypt remains. From the Romanesque edifice immediately preceding the present cathedral come its XII-century side portals.
Some four or five cathedrals have stood in succession on the same site, which was close to the Gallo-Roman city walls. The early Christians were looked down upon as outcasts and were only allowed to build on the outskirts of cities until Constantine's edict allowed them to practice their faith with dignity. Throughout France, you can find churches built against the ancient city ramparts. Of the early cathedrals of Bourges, only the core of the current crypt remains. The XII-century side portals of the present cathedral come from the Romanesque structure that preceded it.
There are strong analogies between the ground-plan of St. Étienne of Bourges and that of Notre Dame of Paris, especially if one recalls that the cathedral of Paris, as first designed, possessed no transept. Probably the plans of both were made at the same time, but the work in the capital of the royal demesne started immediately in 1163; hence it retained the galleries over the side aisles—a Romanesque tradition—whereas, at Bourges the actual building began only in the last decade of the XII century, when such tribunes were passing out of vogue. Bourges thereupon undertook to modify its first design, and it tried the startling experiment of making an inner aisle whose height comprised both aisle and tribune.
There are strong similarities between the layout of St. Étienne in Bourges and that of Notre Dame in Paris, especially considering that the original design for the Paris cathedral didn’t include a transept. It's likely that the plans for both were created around the same time, but construction in the royal city started right away in 1163; therefore, it kept the galleries over the side aisles—a Romanesque tradition—while construction in Bourges didn’t begin until the last decade of the 12th century, when such galleries were falling out of fashion. As a result, Bourges decided to alter its initial design and attempted the bold move of creating an inner aisle that integrated both the aisle and the gallery height.
The crypt of Bourges,[133] one of the most spacious in France, was begun by Archbishop Henri de Sully (1184-99), brother of Bishop Eudes who helped build the west façade of Paris Cathedral. When Henri died, the decision was left to his brother in Paris, as to which of three Cistercian abbots should be the succeeding archbishop in Bourges. The nomination fell to St. Guillaume Berruyer (1199-1208) of the house of Nevers, whose counts had built the admirable Romanesque St. Étienne in that city. Guillaume had watched both Paris and Soissons’ cathedrals rising; he had been a monk in Pontigny, whose church was the earliest Gothic venture in Burgundy, and he was abbot of Châalis, where the church also was Primary Gothic. This holy Cistercian was loath to leave his cloister, and always wore his white robe and fasted like a genuine son of St. Bernard. In his face shone his purity of soul, and it is said that his manner was merry.
The crypt of Bourges,[133] one of the largest in France, was started by Archbishop Henri de Sully (1184-99), the brother of Bishop Eudes who contributed to building the west façade of Paris Cathedral. When Henri passed away, it was left to his brother in Paris to decide which of the three Cistercian abbots should be the next archbishop in Bourges. The choice went to St. Guillaume Berruyer (1199-1208) from the house of Nevers, whose counts had constructed the impressive Romanesque St. Étienne in that city. Guillaume had witnessed the construction of both Paris and Soissons’ cathedrals; he had been a monk in Pontigny, where the church represented the earliest Gothic work in Burgundy, and he served as abbot of Châalis, where the church was also an early example of Gothic architecture. This devoted Cistercian was reluctant to leave his monastery, always dressed in his white robe and fasting like a true son of St. Bernard. A purity of soul radiated from his face, and it’s said that he had a cheerful demeanor.
Only a saint could have made the ambulatory of Bourges, a place apart from the world’s fret, fashioned for meditative prayer, its walls hung with gospel parables of mosaic glass. It is thought that while the new Gothic choir was building, services were held in the Romanesque cathedral, which may have been partly open to the elements, since St. Guillaume caught a chill in it while preaching, from the effects of which he died in 1208. Ten years later, the first ceremony held in the completed choir was for his canonization; without the usual process of investigation the pope declared him a saint.
Only a saint could have created the ambulatory of Bourges, a serene escape from the world's stress, designed for meditative prayer, its walls adorned with mosaic glass gospel parables. It’s believed that while the new Gothic choir was being built, services took place in the Romanesque cathedral, which might have been somewhat exposed to the elements, since St. Guillaume caught a chill while preaching there, leading to his death in 1208. Ten years later, the first ceremony held in the completed choir was for his canonization; without the usual investigation process, the pope declared him a saint.
From 1236 to 1260, a nephew of St. William’s, Blessed Philippe Berruyer, was archbishop of Bourges and carried forward the nave; and the saint’s great-niece, the Countess Matilda of Nevers, contributed generously. Bourges commemorated her saintly bishops in the clearstory of her inner aisle. The window wherein St. Guillaume is pictured shows his niece as the donor.
From 1236 to 1260, Blessed Philippe Berruyer, a nephew of St. William, served as the archbishop of Bourges and advanced the construction of the nave. The saint’s great-niece, Countess Matilda of Nevers, made generous contributions. Bourges honored her saintly bishops in the clearstory of its inner aisle. The window depicting St. Guillaume shows his niece as the donor.
Never was monument set on a more majestic base than the choir end of Bourges. There the crypt stands above the ground, owing to the slope of the land. The chevet of St. Étienne is incomparable. In every part of the edifice good mason work was done, save in the upper vaults, where the necessity of economy led to skimping. It is apparent that, as the eastern curve of the cathedral was rising, the architect modified his plan. In his apse walls he inserted small chapels, each standing on two columns and an engaged shaft and each roofed by a stone pyramid. Not only does the circlet of little shrines add to the beauty of the chevet, but each chapel serves the practical purpose of a buttress. That they were afterthoughts is proved by the ambulatory windows not being set symmetrically over the crypt windows. However, the chapels must have been added during the building of the procession path, because the latter’s vaulting shows no sign of reconstruction.
Never was a monument placed on a more impressive foundation than the choir end of Bourges. There, the crypt is elevated due to the slope of the land. The eastern end of St. Étienne is unmatched. In every part of the structure, skilled masonry is evident, except in the upper vaults, where the need to save money resulted in shortcuts. It's clear that as the eastern curve of the cathedral was being constructed, the architect adjusted his plan. In the apse walls, he added small chapels, each resting on two columns and an engaged shaft, and each topped with a stone pyramid. Not only do these little shrines enhance the beauty of the chevet, but each chapel also acts as a buttress. The fact that they were added later is shown by the ambulatory windows not being aligned symmetrically over the crypt windows. Nonetheless, the chapels must have been incorporated during the construction of the procession path, as the vaulting of the latter shows no signs of being redone.
The cathedral of Bourges is not well documented. Only by a study of the stones themselves can it be dated. Its eastern end was building during the first part of the XIII century; in 1266 the chapter contributed toward the works, their donations being used probably for the completion of the nave. At the end of the XIII century porches were added to the side doors retained from the Romanesque cathedral. Work continued on the west façade during the early part of the XIV century, but when, in 1324, St. Étienne was dedicated, it had been completed in its main parts for forty years.
The cathedral of Bourges isn’t well documented. It can only be dated by studying the stones themselves. The eastern end was constructed during the early part of the 13th century; in 1266, the chapter contributed to the work, and their donations likely went towards finishing the nave. By the end of the 13th century, porches were added to the side doors that were kept from the Romanesque cathedral. Work on the west façade continued during the early part of the 14th century, but by the time St. Étienne was dedicated in 1324, the main parts had already been finished for forty years.
This makes the west front of Bourges about a century younger than its apse. The five deeply recessed portals correspond to its five aisles, and the western towers are set clear of the aisles, as at Rouen; that to the southwest is now braced by a flying buttress and detached buttress pile. In 1506 the northwest tower collapsed. It was rebuilt by alms, given as thank-offering for the privilege of eating butter during Lent, hence its name Tour de Beurre. Such butter towers may be called the XVI century’s method of charity bazaar to raise money for church repairs. During the heyday of Gothic, the fervent layman gave voluntarily, asking for no return, and in that spirit rose the clocher vieux at Chartres. Compare that sublime monument with the elegant, mundane late-Gothic “butter towers” of France, and you comprehend how inevitably the spirit of builders reveals itself in the work of their hands.
This makes the west front of Bourges about a century younger than its apse. The five deeply recessed portals line up with its five aisles, and the western towers are detached from the aisles, similar to Rouen; the one to the southwest is now supported by a flying buttress and a detached buttress pile. In 1506, the northwest tower collapsed. It was rebuilt with donations given as a thank-you for the privilege of eating butter during Lent, leading to its name, Tour de Beurre. These butter towers can be seen as the XVI century’s way of hosting charity bazaars to raise funds for church repairs. During the height of Gothic architecture, generous laypeople contributed voluntarily, asking for nothing in return, and with that same spirit, the clocher vieux at Chartres was built. Compare that magnificent structure with the graceful, everyday late-Gothic “butter towers” of France, and you can see how the spirit of the builders is revealed in their work.
Of the five western doors of Bourges, only the central one is wholly of the XIII century (c. 1260-75). Its representation of the Last Judgment, adjudged to be the best ever set up at a cathedral door, the Dies Iræ warning in stone, is derived from Job, St. Paul, St. Matthew, and the Apocalypse. In the upper zone Christ is enthroned; in the lower is shown the arising of the dead from their tombs. Between these scenes is the splendid panel of the Judgment, with the stately archangel as its central figure, holding the scales of justice. To his left malign demons seize on the damned to plunge them into the jaws of the Leviathan described in Job. To his right the blessed ones smile with complacency as they move toward Paradise, here represented by a hieroglyphic—supposed to be Abraham’s bosom, out of which peep some little souls smuggled safely away.[134] St. Peter stands at the gates of Paradise, holding the keys, a doctrinal symbol of his power to bind and to loose, until in time popular fancy pictured him as the actual gatekeeper of heaven. Among the elect is represented a king holding the flower of sanctity, probably meant for St. Louis. Beside the king is a cord-girdled monk—hence the name “cordeliers” for Franciscans—showing how popular was the new Order.
Of the five western doors of Bourges, only the central one is entirely from the 13th century (c. 1260-75). Its depiction of the Last Judgment, considered the best ever placed at a cathedral door, is a stone warning of the Dies Iræ, drawing inspiration from Job, St. Paul, St. Matthew, and the Apocalypse. In the upper section, Christ is seated on the throne; in the lower section, the resurrection of the dead from their graves is portrayed. Between these scenes is the magnificent panel of the Judgment, featuring the majestic archangel as the central figure, holding the scales of justice. To his left, evil demons grab the damned to throw them into the jaws of the Leviathan described in Job. To his right, the blessed individuals smile contentedly as they move toward Paradise, represented here by a symbol—thought to be Abraham’s bosom—where some little souls peek out, cleverly smuggled away. St. Peter stands at the gates of Paradise, holding the keys, a symbolic representation of his authority to bind and to loose, until eventually, popular belief depicted him as the actual gatekeeper of heaven. Among the chosen, there's a king holding the flower of holiness, likely representing St. Louis. Next to the king is a monk with a cord around his waist—giving rise to the name “cordeliers” for Franciscans—showing how well-liked the new Order was.
The fall of the north tower caused the ruin of the portals near it, and when rebuilt in the XVI century an iconographic error was made which would have been impossible with the trained scholastics of an earlier day—the mother of the Saviour was placed on his left, instead of in the seat of honor on his right. In the fatal year 1562, when from end to end of France the churches were mutilated, the Calvinists attacked the portal images of Bourges and flung the carven stones into the breaches of the town walls. They went so far as to mine the giant piers in order that the great edifice might totter to its fall; but happily their control of the city was cut short, or the tragedy of Orléans might have been enacted.[135]
The collapse of the north tower led to the destruction of the nearby portals, and when they were rebuilt in the 16th century, an iconographic mistake was made that wouldn't have happened with the educated scholars of earlier times—the mother of the Savior was placed on his left, instead of in the place of honor on his right. In the disastrous year of 1562, when churches across France were vandalized, the Calvinists targeted the portal images of Bourges and tossed the carved stones into the gaps in the town walls. They even went so far as to undermine the massive piers to make the great structure unstable; fortunately, their control over the city was cut short, or the tragedy in Orléans might have been repeated.[135]
Bourges is a chosen spot for stained glass, second only to Chartres. Students have made the study of its windows a lifetime enthusiasm. Nowhere can the epochs of the vitrine art from the XII to the XVII century be more easily studied. The school of St. Denis, however, is not represented. Two small panels, now set in a window beside the south portal, are earlier in date than Suger’s windows; their flesh tone is purplish; perhaps they are the oldest colored glass extant in France.
Bourges is a prime location for stained glass, second only to Chartres. Students have made studying its windows a lifelong passion. Nowhere else can the history of this art form, from the 12th to the 17th century, be studied as easily. However, the St. Denis school is not represented. Two small panels, now placed in a window next to the south portal, are older than Suger’s windows; their skin tone is purplish and they might be the oldest pieces of colored glass still existing in France.
Of the XIII-century school of Chartres are the twenty and more lancets in the ambulatory, legend-medallion windows ranking with the best ever made. They repeat some of the themes used by the artists at Chartres, such as the parables of the Prodigal Son, presented by the tanners, and of the Good Samaritan, which latter lancet at Bourges is an exception in having its story begin at the top. Ancient windows are to be read usually from the bottom upward. The first window in the choir aisle, as you enter it from the north, shows the beggar Lazarus despised and suffering on earth, then carried by angels to Abraham’s bosom, wherein (in the topmost medallion) he sits cozily ensconsed, but Dives, the bad rich man, is snatched by demons from his earthly scenes of plenty and thrust into hell. The lancet which, at Bourges, is devoted to the Apocalypse, is held to be a subtle commentary on the vision of Patmos. To the fifth large window of the ambulatory, called the New Alliance, the Jesuit fathers, Cahier and Martin, have devoted over a hundred pages—a veritable treatise on symbolism—in their monumental study of the earlier stained glass in this church. “Prophecies in action,” our friend Joinville called the prefiguring of the New Law by the Old, so popular during the Middle Ages. New Alliance windows are to be found in various cathedrals—their theme being the substitution of Gentiles for Jews by the merit of the Cross.[136] The guild of butchers was the donor of this abstract doctrinal window of Bourges.
Of the 13th-century school of Chartres are the twenty or more lancet windows in the ambulatory, which rank among the best ever made. They echo some of the themes used by artists at Chartres, like the parables of the Prodigal Son, shown by the tanners, and the Good Samaritan, whose lancet at Bourges is unique for starting its story at the top. Ancient windows are typically read from the bottom up. The first window in the choir aisle, when you enter from the north, depicts the beggar Lazarus, despised and suffering on earth, then being carried by angels to Abraham’s bosom, where he sits comfortably ensconced in the topmost medallion. In contrast, Dives, the greedy rich man, is pulled away by demons from his life of luxury and cast into hell. The lancet at Bourges dedicated to the Apocalypse is seen as a subtle commentary on the vision of Patmos. The fifth large window of the ambulatory, called the New Alliance, has been the subject of over a hundred pages—essentially a detailed study of symbolism—by Jesuit fathers Cahier and Martin in their monumental work on the earlier stained glass of this church. Our friend Joinville referred to the foreshadowing of the New Law by the Old as “prophecies in action,” a popular idea during the Middle Ages. New Alliance windows can be found in various cathedrals, their theme focusing on the replacement of Jews by Gentiles due to the merit of the Cross. The guild of butchers was the donor of this abstract doctrinal window at Bourges.
The only break in the XIII-century glass of the choir aisle is in the axis chapel, where the windows—of the XVI-century Renaissance—belonged originally to the Sainte-Chapelle of the ducal palace that once existed in Bourges; other windows from the same source have been reset in the cathedral’s crypt. The small scenes at the base of each lancet—the signatures as they are called—show that here, as at Chartres, the larger number of these priceless treasures of art were donated by the little people of the Lord—carpenters, weavers, coopers, money changers. A window given by the stonecutters, in the choir aisle of Bourges, is devoted to St. Thomas, the apostle, patron of builders. Bourges and Chartres afford the best opportunity for a more intimate study of the legends and symbols then most popular. Here, as at Chartres, the Golden Legend should be one’s inseparable companion.
The only break in the 13th-century glass of the choir aisle is in the axis chapel, where the windows—dating back to the 16th-century Renaissance—originally belonged to the Sainte-Chapelle of the ducal palace that once stood in Bourges. Other windows from the same source have been reset in the cathedral’s crypt. The small scenes at the bottom of each lancet—known as signatures—indicate that here, just like at Chartres, many of these priceless art treasures were donated by the everyday people of the Lord—carpenters, weavers, coopers, money changers. One window donated by the stonecutters in the choir aisle of Bourges is dedicated to St. Thomas, the apostle and patron of builders. Bourges and Chartres provide the best opportunity for a closer study of the legends and symbols that were most popular at the time. Here, as at Chartres, the Golden Legend should be your constant companion.
In the high windows of the middle choir the apostles are ranged on one side of Sancta Maria, and the prophets on the other—another of the many contrasts of the Old and New Testaments. The nave’s clearstory is chiefly XIII-century grisaille. The XIV-century artists, in their desire for more light, gave up the profound colors of their mosaic-like windows for that coldly elegant phase of the vitrine art, when the use of white was carried to excess and each figure set in its own panel was pictured like a statue with architectural niche and dais.
In the tall windows of the middle choir, the apostles are lined up on one side of Sancta Maria, and the prophets are on the other—another example of the many contrasts between the Old and New Testaments. The clearstory of the nave mainly features XIII-century grisaille. The XIV-century artists, seeking more light, moved away from the deep colors of their mosaic-like windows to adopt that cool, refined style of vitrine art, where excessive use of white made each figure appear like a statue set within its own panel, complete with an architectural niche and dais.
About 1370 Duke Jean of Berry, born connoisseur like his brothers Charles V, Philippe of Burgundy, and the Duke of Anjou, presented to Bourges Cathedral its immense western window. Before the Medici, this Valois prince collected cameos and medals and bric-à-brac. Among the twenty castles he built were those of Poitiers, Riom, and Bourges, on which were employed the noted Flamboyant Gothic architects, the Dammartin brothers. When the Sainte-Chapelle of the palace in Bourges was destroyed (1759), the duke’s tomb, which his nephew Charles VI had ordered of Jean de Cambrai (1477-83), was brought to the cathedral. The sarcophagus was once surrounded by alabaster statuettes, some of which are in the Museum. The arrangement of mourners came from his brother’s world-famous tomb in Dijon. In his old age the spendthrift, unstable Jean de Berry married the very youthful Jeanne de Boulogne, and kneeling images of both duke and duchess have been placed on either side of the entrance to the axis chapel of the cathedral. Apparently art-loving John of France was in person the homeliest of men. The Revolution damaged these images, which were restored by means of drawings made of them by Holbein in the time when Bourges was a Mecca for the artists of Europe. Some of Duke Jean’s friends presented early XV-century windows to the side chapels of Bourges Cathedral. His physician, Aligret, gave one.
Around 1370, Duke Jean of Berry, a true art lover like his brothers Charles V, Philippe of Burgundy, and the Duke of Anjou, contributed the massive western window to Bourges Cathedral. Before the Medici, this Valois prince collected cameos, medals, and various collectibles. Among the twenty castles he built were those in Poitiers, Riom, and Bourges, where the famous Flamboyant Gothic architects, the Dammartin brothers, were employed. After the Sainte-Chapelle of the palace in Bourges was destroyed in 1759, the duke’s tomb, which his nephew Charles VI had commissioned from Jean de Cambrai (1477-83), was moved to the cathedral. The sarcophagus was once surrounded by alabaster statuettes, some of which are now in the Museum. The arrangement of mourners was inspired by his brother’s world-renowned tomb in Dijon. In his later years, the extravagant and fickle Jean de Berry married the much younger Jeanne de Boulogne, and images of both the duke and duchess kneeling have been placed on either side of the entrance to the chapel axis of the cathedral. Apparently, John of France, an art enthusiast, was quite an unattractive man. The Revolution damaged these images, which were restored using drawings made by Holbein when Bourges was a hub for artists across Europe. Some of Duke Jean’s friends donated early 15th-century windows to the side chapels of Bourges Cathedral, including one from his physician, Aligret.
The Hundred Years’ War put a stop to the accumulation of art treasures in the metropolitan church. When Charles VII, “the little king of Bourges,” as the English had dubbed him ironically, went with the victorious Maid of Orleans to be crowned king at Rheims, his gentle queen, Marie of Anjou, stayed in Bourges with her mother, Yolande of Aragon. Marie’s brother, then a youth under Jeanne’s command, was to become the good King René of history. To Bourges Jeanne herself came later. She lodged with an estimable widow of the town who, years afterward, during the inquest conducted for the Maid’s rehabilitation, bore testimony to the young girl’s simple goodness. She told how gallantly Jeanne mounted a horse and how adroitly she managed a lance so that “everyone was in admiration of her, for no knight could have done better.”[137]
The Hundred Years’ War halted the collection of art treasures in the main church. When Charles VII, “the little king of Bourges,” as the English mockingly called him, went with the victorious Maid of Orleans to be crowned king at Rheims, his gentle queen, Marie of Anjou, stayed in Bourges with her mother, Yolande of Aragon. Marie’s brother, then a young man under Jeanne’s command, would later become the good King René of history. Jeanne herself came to Bourges later. She stayed with a respected widow from the town who, years afterward, during the investigation for the Maid’s rehabilitation, testified about the young girl’s simple goodness. She recounted how gallantly Jeanne got on a horse and how skillfully she managed a lance so that “everyone admired her, for no knight could have done better.”[137]
Then when “Jehanne la bonne Lorraine,” as Villon called her, had given France a new soul, when the blight of the Great Schism of the West was over, and France accepted the same spiritual chief as the remainder of Europe, there came about the energetic, happy, restless manifestation of art which we call Flamboyant Gothic. Bourges then possessed a Mæcenas in the person of a merchant (son of a tradesman of the city) whose ships covered the sea. Jacques Cœur, from 1443 to 1452, built himself, in his native town, the finest burgher’s house in France, to see which René of Anjou—great-nephew of Jean of Berry—came especially to Bourges. Its walls were carved with quaint devices and images,[138] and, like Van Eyck’s, were the charming little angels painted on its chapel vaults. No civic monument in the land excels it; it ranks as the best with Rouen’s Palais de Justice and the Hôtel Cluny at Paris.
Then, when “Jehanne la bonne Lorraine,” as Villon referred to her, brought new life to France, after the dark period of the Great Schism of the West ended and France accepted the same spiritual leader as the rest of Europe, art underwent a vibrant, joyful, and dynamic change known as Flamboyant Gothic. At that time, Bourges had a patron in Jacques Cœur, a merchant whose ships sailed the seas. Between 1443 and 1452, he built the finest burgher’s house in France in his hometown, which René of Anjou—great-nephew of Jean of Berry—specifically visited Bourges to see. Its walls were beautifully carved with unique designs and images,[138] and there were charming little angels painted on its chapel ceilings, similar to the works of Van Eyck. No other civic monument in the country surpasses it; it stands alongside Rouen’s Palais de Justice and the Hôtel Cluny in Paris as one of the best.
The same merchant-prince built in Bourges Cathedral a private chapel for his family, and beside it a rich Flamboyant Gothic sacristy. The Annunciation window in the chapel (1450) is held to be the best glass of its century, uniting the better drawing of the later day with a plain, firm, general design. The face of the Angel Gabriel has been said to be a portrait of Jacques Cœur. St. James is represented in pilgrim garb because of the fame of his shrine at Santiago Compostela. It is thought that Jacques Cœur donated the row of richly damasked windows in the west façade beneath Jean of Berry’s big sheet of glass, made fifty years earlier. Colors have become richer and the figures show a tendency to escape from the rigid attitude of statues, but not yet has absolute congruity between the hues been achieved.
The same wealthy merchant built a private chapel for his family in Bourges Cathedral, along with an ornate Flamboyant Gothic sacristy next to it. The Annunciation window in the chapel (1450) is considered the finest glass of its century, combining the more refined drawing of later times with a straightforward, solid overall design. The face of the Angel Gabriel is thought to be a portrait of Jacques Cœur. St. James is shown in pilgrim attire due to the notoriety of his shrine in Santiago de Compostela. It’s believed that Jacques Cœur contributed the row of richly patterned windows in the west façade beneath Jean of Berry’s large stained glass piece, created fifty years earlier. The colors have become more vibrant, and the figures show a tendency to break free from the stiff poses of statues, but a complete harmony between the colors has not yet been achieved.
Jacques Cœur was not to be buried in the chapel he had prepared. He served the same master who had let the Maid of Orleans perish at Rouen without striking a blow to save her. With money provided by the merchant-banker of Bourges, Charles VII had reconquered Normandy, but he let the estate of his faithful servant be rapaciously confiscated without a trial, and left him to languish in prison for two years before being banished from the kingdom by the mockery of a law process. Jacques Cœur died in exile in 1461, but his good name was exonerated, and his son Jean, archbishop of Bourges, was buried in the cathedral’s choir. The merchant-prince’s chapel passed with his mansion into the hands of the Laubespine family, whose kneeling statues now adorn it.
Jacques Cœur was not buried in the chapel he had built. He served the same king who allowed the Maid of Orleans to die in Rouen without lifting a finger to save her. With funding from the merchant-banker of Bourges, Charles VII regained control of Normandy, but he allowed the property of his loyal servant to be seized without a trial and left him to languish in prison for two years before he was banished from the kingdom through a mock legal process. Jacques Cœur died in exile in 1461, but his good name was cleared, and his son Jean, the archbishop of Bourges, was buried in the cathedral's choir. The merchant-prince’s chapel, along with his mansion, became the property of the Laubespine family, whose kneeling statues now decorate it.
With the XVI century there opened another golden period of the vitrine art in Bourges. A local master, Jean Lecuyer, won fame. He made the Tullier window (1532) in the tenth bay (south) of the cathedral. The donor, Canon Tullier, and his father, mother, and various ecclesiastic relatives, are being presented by their patron saints to a distinguished-looking Madonna. The architectural background shows what headway the foreign Renaissance had made in France, though the chief figures are still true to French traditions. The colors are faultlessly balanced and certain exquisite half-tones are noticeable. In the upper panels, in a fair blue sky, are entrancing little angels giving a celestial concert, fiddling, beating a drum, singing with all their hearts, for this is the shrine built by St. William, who knew how to be holy and merry as well.
With the 16th century came another golden era of glass art in Bourges. A local artist, Jean Lecuyer, gained recognition. He created the Tullier window (1532) in the tenth bay (south) of the cathedral. The donor, Canon Tullier, along with his father, mother, and several ecclesiastical relatives, are being presented by their patron saints to an elegant Madonna. The architectural background illustrates the progress the foreign Renaissance had made in France, although the main figures still adhere to French traditions. The colors are perfectly balanced, and some exquisite half-tones can be seen. In the upper panels, against a light blue sky, charming little angels are putting on a heavenly concert, playing violins, drumming, and singing with all their hearts, for this is the shrine built by St. William, who knew how to be both holy and joyful.
The Tullier light has been called the loveliest of XVI-century windows. And yet no one can deny that enamel painting on glass was a deterioration of the art. The old masters had followed a sounder tradition when they subordinated their windows to their architecture, making them an integral part of it, and not merely isolated painted pictures. Jean Lecuyer also composed the window (1518) relating the lives of St. Stephen and St. Laurence in the cathedral’s nave (south side), and several brilliant lights in St. Bonnat’s church. Even the XVII century produced interesting work at Bourges; in the Martigny chapel of the cathedral (north side of nave) the portrait of the donor is as realistic as a miniature.
The Tullier light has been called the most beautiful window of the 16th century. Yet, no one can deny that painting on glass with enamel was a step back for the art form. The old masters had a better approach when they made their windows part of the architecture, integrating them into the design rather than treating them as just separate painted images. Jean Lecuyer also designed the window (1518) that depicts the lives of St. Stephen and St. Laurence in the cathedral's nave (south side), as well as several stunning lights in St. Bonnat's church. Even the 17th century saw noteworthy work in Bourges; in the Martigny chapel of the cathedral (north side of the nave), the donor's portrait looks as realistic as a miniature.
C’est alors que se constitue cette merveilleuse discipline, vrai fondement de la culture intellectuelle et de la science, qu’est la discipline scholastique.... Toute la connaissance est tournée vers la science de l’être, vers la métaphysique, plus haut encore vers la théologie; plus haut encore, vers théologie vécue, vers la contemplation.—Jacques Maritain.
C’est alors que se constitue cette merveilleuse discipline, vrai fondement de la culture intellectuelle et de la science, qu’est la discipline scholastique.... Toute la connaissance est tournée vers la science de l’être, vers la métaphysique, plus haut encore vers la théologie; plus haut encore, vers théologie vécue, vers la contemplation.—Jacques Maritain.
The cathedral of Beauvais derived directly from Amiens, and no expression of the Gothic principle was ever carried farther. It consists of a mammoth choir and transept. As the height of the edifice is three times its width, the nave which now is lacking would need to have been of enormous length. Instead of that much-needed nave, there nestles under the truncated west end a modest little Carolingian edifice called the Basse-Œuvre, built by the fortieth bishop of Beauvais, Hervé (987-998). The small cubic stones and occasional courses of brick tell of the antiquity of this, the best-preserved monument in France, dating before the year 1000.[140] Most of the Romanesque churches of the Oise copied it. Scarcely, however, had the Ile-de-France Picard Romanesque school developed than the privileged region gave birth to the national art.
The cathedral of Beauvais is directly inspired by Amiens, and no other expression of Gothic architecture has gone further. It features a massive choir and transept. Since the building's height is three times its width, the nave, which is currently missing, would have had to be incredibly long. Instead of this essential nave, a modest Carolingian structure called the Basse-Œuvre sits under the truncated west end. It was built by Beauvais' fortieth bishop, Hervé (987-998). The small cubic stones and occasional rows of brick indicate the age of this, the best-preserved monument in France, dating back to before the year 1000.[140] Most of the Romanesque churches in the Oise region took inspiration from it. However, hardly had the Ile-de-France Picard Romanesque school begun to develop than this privileged area gave rise to national art.
In 1227 Beauvais planned a new cathedral, spurred on thereto by the magnificent nave rising in neighboring Amiens. But the works were not started till 1247, for the bishop, more a feudal baron than a pastor, was for a time entirely engrossed in mercenary wars in Italy and in quarreling with Blanche of Castile, the queen-regent. Finally Bishop Milon began his cathedral in Beauvais on a scale beyond the resources of the diocese. Despite his own and the chapter’s generous donations, and the exemption of workmen and all building material from taxes, the choir was not finished till 1272, two years after the choir of Cologne. Scarcely was it done when, in 1284, its upper vaulting fell; a few years earlier a partial collapse had occurred. To remedy the disaster new piers had to be inserted between the old ones, which explains the sharp-pointed arches of the pier arcade. Only in the ambulatory, which was untouched by the falling masonry, is the original vaulting to be found. The required addition of flying buttresses was no improvement to the symmetry of the exterior. Instead of being able to proceed to the erection of a nave, forty years were wasted in repairs.
In 1227, Beauvais planned a new cathedral, inspired by the impressive nave rising in nearby Amiens. However, work didn't actually begin until 1247 because the bishop, more of a feudal lord than a spiritual leader, was preoccupied with mercenary wars in Italy and disputes with Blanche of Castile, the queen-regent. Eventually, Bishop Milon started his cathedral in Beauvais on a scale that exceeded the diocese's resources. Despite generous donations from him and the chapter, along with tax exemptions for workers and building materials, the choir wasn’t completed until 1272, two years after the choir in Cologne. As soon as it was finished, in 1284, the upper vaulting collapsed; a partial collapse had occurred a few years earlier. To fix the disaster, new piers had to be added between the old ones, which explains the sharp-pointed arches of the pier arcade. The original vaulting can only be found in the ambulatory, which remained unaffected by the falling masonry. The necessary addition of flying buttresses didn’t enhance the exterior's symmetry. Instead of moving forward with the construction of a nave, forty years were wasted on repairs.
Then came the calamities of the Hundred Years’ War when building activities flagged all over France. Never again were profiles to be virile. The apogee hour of Gothic was forever past. With English, Burgundian, and French troops roving the country, Beauvais was kept on the alert. In 1429, the citizens, roused by Jeanne d’Arc’s success at Orléans, expelled their bishop, who was in sympathy with the foe, and was none other than the unworthy Pierre Cauchon, soon to sit as miscreant judge at the Maid’s trial in Rouen. Two years after Jeanne had been burned, Beauvais was besieged by English troops, and so gallant was the behavior of the women of the city, notably Jeanne Hachette, that forever after was accorded to them the right to march in the place of honor in all processions, directly behind the clergy. When the Duke of Burgundy, England’s ally, besieged the city in 1472 he burned the episcopal palace, to which the two sturdy towers near the Basse-Œuvre originally belonged. Once more the women of Beauvais fought side by side with the men, while the children and the aged gathered in the cathedrals to supplicate Heaven for protection.
Then came the disasters of the Hundred Years' War when construction slowed down all over France. The bold profiles of old would never return. The peak of Gothic architecture was forever in the past. With English, Burgundian, and French troops roaming the land, Beauvais had to stay alert. In 1429, inspired by Jeanne d’Arc’s victory at Orléans, the citizens expelled their bishop, who supported the enemy—none other than the unworthy Pierre Cauchon, who would soon serve as the unjust judge at the Maid’s trial in Rouen. Two years later, after Jeanne was burned, Beauvais was besieged by English troops, and the bravery of the city's women, especially Jeanne Hachette, was so remarkable that they were granted the right to march in the place of honor in all processions, right behind the clergy. When the Duke of Burgundy, England’s ally, besieged the city in 1472, he burned the episcopal palace, which originally included the two sturdy towers near the Basse-Œuvre. Once again, the women of Beauvais fought alongside the men, while the children and the elderly gathered in the cathedrals to pray for protection.
No city in the land had better cause to rejoice over peace and the invader’s expulsion than Beauvais. And nowhere did Flamboyant Gothic take on nobler expression than in the stately transept now added to the cathedral, a masterpiece worthy to be joined to the giant choir. On its north front worked Martin Chambiges, who gave to Troyes and Sens their admirable façades. Over-ornamentation was a pitfall for the late-Gothic masters, but not for Chambiges, who kept Beauvais’ strong lines of construction unobliterated by lavish detail.
No city in the region had more reason to celebrate peace and the removal of invaders than Beauvais. And nowhere did Flamboyant Gothic achieve a more impressive form than in the grand transept recently added to the cathedral, a masterpiece worthy of being connected to the massive choir. On its north front worked Martin Chambiges, who created the remarkable façades for Troyes and Sens. While later Gothic masters often fell into the trap of over-ornamentation, Chambiges avoided this pitfall, preserving Beauvais’ strong lines of construction without overwhelming them with excessive detail.
Flamboyant Gothic was essentially a decorative art. Therein only did it differ from preceding schools, for it developed no new principles of construction. Because of the flamelike undulations of its window tracery, the Norman archæologist, M. de Caumont, who had brought into use the name Romanesque, invented the equally useful term Flamboyant.[141] Capricious, overladen, disturbingly restless, this final phase of the national art may often be (it has been called more terrestrial than celestial), it was inclined to exhibit its technical dexterity; but none the less it was keenly alive and a vast improvement on the over-formalized geometric Rayonnant Gothic to which it succeeded. In both, the profiles were prismatic, fluid, and weak. Discipline which made for robustness was forever lost.
Flamboyant Gothic was basically a decorative style. The only difference from earlier styles was that it didn’t create any new construction principles. Because of the flame-like curves of its window designs, the Norman archaeologist, M. de Caumont, who coined the term Romanesque, also came up with the term Flamboyant.[141] Whimsical, overly detailed, and unsettlingly dynamic, this final phase of national art may often be seen (it’s been described as more earthly than heavenly); it was inclined to showcase its technical skill. Nevertheless, it was vibrantly alive and a significant improvement over the overly rigid geometric Rayonnant Gothic that preceded it. In both styles, the forms were prismatic, fluid, and weak. The discipline that led to strength was forever lost.
A century before the characteristics of Flamboyant art developed in France, they were in use in England, and there called Curvilinear or Decorated Gothic. Window mullions undulated, arches were crowned with reversed curves and sculptured finials, secondary, connecting ribs were added to the vaulting, bases were elongated, there were interpenetrating molds, hanging keystones, piers without capitals, and such new models for foliate sculpture as the deeply indented leaves of parsley and curly cabbage. When capitals were given up, the ribs died away weakly in the piers. The Gothic of England had changed to its cold Perpendicular phase by the time that the architects across the Channel adopted the features called Flamboyant in France.
A century before the features of Flamboyant art emerged in France, they were present in England, where they were known as Curvilinear or Decorated Gothic. Window mullions curved gracefully, arches had inverted curves and decorative finials, and additional ribs connected to the vaulting. The bases were elongated, there were overlapping molds, hanging keystones, and piers without capitals, along with new designs for decorative sculpture like the deeply indented leaves of parsley and curly cabbage. As capitals disappeared, the ribs faded gently into the piers. By the time architects across the Channel adopted what became known as Flamboyant features in France, English Gothic had already transitioned to its cooler Perpendicular style.
M. Camille Enlart has developed the idea that the last phase of the national architecture was a product of the English occupation during the Hundred Years’ War, that from elements of decoration introduced by England, the French composed a style which differed somewhat only from that in vogue across the Channel from 1300 to 1360. In France, flowing tracery and ogee arches were not used before 1375. France need feel no diminution of her claim of leadership in Gothic architecture because she adopted, for her XV-century traits, certain decorative details developed first by others, since the Gothic of England was originally of French derivation.
M. Camille Enlart argues that the final phase of national architecture was influenced by the English occupation during the Hundred Years’ War. From the decorative elements introduced by England, the French created a style that was only slightly different from what was popular across the Channel between 1300 and 1360. In France, flowing tracery and ogee arches didn't appear until after 1375. France shouldn't feel any loss of her claim to leadership in Gothic architecture just because she incorporated certain decorative details developed by others for her 15th-century styles. The Gothic style in England originally came from French roots.
The theory of an English origin for French Flamboyancy is contested by M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, who thought that from the same elements of XIII-century Gothic one country developed its own Curvilinear style and the other its own, Flamboyant Gothic.[142] M. de Lasteyrie agreed with the thesis that there is a French origin for French late-Gothic manifestations. That Flamboyant art is in part indigenous and partly of foreign derivation is probably nearest the truth. Certainly sporadic cases of florid features appeared in French art during the XIII and XIV centuries, but it is clear that in various places long held by the English there appeared the first or the fullest expression of late-Gothic art.
The idea that French Flamboyancy originated from England is disputed by M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, who believed that from the same elements of Gothic architecture in the 13th century, one country developed its own Curvilinear style while the other created Flamboyant Gothic. M. de Lasteyrie supported the view that French late-Gothic styles have a French origin. It's likely that Flamboyant art is partly homegrown and partly influenced by foreign styles. Certainly, some decorative features showed up in French art during the 13th and 14th centuries, but it's clear that in various areas long occupied by the English, we saw the initial or most complete expression of late-Gothic art.
Before the Flamboyant Gothic transept of Beauvais was finished, the foreign Renaissance had arrived in France. And it showed here in the richly sculptured doors. The sibyls, all ten of whom are represented, are, as pagans, kept outside the church. With skilled gradation the carving grows deeper and bolder toward the top of the doors, farthest away from the eye. Jean Le Pot carved the southern doors in faultless taste. He was a glassmaker as well, and in St. Étienne’s church are his windows beside those of his father-in-law, Engrand Le Prince, who, with his sons Jean and Nicholas, made the north and south rose windows of the cathedral and its splendid Peter and Paul window. Their tree of Jesse, in St. Étienne’s choir, is considered a masterpiece of color and design. To-day a Le Prince window in any French city is a matter of civic pride.
Before the colorful Gothic transept of Beauvais was complete, the foreign Renaissance had already arrived in France. This influence is evident in the beautifully sculpted doors. The ten sibyls depicted are kept outside the church as pagans. The carving skills show a gradual increase in depth and boldness toward the top of the doors, which are farthest from view. Jean Le Pot carved the southern doors with impeccable taste. He was also a glassmaker, and in St. Étienne’s church, you can find his windows alongside those of his father-in-law, Engrand Le Prince, who, with his sons Jean and Nicholas, created the north and south rose windows of the cathedral as well as its stunning Peter and Paul window. Their tree of Jesse, located in St. Étienne’s choir, is regarded as a masterpiece of color and design. Nowadays, a Le Prince window in any French city is a source of civic pride.
The old saying ran: “The choir of Beauvais, the nave of Amiens, the portals of Rheims, the towers of Chartres” make the most beautiful cathedral in the world. One hundred and fifty feet high curve the upper vaults of Beauvais choir. Beneath them could be set the belfries of Notre Dame of Paris. As at Bourges, the lofty aisle possesses its own triforium and clearstory, but here the clearstory of the central choir has not been dwarfed as a result of the stupendous pier arcades. Beauvais dared to make its upper windows eighty feet high. Think what its interior would be had it retained the original stained glass! Its towering choir windows would scintillate like those of Sainte-Chapelle, since it was the Paris school that supplied XIII-century Beauvais.
The old saying went: “The choir of Beauvais, the nave of Amiens, the portals of Rheims, the towers of Chartres” create the most beautiful cathedral in the world. The upper vaults of Beauvais choir rise one hundred and fifty feet high. Beneath them, you could fit the belfries of Notre Dame of Paris. Just like at Bourges, the tall aisle has its own triforium and clearstory, but here the clearstory of the central choir hasn’t been diminished by the enormous pier arcades. Beauvais boldly made its upper windows eighty feet high. Imagine what its interior would be like if it had kept the original stained glass! Its soaring choir windows would sparkle like those of Sainte-Chapelle, since it was the Paris school that provided Beauvais in the 13th century.
Such a sweep of fragile glass was possible because the play of thrusts and counterthrusts had been calculated to a certainty. Technically, Beauvais is the extreme expression of the Gothic theory. It perfected the pier by making it elliptical, widest where fell the greatest strain, north and south. It is said that its error lay in certain false bearings, that some of the intermediate buttresses were balanced half on air without direct ground supports. That may have been temerarious, since building material of perfect quality is required when chances are taken. Certainly Beauvais pushed to its rigid consequences the law of equilibrium, allowing no excess in the supporting members, but it was not a builder’s folly.
Such a delicate arrangement of glass was possible because the balance of forces had been precisely calculated. Technically, Beauvais represents the ultimate expression of Gothic architecture. It refined the pier by making it elliptical, widest where the greatest pressure was applied, north and south. It's said that its flaw lay in some inaccurate supports, with some of the intermediate buttresses relying on air rather than solid ground. That might have been risky, as high-quality materials are essential when taking such chances. Certainly, Beauvais took the principles of equilibrium to their limits, allowing no excess in the supporting structures, but it wasn’t a builder’s mistake.
M. de Lasteyrie has called its plan a chef-d’œuvre of lightness. Though the architect pushed his technique to the extreme limit of the law of thrust and counterthrust, he did not pass beyond the possible, and had he employed the hard, resistant stone of Burgundy the history of the cathedral church he built would not be a tale of disasters. What brought about the collapse of Beauvais’ vaults was the use of inferior stone.
M. de Lasteyrie described its design as a masterpiece of lightness. Although the architect pushed his technique to the absolute limit of the law of thrust and counterthrust, he didn't go beyond what was feasible. If he had used the strong, durable stone from Burgundy, the history of the cathedral he constructed would not be a story of failures. The reason for the collapse of Beauvais’ vaults was the use of poor-quality stone.
Sometimes one feels in the hardihood of this cathedral a trace of everweening pride, as if its certitude of excelling tended to virtuosity. The stupefying ascending lines, strong-willed and carried out with science, seem as much to vaunt the enterprise of their builder as pay homage to the Creator. Some of the lesser churches, that humbly and tentatively reached out toward perfection, make a deeper appeal than does stupendous Beauvais. Was man meant for the superlative on earth? And one remembers that Bishop Milon de Nanteuil was a proud man of the world, very unlike that true pastor of souls, Maurice de Sully, who with unpretentious diligence raised Notre Dame of Paris. Such criticisms would be silenced, perhaps, had Beauvais a nave from which could be viewed its overwhelming choir. Truncated as it now is, it is necessary to crane the neck in order to see its clearstory windows. So colossal a thing should be led up to gradually; it cries out insistently for its missing nave.
Sometimes you can feel a hint of overwhelming pride in the boldness of this cathedral, as if its certainty in excelling leans towards showiness. The stunning upward lines, meticulously crafted, seem just as much to boast about the skill of their builder as they do to honor the Creator. Some of the smaller churches, which humbly and tentatively strive for perfection, resonate more deeply than the grand Beauvais does. Was humanity meant for the extraordinary on earth? And it brings to mind that Bishop Milon de Nanteuil was a proud worldly man, very different from the genuine shepherd of souls, Maurice de Sully, who diligently built Notre Dame of Paris. Such criticisms might be quieted, perhaps, if Beauvais had a nave from which to admire its magnificent choir. As it is now, it's necessary to crane your neck to see its clerestory windows. Something so colossal should be approached gradually; it urgently calls for its missing nave.
Fatality seemed always to pursue Beauvais. After terminating a noble Flamboyant transept, the ambitious citizens were lured into the scheme of a central tower, when a church of such height should have at its crossing merely a slender spire. Instead of proceeding to build a nave, they raised a lantern that lacked merely a few feet of the enormous height of St. Peter’s dome in Rome. It was a day of tower building in France, and Beauvais, ever hopeful beyond its resources, thought to outvie all others. On feast days lights were hung in its spire’s open stonework for the illumination of the entire countryside. For five years only the giant beacon stood. On Ascension Day of 1573, just after the congregation had left the church to walk in procession, the tower fell with an appalling noise, covering the whole town with dust. Only one bay of the nave has been built, its piers have disappearing moldings, amorphous profiles, and no capitals whatever. Beauvais stands a massive fragment, and there seems little chance that the truncated church will ever be completed.
Fatality always seemed to chase Beauvais. After completing a noble Flamboyant transept, the ambitious townspeople got lured into the plan for a central tower, even though a church of such height should have just a slender spire at its crossing. Instead of building a nave, they raised a lantern that was only a few feet shorter than the enormous height of St. Peter’s dome in Rome. It was a time for tower building in France, and Beauvais, always overly optimistic about its resources, aimed to outdo everyone else. On feast days, lights were hung in the spire’s open stonework to illuminate the entire countryside. For only five years did the giant beacon stand. On Ascension Day in 1573, just after the congregation had left the church to take part in a procession, the tower collapsed with a thunderous noise, covering the whole town in dust. Only one bay of the nave was built, with its piers featuring disappearing moldings, shapeless profiles, and no capitals at all. Beauvais remains a massive fragment, and it seems unlikely that the incomplete church will ever be finished.
THE CATHEDRAL OF TROYES[143]
THE CATHEDRAL OF TROYES__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
We are so consumed with the desire for wicked profit. That no one considers doing what they should, But we all work hard on the Devil’s train,
And only in his service do work and pray; And God, who endured agony for us, We turn our backs on him and treat him with contempt.
Brave is the person whom death does not frighten.
The weak little mouse, struggling against the winter cold
Gathers the nuts and grain inside his cell,
While a person stumbles around, unable to see clearly Where to find shelter from aging....
The Devil wraps our lives in traps. He has four hooks well-baited with torments; And first, he casts a powerful spell with Greed,
And then, to fill his nets, Pride has signed up,
And Luxury guides the boat and fills the sail,
And Betrayal controls and sets the trap. So the poor fish are taken to shore.
Count Thibaut IV of Champagne. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Beneath the present choir of Troyes Cathedral are Gallo-Roman walls, and a succession of edifices have stood on the same site. From the cathedral of the V century started the bishop, St. Loup, “the friend of God,” when he went forth to check Attila the Hun, “God’s scourge,” and the barbarian was touched by spiritual fear and retired. That same good bishop of Troyes was the companion of St. Germain of Auxerre, on the notable journey north, when they blessed the gentle child Geneviève in a village near Paris, marking her as a vessel of election.
Beneath the current choir of Troyes Cathedral are Gallo-Roman walls, and a series of buildings have existed on the same site. From the 5th-century cathedral, Bishop St. Loup, "the friend of God," set out to confront Attila the Hun, "God's scourge," and the barbarian was struck by spiritual fear and retreated. That same good bishop of Troyes was a companion of St. Germain of Auxerre on their famous journey north, when they blessed the gentle child Geneviève in a village near Paris, marking her as a chosen vessel.
Probably the cathedral immediately preceding the present one was in large part early-Gothic. Fire wiped it out, in 1188, and preparations for a new basilica were started by the energetic Bishop Garnier de Trainel, who went on the Fourth Crusade, and was among those, says Villehardouin, who scaled the walls of captured Constantinople along with his friend Nivelon, the bishop-builder of Soissons.
The cathedral before the current one was mostly early Gothic. A fire destroyed it in 1188, and Bishop Garnier de Trainel, who was active and went on the Fourth Crusade, started plans for a new basilica. He was one of those, according to Villehardouin, who climbed the walls of captured Constantinople with his friend Nivelon, the bishop-builder of Soissons.
The first stone of the new cathedral at Troyes was laid in 1206 by Bishop Hervé (1206-23), an able man who had been advanced by the observant prelate of Paris, Eudes de Sully. For almost twenty years Bishop Hervé worked on the choir, considered one of the best chevets in France. During his episcopate Troyes was a brilliant center of European trade and culture. Blanche of Castile and young Louis IX passed some time in the city when Thibaut IV the Singer, related to the royal line, was attacked by the clique of rebellious barons who plotted against the boy king. There had been considerable romancing about the volatile, inconstant Thibaut’s admiration for Queen Blanche, who was a married woman before he was born. His own mother, Blanche of Navarre, another of the able women rulers of that day, gave generously to the new cathedral of her capital city.
The first stone of the new cathedral at Troyes was laid in 1206 by Bishop Hervé (1206-23), a capable man who had been promoted by the observant prelate of Paris, Eudes de Sully. For almost twenty years, Bishop Hervé worked on the choir, which is considered one of the best chevets in France. During his time as bishop, Troyes was a vibrant center of European trade and culture. Blanche of Castile and young Louis IX spent some time in the city when Thibaut IV the Singer, who was related to the royal line, faced an attack from a group of rebellious barons who were plotting against the young king. There was significant gossip about the unpredictable Thibaut’s admiration for Queen Blanche, who was married before he was even born. His own mother, Blanche of Navarre, another capable woman ruler of that time, contributed generously to the new cathedral in her capital city.
In 1228 a storm damaged the rising structure, necessitating years of tiresome repairs. Pope Urban IV, as a native son of Troyes, contributed. During the last forty years of the XIII century the transept was building. It showed traces of English feeling derived perhaps from Edmund Plantagenet, a son of the builder of Westminster Abbey, who had married the dowager Countess of Champagne. His ward Jeanne, Thibaut the Singer’s granddaughter, inherited the countship of Champagne, the kingdom of Navarre, and by marriage became the queen of France.
In 1228, a storm damaged the structure that was being built, leading to years of exhausting repairs. Pope Urban IV, a native of Troyes, played a role in this. During the last forty years of the 13th century, the transept was constructed. It displayed influences from English architecture, possibly due to Edmund Plantagenet, the son of the builder of Westminster Abbey, who had married the dowager Countess of Champagne. His ward, Jeanne, the granddaughter of Thibaut the Singer, inherited the countship of Champagne and the kingdom of Navarre, and by marriage, became the queen of France.
Slowly during the XIV and XV centuries, one bay of the nave was added to another; the changes from the precise lines of Rayonnant tracery to the undulating mullions of the Flamboyant day are easy to follow. The long delays were caused by lack of funds and the repeated need for consolidating the parts already built. The soil on which the church stood was unsuitable, and from the first, security was jeopardized by using the soft, native stone in those parts of the edifice which were out of sight, in order to economize on the firm stone imported from Burgundy.
Slowly during the 14th and 15th centuries, one section of the nave was added to another; the transition from the sharp lines of Rayonnant tracery to the wavy mullions of the Flamboyant style is easy to track. The long delays were due to a lack of funds and the need to reinforce the parts that were already built. The ground on which the church was built was not suitable, and from the beginning, safety was compromised by using the soft local stone in the parts of the structure that were hidden, in order to save money on the sturdy stone imported from Burgundy.
Then in 1429 the city opened its gates to Charles VII on his way to be crowned at Rheims. Jeanne d’Arc, during her trial in Rouen, told of an incident of their entry into Troyes. Some of the townspeople were fearful lest the heroine of Orleans came of the devil, so they had a holy preacher march out to exorcise her. Scattering holy water and making repeated signs of the Cross, Brother Richard approached the Maid. “Draw near without uneasiness,” Jeanne assured him, in her pleasant manner. “I won’t fly away.”
Then in 1429, the city welcomed Charles VII as he headed to be crowned at Rheims. During her trial in Rouen, Jeanne d’Arc recounted an event from their entry into Troyes. Some locals were worried that the heroine of Orleans might be linked to the devil, so they sent a holy preacher out to exorcise her. Sprinkling holy water and making repeated signs of the Cross, Brother Richard approached the Maid. “Come closer without fear,” Jeanne reassured him in her friendly way. “I won’t disappear.”
The city by its reception of the king evinced eagerness to wipe out the infamy of the Treaty of Troyes, signed here in 1420 by Queen Isabeau of Bavaria, wherein she repudiated her son Charles VII and gave France over to the foreign invader. The people’s renewed hope and self-respect expressed itself in some of the most lovely Flamboyant foliage ever chiseled—the deeply undercut leafage on the gable of the north portal (1462-68).
The city, in welcoming the king, showed a strong desire to erase the shame of the Treaty of Troyes, signed here in 1420 by Queen Isabeau of Bavaria, in which she rejected her son Charles VII and handed France over to the foreign invader. The people's renewed hope and self-respect were reflected in some of the most beautiful Flamboyant designs ever carved—the intricately detailed foliage on the gable of the north portal (1462-68).
Work on the cathedral was taken up with energy after Jeanne, carrying her standard, had hallowed the streets of Troyes. As the XV century closed, the nave’s radiant late-Gothic windows were installed. They are of the Biblia pauperum type, and are surprisingly like big translucent woodcuts. They tell the story of Daniel, Tobias, Joseph and his brethren, Job—a window especially to be noticed—some parables, too, and edifying legends. The scenes are set quite as they appeared in the mystery plays, the costumes being not of Syria, but of the very stuffs and damasks bought in their own international fairs. The same masters of Troyes, Verrat, Godon, Lyénin, Macadré, who signed a rose window of Sens transept, put their signatures here.
Work on the cathedral picked up pace after Jeanne, carrying her standard, blessed the streets of Troyes. As the 15th century came to a close, the stunning late-Gothic windows in the nave were installed. They're of the Biblia pauperum type and look surprisingly like large translucent woodcuts. They depict the stories of Daniel, Tobias, Joseph and his brothers, and Job—especially noteworthy is the window dedicated to Job—along with some parables and inspiring legends. The scenes are set just as they appeared in the mystery plays, with costumes made from the very fabrics and damasks purchased at their own international fairs. The same artisans from Troyes, Verrat, Godon, Lyénin, Macadré, who signed a rose window in the Sens transept, left their marks here too.
Bible stories such as these suit the layman’s part of a church, for they serve to hold the attention of the average man. In the choir of Troyes are thirteen large windows of an earlier day, profounder in color and more spiritual in suggestion. They are like a jeweled cloistral screen around the Holy of Holies. In the upper central windows are the Passion scenes, and on either side rise tier on tier of martyrs who witnessed to the Faith—bishops, abbots, and a few important personages, such as Pope Innocent III, Bishop Hervé, the builder, and the archbishop of Sens, the learned Pierre de Corbeil. On one side of the choir Henry I, emperor of Constantinople, of the house of Champagne, is pictured, and Philippe-Auguste, suzerain of Champagne. And opposite in the fourth window are donjons and fleurs-de-lys showing that the queen-regent, Blanche of Castile, was generous here as elsewhere.
Bible stories like these are perfect for the average churchgoer because they grab the attention of everyday people. In the choir of Troyes, there are thirteen large windows from an earlier era, richer in color and more spiritually suggestive. They resemble a jeweled cloistered screen surrounding the Holy of Holies. In the upper central windows are scenes from the Passion, and on either side rise layers of martyrs who testified to the Faith—bishops, abbots, and several notable figures such as Pope Innocent III, Bishop Hervé, the builder, and the learned archbishop of Sens, Pierre de Corbeil. On one side of the choir, Henry I, emperor of Constantinople from the house of Champagne, is depicted, along with Philippe-Auguste, the lord of Champagne. Opposite, in the fourth window, there are donjons and fleurs-de-lys indicating that the queen-regent, Blanche of Castile, was generous here just as she was elsewhere.
The upper choir windows of Troyes allowed more light to pass than had their immediate predecessors, the lancets of Chartres. Their colors were clear and bright; only such stone mullions were used as were absolutely required for the support of the glass. The eight lateral windows of the upper choir belong to the XIII century, the five at the eastern curve to the XIV century. In the lower choir are various ancient windows, liberally restored, the Tree of Jesse, of Byzantine character, being the best. Two hundred years later another Tree of Jesse was made by Lyénin,[145] for the clearstory of the nave. It gave Christian folk a feeling of pride to record the Lord’s high ancestry according to Isaias and the Acts. This cathedral of Troyes was one of the first to glaze its triforium, even before St. Denis’ abbatial. The present triforium lights are, in most part, modern.
The upper choir windows of Troyes let in more light than their earlier counterparts, the lancets of Chartres. Their colors are clear and bright; only the necessary stone mullions were used to support the glass. The eight side windows of the upper choir are from the 13th century, while the five at the eastern curve are from the 14th century. In the lower choir, there are several ancient windows, restored extensively, with the Tree of Jesse, which has a Byzantine character, being the best. Two hundred years later, another Tree of Jesse was created by Lyénin,[145] for the clerestory of the nave. It gave Christians a sense of pride to trace the Lord’s noble lineage as described in Isaiah and the Acts. This cathedral of Troyes was one of the first to glaze its triforium, even before St. Denis' abbey. Most of the current triforium lights are modern.
By 1504 the clearstory windows of the nave were all in place. Among their donors was represented a mayor of Troyes with all his family. The golden-hued west rose was put up in 1546. And even into the XVII century the vitrine art of this exceptional city maintained its high traditions of five hundred years. In 1625 Linard Gontier made the Pressoir window, the swan-song of good Renaissance glass. There is a translucent picture of Our Lady in the nave’s south aisle, with stars leaded into holes that were cut out of an entire plate of glass; any apprentice who could perform that difficult feat of glazing was promoted to be a master craftsman.[146]
By 1504, the clearstory windows of the nave were fully installed. Among their donors was a mayor of Troyes along with his entire family. The golden west rose was added in 1546. Even into the 17th century, the glasswork of this remarkable city upheld its high traditions for over five hundred years. In 1625, Linard Gontier created the Pressoir window, a final masterpiece of fine Renaissance glass. There is a translucent image of Our Lady in the south aisle of the nave, featuring stars embedded in holes that were cut out of a single plate of glass; any apprentice who could accomplish that challenging task was promoted to master craftsman.[146]
For the building of the cathedral’s west front, the chapter, in 1506, called on the noted late-Gothic master, Martin Chambiges, who had made his reputation with transept façades at Beauvais and Sens. Together with other artists, his son, Pierre (who won fame with Senlis’ transept façade, and who, in 1539, began the château of St. Germain-en-Laye), carried on Troyes’ frontispiece during fifty years, so that its imagery—badly damaged by the Revolution—shows the ermine of Anne of Brittany, the porcupine of Louis XII, and the salamander of Francis I. Troyes, with its record of four hundred years, was, of all the cathedrals of France, the longest in building.
For the construction of the cathedral's west front, the chapter, in 1506, hired the renowned late-Gothic master, Martin Chambiges, who had built his reputation with the transept façades at Beauvais and Sens. Along with other artists, his son, Pierre (who gained recognition for the transept façade of Senlis and who started the château of St. Germain-en-Laye in 1539), worked on Troyes’ front for fifty years, resulting in imagery—severely damaged by the Revolution—that features the ermine of Anne of Brittany, the porcupine of Louis XII, and the salamander of Francis I. Troyes, with its history spanning four hundred years, was, among all the cathedrals in France, the longest to build.
In spite of its double aisles, its wide transept, its noble, deep choir, and its astounding wealth of storied windows, it is clear when standing before the Flamboyant Gothic front of this chief church of Champagne’s capital, that it is a cathedral of secondary rank. The flaw here is one of proportion. With such width—and this is the widest cathedral in France—the church should be thirty feet higher. However, no traveler with harmony in his soul thinks of technical criticism once he steps across the threshold and walks beneath the joyous terrestrial windows of the nave and the seraphic lights of the sanctuary.
Despite its double aisles, wide transept, impressive deep choir, and incredible array of stained glass windows, it's clear when you stand in front of the Flamboyant Gothic façade of this main church in Champagne's capital that it’s a secondary-ranking cathedral. The issue here is one of proportion. Given its width—and it’s the widest cathedral in France—the church should be thirty feet taller. Still, no traveler with an appreciation for beauty thinks about technical critiques once they cross the threshold and walk under the vibrant earthly windows of the nave and the heavenly lights of the sanctuary.
Oil see; good to know. Please don't hurt me; Because I'm really telling you,
Although love is torment, If you love me better alive. I won't be upset. —Thibaut IV of Champagne, in a cheerful mood.
St. Urbain’s famous collegiate church, a forerunner of XIV-century Rayonnant Gothic, was founded by a son of Troyes, who sat in Peter’s chair, Urban IV. He tells us that “in the desire that the memory of this our name might remain forever in the city of Troyes even after the dissolution of our body,” he began, in 1262, a church on the site where his father’s shop had stood, choosing for its tutelary the saint-pope, Urban, who had succored the early martyrs in Rome. His father was a prosperous shoemaker in the day when tradesmen gave princely gifts to their parish churches. Urban IV himself had been a choir boy in Troyes Cathedral.
St. Urbain’s well-known collegiate church, an early example of 14th-century Rayonnant Gothic, was established by a native of Troyes, who became Pope Urban IV. He states that “to ensure our name is remembered forever in the city of Troyes even after our body's dissolution,” he started building a church in 1262 on the spot where his father’s shop used to be, choosing Saint Urban, the pope who aided the early martyrs in Rome, as its patron. His father was a successful shoemaker at a time when tradespeople made generous donations to their local churches. Urban IV himself had been a choir boy at Troyes Cathedral.
He died before his church was finished, but his nephew, Cardinal Pantaleone Ancher, continued the edifice, which was completed in 1276. Urban’s successor, Clement IV, also a Frenchman, patronized the new works at Troyes. While the choir and transept were done by one generation, many a century was to pass before the westernmost bay and façade were finished.
He died before his church was finished, but his nephew, Cardinal Pantaleone Ancher, carried on the construction, which was completed in 1276. Urban’s successor, Clement IV, who was also French, supported the new works in Troyes. While the choir and transept were completed by one generation, it would take many centuries before the westernmost bay and façade were finished.
St. Urbain at Troyes (1264-1276)
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St. Urbain in Troyes (1264-1276)
In archæological circles St. Urbain is noted, Viollet-le-Duc being the first to discuss its ingenuity. As construction it is a small masterpiece, a model of elasticity, perhaps the lightest and most fragile of all Gothic edifices. To an economy in stone we owe this structural feat. Were the principle of equilibrium pushed a step farther, metal, not stone, would be required. Ground supports have been lessened, and flying buttresses attenuated to the last limit. Despite its science, St. Urbain is not doctrinaire, but immaterial and seductive. On first entering it Montalembert exclaimed, “Quelle délicieuse église!”
In archaeological circles, St. Urbain is well-known, with Viollet-le-Duc being the first to highlight its clever design. As a construction, it’s a small masterpiece, a model of flexibility, and possibly the lightest and most delicate of all Gothic buildings. We owe this engineering marvel to an efficient use of stone. If the principle of balance had been taken a step further, metal instead of stone would have been needed. The ground supports have been minimized, and the flying buttresses refined to the absolute limit. Despite its technical achievements, St. Urbain isn’t rigid in its principles; instead, it’s ethereal and captivating. Upon entering, Montalembert exclaimed, “Quelle délicieuse église!"
The architect, Jean Langlois, here created the most elegant form of Rayonnant window tracery. At his porch appears the first French arch of double curvature, the earliest interpenetration of archivolts. We know his name because in 1267 a papal bull summoned him to account for sums advanced on the edifice, and Jean was not forthcoming, because he had disappeared in the East, crusading. The chief church at Famagusta, in Cyprus, begun in 1300—the only completed French-Gothic cathedral of the XIV century—shows such analogies with St. Urbain at Troyes that apparently Langlois’ architectural influence had spread in the Orient.
The architect, Jean Langlois, created the most stylish form of Rayonnant window tracery here. At his porch, there’s the first French arch of double curvature, marking the earliest overlap of archivolts. We know his name because in 1267 a papal bull called him to explain the funds advanced for the building, but Jean wasn’t forthcoming, as he had vanished to the East, participating in a crusade. The main church in Famagusta, Cyprus, which started in 1300—the only finished French-Gothic cathedral of the 14th century—shows such similarities with St. Urbain at Troyes that it seems Langlois’ architectural influence had extended into the East.
M. Lefèvre-Pontalis has called Troyes’ lantern church inundated with light one of the most original monuments of the Middle Ages. Ten feet above the ground its walls change to opalescent glass. No grisaille is more exquisitely decorated with natural foliage outlines; set in the expanses of the opal-tinted white glass are colored medallions of extreme beauty. The lower row of lights around the choir are of this character. Above them, and almost a part of them, are the choir’s upper windows—big prophets and patriarchs with the Crucifixion in the center—transition windows between legend-medallion glass, and the XIV century’s single figures in a vitrine architectural frame. The arms of France, Champagne, and Navarre appear in the borders of the choir windows.
M. Lefèvre-Pontalis has described the lantern church in Troyes, flooded with light, as one of the most unique monuments from the Middle Ages. Ten feet above the ground, its walls turn into opalescent glass. No grisaille is more beautifully adorned with outlines of natural foliage; encased in the swathes of opal-tinted white glass are colored medallions of exceptional beauty. The lower row of lights around the choir is of this nature. Above them, and almost a part of them, are the choir’s upper windows—large prophets and patriarchs with the Crucifixion in the center—transitional windows between legend-medallion glass and the XIV century’s individual figures in an architectural frame. The coats of arms of France, Champagne, and Navarre appear in the borders of the choir windows.
The transeptal chapel to the north of the choir shows in its quatrefoils some interesting heads of men, women, and children. From the windows of the south transeptal chapel some panels were stolen, but St. Urbain’s curé, Abbé Jossier, a learned enthusiast, was able, by sending photographs all over France, to trace his lost panels in a private collection, and it is to be hoped they may be returned.
The north transept chapel near the choir features some intriguing heads of men, women, and children in its quatrefoils. Some panels from the south transept chapel were stolen, but St. Urbain’s pastor, Abbé Jossier, a knowledgeable enthusiast, managed to track down the missing panels in a private collection by sending photographs all over France. Hopefully, they will be returned.
In his short pontificate, 1262-64, Urban IV, besides creating this enduring memorial, instituted the feast of Corpus Christi. He requested a liturgy for his new feast from St. Thomas Aquinas, who composed the Pange lingua gloriosi, the last stanzas of which are sung daily throughout the Christian world, the familiar Tantum ergo. To Aquinas is ascribed the Verbum supernum prodiens hymn whose ending is the lovely O Salutaris Hostia. Doubt and heresy have always been instrumental in clarifying doctrine and in enriching the liturgy and art. So in a later day was made, in reaction against the XVI-century desecration of the Eucharist, such windows as the Wine Press of Troyes and that of Conches.
In his brief time as pope from 1262 to 1264, Urban IV, besides establishing this lasting memorial, set up the feast of Corpus Christi. He asked St. Thomas Aquinas to create a liturgy for his new feast, and Aquinas wrote the Pange lingua gloriosi, the final stanzas of which are sung daily around the world in Christianity, known as the familiar Tantum ergo. The hymn Verbum supernum prodiens, which ends with the beautiful O Salutaris Hostia, is also attributed to Aquinas. Doubt and heresy have historically played a crucial role in clarifying doctrine and enhancing the liturgy and art. In later times, in response to the desecration of the Eucharist in the 16th century, windows like the Wine Press of Troyes and that of Conches were created.
In 1906, soon after St. Urbain’s church had celebrated the completion of its western portal, it became the scene of a conscientious objection on the part of its parishioners, who protested against the taking of an inventory, they deeming it an unlawful interference with their private affairs. They sat in their church till the police broke in the doors; even then they continued to sing canticles, and were expelled only by having a hose turned on them. Six centuries earlier, St. Urbain’s had been the scene, on the completion of its choir, of a suffragette-like demonstration by a community of nuns, who claimed part of the land on which the church stood. They smashed various things on the premises, and, it is whispered, even slapped a high dignitary’s face. Apparently St. Urbain’s is destined to pass into history under various aspects.
In 1906, shortly after St. Urbain’s church celebrated the completion of its western portal, it became the site of a protest by its parishioners, who objected to an inventory being taken, viewing it as an illegal intrusion into their private matters. They remained in the church until the police forcefully broke down the doors; even then, they kept singing hymns, only being removed when a hose was turned on them. Six centuries earlier, St. Urbain’s had witnessed a similar demonstration by a group of nuns upon the completion of its choir, as they claimed a portion of the land on which the church was built. They vandalized property on the premises, and rumors suggest they even slapped a high-ranking official. It seems St. Urbain’s is fated to be remembered in history for its various dramatic events.
For four hundred years the ancient capital of Champagne was an active center of the stained-glass industry. Overpowering is the wealth of storied windows to be found in its churches, the majority being of the Flamboyant-Renaissance day. In the suburbs, and farther afield in the hamlets of Champagne, there is the same prodigal display of colored windows and interesting statues.[148] From father to son, from generation to generation, was passed on the art skill of this ancient city on the highway of international trade.
For four hundred years, the ancient capital of Champagne was a bustling hub for the stained-glass industry. The abundance of remarkable windows in its churches is truly impressive, most of which date back to the Flamboyant-Renaissance period. In the suburbs, and even in the small towns of Champagne, you'll find the same lavish display of colorful windows and intriguing statues.[148] The art and skill of this historic city were passed down from father to son, from one generation to the next, along the path of international trade.
In Troyes there were so many churches that the old saying ran: “You arrived from Troyes? And what are they doing there?” “On y sonne.” Next to St. Urbain’s, for its wealth of art treasures, comes the Madeleine church built about 1175, and reconstructed during the Flamboyant enthusiasm when this city readorned almost every shrine it possessed. Contemporary with its noted jubé, or rood screen (1508-17), is the statue of St. Martha, one of the gems of French sculpture, entirely of the national school, unaffected work as ample and robust as the best period of the XIII century. St. Martha is represented, in this church of Troyes dedicated to her sister, with the holy water by which she exorcised the legendary Tarasque of Tarascon. She was the patroness of housekeepers, and it is said that the servant maids of Troyes presented to their church this memorial of the plastic genius of Champagne.[149]
In Troyes, there were so many churches that there was an old saying: “You came from Troyes? What are they up to there?” “On y sonne.” Next to St. Urbain’s, which is rich in art treasures, is the Madeleine church, built around 1175 and renovated during the Flamboyant period when the city redecorated almost every shrine it had. Contemporary with its famous jubé, or rood screen (1508-17), is the statue of St. Martha, one of the highlights of French sculpture, created entirely in the national style, sturdy and substantial like the best of the XIII century. In this church in Troyes, dedicated to her sister, St. Martha is depicted with the holy water she used to exorcise the legendary Tarasque of Tarascon. She was the patron saint of housekeepers, and it is said that the maidservants of Troyes donated this memorial to showcase the artistic talent of Champagne.[149]
Champagne’s special aptitude for sculpture appeared in the XIII-century gargoyles of St. Urbain’s church, each of which was almost a complete figure. Later her imagery grew mannered for a few generations, with the Madonna’s face of a formal type, and an exaggerated throwing out of the hip. The advent of Flemish realism, through the Franco-Flamand school at Dijon, renewed the vigor of French idealism, and before the XV century closed a truly French Renaissance had set in, retaining the equipoise of the old school and quite free of Italian classicism.
Champagne’s unique talent for sculpture was evident in the 13th-century gargoyles of St. Urbain’s church, each of which was almost a complete figure. In the following generations, her style became more mannered, featuring a formal portrayal of the Madonna’s face and an exaggerated hip pose. The arrival of Flemish realism, brought by the Franco-Flamand school in Dijon, revitalized French idealism, and by the end of the 15th century, a genuine French Renaissance had begun, maintaining the balance of the old school while being quite free of Italian classicism.
Eventually the imported standards checked that renewed national movement. It was not the big men of Italy’s revival who came to Champagne, but secondary artists whose work was often pretentious or coldly abstract. From 1540, under the leadership of the Italian, Domenico Rinnuccini, called Florentino, the foreign Renaissance prevailed at Troyes. In the church of the Madeleine, besides its jubé and St. Martha statue, is some of the best XVI-century glass. A window of 1506 tells the life of St. Eloi, the goldsmith-bishop of Noyon; a window dated 1517 is devoted to St. Louis; Jean Macadré I made a Jesse tree; and there is the celebrated Creation in which God the Father wears the papal tiara, significant of the reaction that followed Luther’s attacks on Rome. There are, also, two good XV-century windows, the Lord’s Passion and the Magdalene’s story.
Eventually, the imported standards checked that renewed national movement. It wasn’t the prominent figures of Italy’s revival who came to Champagne, but lesser artists whose work was often pretentious or coldly abstract. Starting in 1540, under the leadership of the Italian, Domenico Rinnuccini, known as Florentino, the foreign Renaissance dominated at Troyes. In the church of the Madeleine, alongside its jubé and St. Martha statue, is some of the best 16th-century glass. A window from 1506 depicts the life of St. Eloi, the goldsmith-bishop of Noyon; a window dated 1517 is dedicated to St. Louis; Jean Macadré I created a Jesse tree; and there’s the famous Creation in which God the Father wears the papal tiara, symbolizing the reaction that followed Luther’s criticisms of Rome. Additionally, there are two notable 15th-century windows, the Lord’s Passion and the story of the Magdalene.
So vast is the accumulation of treasures in the sanctuaries of Troyes that one can indicate merely a few of them. In St. Jean’s church—Flamboyant Gothic mainly, with a XII-century tower and a XIV-century nave—is a Visitation (1520) by Nicolas Haslin, a meeting of two pleasant dames of Troyes, wearing robes of Burgundian fullness, a group in which there appears a first evidence of transalpine influence. The reredos, from the Juliot studio, that led in the transition from French Gothic art to the neo-classic standards, has conventional images somewhat overgestured. In the flat eastern wall of St. Jean is a maîtresse vitre (1630) by the Gontier brothers, delicate in hue, yet radiant, with half tones such as mauve, salmon pink, soft grays, pomegranate, celadine green. Eagerly the Renaissance masters seized on the new invention of verre double, which allowed them a fuller palate. Their over-use of opaque enamel-painting on glass led to the deterioration of the vitrine art, for the picture-painter soon swamped the glazier and draftsman who had worked in subordination to the architect.
So vast is the collection of treasures in the sanctuaries of Troyes that we can only highlight a few. In St. Jean’s church—mainly Flamboyant Gothic, with a 12th-century tower and a 14th-century nave—there is a Visitation (1520) by Nicolas Haslin, showing a meeting of two charming ladies of Troyes, dressed in full Burgundian robes, which shows early evidence of transalpine influence. The reredos, from the Juliot studio, represents the transition from French Gothic art to neoclassical standards, featuring somewhat exaggerated conventional images. On the flat eastern wall of St. Jean is a maîtresse vitre (1630) by the Gontier brothers, delicate in color yet radiant, with soft tones like mauve, salmon pink, gray, pomegranate, and celadine green. The Renaissance masters eagerly embraced the new invention of verre double, which gave them a broader color palette. However, their excessive use of opaque enamel painting on glass led to the decline of the vitrine art, as the picture-painter soon overshadowed the glazier and draftsman who had previously worked in support of the architect.
In the church of St. Pantaléon, where Lyénin II worked, the windows are in one or two tones, gray-brown with silver-stain yellow and flesh color, a style better suited to domestic interiors or to civic halls than to churches. The church boasts a statue of St. James and a Charité by Domenico Florentino, and a St. Crespin group by a son of Troyes, François Gentil, influenced by the Italian. To Gentil is attributed the Christ at the column and the Christ bearing the Cross in the church of St. Nicolas, where are also images of St. Anne and St. Joachim from the Juliot studio, a St. Bonaventure from the same source whence emanated the adorable statue of St. Martha, and more of the grisaille picture-glass. In St. Martin-ès-Vignes the window of St. Anne (1623) is attributed to Linard Gontier; in Ste. Sabine are some painted wood panels, and a carved keystone of great beauty; in the hall of the library of Troyes are thirty panels by Linard Gontier, made in commemoration of Henry IV’s visit in 1598.
In the St. Pantaléon church, where Lyénin II worked, the windows feature one or two tones, gray-brown with silver-stained yellow and flesh colors, a style more appropriate for homes or civic buildings than for churches. The church has a statue of St. James and a Charité by Domenico Florentino, along with a St. Crespin group by François Gentil, a son of Troyes, who was influenced by the Italians. Gentil is credited with the Christ at the column and the Christ carrying the Cross in the St. Nicolas church, which also hosts images of St. Anne and St. Joachim from the Juliot studio, a St. Bonaventure from the same source that produced the beautiful statue of St. Martha, and more grisaille stained glass. In St. Martin-ès-Vignes, the window of St. Anne (1623) is attributed to Linard Gontier; in Ste. Sabine, there are some painted wood panels and a beautifully carved keystone; in the library hall of Troyes, there are thirty panels by Linard Gontier, created to commemorate Henry IV’s visit in 1598.
CHÂLONS CATHEDRAL[150]
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It so happens that in most of our communes the church remains the only witness of the olden times and of departed generations. It thus becomes a symbol, legible for the humblest, of the duration of our race, of the persistence, through the dead, of a special group of French families on a special corner of French soil. The village church gives the lesson of lineage, of the solidarity of efforts, of the communion of men.—Edmond Blanqueron, Inspecteur de l’Académie de la Haute-Marne, in the crusade to save the churches of Champagne, notably Vignory, one of the oldest in France (c. 1050).
In most of our communities, the church is often the only reminder of the past and those who have come before us. It stands as a symbol, easily understood by everyone, of the longevity of our people and the enduring presence of a distinct group of French families in a specific part of France. The village church teaches us about lineage, the importance of collective effort, and the connection between people.—Edmond Blanqueron, Inspector of the Académie de la Haute-Marne, in the campaign to preserve the churches of Champagne, especially Vignory, one of the oldest in France (c. 1050).
The cathedral of Troyes and the church of St. Urbain belong to the Champagne school of Gothic, to which we have devoted no separate chapter because some of its monuments, such as St. Remi at Rheims and Notre Dame at Châlons, we grouped with the Primary Gothic churches, and the cathedral of Rheims with the Great Cathedrals, classifications used solely for greater clarity.
The cathedral of Troyes and the church of St. Urbain are part of the Champagne school of Gothic architecture. We haven't dedicated a separate chapter to this school because we grouped some of its monuments, like St. Remi in Rheims and Notre Dame in Châlons, with the Primary Gothic churches, and the cathedral of Rheims with the Great Cathedrals. These classifications are just for better clarity.
From its inception, the Gothic of Champagne kept pace with the Ile-de-France Picard school, and in certain characteristics even took the lead of its neighbor. Gerson, Racine, La Fontaine, Gaston Paris, are among the sons of this province whose Gothic art, formulated centuries before them, displays qualities which embody aspiration, sublimity, sanity always and just measure, a singular ease and grace, patience, and science.
From the beginning, the Gothic of Champagne kept up with the Ile-de-France Picard school, and in some ways even outshined its neighbor. Gerson, Racine, La Fontaine, and Gaston Paris are among the sons of this province whose Gothic art, developed centuries earlier, shows qualities that reflect aspiration, greatness, soundness, balance, a unique ease and grace, patience, and knowledge.
From Champagne came the gracious arrangement of planting slender columns and stilted arches at the entrance to radiating chapels. Champagne was the first to use the pier composed of twin columns, first to employ a passageway round the church at the level of the aisle windows, and to place lancets side by side in each bay for the better lighting of the edifice. The region was conservative in clinging to certain Romanesque traits, such as apsidal chapels projecting from the eastern wall of the transept. It employed, as did Normandy and Burgundy, a circulation passage under the clearstory windows. Champagne’s influence spread far afield to Sens, Auxerre, St. Quentin, St. Denis, Metz, Toul, Ipres, Tournai, Avila, León, and York.[151]
From Champagne came the elegant design of placing slender columns and elevated arches at the entrance to sprawling chapels. Champagne was the first to use piers made of twin columns, the first to create a pathway around the church at the level of the aisle windows, and to position lancets side by side in each bay for better illumination of the building. The region held on to certain Romanesque features, like apsidal chapels sticking out from the eastern wall of the transept. It also incorporated, like Normandy and Burgundy, a circulation passage beneath the clearstory windows. Champagne’s influence spread widely to Sens, Auxerre, St. Quentin, St. Denis, Metz, Toul, Ipres, Tournai, Avila, León, and York.[151]
Lest these pages should become overloaded, we can merely touch on the beautiful Champagne cathedral of Châlons-sur-Marne, an old city which is another treasure house of colored glass. The most interesting windows are in the small church of St. Alpin, whose apse celebrates the Eucharist, the souls in Purgatory, the Corpus Christi procession, lately mocked by the Calvinists. Its Manna in the Desert window is a symbol of the Eucharist. In St. Alpin are the most successful examples of that distinguished phase of vitrine art called camaïeu—of cameo or chiaroscuro effect, using brown-gray hues, the yellow of silver-stain, a pale blue for the sky, and an occasional single touch of superb ruby red. One of the windows of Raphaelesque design represents St. Alpin, bishop of Châlons, meeting Attila the Hun; another, dated 1539, is a rendering of the Vision of Augustus, a theme most popular then.
To avoid overwhelming these pages, we will only briefly touch on the stunning Champagne cathedral of Châlons-sur-Marne, an ancient city that is another treasure of colored glass. The most captivating windows are found in the small church of St. Alpin, whose apse highlights the Eucharist, the souls in Purgatory, and the Corpus Christi procession, which has recently been ridiculed by the Calvinists. Its Manna in the Desert window symbolizes the Eucharist. St. Alpin features the most impressive examples of that notable phase of glass art known as camaïeu—characterized by cameo or chiaroscuro effects, using brown-gray tones, the yellow of silver-stain, a pale blue for the sky, and the occasional stunning touch of ruby red. One of the windows in a Raphaelesque style depicts St. Alpin, the bishop of Châlons, encountering Attila the Hun; another, dated 1539, illustrates the Vision of Augustus, a theme that was quite popular at the time.
Peter the Venerable called Châlons “great and illustrious.” Guillaume de Champeaux, one of the most learned men of the age, whose schoolroom was really the beginning of the University of Paris, was bishop of Châlons in 1115 when a young Burgundian named Bernard came to be consecrated abbot of Clairvaux. In the monk of twenty-five, unknown yet to fame, the great teacher was swift to recognize a supreme spiritual genius. In 1147 St. Bernard preached at the dedication of the Romanesque cathedral of Châlons before Pope Eugene III, who had been one of his own Cistercian monks at Clairvaux. The present tower to the north of the choir belonged to the church that Bernard knew. The south tower, its mate, is of the XIII century. The placing of belfries on either side of the choir was a Rhenish trait.
Peter the Venerable referred to Châlons as “great and illustrious.” Guillaume de Champeaux, one of the most learned people of the time, whose classroom was essentially the foundation of the University of Paris, served as bishop of Châlons in 1115 when a young man from Burgundy named Bernard came to be consecrated as abbot of Clairvaux. At just twenty-five, and still unknown to the world, the great teacher quickly recognized Bernard's extraordinary spiritual talent. In 1147, St. Bernard preached at the dedication of the Romanesque cathedral of Châlons in front of Pope Eugene III, who had previously been one of his Cistercian monks at Clairvaux. The current tower to the north of the choir belonged to the church that Bernard was familiar with. The south tower, its counterpart, dates from the 13th century. The placement of belfries on either side of the choir was a characteristic of the Rhenish style.
In 1230 Châlons Cathedral was wrecked by lightning. Its reconstruction began with the choir, under Bishop Pierre de Nemours, whose brothers were building-prelates at Noyon, Paris, and Meaux. In 1250 work on the nave was going on, and at the end of the century was built the transept’s excellent north façade. The XVII century erected the unsuitable neo-classic west frontispiece, yet at the same time, curiously enough, the two westernmost bays were constructed in perfect imitation of Apogec Gothic. It remains an open question whether the same Renaissance century made the apse chapels after a fire in 1668. Some say they are of the XIV century, that the choir, as first built, had no ambulatory, but that one was added soon after, with radial chapels.
In 1230, Châlons Cathedral was struck by lightning. Its rebuilding started with the choir, led by Bishop Pierre de Nemours, whose brothers were also involved in building projects in Noyon, Paris, and Meaux. By 1250, work on the nave was underway, and by the end of the century, the impressive north façade of the transept was completed. In the 17th century, the inappropriate neoclassical west front was built; however, interestingly, the two most western bays were constructed in perfect imitation of Apogec Gothic. It remains an open question whether the Renaissance century also built the apse chapels after a fire in 1668. Some say they date back to the 14th century, and that the original choir had no ambulatory, but one was added shortly after, along with radial chapels.
There is a noble purity in Châlons Cathedral, due in large part to its soaring monolithic piers. No church is richer in tombstones, and its stained glass is plenteous. In the eastern clearstory are three lovely silver and blue XIII-century windows; the north rose of the transept is early XIV century and the first window in the nave’s south aisle is another good example of that period. The same aisle shows a brilliant XV-century light, ruby red in effect, and a window of 1509, wherein the Blessed Virgin’s life is explained by quaint inscriptions. Some XII-century glass from Châlons Cathedral is in the Trocadéro Museum at Paris.
There is a noble purity in Châlons Cathedral, largely thanks to its towering monolithic piers. No church has more tombstones, and its stained glass is abundant. In the eastern clearstory, there are three beautiful silver and blue 13th-century windows; the north rose of the transept is from the early 14th century, and the first window in the nave's south aisle is another great example from that time. The same aisle features a stunning 15th-century light, ruby red in appearance, and a window from 1509, which depicts the life of the Blessed Virgin with charming inscriptions. Some 12th-century glass from Châlons Cathedral is located in the Trocadéro Museum in Paris.
Just as Champagne had proved herself a pioneer in the first days of the national art, so she distinguished herself in later times when Rayonnant Gothic turned to Flamboyant art. Among the few churches built during the transition between those two phases is the cathedral-like Notre-Dame-de-l’Épine, in the fields a few miles from Châlons-sur-Marne, a link connecting St. Urbain at Troyes with the goodly array of Flamboyant buildings that sprang up in the ancient capital of Champagne. The interior proportions of Notre-Dame-de-l’Épine resemble those of Rheims Cathedral, and its rood screen recalls the jubé of the Madeleine church at Troyes.
Just as Champagne was a trailblazer in the early days of national art, she continued to stand out later on when Rayonnant Gothic evolved into Flamboyant art. Among the few churches built during this transition is the cathedral-like Notre-Dame-de-l’Épine, located a few miles from Châlons-sur-Marne, which links St. Urbain at Troyes to the impressive array of Flamboyant buildings that emerged in the ancient capital of Champagne. The interior proportions of Notre-Dame-de-l’Épine are similar to those of Rheims Cathedral, and its rood screen is reminiscent of the jubé of the Madeleine church at Troyes.
But revenons à nostro matière, as dear Joinville, seneschal of Champagne, would say. The reason for the wealth of architecture and its allied arts and crafts in the region of which Troyes is the center was because the ancient city, so unnoted in to-day’s activities, lay on the mediæval highway of commerce, and under its enterprising rulers became the scene bi-yearly of a fair to which all Europe flocked. To this day we use Troy weight. The counts of Champagne safeguarded the visiting merchants and fostered commerce by wise laws. Their money passed in Rome and Venice as freely as in Provins and Troyes. Lavish and art-loving were the Champagne rulers; one of them founded Clairvaux in lower Champagne; another rebuilt the Cistercian church of Pontigny, just over the border in Burgundy. They were indefatigable crusaders, some of them winning thrones in the East. And their alliances constantly enriched their stock with new qualities, as when Count Henry the Magnificent wedded, in 1164, the daughter of Louis VII by Aliénor of Aquitaine. That Countess Marie—the suer comtessa to whom her half brother, Richard Cœur-de-Lion, addressed his famous prison song—made of her court of Champagne a school of good manners with all the ceremonial of the Midi’s cour d’amour. What M. Gaston Paris calls poet-laureates’ work, poésie courtoise, became the vogue, and the Countess Marie herself wrote in the troubadour manner. She encouraged the best of the XII-century poets, Crestien de Troyes (d. 1175), suggesting to him the romances of the Breton cycle, Lancelot, Tristan, and Percival.[152] Through Crestien the story of the Holy Grail spread over Europe. In him the trouvères new ideals of chivalry met the Midi’s refined gallantry, and the Celtic themes which he versified brought what was needed of passion and profundity.
But let's get back to our topic, as dear Joinville, the seneschal of Champagne, would say. The reason for the wealth of architecture and its associated arts and crafts in the region centered around Troyes was that this ancient city, which is so overlooked in today's world, was situated on the medieval trade route and, under its enterprising rulers, became the site of a fair held twice a year to which all of Europe flocked. Even today, we use Troy weight. The Counts of Champagne protected visiting merchants and promoted commerce through wise laws. Their currency was accepted in Rome and Venice just as easily as in Provins and Troyes. The Champagne rulers were extravagant and loved the arts; one of them founded Clairvaux in lower Champagne, while another rebuilt the Cistercian church of Pontigny just over the border in Burgundy. They were tireless crusaders, with some even winning thrones in the East. Their alliances constantly enriched their lineage with new traits, such as when Count Henry the Magnificent married, in 1164, the daughter of Louis VII and Aliénor of Aquitaine. That Countess Marie—the suer comtessa to whom her half-brother, Richard Cœur-de-Lion, dedicated his famous prison song—transformed her court in Champagne into a school of etiquette with all the ceremonial of the Midi’s cour d’amour. What M. Gaston Paris refers to as the work of poet-laureates, poésie courtoise, became the trend, and Countess Marie herself wrote in the troubadour style. She supported the finest poets of the 12th century, including Crestien de Troyes (d. 1175), suggesting to him stories from the Breton cycle, like Lancelot, Tristan, and Percival.[152] Through Crestien, the story of the Holy Grail spread across Europe. In his work, the trouvères' new ideals of chivalry met the refined gallantry of the Midi, and the Celtic themes he versified brought in the required passion and depth.
All Europe then drew its poetic inspirations from the matière de France, as France in her turn was enriching herself from the inexhaustible matière de Bretagne. The XII-century French trouvères were imitated by the German Minnesingers, by the early songsters of England, Spain, and Portugal, and in Italy the precursors of Dante preferred the use of the Romance tongues of France. In the fecund hour wherein our modern civilization was conceived, France gave to the Western World her architecture, her sculpture, and her poetry. At the cathedral doors of Verona, Roland and Oliver were sculpted.
All of Europe then drew its poetic inspiration from the matière de France, while France, in turn, was enriching itself from the endless supply of matière de Bretagne. The 12th-century French trouvères inspired the German Minnesingers, the early songwriters of England, Spain, and Portugal, and in Italy, the precursors of Dante preferred the use of the Romance languages of France. In the fruitful moment when our modern civilization was born, France contributed her architecture, her sculpture, and her poetry to the Western World. At the cathedral doors of Verona, Roland and Oliver were sculpted.
The international city of Troyes saw the creation of the Templars Order at her Council of 1128, whither had come Hugues de Payns, a knight related to the reigning counts. Taking part in the First Crusade, he proved himself a true prud’homme in Palestine by forming a band of volunteer knights to escort unprotected pilgrims. At the Council of Troyes he won recognition for his monk-knights. St. Bernard championed them, drew up their rule, and gave them their white robe and red cross. With the birth of the national art rose this great military Order and with its decline it was stricken down. When the lust of gain replaced aspiration, men no longer went crusading or built cathedrals.
The international city of Troyes witnessed the establishment of the Templars Order at its Council in 1128, where Hugues de Payns, a knight related to the ruling counts, was present. Having participated in the First Crusade, he proved to be a true prud’homme in Palestine by forming a group of volunteer knights to protect unguarded pilgrims. At the Council of Troyes, he gained recognition for his monk-knights. St. Bernard supported them, created their code, and provided them with their white robes and red crosses. With the rise of national art came the emergence of this great military Order, and with its decline, it fell from grace. When the desire for wealth took the place of ambition, people no longer went on crusades or built cathedrals.
The ancient city of Troyes is not only associated with epic poetry—“history before there are historians”—but is linked with the earliest two historians who wrote in the vernacular, Villehardouin and Joinville. “Mes lengages est buens car en France fui nez,” boasted the Champagne poet, who tells us that God listened by preference to his speech, since he had made it lighter and better than any other, of more brevity, of nobler amplitude. Villehardouin’s record of the Fourth Crusade, the Conquête de Constantinople, possesses the same powerful simplicity as the greatest of all chansons-de-geste, Roland. He was born near Troyes, in whose convents lived two of his daughters and his two sisters, and to whose churches he left property.
The ancient city of Troyes is connected not just with epic poetry—"history before there were historians"—but also with the first two historians who wrote in the vernacular, Villehardouin and Joinville. “Mes lengages est buens car en France fui nez,” the Champagne poet proudly declared, telling us that God preferred his speech because it was lighter and better than any other, more concise, and nobler in scope. Villehardouin’s account of the Fourth Crusade, the Conquête de Constantinople, has the same powerful simplicity as the greatest chanson-de-geste, Roland. He was born near Troyes, where two of his daughters and his two sisters lived in convents, and to whose churches he donated property.
Our good friend Joinville grew up in the cultivated court of the Countess Marie’s grandson, Thibaut IV le Chansonnier, born in Troyes. Thibaut’s songs blended the courteous poetry of the troubadour tradition with the attic salt of his own most civilized Champagne. In his gallant company Joinville acquired his good manners and inimitable mode of expression.
Our good friend Joinville grew up in the cultured court of the Countess Marie’s grandson, Thibaut IV le Chansonnier, who was born in Troyes. Thibaut’s songs mixed the polite poetry of the troubadour tradition with the refined wit of his own sophisticated Champagne. In his noble company, Joinville developed his good manners and unique way of expressing himself.
The last countess of this land of gay singers and soldier-historians was Thibaut’s granddaughter, Jeanne, who inspired Joinville to write his memoirs, helped to build Meaux Cathedral, and founded the College of Navarre where Gerson and Bossuet were to be trained. But, alas! the liberal young heiress of Champagne married the legist king of France, Phillipe le Bel, the executioner of the Templars. When he struck a blow at the international fairs of Champagne by persecuting Lombards and Jews, the great day for Troyes was over. When Jeanne d’Arc—born on the confines of Champagne—revived the nation’s pride, the art traditions latent in the citizens of Troyes flowered once more with magnificence. Only the slow accumulation of centuries could have produced the unemphatic beauty of the gracious St. Martha in Troyes’ Flamboyant Gothic church of the Madeleine.
The last countess of this land of lively singers and soldier-historians was Thibaut’s granddaughter, Jeanne, who inspired Joinville to write his memoirs, helped build Meaux Cathedral, and founded the College of Navarre where Gerson and Bossuet would be trained. But, unfortunately, the free-spirited young heiress of Champagne married the legal king of France, Philippe le Bel, the executioner of the Templars. When he targeted the international fairs of Champagne by persecuting Lombards and Jews, the great days for Troyes came to an end. When Jeanne d’Arc—born on the borders of Champagne—revived the nation’s pride, the artistic traditions lying dormant in the citizens of Troyes blossomed once again with splendor. Only the gradual accumulation of centuries could have created the understated beauty of the elegant St. Martha in Troyes’ Flamboyant Gothic church of the Madeleine.
THE CATHEDRAL OF TOURS.[153]
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A religion is the heart of a race; it expresses the emotions of a people and elevates them by giving them an aim: but, unless a God be visibly honored, religion does not exist, and human laws are powerless.... Thought, the fountain of all good and evil, cannot be trained, mastered, and directed except by religion, and the only possible religion is Christianity, which created the modern world and will preserve it.... France is being saved and lost perpetually. If she wants to be saved, indeed, let her go back to the laws of God.—Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850; born in Tours).
A religion is the core of a race; it reflects the feelings of a people and uplifts them by providing a purpose. However, if a God is not visibly respected, religion cannot exist, and human laws are ineffective. Thought, the source of all good and evil, can only be trained, controlled, and guided through religion, and the only true religion is Christianity, which formed the modern world and will keep it intact. France is in a constant cycle of being both saved and lost. If she truly wants to be saved, she should return to the laws of God.—Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850; born in Tours).
The cathedral of Tours does not startle. One is not carried away by it, at first. Its charm is that of the tranquil horizons of the Loire, fleuve de lumière, de vie doucement heureuse, partout de plein effets de lenteur, d’ordre, so Rodin saw it. The beauty of Touraine increases with familiarity because it is touched with that measure, that justness of soul inherited from the classic spirit, that has ever tempered, in the art manifestations of this nation, the sublime overimpassioned consistencies of the Celt and the lofty overexaggerated dreams of the Teuton.
The cathedral of Tours doesn't catch you off guard. At first, it doesn't sweep you away. Its appeal is like the calm horizons of the Loire, river of light, of gently happy life, always filled with slow, orderly effects, as Rodin described. The beauty of Touraine grows on you because it carries that balance, that soulful precision inherited from the classic spirit, which has always moderated, in the artistic expressions of this country, the intense emotional depths of the Celt and the grand, exaggerated aspirations of the Teuton.
The cathedral of Tours does not aspire to the impossible. It is a rather cold, high-bred church at one with its environment, the gracious garden of Touraine, a satisfying, discreet church and most intensely French. While one rejoices that a Robert de Lusarches aspired to the Infinite at Amiens, one approves the architect of Tours who worked within human possibilities. The choir of the cathedral possesses both delicacy and force. Toward its erection Louis IX granted a quarry and some forest lands near Chinon. The choir must have been nearing its completion when in 1255 the king visited Tours, whose archbishop, Geoffrey de Martel, had lately died a crusader in Palestine.
The cathedral of Tours doesn’t aim for the impossible. It’s a rather cold, elegant church that blends well with its surroundings, the lovely gardens of Touraine—an understated and distinctly French church. While it’s wonderful that Robert de Lusarches aimed for the extraordinary at Amiens, we appreciate the architect of Tours who worked within realistic limits. The choir of the cathedral has both grace and strength. To help with its construction, Louis IX provided a quarry and some forest lands near Chinon. The choir must have been close to completion when the king visited Tours in 1255, shortly after the archbishop, Geoffrey de Martel, had died as a crusader in Palestine.
During the fifty years prior to 1270 the cathedral was building. In 1269 the relics of St. Maurice and his companions from Thebes, who were martyred in Gaul under Diocletian, were transferred to the sanctuary. Those early Christians were the tutelary saints of Tours Cathedral up to the XIV century. Then St. Gatien, the first to preach Christianity in this region, was chosen as patron. La Gatienne the people call their chief church. The cult of the early missionary had been a favorite devotion of St. Martin, third and greatest bishop of Tours, who died as the IV century drew to a close.
During the fifty years leading up to 1270, the cathedral was under construction. In 1269, the relics of St. Maurice and his companions from Thebes, who were martyred in Gaul during Diocletian's reign, were moved to the sanctuary. These early Christians were the patron saints of Tours Cathedral until the 14th century. After that, St. Gatien, the first to spread Christianity in this area, was appointed as the patron saint. The people refer to their main church as La Gatienne. St. Martin, the third and greatest bishop of Tours, who passed away as the 4th century came to an end, had greatly cherished the devotion to the early missionary.
Like Lyons, Tours has eminent ecclesiastical memories. The shrine of St. Martin, the most popular saint of Gaul, made the city a frequented pilgrimage for Europe. Gregory of Tours, who ruled this see from 573 to 595, has described the richness of the Byzantine church that stood over the tomb of the great thaumaturge. Like most of the prelates who saved Latin civilization from the Barbarian’s submersion, Bishop Gregory was of Gallo-Roman stock, of a senatorial family of Auvergne who boasted descent from an early Christian martyr of Gaul. In the present southwest tower of la Gatienne are traces of the VI-century cathedral built by this bishop-historian of Gaul, whose pages are a chief source for Merovingian times.[154]
Like Lyons, Tours has significant religious history. The shrine of St. Martin, the most beloved saint of Gaul, turned the city into a popular pilgrimage site for all of Europe. Gregory of Tours, who led this diocese from 573 to 595, described the splendor of the Byzantine church that was built over the tomb of the great miracle worker. Like many other church leaders who helped preserve Latin civilization from the invasion of the Barbarians, Bishop Gregory came from Gallo-Roman heritage, belonging to a senatorial family from Auvergne that claimed descent from an early Christian martyr of Gaul. In the current southwest tower of la Gatienne, there are remnants of the 6th-century cathedral constructed by this bishop-historian of Gaul, whose writings are a primary source for understanding Merovingian times.[154]
The city of Tours always had two great monuments—the cathedral within the ramparts, the basilica of St. Martin outside the walls. St. Martin’s abbey was the nation’s intellectual leader when the Saxon scholar Alcuin became its abbot (796-804). He made of Tours a Christian Athens. They buried him in his abbatial, where four years earlier Charlemagne’s wife, Luitgarde, had been laid. To-day only two towers stand of St. Martin’s basilica—the Tour Charlemagne, begun by the Blessed Hervé, abbot in 997, hence one of the oldest memorials of the rebirth of architecture associated with the year 1000, and a former façade tower mainly of the XII century. One of the busiest streets of Tours runs up what once was the nave of the abbatial, but, not discouraged, the people of Touraine have erected a new Byzantinesque basilica of St. Martin on the site of the transept’s southern arm. Those two tragic frenzies of forgetfulness, 1562, that scattered St. Martin’s ashes—for which St. Eloi, bishop-goldsmith of Noyon, had made a priceless reliquary—and 1793, that laid in ruins his church in Tours and Marmoutier’s Apogee Gothic abbatial that marked the rock-hewn cells where he had lived a hermit across the Loire, those two blind hours when men thought to erect barriers between themselves and their past, destroyed monuments which, did they exist still, would rank Tours, architecturally, among the first cities of Europe. St. Martin’s church, built by Hervé, became a monument-type,[155] copied by Ste. Foi, Congnes, St. Martial, Limoges, St. Sernin, Toulouse, and the cathedral at Santiago.
The city of Tours has always had two major landmarks—the cathedral within the city walls and the basilica of St. Martin outside the walls. St. Martin’s abbey was the intellectual hub of the nation when the Saxon scholar Alcuin became its abbot (796-804). He transformed Tours into a Christian Athens. He was buried in his abbey, where four years earlier, Charlemagne’s wife, Luitgarde, had been interred. Today, only two towers remain of St. Martin’s basilica—the Tour Charlemagne, started by Blessed Hervé, abbot in 997, making it one of the oldest symbols of the architectural revival linked to the year 1000, and a former façade tower mainly from the 12th century. One of the busiest streets in Tours runs along what used to be the nave of the abbey, but undeterred, the people of Touraine have built a new Byzantinesque basilica of St. Martin where the southern arm of the transept once was. Those two tragic moments of forgetfulness, 1562, which scattered St. Martin’s ashes—for which St. Eloi, the bishop-goldsmith of Noyon, had created a priceless reliquary—and 1793, which destroyed his church in Tours and Marmoutier’s Apogee Gothic abbey that marked the rock-hewn cells where he lived as a hermit across the Loire, those two blind periods when people tried to build walls between themselves and their history, ruined monuments that, if they still stood, would place Tours among the foremost cities in Europe architecturally. St. Martin’s church, built by Hervé, became a monument-type,[155] copied by Ste. Foi, Congnes, St. Martial, Limoges, St. Sernin, Toulouse, and the cathedral at Santiago.
It is said that twenty centuries of human effort are represented by the stones of Tours Cathedral.[156] In the base of its façade towers are remains of the city’s III-century walls, which had been constructed in their turn with the big stones stolen from the local Roman temples of 50 B.C. For sixteen centuries Mass has been said on this site. In the southwest tower are vestiges of Gregory of Tours’ VI-century church, and in the northwest tower traces of the Romanesque cathedral on which worked the philosopher and theologian, Hildebert de Lavardin, the most popular poet of his age and one of the builders of Le Mans Cathedral before promoted to be Tours’ sixty-fourth archbishop (1125-34). In refuting Berengar, a canon of Tours, who taught a confused doctrine concerning the Eucharist, Bishop Hildebert was the first to use the term “transubstantiation” in its theological sense. It is said that the custom of elevating the Host in the Mass resulted from the eucharistic controversies started by Berengar.
It is said that twenty centuries of human effort are represented by the stones of Tours Cathedral.[156] At the base of its façade towers are remnants of the city's 3rd-century walls, which were built from large stones taken from the local Roman temples dating back to 50 B.C. For sixteen centuries, Mass has been celebrated at this site. In the southwest tower, there are remains of Gregory of Tours' 6th-century church, and in the northwest tower, traces of the Romanesque cathedral worked on by the philosopher and theologian, Hildebert de Lavardin, who was the most popular poet of his time and one of the builders of Le Mans Cathedral before being appointed as Tours' sixty-fourth archbishop (1125-34). While refuting Berengar, a canon of Tours who taught a confusing doctrine regarding the Eucharist, Bishop Hildebert was the first to use the term "transubstantiation" in its theological sense. It is said that the practice of elevating the Host during Mass originated from the eucharistic controversies sparked by Berengar.
In 1167 a fire, caused by a quarrel over crusaders’ treasure, between Louis VII and Henry II Plantagenet, destroyed the Romanesque cathedral of Tours. Bishop Joscion, who died in 1173, planned to construct a Plantagenet Gothic church, since Touraine was in large part under Angevin control, and to the church he began belongs the graceful bombé vault borne on eight slender branches beneath the northwest tower. In 1191 Richard Cœur-de-Lion came to his city of Tours to receive the crusaders’ insignia before his venture to the East. His ransom drained the land of building funds. For that cause or another, the projected work at Tours languished. The actual choir was begun only about 1210, when the city had become a part of the royal domain, and its new master Philippe-Auguste wrote that he held the church of Tours to be one of the chief jewels of his crown, and that whosoever molested it touched his (the king’s) person.
In 1167, a fire sparked by a dispute over crusaders’ treasure between Louis VII and Henry II Plantagenet destroyed the Romanesque cathedral of Tours. Bishop Joscion, who passed away in 1173, planned to build a Plantagenet Gothic church since much of Touraine was under Angevin control. He began work on the church, which features the elegant bombé vault supported by eight slender branches beneath the northwest tower. In 1191, Richard Cœur-de-Lion arrived in Tours to receive the insignia of the crusaders before heading to the East. His ransom depleted the land's building funds. For one reason or another, the planned work in Tours stalled. The actual choir didn’t begin until around 1210, when the city became part of the royal domain, and its new ruler, Philippe-Auguste, stated that he considered the church of Tours one of the crown's prized possessions, and anyone who troubled it was threatening his (the king’s) own person.
We do not know who was the original architect of la Gatienne. Étienne de Mortagne, who designed the Benedictine church at Marmoutier, is mentioned, in 1269, as master-of-works at the cathedral, but by that time its choir was completed. That choir, while making no pretense of being sublime, is a monument of noble robustness, displaying within and without the veriest genius of good taste. The vista closing the eastern end of the church is one of the most satisfactory in France, owing to its right proportion. In this, Tours derives directly from Amiens. Its pier arcade comprises one-third of the interior wall elevation; and the triforium and clearstory make up the other two-thirds—clearstory being double the height of triforium. At Tours the relation of span and height is admirable, and both are well correlated with length. Seen in perspective down the nave, the three stories of colored glass around the sanctuary are the supreme impression of this church interior, and seldom does one pass from its west portal without turning back for a lingering look at that harmonious chevet of consecrated light. Through the pier arches can be seen symmetrically the windows of the apse chapels. The design of the glazed triforium is excelled by no other in France; though serving as a kind of pedestal for the upper lights, it retains its own entity.
We don’t know who the original architect of la Gatienne was. Étienne de Mortagne, who designed the Benedictine church at Marmoutier, is mentioned in 1269 as the master builder at the cathedral, but by that time, its choir was already finished. That choir, while not claiming to be extraordinary, is a monument of sturdy elegance, showcasing true taste both inside and out. The view at the eastern end of the church is one of the most pleasing in France, thanks to its perfect proportions. In this, Tours is directly influenced by Amiens. The pier arcade makes up one-third of the interior wall height, while the triforium and clerestory account for the other two-thirds— with the clerestory being double the height of the triforium. At Tours, the balance of width and height is impressive, and both are well matched with length. When seen down the nave, the three levels of colored glass around the sanctuary create the most striking impression of this church interior, and few people leave through its west portal without pausing for a last look at that harmonious chevet of sacred light. Through the pier arches, the windows of the apse chapels can be seen symmetrically. The design of the glazed triforium is unmatched in France; while it acts as a sort of base for the upper lights, it maintains its own identity.
When the choir of Tours was completed, the builders proceeded at once to erect the transept which, the stones themselves say, must have been finished as the XIII century closed. The nave’s easternmost bays touching it belong to the first years of the next century, as do the two rose windows of the transept. The northern rose is irreproachable in design and of the same scintillating jewel tradition as XIII-century glass.
When the choir of Tours was finished, the builders immediately started constructing the transept, which, as the stones themselves say, must have been completed at the end of the 13th century. The easternmost bays of the nave that connect to it were built in the early years of the following century, along with the two rose windows of the transept. The northern rose window is flawless in design and shares the same sparkling jewel-like style as the glass from the 13th century.
The Hundred Years’ War, here as elsewhere, checked building activities. When they were resumed at Tours, happily the first plans were adhered to, so that choir and nave are homogeneous. As the church advanced toward the west, the window tracery changed from Rayonnant to Flamboyant, the profiles grew prismatic, and the sculpture of the capitals became naturalistic rather than an architectural interpretation of foliage. The nave was made narrower than the choir, probably with the intention of joining it to the XII-century façade. Of the four triumphal piers at the transept-crossing, the two westernmost ones stand closer together than those flanking the choir, whose spacious procession path causes the side aisles of the nave to appear meager.
The Hundred Years’ War, like everywhere else, slowed down construction activities. When building resumed in Tours, fortunately, the original plans were followed, so the choir and nave are consistent. As the church moved westward, the window designs transitioned from Rayonnant to Flamboyant, the shapes became more prismatic, and the carvings on the capitals turned more naturalistic instead of just resembling foliage. The nave was designed to be narrower than the choir, likely to connect it with the 12th-century façade. Among the four triumphal piers at the transept crossing, the two on the west side are closer together than those next to the choir, which has a spacious processional path that makes the nave's side aisles seem narrow.
What might seem an overreasonableness in the architecture of Tours metropolitan church is offset by the glory of its jeweled windows. Between 1260 and 1270 the choir’s upper lights were placed, and considering their date, they are exceptional in still being of the legend-medallions type rather than large single figures. Blue is set in greenish white with good effect, contrasting happily with certain contemporary windows at Paris, where the juxtaposition of blue and red produced melancholy purple. The joyous sparkling tone of Tours’ lights proves a skillful use of pot-metal yellow. More care was taken to tell the legends plainly than to put borders round each medallion.
What might seem like an excessive design in the architecture of Tours' metropolitan church is balanced out by the beauty of its stained glass windows. Between 1260 and 1270, the upper lights of the choir were installed, and considering when they were made, they are remarkable for featuring legend-medallions instead of large single figures. The blue is set against a greenish-white background, creating a pleasing contrast with certain contemporary windows in Paris, where the combination of blue and red resulted in a somber purple. The bright, sparkling quality of the lights in Tours showcases a skilled use of pot-metal yellow. More attention was given to clearly depicting the legends than to framing each medallion.
The glass of Tours belongs to the Paris school, though made, doubtless, by local workers. Were a floor laid below the triforium of the choir, its fifteen upper windows, composing a veritable pavilion of glass, would be almost a replica of the Sainte-Chapelle, and one recalls that it was Archbishop Odo of Tours who on April 25, 1248, dedicated for St. Louis his new shrine at Paris. The donors of Tours’ great windows were churchmen and laymen, the lowly and the mighty. Bishop Geoffrey de Loudon, builder of Le Mans’ glorious choir, presented a light, as did Tours’ own prelate and a group of parish priests. Small craftsmen were donors, drapers, and day laborers, and of course Queen Blanche’s donjons of Castile are to be seen. Her window, devoted to St. James, the patron of Spain, is splendid in hue.
The glass in Tours comes from the Paris school, although it was likely made by local artisans. If there were a floor installed below the triforium of the choir, its fifteen upper windows, creating a stunning display of glass, would closely resemble the Sainte-Chapelle. It’s worth noting that Archbishop Odo of Tours dedicated his new shrine in Paris for St. Louis on April 25, 1248. The generous patrons of Tours' magnificent windows included both clergy and laypeople, from the humble to the powerful. Bishop Geoffrey de Loudon, who built the beautiful choir at Le Mans, contributed a window, as did Tours' own bishop and several parish priests. Small-scale craftsmen, drapers, and day laborers also donated, and of course, there are windows from Queen Blanche of Castile. Her window, dedicated to St. James, the patron saint of Spain, is remarkable in color.
The fourth clearstory window on the north excels in color harmony. They call it the Adam window, after the first tiller of the soil. It was presented by plowmen, and relates their field labors as well as the story of Genesis. On one side of the central light of the clearstory is a dazzling Tree of Jesse, the gift of a furrier and his wife. Next to it is a window devoted to St. Martin, whose story is told again, in the late XIII-century glass of an apse chapel. More French churches have been dedicated to St. Martin than to any other patron save Notre Dame. The windows of the sanctuary north of the axis chapel, though mixed in design, excel all others in exquisite color, being composed of fragments from St. Martin’s abbatial reset here. The New Alliance window in the Lady chapel has medallions of Christ bearing His Cross and the Crucifixion accompanied by such symbols and prefigurings as Elisha resuscitating the child, Jonah issuing from the whale’s jaws, the brazen serpent, and Moses striking the rock.
The fourth clearstory window on the north stands out for its amazing color harmony. It's called the Adam window, named after the first farmer. It was given by farmers and represents their work in the fields as well as the story of Genesis. On one side of the central light of the clearstory is a stunning Tree of Jesse, donated by a furrier and his wife. Next to it is a window dedicated to St. Martin, whose story is also depicted in the late 13th-century glass of an apse chapel. More French churches are dedicated to St. Martin than to any other patron except Notre Dame. The windows in the sanctuary north of the axis chapel, although varied in design, are unmatched in their beautiful colors, made up of fragments from St. Martin's abbey reset here. The New Alliance window in the Lady chapel features medallions of Christ carrying His Cross and the Crucifixion, accompanied by symbols and prefigurings like Elisha bringing a child back to life, Jonah coming out of the whale, the bronze serpent, and Moses striking the rock.
All the world was a symbol to the men of those Ages of Faith. The interlinked petals of the transept’s northern rose meet in a symbol of the Divinity—a knot without beginning or end—the forma universal visioned by Dante. There are Frenchmen who think that the splendid rose windows in their Gothic cathedrals suggested to the exile of Florence his conception of the empyrean. Heaven as Dante visioned it had neither roof of gold nor pillars of jasper, but was an expanded, supernal, white rose.
All of the world was a symbol to the people of those Ages of Faith. The connected petals of the northern rose in the transept come together as a symbol of the Divine—a knot with no beginning or end—the forma universal imagined by Dante. There are French people who believe that the beautiful rose windows in their Gothic cathedrals inspired the exiled Florentine’s vision of the empyrean. The Heaven that Dante saw had neither a gold roof nor pillars of jasper, but was an expanded, heavenly, white rose.
Once the nave of Tours Cathedral was filled with late-Gothic windows, but storms wrecked many of them. Some of its glass has been set in a line of lights beneath the transept’s north rose, XV-century panels representing members of the Bourbon Vendôme family, that was to mount the French throne with Henry IV. Jean Fouquet might have drawn them. Under the XVI-century rose in the west façade is another row of windows containing good portraits of art patrons as munificent as the Bourbons—the Laval-Montmorency family. All over France we find them as donors of beautiful things.
Once, the nave of Tours Cathedral was adorned with late-Gothic windows, but storms damaged many of them. Some of its glass has been placed in a line of lights beneath the transept’s north rose, featuring 15th-century panels depicting members of the Bourbon Vendôme family, who would eventually ascend the French throne with Henry IV. Jean Fouquet might have created these. Below the 16th-century rose in the west façade is another row of windows showcasing impressive portraits of art patrons as generous as the Bourbons—the Laval-Montmorency family. Across France, we find them as contributors to beautiful works.
The hour when Tours was an individual leader in art came during the late-Gothic development.[157] Then was finished the cathedral’s nave, chapter house, library, cloister, and the psaltery with its pretty Renaissance stair. The cathedral canons, Messires de la Gatienne, sacrificed a forest for the nave’s overroof. The elaborate Flamboyant façade was set up. Jean Papin was its architect, and Jean de Dammartin, fresh from Le Mans’ transept, worked on it. It was begun under Archbishop Philippe de Coëtquis (1427-41), one of the learned men whom Charles VII summoned to interrogate Jeanne d’Arc. He pronounced her entirely sincere.
The time when Tours was a prominent center of art came during the late-Gothic period.[157] At that time, the cathedral’s nave, chapter house, library, cloister, and the psaltery with its beautiful Renaissance staircase were completed. The cathedral canons, Messires de la Gatienne, sacrificed a forest for the roof of the nave. The intricate Flamboyant façade was constructed. Jean Papin was the architect, and Jean de Dammartin, just back from working on Le Mans’ transept, contributed to it. The project began under Archbishop Philippe de Coëtquis (1427-41), one of the scholars whom Charles VII called to question Jeanne d’Arc. He found her completely sincere.
In Tours Cathedral, April, 1429, knelt St. Jeanne for a solemn benediction before she went forth to accomplish her feat at Orléans. An artist of Tours made for her the banner she loved better than her sword. When Tours heard that she was taken prisoner, public prayers were ordered and a procession marched with bare feet, in penitential intercession for her deliverance. Charles VII had been married in Tours to his cousin Marie of Anjou, who was, says the modern student, more his incentive to patriotism than Agnes Sorel. The son of Charles, Louis XI, also was married in the cathedral of Tours, and preferred to live in the environs of the ancient ecclesiastic city.
In Tours Cathedral, April 1429, St. Jeanne knelt for a solemn blessing before she set out to achieve her goal at Orléans. An artist from Tours created a banner for her that she cherished more than her sword. When Tours learned that she had been captured, public prayers were called for, and a procession marched barefoot, asking for her release. Charles VII had married his cousin Marie of Anjou in Tours, who, as modern scholars note, inspired him to patriotism more than Agnes Sorel did. His son, Louis XI, was also married in the Tours cathedral and chose to live near the historic ecclesiastical city.
Under the saintly Archbishop Robert de Lenoncourt, installed here in 1488, were finished Tours’ western portals. Their foliage is tormented, serrated, and deeply undercut, almost too prodigally and delicately sculptured for an exterior decoration. The entranceways are to-day shorn of their imagery, the statues having been shattered in 1562. In the Renaissance day the façade’s twin towers were gracefully topped; deux beaux bijoux, Henry IV called the belfries of Tours.
Under the revered Archbishop Robert de Lenoncourt, who took office here in 1488, the western portals of Tours were completed. Their foliage is twisted, jagged, and deeply carved, almost too lavish and delicate for outside decoration. Today, the entrances are stripped of their imagery, as the statues were broken in 1562. In the Renaissance, the twin towers of the façade were elegantly topped; two beautiful jewels, as Henry IV referred to the belfries of Tours.
Throughout the Loire region an astounding number of monuments rose during the last half of the XV century and the early part of the XVI. Tours was the foyer for a school of sculpture that spread to Le Mans, Angers, Nantes, Poitiers, and Bourges. From 1480 to 1512 the school of the Region-of-the-Loire, as M. Paul Vitry calls it, was at its prime. It culminated in the ducal tomb at Nantes and the entombments at Solesmes. Dijon, the leader of the first half of the XV century, benefited Tours by its realism, and the Italian artists, gathered here in the dawn of the foreign Renaissance in France, contributed certain qualities. But the art of Michel Colombo is predominatingly of the Middle Ages, and a product of Touraine, a measured, contained, and charming art, de pur esprit français. Colombe simplified the draperies of the Franco-Flamand school and eschewed the Dijon roughness. His grace is never petty, however, nor his idealism conventional. As the XVI century opened he made, in his Tours studio, the statues for the ducal tomb at Nantes. In 1509 his nephew, Guillaume Regnault, sculptured the recumbent images of the children of Anne of Brittany and Charles VIII for the sarcophagus, now in the cathedral of Tours, the base of which was covered with arabesques by Jerome of Fiesole. Colombo’s contemporary, Jehan Fouquet, a son of Tours, delighted in painting the regional types. He decorated the walls of Notre-Dame-la-Riche, but his work is lost, though some of the dazzling Renaissance windows of that late-Gothic church of Tours have survived. A certain Jean Clouet emigrated from Brussels to Tours in those days, and his son and grandson, born by the Loire, are two of the French primitifs whose work the traveler does not care to miss in any gallery that can boast their Holbein-like canvases. During the Revolution, plans were afoot to destroy the cathedral of Tours, but two artists of the city (so loyal through centuries to art interests) risked their lives to save their noble Gothic church.
Throughout the Loire region, an incredible number of monuments were built during the last half of the 15th century and the early part of the 16th. Tours was the center for a school of sculpture that spread to Le Mans, Angers, Nantes, Poitiers, and Bourges. From 1480 to 1512, the School of the Loire Region, as M. Paul Vitry calls it, was at its peak. It culminated in the ducal tomb in Nantes and the tombs at Solesmes. Dijon, the leader of the first half of the 15th century, influenced Tours with its realism, and the Italian artists who arrived during the early foreign Renaissance in France added certain qualities. However, Michel Colombo's art is predominantly influenced by the Middle Ages and is a product of Touraine—measured, contained, and charming art, de pur esprit français. Colombe simplified the drapery of the Franco-Flemish school and avoided the roughness found in Dijon. His grace is never trivial, nor is his idealism conventional. As the 16th century began, he created, in his studio in Tours, the statues for the ducal tomb in Nantes. In 1509, his nephew, Guillaume Regnault, sculpted the recumbent figures of the children of Anne of Brittany and Charles VIII for the sarcophagus, now in the cathedral of Tours, whose base was decorated with arabesques by Jerome of Fiesole. Colombo’s contemporary, Jehan Fouquet, a native of Tours, enjoyed painting local types. He decorated the walls of Notre-Dame-la-Riche, but his work has been lost, although some of the stunning Renaissance windows of that late-Gothic church in Tours still exist. A certain Jean Clouet moved from Brussels to Tours during this time, and his son and grandson, born by the Loire, are two of the French primitifs whose work travelers don't want to miss in any gallery that features their Holbein-like paintings. During the Revolution, there were plans to destroy the cathedral of Tours, but two artists from the city (who have remained loyal to art throughout the centuries) risked their lives to save their beautiful Gothic church.
What Christian does not approach with veneration this city that was in France the cradle of the true religion, and where amid persecutions and tortures rose for the first time the Cross of Christ? Who does not tread with veneration the soil impregnated with the blood of so many martyrs and forever consecrated by the glories of a see that justly claims the title Primate of Gaul?—Charles de Montalembert, visiting Lyons in 1831.
What Christian doesn’t approach this city with respect, the one in France that was the birthplace of true religion, where the Cross of Christ first emerged amid persecution and suffering? Who doesn’t walk with reverence on the ground soaked with the blood of countless martyrs, forever honored by the achievements of a see that rightfully holds the title Primate of Gaul?—Charles de Montalembert, visiting Lyons in 1831.
In its early Christian memories Lyons outrivals all other cities of France. It claims a clear apostolic tradition, and boasts that, next to Rome, it shed most Christian blood witnessing to the planting of the Cross. And modern Lyons is the center of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, which sends forth to non-Christian lands more missionaries than any other group in western Christendom—apostles who obey the mandate given to Lyons’ first martyr-bishops: Go, teach ye all nations, baptizing in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.
In its early Christian history, Lyons stands out above all other cities in France. It has a strong apostolic tradition and proudly claims that, after Rome, it has witnessed the most Christian martyrdom in testimony to the establishment of the Cross. Today, modern Lyons is the headquarters of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, which sends more missionaries to non-Christian countries than any other organization in western Christianity—those who follow the command given to Lyons’ first martyr-bishops: Go, teach all nations, baptizing in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Imperial Rome, that foreshadowed many things, chose Lyons, before the birth of Christ, as starting point for her network of highways and aqueducts over Gaul. Augustus made it the capital of Celtic Gaul. It was the bishop of Smyrna, St. Polycarp (d. A.D. 166), the disciple of St. John the Beloved (d. A.D. 100), who sent the first two bishops of Lyons to Christianize Gaul, Pothinus (d. A.D. 177), an Asiatic Greek, and Irenæus (d. A.D. 202), one of the most remarkable writers of the early Christian era, lettered in Greek literature and writing in Greek. With profound knowledge of Christian doctrine, he advocated, for the guidance of the Church, tradition, or the spoken word of the Apostles, as well as their written word. Often with just pride did Irenæus boast that his doctrine came direct from the contemporaries of the Saviour: “I could describe to you the very spot where the blessed Polycarp sat when he preached God’s word.... His discourse to the people is engraved in my heart. He had talked with John and the others who saw the Lord.”
Imperial Rome, which hinted at many future developments, chose Lyon as its starting point for a network of highways and aqueducts across Gaul before the birth of Christ. Augustus made it the capital of Celtic Gaul. St. Polycarp, the bishop of Smyrna (d. A.D. 166) and a disciple of St. John the Beloved (d. A.D. 100), sent the first two bishops to Lyon to spread Christianity in Gaul: Pothinus (d. A.D. 177), an Asiatic Greek, and Irenæus (d. A.D. 202), who was one of the most significant writers of the early Christian period, well-versed in Greek literature and writing in Greek. With a deep understanding of Christian doctrine, he emphasized the importance of tradition, or the oral teachings of the Apostles, along with their written texts, to guide the Church. Irenæus often proudly claimed that his teachings were rooted in the experiences of Christ’s contemporaries: “I could describe to you the very spot where the blessed Polycarp sat when he preached God’s word.... His discourse to the people is engraved in my heart. He had talked with John and the others who saw the Lord.”
For twenty years St. Irenæus served as priest in Lyons under Bishop Pothinus, and then when that holy prelate, at ninety years of age, was martyred during the persecutions of the Christians under Marcus Aurelius, Irenæus went to Rome to be consecrated primate of Gaul in his place. When the pagan judge asked Pothinus who was the Christians’ God, the aged man made answer: “Merit him and you will know him.” For twenty years, till his death in 202, St. Irenæus evangelized the country with such success that Lyons was almost a Christian city when the persecution of Septimus Severus broke out. Then followed evil days when the streets of Lyons ran red with blood, and her learned bishop perished with nineteen thousand Christian martyrs.
For twenty years, St. Irenæus served as a priest in Lyons under Bishop Pothinus. When that holy bishop was martyred at ninety during the persecution of Christians under Marcus Aurelius, Irenæus went to Rome to be consecrated as the primate of Gaul in his place. When the pagan judge asked Pothinus who the Christians' God was, the old man replied, “Merit him and you will know him.” For twenty years, until his death in 202, St. Irenæus evangelized the region so successfully that Lyons was almost a Christian city by the time the persecution under Septimus Severus began. Following that, dark times hit, as the streets of Lyons ran red with blood, and her learned bishop perished along with nineteen thousand Christian martyrs.
During the first persecution, in 177, the Christians of the city wrote a famous letter describing how forty-eight of their number were tortured day after day in the Roman Forum of Lyons, till even the pagans allowed that never a woman had suffered so much and so long as the fragile slave Blandina. The letter of “the servitors of Christ who inhabit Vienne and Lyons in Gaul, to the brothers of Asia and Phrygia who partake of our Faith and our hope in the Redemption,” is not only an historical document, precious for Lyons, but, as Renan said, is “one of the most extraordinary pages that any literature possesses.”[159]
During the first persecution in 177, the Christians in the city wrote a well-known letter detailing how forty-eight of their members were tortured day after day in the Roman Forum of Lyons, until even the pagans admitted that no woman had endured so much and for so long as the delicate slave Blandina. The letter from “the servants of Christ who live in Vienne and Lyons in Gaul, to the brothers of Asia and Phrygia who share in our Faith and our hope in the Redemption,” is not just a valuable historical document for Lyons, but, as Renan stated, is “one of the most extraordinary pages that any literature possesses.”[159]
The hill of Fourvière looms over the scene of the martyrdoms, the forum vetus, the forum of Trajan, which gave its name to the neighboring eminence to which many generations have come as to a pilgrimage shrine. On the flank of the hill a hospice marks where St. Pothinus breathed his last. The sumptuous new basilica that stands on the crest of the hill beside an ancient chapel, now its annex, persistently dominates the old, gray city. Lyons fulfilled its war vow of 1870 by the erection of this church wherein are strange echoes of Greek, Sicilian, Byzantine, and Gothic art that surely will make archæologists in the far future wonder at much in our civilization. On its walls the city’s proud apostolic traditions are set forth in mosaics.
The hill of Fourvière towers over the site of the martyrdoms, the forum vetus, the forum of Trajan, which gave its name to the nearby hill that many generations have visited as a pilgrimage destination. On the side of the hill, a hospice marks the spot where St. Pothinus took his last breath. The impressive new basilica on the hilltop next to an ancient chapel, now its annex, consistently dominates the old, gray city. Lyons fulfilled its war promise from 1870 by building this church, which showcases a mix of Greek, Sicilian, Byzantine, and Gothic art that will surely amaze archaeologists in the distant future about much of our civilization. The city’s proud apostolic traditions are depicted in mosaics on its walls.
Equally venerated is the ancient church of St. Martin d’Ainay which marks the holy ground where many of the martyrs were slaughtered at the confluence of the Saône and the Rhone. There once had stood the temple of the sixty nations of Gaul consecrated to the glory of Augustus. Haunted by imperial visions, Napoleon at St. Helena suggested that his burial site be where the Rhone met the Saône. No city is more nobly girdled than Lyons. From the altar to Augustus came the four pillars at the transept crossing of St. Martin’s; two lofty classic columns were cut in two to make them. The Burgundian queen, Brunehaut, of tragic memory, rebuilt Ainay’s original oratory over the Christian martyrs’ bones, and founded the monastery which is one of the oldest in France. In the course of time it became affiliated with the world-power, Cluny. The present church of St. Martin was blessed in 1106 by Paschal II, who on this same journey had dedicated various new basilicas in northern Italy. In the XII and XIII centuries St. Martin’s outer aisles were added. The crypt under the chapel of Ste. Blandine is not later than the V century. A contemporary of St. Martin’s is the little Romanesque building touching the cathedral’s façade, the Manécanterie (to sing in the morning).[160] Originally it formed the outer wall of a gallery of the cloister.
Equally respected is the ancient church of St. Martin d’Ainay, which marks the sacred ground where many martyrs were killed at the meeting point of the Saône and the Rhone. There once stood the temple dedicated to the sixty nations of Gaul in honor of Augustus. Haunted by imperial dreams, Napoleon at St. Helena suggested that his burial site be where the Rhone met the Saône. No city is more nobly surrounded than Lyons. From the altar to Augustus came the four pillars at the transept crossing of St. Martin’s; two tall classic columns were cut in half to create them. The Burgundian queen, Brunehaut, known for her tragic story, rebuilt Ainay’s original chapel over the bones of the Christian martyrs and founded one of the oldest monasteries in France. Over time, it became affiliated with the powerful Cluny. The current church of St. Martin was blessed in 1106 by Paschal II, who dedicated various new basilicas in northern Italy during the same journey. In the 12th and 13th centuries, the outer aisles of St. Martin’s were added. The crypt beneath the chapel of Ste. Blandine dates back to the 5th century. A contemporary of St. Martin’s is the small Romanesque building touching the façade of the cathedral, the Manécanterie (to sing in the morning).[160] Originally, it formed the outer wall of a gallery of the cloister.
The cathedral of St. John the Baptist faces the hill of Fourvière and its apse overlooks the Saône. The Baptist was the first teacher of St. John Evangelist to whom the city traces its Christianity. A preceding Romanesque cathedral, building in 1084 and completed by 1117, was destroyed during disorders between the two warring local authorities, the archbishop and the counts of Forez. Lyons for a time was under the titular jurisdiction of the Holy Roman Empire, but to all intents and purposes was a free city with well developed communal rights. While the Romanesque cathedral was building, St. Anselm of Canterbury passed sixteen months in Lyons as guest of Archbishop Hugues.
The cathedral of St. John the Baptist faces the hill of Fourvière, and its apse looks over the Saône. The Baptist was the first teacher of St. John the Evangelist, to whom the city credits its Christianity. A previous Romanesque cathedral, built in 1084 and completed by 1117, was destroyed during conflicts between the two rival local authorities, the archbishop and the counts of Forez. For a time, Lyons was under the nominal authority of the Holy Roman Empire but was essentially a free city with well-established communal rights. While the Romanesque cathedral was being built, St. Anselm of Canterbury spent sixteen months in Lyons as a guest of Archbishop Hugues.
The present cathedral was undertaken by Archbishop Guichard (1165-80), and in its foundation walls were incorporated some of the polished stones from the forum of Trajan, hallowed by the martyrs’ blood. So thick were the apse walls made that flying buttresses were never needed. The windows were set in deep embrasures. The absence of an ambulatory, and the flat roof, are reminders that this city neighbors the Midi. The cathedral’s apse, as seen from across the Saône, is admirable. Over the arms of the transept are towers whose breadth indicates that the tower of St. Martin d’Ainay created a school in the district. In comparison with the transept towers, the western belfries of the cathedral appear meager.
The current cathedral was built under Archbishop Guichard (1165-80), and its foundation walls include some polished stones from the Forum of Trajan, blessed by the blood of martyrs. The apse walls were constructed so thickly that flying buttresses were unnecessary. The windows were placed in deep recesses. The lack of an ambulatory and the flat roof are reminders that this city is close to the Midi. The cathedral’s apse, viewed from across the Saône, is impressive. Above the transept arms are towers whose width suggests that the tower of St. Martin d’Ainay established a school in the area. Compared to the transept towers, the western belfries of the cathedral seem small.
The nave of Lyons rises twenty-five feet above the choir, and, furthermore, is covered by an inappropriate high-pitched roof. Within the church, the difference in height between the two main parts has been gracefully veiled by piercing, in the flat wall over the triumphal arch of the choir, a rose window and two lancets. In size this church may be modest, but its sincere, grave dignity is such that the impression conveyed is that of a very great cathedral. The nave derived from the north. The choir emanated from the south, and its creamy, sculptured marbles and Greco-Italian incrustations compose an interior of sober elegance, the peer of any sanctuary in the land. A unique feature in France is Lyons’ incrustations—patterns cut in white marble and filled in with a reddish-brown cement—found only here and in the cathedral of Vienne.[161] St. Sophia in Constantinople first used the decoration, which was imported into Italy and thence passed up the Rhone.
The nave of Lyons stands twenty-five feet taller than the choir and has an oddly steep roof. Inside the church, the height difference between the two main sections is gracefully masked by a rose window and two lancets set into the flat wall above the triumphal arch of the choir. While the church may be small, its earnest, serious dignity gives it the impression of being a grand cathedral. The nave comes from the north, and the choir from the south, with its creamy sculpted marbles and Greco-Italian inlays creating an interior of understated elegance, rivaling any sanctuary in the country. A unique feature in France is the inlays of Lyons—patterns carved in white marble and filled with a reddish-brown cement—found only here and in the cathedral of Vienne. The decoration was first used in St. Sophia in Constantinople, then brought to Italy, and made its way up the Rhone.
The choir of Lyons’ Cathedral, up to its vault-springing, is Romanesque, of the Burgundian and Provençal type. The classic pilaster strips are channeled; on each arm of the transept is an apsidal chapel. The prelate who began it, Guichard, had, while abbot of Pontigny, been the host of St. Thomas Becket, and in Pontigny’s church he was buried in 1180. His successor, Jean de Bellesmaine (1180-93), born in Canterbury, was another of Becket’s friends, and soon after he was transferred here from the see of Poitiers, then under English rule, he inspired the building of a collegiate church dedicated to the new English saint. Archbishop John undertook the second campaign of works on Lyons’ choir, which was now vaulted in the Gothic way. On the capitals of the upper walls are the familiar crockets of the north.
The choir of Lyon's Cathedral, up to its vault-springing, is Romanesque, in the Burgundian and Provençal style. The classic pilaster strips are channeled, and there’s an apsidal chapel on each arm of the transept. The prelate who started it, Guichard, had been the host of St. Thomas Becket while he was abbot of Pontigny, and he was buried in Pontigny's church in 1180. His successor, Jean de Bellesmaine (1180-93), who was born in Canterbury, was another friend of Becket. Soon after he moved here from the see of Poitiers, which was then under English rule, he inspired the building of a collegiate church dedicated to the new English saint. Archbishop John led the second phase of work on Lyon's choir, which was now vaulted in the Gothic style. The capitals of the upper walls feature the familiar crockets of the north.
In the transept is to be seen the same change from the round arches and fluted pilaster strips of the Romanesque day to the Primary Gothic characteristics. During the first third of the XIII century the transept was vaulted, its two towers raised, and the choir’s four easternmost bays built. Lyons was then governed by one of its best rulers, Archbishop Renaud de Forez, who laid here the base for several centuries of prosperity. Circumstances forced him into the position of a leader of armies, but his natural inclination led him to the cloister’s peace to end his days. In 1226, as president of a free city, he received Louis VIII, shortly before that king’s sudden death.
In the transept, you can see the shift from the round arches and fluted pilaster strips of the Romanesque era to the defining characteristics of Early Gothic style. During the first third of the 13th century, the transept was vaulted, its two towers were raised, and the choir's four easternmost bays were constructed. At that time, Lyons was led by one of its best rulers, Archbishop Renaud de Forez, who established a foundation for several centuries of prosperity. Although circumstances pushed him into a leadership role during conflicts, his true desire was to find peace in the cloister for his later years. In 1226, as the president of a free city, he welcomed Louis VIII, just before the king's unexpected death.
This capable churchman presented to his cathedral the seven magnificent lancets in the curving sanctuary wall, that glow with the sparkling jewel-radiance achieved before 1220, but never equaled afterwards. The windows at Lyons are linked with those at Sens, and Sens’ lancets we know to have been related to the earlier school of Chartres. What differentiates Lyons’ medallions from those in the north was their use of certain Byzantine arrangements, such as the Virgin reclining on a couch in the Bethlehem grotto, or the representing St. John with a beard.
This talented church leader presented seven stunning lancet windows in the curved sanctuary wall of his cathedral. These windows, which shine with a brilliant jewel-like radiance, were created before 1220 and have never been matched since. The windows in Lyons are connected to those in Sens, and we know that Sens’ lancets were related to the earlier school of Chartres. What sets Lyons’ medallions apart from those in the north is their incorporation of certain Byzantine styles, like the Virgin relaxing on a couch in the Bethlehem grotto or St. John depicted with a beard.
The first light in the Lyons’ chevet celebrates the local martyrs. The axis window is a New Alliance, wherein the Old Law symbolizes the New. The meaning of its animal allegories was first explained by Père Cahier, who observed that they were taken from the ancient book called the Bestiaires. M. Mâle further discovered that Lyons’ New Alliance window showed only those animals spoken of in Honoré d’Autun’s popular Mirror of the Church. Honoré, who taught in Autun’s cathedral school early in the XII century, was the initiator of animal symbolism in French cathedrals.
The first light in the Lyons’ chevet honors the local martyrs. The axis window represents a New Alliance, where the Old Law symbolizes the New. The meaning of its animal symbols was first explained by Père Cahier, who noted that they were taken from the ancient book called the Bestiaires. M. Mâle later found that Lyons’ New Alliance window displayed only those animals mentioned in Honoré d’Autun’s popular Mirror of the Church. Honoré, who taught at Autun’s cathedral school in the early 12th century, was the pioneer of animal symbolism in French cathedrals.
In the upper lights of Lyons’ choir are some XIII-century archaic figures of big gaunt patriarchs with strange white eyes. The upper choir’s triplet windows of different heights are most artistic. Under the north rose of the transept is a large lancet of surpassing effect, and in the transeptal chapel, close by, is a window that is like a sublimated topaz. The small pieces of glass used, their varied thicknesses and roughnesses are causes producing such sparkle. One cannot stress too strongly the exceptional character of Lyons’ glass. Centuries later, in the Flamboyant day, this city produced again a bevy of notable masters.
In the upper lights of Lyon’s choir are some 13th-century archaic figures of tall, thin patriarchs with strange white eyes. The triplet windows in the upper choir, which are of different heights, are quite artistic. Below the north rose of the transept is a large lancet that is incredibly striking, and in the nearby transept chapel, , there’s a window that resembles a refined topaz. The small pieces of glass used, along with their varying thicknesses and rough surfaces, create such a sparkle. One cannot emphasize enough the unique quality of Lyon’s glass. Centuries later, during the Flamboyant period, this city again produced a group of remarkable masters.
The nave of Lyons Cathedral advanced, bay by bay, in slow progress all through the XIII century, and sculpture and tracery in triforium and clearstory show the gradual change to Rayonnant design. The nave of northern Gothic conformed itself with sound instinct to the Romanesque southern choir. This is a cathedral that kneels more than it soars. The ancient city exulted on Fourvière’s hill, but it thought best to keep its cathedral as a solemn cenotaph for its white army of unburied martyrs.
The nave of Lyons Cathedral developed, bay by bay, throughout the 13th century, and the sculpture and tracery in the triforium and clearstory reflect the gradual shift to Rayonnant design. The nave of northern Gothic naturally adapted to the Romanesque southern choir. This is a cathedral that bows more than it reaches for the sky. The ancient city celebrated on Fourvière’s hill, but it decided to keep its cathedral as a solemn monument for its countless unburied martyrs.
There came to Lyons, while its nave was building, the great Englishman, Robert Grosseteste (d. 1253), who at Lincoln made an angel-choir, “one of the loveliest of man’s works,” to shrine the relics of his predecessor, St. Hugh of Avalon, born in this semi-southern region. And many another enthusiast for the art of the builder studied the nave of Lyons in the course of its construction. Here gathered in 1245 a general Council of the Church. Modern congresses are sometimes dull affairs, but they must have been thrilling in the days when cathedrals were building and each prelate championed his regional ideas and yet looked about eagerly to seize on new ones.
There came to Lyons, while its nave was being built, the great Englishman, Robert Grosseteste (d. 1253), who at Lincoln created an angel-choir, “one of the loveliest of man’s works,” to house the relics of his predecessor, St. Hugh of Avalon, who was born in this semi-southern region. Many other enthusiasts for the art of building studied the nave of Lyons during its construction. In 1245, a general Council of the Church met here. Modern conferences can sometimes be dull, but they must have been exciting in the days when cathedrals were being built, with each bishop advocating his regional ideas while eagerly looking to adopt new ones.
The two westernmost bays of Lyons Cathedral were finished by 1310, and then were sculptured the façade portals with hundreds of little panels as full of frolic and fancy as the marginal gaieties of illuminated missals. A few years earlier the transept doors at Rouen had made similar medallions. Vice in them was rendered hateful. Where Lot’s story should have been was left a blank space. Not until Flemish realism entered French art, in the XV century, were certain gross scenes rendered. The medallions at Lyons are “Gaulois but without obscenity.”
The two westernmost bays of Lyons Cathedral were completed by 1310, and then the façade portals were decorated with hundreds of small panels filled with playful and imaginative designs, much like the joyful illustrations in illuminated manuscripts. A few years earlier, the transept doors at Rouen featured similar medallions. They depicted vice in a way that made it seem repulsive. Where Lot’s story should have been, there was just an empty space. It wasn't until Flemish realism made its way into French art in the 15th century that certain explicit scenes were portrayed. The medallions at Lyons are “Gaulois but without obscenity.”
From 1308 to 1332 the wide, plain west façade of St. Jean’s cathedral was done. Two of the Avignon popes were crowned here in those days, Clement V, the builder of Bordeaux’s choir, and John XXII. The great dukes of the west, Philippe le Hardi and his son Jean sans Peur, being hereditary canons of the cathedral, often sat in its choir stalls. Of their time is the astronomical clock in the transept. For ten years, prior to 1429, Jean Gerson lived in the old Christian city, teaching little children their catechism, and the only payment he craved was that they should pray: Lord have mercy on your poor servant Gerson. He had been worsted by his century’s treachery, bloodshed, foreign rule, and church schism; but after his death Lyons revered him as a saint, and carved his device, Sursum Corda, on a chapel in the church of St. Paul. Scholars have decided against Gerson as author of the Imitation of Christ, yet during two centuries he was so believed to be, and his memory will be dear to those who have found inspiration in that precious book.
From 1308 to 1332, the broad, plain western facade of St. Jean’s cathedral was completed. Two popes from Avignon were crowned here during that time, Clement V, who built the choir in Bordeaux, and John XXII. The great dukes of the west, Philippe le Hardi and his son Jean sans Peur, who were hereditary canons of the cathedral, often occupied the choir stalls. The astronomical clock in the transept dates back to their era. For ten years, before 1429, Jean Gerson lived in the old Christian city, teaching young children their catechism, and the only payment he asked for was that they pray: "Lord, have mercy on your poor servant Gerson." He had been overwhelmed by the treachery, bloodshed, foreign rule, and church schism of his time; however, after his death, Lyons honored him as a saint and engraved his motto, Sursum Corda, on a chapel in the church of St. Paul. Scholars have ruled out Gerson as the author of the Imitation of Christ, yet for two centuries, he was widely believed to be, and his memory will be cherished by those who have found inspiration in that treasured book.
Lyons played so important a part in the revival of late-Gothic art that it was called the French Florence. Its new school of glassmakers decorated the church of Brou, at Bourg-en-Bresse, not far away.[162] Two elaborate Flamboyant Gothic tombs were put up in the cathedral—that of Archbishop de Saluces (d. 1419) by Jacques Morel, and that of Cardinal Charles de Bourbon, a grandson of John the Fearless of Burgundy, and son of the Bourbon duke commemorated by the Souvigny tomb. From 1486 to 1501, he and his brother Pierre de Bourbon, son-in-law of Louis XI, added to Lyons Cathedral the splendid chapel of their name whose walls are carved with their winged stag and the device Espérance. Unfortunately the windows, made by the Lyons master Pierre de la Paix, exist no longer, save a few upper panels, in one of which is an angel of rare beauty holding the Bourbon arms. Frequently in France one meets the donations of Henry IV’s art-loving forbears, at Chartres, Tours, Souvigny,[163] Champigny-sur-Veude. Henry was married in Lyons Cathedral, in 1600, to Marie de Medici, daughter of another line of connoisseurs.
Lyons played such a crucial role in the revival of late-Gothic art that it was nicknamed the French Florence. Its new school of glassmakers decorated the church of Brou, located in Bourg-en-Bresse, not far away.[162] Two intricate Flamboyant Gothic tombs were installed in the cathedral: one for Archbishop de Saluces (d. 1419) created by Jacques Morel, and the other for Cardinal Charles de Bourbon, the grandson of John the Fearless of Burgundy and son of the Bourbon duke honored by the Souvigny tomb. From 1486 to 1501, he and his brother Pierre de Bourbon, who was married to Louis XI's daughter, added the magnificent chapel of their name to Lyons Cathedral, with walls carved featuring their winged stag and the motto Espérance. Unfortunately, the windows created by the Lyons master Pierre de la Paix no longer exist, except for a few upper panels, one of which depicts a stunning angel holding the Bourbon arms. Throughout France, one often encounters the donations from the art-loving ancestors of Henry IV, seen in places like Chartres, Tours, Souvigny,[163] and Champigny-sur-Veude. Henry was married in Lyons Cathedral in 1600 to Marie de Medici, the daughter of another line of art enthusiasts.
Like many a cathedral of France, Lyons was at its richest when it was sacked most piteously both in 1560 and 1562. Every church in the city was devastated by the cruel Baron des Adrets, who led the Huguenots one year, the Catholics the next, for in those bitter civil wars religion was often the thinnest cloak. The Huguenots destroyed the tomb of Cardinal de Saluces, with its eighteen alabaster statuettes, smashed the Bourbon chapel and tomb, broke up the Flamboyant rood screen, and dragged through the streets a silver statue of Christ that had surmounted it. On the west façade some fifty large statues were brought down, though happily the lovely little scenes chiseled under their brackets were spared. It is told how an archer shattered Our Lady’s image, but when he attempted to dislodge that of God the Father, on the pignon, it fell and killed him. Lyons was again the scene of saturnalian havoc during the Revolution, when by the thousand her citizens were mowed down with grape shot because they chose to adhere to the old régime. A passageway was broken open in the walls of the cathedral to permit the entry of a chariot bearing the Goddess of Reason.
Like many cathedrals in France, Lyon was at its height of wealth when it was sadly looted both in 1560 and 1562. Every church in the city was devastated by the ruthless Baron des Adrets, who led the Huguenots one year and the Catholics the next, as in those bitter civil wars, religion was often just a thin cover. The Huguenots destroyed the tomb of Cardinal de Saluces, with its eighteen alabaster statuettes, smashed the Bourbon chapel and tomb, broke up the Flamboyant rood screen, and dragged a silver statue of Christ that had been on top of it through the streets. On the west façade, about fifty large statues were brought down, although thankfully the beautiful little scenes carved under their brackets were spared. It’s said that an archer shattered Our Lady’s image, but when he tried to knock down the image of God the Father on the gable, it fell and killed him. Lyon was once again the scene of chaotic destruction during the Revolution, when by thousands of its citizens were cut down by grape shot for refusing to abandon the old regime. A passage was broken through the walls of the cathedral to allow a chariot carrying the Goddess of Reason to enter.
Of all the happenings in Lyons Cathedral, the most momentous was the Ecumenical Council of 1274. Christendom never witnessed a greater gathering. At the Council held at Lyons in 1245, Innocent IV had preached his famous sermon on the five wounds of the Church, but he was less concerned with healing them than with excommunicating Frederick II. St. Louis tried in vain to make peace between pope and emperor on his visit to Lyons in those days. When the saint-king died on his last crusade his ashes rested in honor in Lyons Cathedral on their long journey from Tunis to St. Denis. Till the death of Frederick II, the pope lived in Lyons, whose independent position, neither wholly of France nor of the Empire, caused it to be a chosen spot for exiles. Innocent contributed toward the building of a stone bridge over the Rhone to replace one that had collapsed under the troops of Philippe-Auguste and Cœur-de-Lion as they marched to the Third Crusade.
Of all the events in Lyons Cathedral, the most significant was the Ecumenical Council of 1274. Christendom had never seen a larger gathering. At the Council held in Lyons in 1245, Innocent IV delivered his famous sermon on the five wounds of the Church, but he was more focused on excommunicating Frederick II than on healing them. St. Louis tried unsuccessfully to broker peace between the pope and the emperor during his visit to Lyons at that time. When the saint-king died on his final crusade, his ashes were honored in Lyons Cathedral on their long journey from Tunis to St. Denis. Until Frederick II's death, the pope lived in Lyons, which had an independent status, neither fully part of France nor the Empire, making it a popular refuge for exiles. Innocent also contributed to the construction of a stone bridge over the Rhone to replace one that had fallen apart under the troops of Philippe-Auguste and Cœur-de-Lion as they headed to the Third Crusade.
The Council of 1245 had been held in a cathedral of whose nave only four bays were completed. For the far greater gathering of 1274, Lyons Cathedral could seat over two thousand prelates and princes. The chief visitors were placed in the choir with Gregory X (formerly a canon of this church). Among them was Aragon’s king, Jaime el Conquistador, mighty builder of churches and untiring crusader, Guy de la Tour, the bishop-builder of Clermont Cathedral, and the bishop of Mende, Guillaume Durandus, author of the universally read liturgical treatise. St. Bonaventure, whose book of meditations was soon to inspire Giotto, preached at the opening Mass. His fellow teacher in Paris University, St. Thomas Aquinas, journeying north to attend the congress at Lyons, had died suddenly in the prime of life.
The Council of 1245 took place in a cathedral that had only four completed bays in its nave. By the much larger gathering of 1274, Lyons Cathedral could accommodate over two thousand bishops and princes. The main attendees were positioned in the choir alongside Gregory X (who had once been a canon of this church). Among them were Jaime el Conquistador, the king of Aragon and a powerful builder of churches as well as an tireless crusader, Guy de la Tour, the bishop-builder of Clermont Cathedral, and Guillaume Durandus, the bishop of Mende and author of a widely read liturgical treatise. St. Bonaventure, whose book of meditations would soon inspire Giotto, preached at the opening Mass. His fellow teacher at Paris University, St. Thomas Aquinas, who was traveling north to attend the congress in Lyons, had unexpectedly died in the prime of his life.
The Council of 1274 was not political, as had been that of 1245; its main purposes were the Holy War in the East and the reconciliation of the Greek and Latin churches. The Emperor of Constantinople had sent officials to reconcile him with Rome, and to this day memorials of that short reunion—Greek and Latin processional crosses—stand behind the chief altar of Lyons Cathedral. The emperor’s ambassadors solemnly abjured the twenty-six propositions condemned by Rome, then took the oath of fidelity to the pope. With swelling heart the vast throng rose to chant the Te Deum. Gregory X intoned the Credo in Latin, and the Greek patriarch repeated thrice the Filioque phrase which, centuries earlier, had been the occasion of the break with Rome, qui ex Patre Filioque procedit. Before the century ended the union was a dead-letter, though the emperor till his death remained faithful to his pact. The Greek priesthood proved irreconcilable.
The Council of 1274 wasn’t political like the one in 1245; its main goals were the Holy War in the East and reconciling the Greek and Latin churches. The Emperor of Constantinople had sent officials to make peace with Rome, and to this day, memorials of that brief reunion—Greek and Latin processional crosses—stand behind the main altar of Lyons Cathedral. The emperor’s ambassadors formally rejected the twenty-six propositions condemned by Rome and then took an oath of loyalty to the pope. With great emotion, the large crowd rose to chant the Te Deum. Gregory X led the Credo in Latin, and the Greek patriarch repeated the Filioque phrase three times, which, centuries earlier, had caused the split with Rome, qui ex Patre Filioque procedit. By the end of the century, the union was essentially null and void, though the emperor remained faithful to his agreement until his death. The Greek priesthood, however, proved to be irreconcilable.
The day before the Council closed St. Bonaventure died, and around his grave, in the Franciscan church at Lyons, stood the most imposing group of mourners recorded in history, pope, kings, and five hundred princes and prelates of note. The sermon was preached by Bonaventure’s pupil of the Paris schoolroom, the learned Pierre de Tarentaise, archbishop of Lyons, soon to mount Peter’s chair as Innocent V. All Christendom was bidden to offer up a prayer for the soul of Brother Bonaventure. The city adopted him as a patron. In 1562 the ashes of the Seraphic Doctor were flung into the Rhone, but there still stands in Lyons a late-Gothic church that bears his name.
The day before the Council wrapped up, St. Bonaventure passed away, and around his grave in the Franciscan church in Lyons, gathered a remarkable group of mourners, including the pope, kings, and five hundred notable princes and prelates. The sermon was delivered by Bonaventure’s student from the Paris school, the knowledgeable Pierre de Tarentaise, the archbishop of Lyons, who was soon to become Pope Innocent V. All of Christendom was invited to pray for the soul of Brother Bonaventure. The city adopted him as its patron. In 1562, the ashes of the Seraphic Doctor were cast into the Rhone, but a late-Gothic church still stands in Lyons with his name.
A cathedral is a book, a poem, and Christianity, true to its promise, has drawn voice and song from stone, lapides clamabunt.—Frédéric Ozanam.
A cathedral is like a book, a poem, and Christianity, keeping its promise, has taken voice and song from stone, lapides clamabunt.—Frédéric Ozanam.
Like Bourges and Lyons, the cathedral of Le Mans shows the influence of different schools. An Angevin architect made the bombé vaults of its nave, and from the Ile-de-France and Normandy came the masters who designed its mammoth choir. The nave of Le Mans is a masterpiece of Romanesque despite its diagonals; the choir a masterpiece of Apogee Gothic. In the nave appear different stages of pre-Gothic art, and in the choir, the transept, and the nave’s masonry roof are represented—Primary, Apogee, Rayonnant, and Flamboyant Gothic.
Like Bourges and Lyons, the Le Mans cathedral reflects the influence of various architectural styles. An architect from Angers created the curved vaults of its nave, while the masters from the Île-de-France and Normandy designed its massive choir. The nave of Le Mans is a stunning example of Romanesque architecture, despite its diagonal features; the choir represents a prime example of High Gothic style. In the nave, you can see different phases of pre-Gothic art, and the choir, transept, and the nave’s stone roof showcase the different Gothic styles—Early, High, Radiant, and Flamboyant.
To read the stones of this composite church with intelligence, one must trace its story step by step. It is named after the first bishop of the city, St. Julian, who brought Christianity into the region. Several earlier cathedrals succeeded each other on the site. The one erected after the Northmen sacked Le Mans was falling into ruin when, about 1060, Bishop Vulgrim began a new cathedral, carried on by his successor, Arnould. Their Romanesque choir exists no longer, but vestiges of the church are to be traced in the walls of the present nave, and in the gable of the Psallette, a building to the north of the cathedral, which in Bishop Vulgrim’s day formed part of his transept’s north tower.
To understand the stones of this composite church, you need to follow its story step by step. It's named after the first bishop of the city, St. Julian, who introduced Christianity to the area. Several earlier cathedrals were built on this site. The one that was constructed after the Northmen raided Le Mans was falling apart when, around 1060, Bishop Vulgrim started building a new cathedral, which was continued by his successor, Arnould. Their Romanesque choir no longer exists, but remnants of the church can be found in the walls of the current nave and in the gable of the Psallette, a building to the north of the cathedral, which during Bishop Vulgrim’s time was part of his transept’s north tower.
The nave of Le Mans as we have it to-day shows three distinct campaigns of work undertaken by the three bishops, Hoël, Hildebert de Lavardin, and Guillaume de Passavant. Bishop Hoël (1085-97), a Breton, able, handsome, patriotic, continued the Romanesque transept and the towers that terminate its arms. His works exist in the base of the southern tower and also in those two pier arcades of the nave that touch the transept. The groin vaulting of the side aisles is of Hoël’s time, as well as the aisle walls, decorated with blind arcades, the capitals of whose shafts are carved crudely with chimerical animals. As the capitals opposite those of the engaged shafts show more skill, they must have been done later in the XI century.
The nave of Le Mans today reveals three distinct phases of work carried out by the three bishops: Hoël, Hildebert de Lavardin, and Guillaume de Passavant. Bishop Hoël (1085-97), a Breton who was capable, attractive, and patriotic, continued the Romanesque transept and the towers that terminate its arms. His contributions can be seen in the base of the southern tower and in the two pier arcades of the nave that connect to the transept. The groin vaulting of the side aisles dates back to Hoël’s time, along with the aisle walls, which are adorned with blind arcades. The capitals of these shafts are crudely carved with mythical animals. Since the capitals across from those of the engaged shafts display more skill, they must have been created later in the 11th century.
Good Bishop Hoël, in famine time, sold the gold and silver plate of his cathedral to feed the poor, and on his deathbed distributed his possessions among them. After a visit to Rome, he accompanied Urban II back to France, on the momentous occasion of the launching of the First Crusade. When the Council of Clermont ended, the pope came to Le Mans, in February of 1096, to visit his friend the bishop, to the intense pride of all the city. Such episodes reflect clearly the unison of aspiration which was presently to express itself in mighty movements. The Greek princess who saw the first crusaders arrive in Constantinople has told in graphic phrases how Europe, unloosed from its foundations, hurled itself on Asia, and with a like impetuosity western Christendom was about to fling itself toward heaven in cathedrals.
Good Bishop Hoël, during a time of famine, sold the gold and silver items from his cathedral to feed the poor, and on his deathbed, he gave away his possessions to them. After a trip to Rome, he came back to France with Urban II for the significant event of starting the First Crusade. When the Council of Clermont wrapped up, the pope visited Le Mans in February 1096 to see his friend the bishop, which filled the entire city with pride. These moments clearly show the shared aspirations that were about to lead to powerful movements. The Greek princess who witnessed the first crusaders arriving in Constantinople vividly described how Europe, unleashed from its roots, charged into Asia, and in a similar surge, Western Christendom was ready to reach for the heavens with cathedrals.
The church on which Bishop Hoël had worked was destroyed in large part by fire, and his successor, the illustrious Hildebert de Lavardin (1097-1125), began a reconstruction about 1110. Hildebert was the most popular poet of his day and in the mediæval schools his letters were committed to memory. A lover of the Latin authors, he composed verses of such facture that some of them have been mistaken for ancient classics. He was philosopher, orator, and architect as well. The best years of his life were passed in Le Mans, though he was to die in Tours as archbishop of that city. While a teacher in Le Mans’ cathedral school, he accompanied Bishop Hoël on his travels, and knew well Cluny and its great abbot Hugues, whose biographer he became. Hildebert possessed esprit, a sound judgment, and much independence. Life tested him harshly. The ordeal of prison he suffered several times, and the worse ordeal of calumny, which is disproved by the affectionate friendship felt for him by St. Anselm, St. Bernard, and Bishop Ives of Chartres. No man, he himself said in one of his sermons, should be a bishop whose life has not always been irreproachable. His contemporaries called him “a prelate attentive to the distribution of the bread of the word of God,” a man zealous for discipline, charitable to the poor, and with a love for the House of Prayer that made him a builder both at Le Mans and Tours.
The church that Bishop Hoël worked on was largely destroyed by fire, and his successor, the notable Hildebert de Lavardin (1097-1125), started reconstruction around 1110. Hildebert was the most popular poet of his time, and his writings were memorized in medieval schools. A fan of Latin authors, he wrote verses that were so well-crafted that some have been mistaken for ancient classics. He was also a philosopher, speaker, and architect. He spent the best years of his life in Le Mans, although he would eventually die in Tours as the archbishop of that city. While teaching in the cathedral school of Le Mans, he traveled with Bishop Hoël and was familiar with Cluny and its great abbot Hugues, of whom he later became a biographer. Hildebert had spirit, sound judgment, and a lot of independence. Life was tough on him. He went through the ordeal of prison several times and faced the even harder trial of slander, which is disproven by the warm friendship he had with St. Anselm, St. Bernard, and Bishop Ives of Chartres. He himself said in one of his sermons that no one should be a bishop if their life hasn’t always been beyond reproach. His contemporaries described him as “a prelate attentive to the distribution of the bread of the word of God,” a man dedicated to discipline, generous to the poor, and with a love for the House of Prayer that made him a builder in both Le Mans and Tours.
Le Mans’ Choir (1217-1254). The Double Aisles
Le Mans' Choir (1217-1254). The Double Aisles
Like St. Anselm, he was bullied by William Rufus. Maine lay between Anjou and Normandy and was fought for by each of those expanding powers, a duel settled only by the marriage of the heiress of Maine to the heir of Anjou, the son of which union was Geoffrey the Handsome, the first Plantagenet so called, who married the heiress of Normandy and England. Geoffrey’s son, Henry II of England, inherited Maine, Anjou, and Normandy before he fell heir to the kingdom across the Channel.
Like St. Anselm, he was picked on by William Rufus. Maine was located between Anjou and Normandy and was contested by both of those growing powers, a conflict resolved only by the marriage of the heiress of Maine to the heir of Anjou. Their son was Geoffrey the Handsome, the first Plantagenet, who married the heiress of Normandy and England. Geoffrey’s son, Henry II of England, ended up inheriting Maine, Anjou, and Normandy before he gained the kingdom across the Channel.
When William Rufus captured Le Mans in 1097, he exacted the demolition of the cathedral’s towers on the charge that they dominated his residence. Annoyed that Hildebert had been elected bishop without his deciding voice, he pillaged his palace, confiscated his possessions, and kept him chained in prison for a year. The bishop was imprisoned as well by Maine’s designing neighbor to the south, the Count of Anjou, and once while in the south of France he almost met death at the hands of Saracen pirates.
When William Rufus took Le Mans in 1097, he had the cathedral’s towers torn down because they overshadowed his residence. Upset that Hildebert had been elected bishop without his input, he raided his palace, seized his belongings, and kept him locked up for a year. The bishop was also held captive by Maine’s cunning neighbor to the south, the Count of Anjou, and once, while in the south of France, he narrowly escaped death at the hands of Saracen pirates.
Despite vicissitudes, he found time for writing poetry and for building. He obtained a monk-architect named Jean from the noted Geoffrey, abbot of Vendôme,[165] author, writer, and the intimate of many popes. Later, when Abbot Geoffrey asked for the return of his architect, Hildebert retained him, and a tart letter of the abbot to the bishop exists; it appears that monk Jean was sent, in consequence, on a penitential pilgrimage to Palestine. Bishop Hildebert’s part in Le Mans’ actual cathedral is the semicircular pier arches discernible in all the bays of the nave save the two touching the transept, the alternate circular piers, and the west façade, wherein were retained older portions, and against which leans a big menhir of immemorial age: “Il y a dans la cathédrale toute la simple beauté du menhir qui l’annonce,” is one of Rodin’s vivifying phrases.
Despite the ups and downs, he found time for writing poetry and for building. He got a monk-architect named Jean from the well-known Geoffrey, abbot of Vendôme,[165] who was an author and a close associate of many popes. Later, when Abbot Geoffrey asked for his architect back, Hildebert decided to keep him, and there exists a sharp letter from the abbot to the bishop; it seems that monk Jean was subsequently sent on a penitential pilgrimage to Palestine. Bishop Hildebert’s contributions to the actual cathedral in Le Mans are the semicircular pier arches that can be seen throughout all the bays of the nave except for the two that touch the transept, the alternating circular piers, and the west façade, which retained older sections, against which leans a large menhir of ancient age: “Il y a dans la cathédrale toute la simple beauté du menhir qui l’annonce,” is one of Rodin’s inspiring phrases.
Bishop Hildebert consecrated his new cathedral in 1120, and it is related how, on that day, Fulk V of Anjou, the widower of the heiress of Maine, about to start for the Holy Land, set his little son of seven, Geoffrey, on the high altar of Le Mans Cathedral, and said with emotion: “O holy Julian, to thee I commend my child and my lands. Defend and protect them both.” His prowess in Palestine was eventually to win for him the heiress of Jerusalem, so that when he had married his son Geoffrey to a woman of great fortune, he sensibly left him as sole ruler in Maine and Anjou, contenting himself with his Oriental kingdom.
Bishop Hildebert dedicated his new cathedral in 1120, and it is said that on that day, Fulk V of Anjou, the widower of the heiress of Maine, preparing to leave for the Holy Land, placed his seven-year-old son, Geoffrey, on the high altar of Le Mans Cathedral and said with deep feeling: “O holy Julian, I entrust my child and my lands to you. Please defend and protect them both.” His success in Palestine would eventually earn him the heiress of Jerusalem, so when he married his son Geoffrey to a wealthy woman, he wisely left him as the sole ruler of Maine and Anjou, while he focused on his Eastern kingdom.
Two fires in quick succession damaged the Romanesque cathedral of Le Mans. Ordericus Vitalis tells how “in the first week of September, 1134, the hand of God punished many sins by fire, for the ancient and wealthy cities of Le Mans and Chartres were burned.” In the necessary changes that followed practically all the central nave was redone by Bishop Guillaume de Passavant (1145-86). The triforium, the clearstory, and the masonry roof are his, and he constructed the pointed arches under the semicircular ones of Bishop Hildebert’s pier arcade. The four immense square vault sections (c. 1150) over Le Mans’ nave are of the heavy rib Plantagenet type, like the so-called domical vaults of Angers Cathedral. Their crown, or keystone, being ten feet higher than their framing arches, a pronounced concave shape results. The addition of a heavy stone roof necessitated the englobing of each alternate monolithic column by a square pier cantoned with shafts.
Two fires happened one after the other, damaging the Romanesque cathedral of Le Mans. Ordericus Vitalis describes how “in the first week of September, 1134, the hand of God punished many sins by fire, as the ancient and wealthy cities of Le Mans and Chartres were burned.” The necessary changes that followed led to almost the entire central nave being redone by Bishop Guillaume de Passavant (1145-86). The triforium, the clearstory, and the masonry roof are his work, and he created the pointed arches under the semicircular ones of Bishop Hildebert’s pier arcade. The four huge square vault sections (c. 1150) above Le Mans’ nave are of the heavy rib Plantagenet style, similar to the so-called domical vaults of Angers Cathedral. Their crown, or keystone, is ten feet higher than their framing arches, creating a distinct concave shape. The addition of a heavy stone roof required the surrounding of each alternate monolithic column with a square pier accented with shafts.
Bishop Guillaume developed the door in the south flank of the nave, whose column images, though much mutilated, are allied with those at Chartres’ western entrances. At the door joints, in bas-relief only, are Peter and Paul; an additional step was taken when the other images were made to stand almost free of their columns. Guglielmo, the Lombard, had used jamb-sculpture at Modena Cathedral as the XII century opened. This door of Le Mans, among the earliest of French imaged portals, belongs to the decade before 1150. The porch leading to it was built in time for the consecration of the cathedral in 1158.
Bishop Guillaume created the door on the south side of the nave, where the column images, although heavily damaged, are similar to those at the western entrances of Chartres. At the door joints, in bas-relief, are Peter and Paul; further development occurred when the other images were almost entirely detached from their columns. Guglielmo, the Lombard, had utilized jamb-sculpture at Modena Cathedral as the 12th century began. This door at Le Mans, one of the earliest image-filled portals in France, dates back to the decade before 1150. The porch leading to it was completed in time for the cathedral's consecration in 1158.
Guillaume de Passavant was another of the outstanding men of his age. He, too, wrote Latin verses, and even as he lay dying composed a little satire on his attendants, whom his clear eyes observed to be more concerned over the coming recompense from his estate than for the loss of their bishop. Like St. Bernard, who had loved him as a youth, he was a tireless reader of the Bible. Daily at his table the poor were fed. He presented to his cathedral a cloth of gold studded with gems, for which he wrote verses, saying that in case of famine it was to be sold to feed the destitute. Another princely gift he gave to Le Mans Cathedral was the enameled tomb of Count Geoffrey the Handsome, of which only one large panel has survived, now the treasure of the Museum. Both kinds of enamel were used, the flat surface, or champlevé, and the cloisonné method. The technique is Limousin, not, as some have said, Rhenish; between Le Mans and Limoges were many links.
Guillaume de Passavant was another remarkable figure of his time. He also wrote Latin poetry, and even as he was dying, he composed a little satire about his attendants, who he noticed were more focused on the inheritance from his estate than on mourning the loss of their bishop. Like St. Bernard, who had cared for him in his youth, he was a dedicated reader of the Bible. Every day at his table, the poor were fed. He gifted his cathedral a cloth of gold adorned with gems, for which he wrote verses, saying it was to be sold to feed the needy in times of famine. Another generous donation he made to Le Mans Cathedral was the enameled tomb of Count Geoffrey the Handsome, of which only one large panel has survived, now a treasure of the Museum. Two types of enamel were used: the flat surface, or champlevé, and the cloisonné method. The technique is Limousin, not, as some have claimed, Rhenish; there were many connections between Le Mans and Limoges.
Geoffrey the Handsome was the thirteenth count of Anjou, though the capital of Maine was always his favorite residence, rather than Angers, the chief city of his father’s patrimony. He won the nickname “Plantagenet” because of the sprig of broom he used to stick in his cap. True to his race’s instinct for territorial aggrandizement, he married, when not yet twenty, a woman twice his age, Matilda, daughter of Henry I of England, the Conqueror’s son. Geoffrey died in 1151 on his return from the Second Crusade, where he had fought for his half brother, Baudouin III, king of Jerusalem. His son, Henry II, was born in Le Mans (1133) and baptized in its cathedral. Henry had revered Guillaume de Passavant from childhood, yet once, in an Angevin passion, because the aged bishop had crossed his will, he sent messengers from England to order the sacking of the prelate’s palace. Thomas Becket, then Henry’s chancellor, gave secret advice to the envoys to tarry long on their journey to Maine. On the third day after their departure he wrung from the king, who fancied his order was already carried out, a counter-order, which he rushed through to Le Mans.
Geoffrey the Handsome was the thirteenth count of Anjou, but he always preferred living in the capital of Maine, instead of Angers, the main city of his father’s inheritance. He earned the nickname “Plantagenet” because of the sprig of broom he used to wear in his cap. Staying true to his family’s instinct for expanding their territory, he married, before turning twenty, a woman twice his age, Matilda, daughter of Henry I of England, the Conqueror’s son. Geoffrey died in 1151 while returning from the Second Crusade, where he fought for his half-brother, Baudouin III, king of Jerusalem. His son, Henry II, was born in Le Mans (1133) and baptized in its cathedral. Henry had admired Guillaume de Passavant since childhood, but once, in a fit of Angevin passion, after the elderly bishop defied his wishes, he sent messengers from England to order the sacking of the bishop’s palace. Thomas Becket, who was then Henry’s chancellor, secretly advised the envoys to take their time on their way to Maine. On the third day after their departure, he convinced the king, who thought his order had already been carried out, to send a counter-order, which he hurried to Le Mans.
Henry Plantagenet loved Le Mans better than any city in his wide dominions, and his heart broke when his rebellious son, Richard Cœur-de-Lion, drove him out in 1189. Two months later he died in Chinon castle and was carried for burial to Fontevrault; the ancient prophecy had said that Anjou’s ruler of his generation would lie shrouded among the shrouden women.
Henry Plantagenet loved Le Mans more than any other city in his vast kingdom, and his heart shattered when his rebellious son, Richard Cœur-de-Lion, forced him out in 1189. Two months later, he died in Chinon castle and was taken for burial to Fontevrault; the old prophecy had claimed that the ruler of Anjou in his time would be laid to rest among the shrouded women.
If Fulk Nerra’s wild blood had passed to Henry, so had his shrewdness and progressive statesmanship. He, too, like his father, before twenty, wedded a woman much older than himself, the richest heiress in Christendom, Aliénor of Aquitaine. Possessing Anjou, Maine, and Touraine, Normandy and Aquitaine, this king of England ruled more territory in France than did the French king. And Philippe-Auguste, son of the French monarch, whom Aliénor had discarded, bent his resourceful genius and fox-like policies to change so abnormal a state of affairs. The Capet-Plantagenet duel was to last for centuries.
If Fulk Nerra’s wild blood passed down to Henry, so did his cleverness and forward-thinking leadership. Like his father, before turning twenty, he married a woman much older than himself, the richest heiress in Christendom, Aliénor of Aquitaine. With control over Anjou, Maine, Touraine, Normandy, and Aquitaine, this king of England ruled more land in France than the French king did. Philippe-Auguste, son of the French king whom Aliénor had left, used his cleverness and cunning strategies to change this unusual situation. The rivalry between the Capetians and the Plantagenets was set to last for centuries.
Both Henry and Philippe were munificent patrons of the new architecture. Henry sponsored that individual phase of it called Plantagenet Gothic; under Philippe, French Gothic reached its highest development. And the cathedral of Le Mans records them both, Plantagenet in its nave, northern French in its choir. When Maine, Anjou, and Touraine, because of John Lackland’s crimes, passed willingly to the French king, the art of the Ile-de-France found favor in southwest France. Then it was that the XI-century Romanesque chevet of Le Mans Cathedral was replaced by the present stupendous Gothic choir.
Both Henry and Philippe were generous supporters of the new architecture. Henry funded the specific style called Plantagenet Gothic; under Philippe, French Gothic reached its peak. The cathedral of Le Mans showcases both styles, with Plantagenet in its nave and northern French in its choir. When Maine, Anjou, and Touraine, due to John Lackland’s wrongdoings, willingly fell to the French king, the art of the Ile-de-France gained popularity in southwest France. It was then that the 11th-century Romanesque apse of Le Mans Cathedral was replaced by the current magnificent Gothic choir.
In 1217 Bishop Hamlin obtained the consent of Philippe-Auguste to destroy the Gallo-Roman city walls in order to extend the apse of his church, and the next year the choir was started. The bishop, trowel in hand, spent hours on the new work. His two successors continued the enterprise. From 1234 to 1255 Bishop Geoffrey de London was its princely benefactor. In 1254 the choir was dedicated, “a day of benediction” for our land, said the people with tears of fervor. Men and women worked voluntarily to clear the edifice of builders’ rubbish, even the little children of four carrying out the sand in their frocks. For the happy ceremony, each guild of the city, chanting psalms, brought a candle of two-hundred-pound weight, to be set up in a majestic circle round the high altar.
In 1217, Bishop Hamlin got Philippe-Auguste's approval to tear down the Gallo-Roman city walls to expand the apse of his church, and the following year, construction on the choir began. The bishop, with a trowel in hand, spent hours working on the new project. His two successors carried on the work. From 1234 to 1255, Bishop Geoffrey de London was its generous benefactor. In 1254, the choir was dedicated, a “day of blessing” for our land, the people said with tears of emotion. Men and women volunteered to clean up the construction debris, even little children as young as four carried sand in their dresses. For this joyous ceremony, each guild in the city, singing psalms, brought a candle weighing two hundred pounds to be arranged in a grand circle around the high altar.
The choir, then blessed for God’s service, is one of the vast designs of Gothic architecture. “Words are powerless to paint the majesty of this sanctuary,” wrote M. Gonse. Here, as at Bourges, is the note of dream beauty that haunts the memory, the something mysterious and superlatively picturesque. Were the church completed on the same scale it would rank with the supreme cathedrals of France. From the exterior the contrast between the XII-century nave and its towering neighbor is painfully abrupt. The nave’s outer walls are stark and unadorned, the round arched windows insignificant in size. But who would be willing to forfeit the venerable monument built by the poet-theologians, Hildebert de Lavardin and Guillaume de Passavant, wherein history has been lived, and whose interior aspect is of so grave, white, and primeval a simplicity?
The choir, blessed for God’s service, is one of the grand designs of Gothic architecture. “Words fail to capture the majesty of this sanctuary,” wrote M. Gonse. Here, as at Bourges, there's a haunting dreamlike beauty, something mysterious and incredibly picturesque. If the church had been completed on the same scale, it would stand among the greatest cathedrals of France. From the outside, the stark contrast between the 12th-century nave and its towering neighbor is painfully abrupt. The nave’s outer walls are plain and unembellished, with round-arched windows that are quite small. But who would want to give up the venerable monument created by the poet-theologians, Hildebert de Lavardin and Guillaume de Passavant, where history has unfolded, and whose interior is marked by a serious, white, and ancient simplicity?
Overawing in size is Le Mans’ Gothic choir. The ground falls away to the cast of the church, and then opens out in the Place des Jacobins, whence can be obtained an unobstructed view of the stupendous edifice. Its numerous apse chapels are of exceptional length. The forked flying buttresses allowed the insertion of ambulatory windows. As at Bourges and Coutances, the inner aisle is sufficiently high to possess its own triforium and clearstory, but Le Mans improved on Bourges by omitting altogether the triforium of its middle choir in order not to dwarf its clearstory.
The Gothic choir of Le Mans is incredibly impressive in size. The ground slopes down toward the church and then opens up in the Place des Jacobins, where you can get a clear view of the magnificent structure. Its many apse chapels are notably long. The forked flying buttresses made it possible to add ambulatory windows. Just like in Bourges and Coutances, the inner aisle is tall enough to have its own triforium and clearstory, but Le Mans enhanced what Bourges did by completely removing the triforium in its middle choir so it wouldn’t overshadow its clearstory.
Archæologists have traced the handiwork of three different men in Le Mans’ choir. First, an architect of the Ile-de-France made the general plan, and built the thirteen radiating chapels. Then a Norman worked on the eastern curve, and it is thought he was Thomas Toustain, cited here as master-of-works, since Toustain is a Norman name. Perhaps he was the same genius who had already planned the high inner aisle at Coutances Cathedral. Very Norman are Le Mans’ circular capitals, the sanctuary’s twin-column piers, the carved band under the clearstory, the sharp-pointed arches beneath arches, and the foliate sculpture covering the spandrels of the aisle’s triforium. The third master-of-works must have been a native of the Ile-de-France, for the upper choir and the two bays nearest the transept belong to that school.
Archaeologists have traced the work of three different men in Le Mans' choir. First, an architect from the Ile-de-France created the overall plan and built the thirteen radiating chapels. Then a Norman worked on the eastern curve, believed to be Thomas Toustain, noted here as the master-builder, since Toustain is a Norman name. He may have been the same genius who had already designed the high inner aisle at Coutances Cathedral. The circular capitals, the twin-column piers in the sanctuary, the carved band under the clerestory, the pointed arches beneath arches, and the leafy sculptures adorning the spandrels of the aisle's triforium are all very Norman. The third master-builder must have been from the Ile-de-France, as the upper choir and the two bays closest to the transept belong to that style.
There is a progressive enlarging of the bays of the choir from its entrance to its end, done too regularly to have been accidental. Professor Goodyear has developed the thesis of these intentional refinements in Gothic monuments.[166] Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter thinks that undoubtedly there are cases when it was done with subtle design, but more often the irregularities resulted from the sound artistic taste of the old masters who preferred a free-hand drawing to mechanical perfection. “There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion,” said Bacon. Some think that at Le Mans the desire was to counteract the perspective narrowing. Others say that the builder thought thus to conform the wide choir to the ancient nave of lesser breadth.
The bays of the choir gradually widen from the entrance to the end, in a way that seems too consistent to be coincidental. Professor Goodyear has presented the idea that these intentional details in Gothic buildings are deliberate. Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter believes that while there are definitely instances where it was done with careful planning, more often the irregularities came from the good artistic judgment of the old masters, who preferred a more freeform style over mechanical perfection. “There is no excellent beauty that doesn’t have some oddness in the proportions,” said Bacon. Some suggest that at Le Mans, the goal was to counteract the issue of perspective narrowing. Others argue that the builder intended to match the wide choir with the ancient nave, which was narrower.
Not till the day of Rayonnant Gothic was Le Mans’ transept begun, and it proved exceptional in continuing building while the foreign wars ravaged France; the chapter taxed itself heavily to meet expenses. As the XIV century closed, the southern arm was finished; it is entirely blocked by the ancient tower, to which were then added two stories. Midway in the vertical wall of the northern arm (begun in 1403) appears Flamboyant tracery. As cracks soon showed, the chapter called in a new architect, Jean de Dammartin, whose grandfather and great-uncle had beautified Dijon, Bourges, and Poitiers. When in 1430 the English captured Le Mans, he passed to Tours, on whose west façade he worked.
Not until the time of Rayonnant Gothic did construction on Le Mans’ transept begin, and it was remarkable that they kept building while foreign wars devastated France; the chapter had to impose heavy taxes to cover costs. By the end of the 14th century, the southern arm was completed; it is completely obstructed by the old tower, to which two more stories were added later. In the middle of the vertical wall of the northern arm (which started in 1403), Flamboyant tracery can be seen. As cracks soon appeared, the chapter brought in a new architect, Jean de Dammartin, whose grandfather and great-uncle had enhanced the beauty of Dijon, Bourges, and Poitiers. When the English took Le Mans in 1430, he moved to Tours, where he worked on the west façade.
Because the Gothic transept of Le Mans was confined to the same space as the Romanesque one it replaced, it may seem too narrow for such tremendous height. It is a monument as stately and cold as the glass it frames. Window over window rises the fragile audacious sweep of color that closes the transept’s northern vista, each part being bound by stone traceries into the monumental whole. White and the yellow produced by silver-stain is the general theme, with brilliant touches of green, flashed ruby, violet, and blue. It has been said that what XV-century glass needs, to give it character, are the strong black cross-hatchings of the earlier schools. In the row of lights below the big rose, a damasked background to the figures was used with good effect. Among those represented are good King René, faithful amateur of art, and his mother, Yolande of Aragon, the regent dowager of Maine and Anjou. Her son-in-law Charles VII contributed toward the transept of Le Mans.
Because the Gothic transept of Le Mans occupies the same space as the Romanesque one it replaced, it might seem too narrow for such great height. It stands as a monument that is as grand and cold as the glass it showcases. Column upon column rises the delicate and bold array of colors that completes the transept’s northern view, with each section intricately tied together by stone tracery into a magnificent whole. The overall theme is white and the yellow created by silver-stain, accented with brilliant touches of green, brilliant red, violet, and blue. People have noted that what 15th-century glass needs to add character are the strong black cross-hatchings from earlier styles. In the series of windows beneath the large rose, a patterned background for the figures was effectively used. Among those depicted are good King René, a dedicated patron of the arts, and his mother, Yolande of Aragon, the regent dowager of Maine and Anjou. Her son-in-law, Charles VII, contributed to the transept of Le Mans.
For its wealth of storied windows Le Mans comes second only to Chartres and Bourges. It has suffered from hail-storms which wrecked many of its XIII-century treasures. The majority of the choir lights were set up between 1250 and 1260. Those in the radial chapels are somewhat earlier; in the long Lady chapel is a notable Tree of Jesse. The upper windows, contemporaries of those at Tours, have large figures with signatures that tell us their donors were canons, Benedictines,[167] Cistercians, architects, drapers (the donors of the fourth window), furriers (who gave the fifth), innkeepers and publicans (who presented the sixth). The seventh window—in the center of the apse—was the gift of Bishop Geoffrey de Loudon. In the thirteenth window bakers pour grain into sacks and take bread from the oven.
For its impressive collection of stained glass windows, Le Mans ranks just behind Chartres and Bourges. It has been hit by hailstorms that destroyed many of its 13th-century treasures. Most of the choir lights were installed between 1250 and 1260. The ones in the radial chapels are a bit older; in the long Lady chapel, there's a notable Tree of Jesse. The upper windows, which were made around the same time as those at Tours, feature large figures with signatures indicating their donors were canons, Benedictines, [167] Cistercians, architects, drapers (the donors of the fourth window), furriers (who contributed to the fifth), innkeepers and publicans (who offered the sixth). The seventh window—in the center of the apse—was donated by Bishop Geoffrey de Loudon. In the thirteenth window, bakers are shown pouring grain into sacks and taking bread out of the oven.
In the clearstory of the inner aisle the legend-medallion type of window is retained. The first two bays were filled by Bishop Guillaume Roland (1255-58) here portrayed. The vintners presented the next light, for, on the “day of benediction” in 1254, when each of the town guilds brought a giant candle, the vintners chose to donate a light that would burn longer, so they set up this dazzling window of St. Julian.[168] Over the entrance to the Lady chapel Bishop Geoffrey is again portrayed, and in the eleventh bay Pope Innocent IV appears.
In the clearstory of the inner aisle, the legend-medallion style of window is kept. The first two bays were filled by Bishop Guillaume Roland (1255-58), who is depicted here. The vintners contributed the next light because, on the "day of blessing" in 1254, when each of the town guilds brought a giant candle, the vintners chose to donate a light that would last longer, so they created this stunning window of St. Julian.[168] Above the entrance to the Lady chapel, Bishop Geoffrey is again depicted, and in the eleventh bay, Pope Innocent IV is shown.
A hundred years separate Le Mans’ splendid specimens of XIII-century art from certain small lancets in the cathedral’s nave, made probably by Suger’s own workers of St. Denis, who came here when they had finished the three lancets in Chartres’ façade. M. Mâle has proved that all the XII-century windows in the west of France derive from St. Denis. Le Mans’ lancets show the same robes, the same borders of medallions as in the Suger lights at Chartres. The up-gazing apostles in Poitiers’ Crucifixion window resemble the apostles in Le Mans’ Ascension. The large much-restored light in the west façade, relating the story of St. Julian, though modeled on the St. Denis school, must have been executed by local craftsmen; it is rougher workmanship than the XII-century lancets in the nave aisles.
A hundred years separate Le Mans' beautiful examples of 13th-century art from some small lancet windows in the cathedral's nave, likely made by Suger’s own workers from St. Denis, who came here after finishing the three lancets on the Chartres façade. M. Mâle has shown that all the 12th-century windows in western France come from St. Denis. The lancets in Le Mans display the same robes and the same medallion borders as the Suger lights at Chartres. The apostles looking up in the Crucifixion window at Poitiers resemble the apostles in Le Mans' Ascension. The large, much-restored window in the west façade, depicting the story of St. Julian, though modeled after the St. Denis style, must have been crafted by local artisans; its workmanship is rougher than that of the 12th-century lancets in the nave aisles.
Le Mans suffered woefully in 1562 when the Huguenots worked their will for three months on the cathedral’s treasures. A choir screen with three hundred figures, a contemporary of that at Albi, was demolished, windows by the dozen were broken, and there was a holocaust of carved altars and tombs. After the Revolution, the XIII-century tomb of Berengaria of Navarre, the childless widow of Richard Cœur-de-Lion, was set up in the transept. For thirty years, as chatelaine of Le Mans, she watched its new Gothic sanctuary rising. They have mistakenly called hers the house of a XV-century lawyer in the Grande Rue.
Le Mans went through a tough time in 1562 when the Huguenots rampaged for three months through the cathedral’s treasures. A choir screen with three hundred figures, similar to the one in Albi, was destroyed, dozens of windows were shattered, and there was a massive destruction of carved altars and tombs. After the Revolution, the 13th-century tomb of Berengaria of Navarre, who was the childless widow of Richard the Lionheart, was placed in the transept. For thirty years, as the lady of Le Mans, she watched the new Gothic sanctuary being built. It's been wrongly claimed that her home was that of a 15th-century lawyer on Grande Rue.
The earliest Renaissance tomb in France is in Le Mans Cathedral, that of King René’s brother, made by Laurana from beyond the Alps. The effigy reposes in Christian fashion, but near by, on the later tomb of Guillaume du Bellay, the deceased is represented reclining at ease amid his mundane books.
The earliest Renaissance tomb in France is in Le Mans Cathedral, belonging to King René’s brother, created by Laurana from across the Alps. The effigy lies in a Christian manner, but nearby, on the later tomb of Guillaume du Bellay, the deceased is depicted lounging comfortably among his everyday books.
No one can speak with the Lord while he prattles with the whole world.—Hildebert de Lavardin, bishop of Le Mans (1097-1125).
No one can talk to the Lord while he chatters with the entire world.—Hildebert of Lavardin, bishop of Le Mans (1097-1125).
Bishop Hoël, who worked on the nave of Le Mans Cathedral, used to retire for meditation to the priory of Solesmes, farther down the Sarthe, a house founded in 1010 by the lord of Sablé and given to the Benedictines of the Cultura Dei at Le Mans. Closed by the Revolution’s hurricane, Solesmes was reopened in 1833 through the devoted efforts of Dom Prosper Guéranger, who made it a modern Cluny for erudition, for arts and crafts, and above all for church music. Solesmes restored to the church the Gregorian chant in its purity. Cowled architects of the XIX century rebuilt their monastery. On their own printing press the monks brought out books. Guests came here to find peace of mind and inspiration. At Solesmes Montalembert wrote the noble chapter on the Middle Ages that prefaces his History of St. Elizabeth of Hungary.[170]
Bishop Hoël, who worked on the nave of Le Mans Cathedral, would often retreat for meditation to the priory of Solesmes, located further down the Sarthe. This place was founded in 1010 by the lord of Sablé and was given to the Benedictines of the Cultura Dei at Le Mans. Closed by the upheaval of the Revolution, Solesmes was reopened in 1833 thanks to the dedicated efforts of Dom Prosper Guéranger, who transformed it into a modern Cluny focused on scholarship, arts and crafts, and especially church music. Solesmes restored Gregorian chant to the church in its purest form. Cloaked architects of the 19th century rebuilt their monastery. Using their own printing press, the monks published books. Guests came here to find peace of mind and inspiration. At Solesmes, Montalembert wrote the distinguished chapter on the Middle Ages that introduces his History of St. Elizabeth of Hungary.[170]
The traveler from Le Mans to Angers should quit the train at Sablé and walk two miles to the now deserted monastery on the Sarthe. In the transept of its church are the groups of images called Les Saints de Solesmes, work that ranks with the most vigorous final samples of the national art, and that are in spirit profoundly a part still of the Middle Ages despite Renaissance arabesques and pilasters.
The traveler from Le Mans to Angers should get off the train at Sablé and walk two miles to the now-abandoned monastery on the Sarthe. In the transept of its church are the groups of images known as Les Saints de Solesmes, a work that ranks among the most powerful final examples of national art, and that is deeply connected to the Middle Ages despite Renaissance designs and columns.
What master, or masters, made the Solesmes groups has led to animated controversy. They belong to the Region-of-the-Loire school, of which Tours was the center, and, like Michel Colombe’s work, in them the harsh realism of the preceding school of Burgundy has been softened, and the draperies made supple and less overwhelming. If the Maître de Solesmes is not Colombe himself, he was some one trained in his art school at Tours, perhaps some monk in this priory.
What master, or masters, created the Solesmes groups has sparked lively debate. They are part of the Region-of-the-Loire school, with Tours as its center, and, similar to Michel Colombe’s work, they show a softer approach compared to the harsh realism of the previous Burgundy school, with drapery that is more fluid and less dominating. If the Maître de Solesmes isn't Colombe himself, he was likely someone trained in his art school in Tours, possibly a monk from this priory.
The entombments at Solesmes are the best of the Middle Ages, with that of Ligier Richier at St. Mihiel.[171] Interest centers chiefly in the Entombment of Christ, the earliest and finest group, made about 1496 under Prior Cheminart, whose crest is cut on the stones. No Holy Sepulcher can compare with this in contained and sustained emotion. Its classic moderation is very different from the dramatic, almost violent, sculpture soon to be made popular by the Renaissance from Italy.
The entombments at Solesmes are the best from the Middle Ages, alongside that of Ligier Richier at St. Mihiel.[171] The main focus is on the Entombment of Christ, the earliest and finest group, created around 1496 under Prior Cheminart, whose crest is carved on the stones. No Holy Sepulcher compares to this in contained and lasting emotion. Its classic restraint is very different from the dramatic, almost violent, sculpture that would soon become popular in Renaissance Italy.
The two men who lower the dead Christ into the tomb, Nicodemus (bearded) and Joseph of Arimathea (shaven, for such was the ritual in the mystery plays), are powerful images, and the latter is indubitably a portrait study, but of whom is not known. The Christ type could not be nobler. The Virgin’s grief is rendered without emphasis, and St. John, supporting her, is an admirable image. But the supreme saint of Solesmes is the Magdalene, seated beside the tomb, her head bowed, her lips pressed against her crossed hands. She is garbed in as homely fashion as her sister Martha in St. Madeleine’s church at Troyes—sisters in blood and sisters by the heart are these two admirable conceptions of late-Gothic sculpture. Nothing could be gentler, more discreet, more poignant in emotion, than the Magdalene of Solesmes, “the exquisite flower of the art of the Loire region,” says M. Paul Vitry, “one of the masterpieces of French imagery of all times.”
The two men lowering the dead Christ into the tomb, Nicodemus (bearded) and Joseph of Arimathea (clean-shaven, as was the custom in the mystery plays), create powerful images, and the latter is clearly a detailed portrait, though it’s unknown of whom. The representation of Christ couldn’t be more noble. The Virgin’s sorrow is conveyed in a subtle way, and St. John, supporting her, is a remarkable figure. However, the standout figure of Solesmes is the Magdalene, sitting beside the tomb with her head down, her lips pressed against her crossed hands. She is dressed as simply as her sister Martha in St. Madeleine’s church at Troyes—these two remarkable depictions of late-Gothic sculpture are sisters by blood and by heart. Nothing could be gentler, more understated, or more deeply emotional than the Magdalene of Solesmes, “the exquisite flower of the art of the Loire region,” says M. Paul Vitry, “one of the masterpieces of French imagery of all times.”
“She is alive, she breathes gently,” wrote Dom Guéranger, “her silence is at the same time both grief and a prayer.” Dom de la Tremblaye asks what Italian master of the Renaissance has rendered faith more profoundly than this Magdalene, whose desolation is closer to a smile of ecstasy than to the contraction of grief. Even the neo-classic XVII century admired this image, and Richelieu wished to transport it to his château in Poitou.
“She is alive, she breathes softly,” wrote Dom Guéranger, “her silence is both sorrow and a prayer.” Dom de la Tremblaye wonders which Italian master of the Renaissance has captured faith more deeply than this Magdalene, whose despair is more akin to a smile of ecstasy than to a frown of grief. Even the neo-classical 17th century admired this image, and Richelieu wanted to move it to his château in Poitou.
Some fifty years later, while Jean Bougler ruled Solesmes, was made the Burial of the Virgin, whose setting is entirely of the Renaissance, though the imagery remains faithful to the French Gothic spirit. It is said that the monk at Our Lady’s feet represents the prior, Jean Bougler (1515-56), who returned to the lord of Sablé the eternal answer of the spiritual to the temporal powers. Accosted one day on the bridge over the Sarthe by the baron, against whom he had just maintained the priory’s rights, the irate layman cried out: “Monk, if I did not fear God, I should throw you into the Sarthe.” “If you fear God, Monseigneur,” replied the prior, “I have nothing to fear.”
Some fifty years later, while Jean Bougler was in charge of Solesmes, the Burial of the Virgin was created, featuring a completely Renaissance setting, but the imagery stays true to the French Gothic style. It’s said that the monk at Our Lady’s feet symbolizes prior Jean Bougler (1515-56), who gave the lord of Sablé the timeless reply of the spiritual to the temporal powers. One day, while on the bridge over the Sarthe, the baron confronted him after Bougler had just defended the priory’s rights, angrily exclaiming, “Monk, if I didn’t fear God, I would throw you into the Sarthe.” Bougler replied, “If you fear God, Monseigneur, then I have nothing to fear.”
ST. QUENTIN’S COLLEGIATE CHURCH[172]
ST. QUENTIN’S COLLEGIATE CHURCH__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Endless rows of stars stretching overhead Endless lines of soldiers marching...
Measured and orderly, rhythmic, whole,
Many, united and one ...
In the night, there’s an army on the move,
Nameless, note-free, lacking glory,
Ready to endure pain, to die, and to forgive,
Moving forward in simple trust....
Endless rows of unknown men,
Endless rows of stars above...
Out in the night, they are marching, marching...
Listen to their orderly footsteps! —Alfred Noyes, Rank and File.[173]
In size, if not in name, the church that tops St. Quentin’s hill is a cathedral, an achievement of the apogee hour of Gothic fitted to close this group of stately churches. Throughout the World War battles raged round St. Quentin. The saints buried in its crypts, the cloud of witnesses in its window and sculptured groups, listened year after year to the marching millions, marching in the hope that a better world might emerge from the chaos, ready to suffer and die and forgive.
In size, if not in name, the church that sits atop St. Quentin’s hill is a cathedral, a peak accomplishment of Gothic architecture fitting to complete this group of impressive churches. Throughout World War I, battles raged around St. Quentin. The saints buried in its crypts, the witnesses depicted in its stained glass and sculptures, listened year after year to the marching millions, marching in the hope that a better world might emerge from the chaos, ready to suffer and die and forgive.
St. Quentin has always stood in the path of invading armies. Much of its precious glass was destroyed in 1557, when Philip II of Spain attacked the town on St. Laurence day, and in memory of his victory built the Escorial. The siege of 1870 damaged the city dedicated to Caius Quintinus, the Roman senator’s son who evangelized this region where he met a martyr’s death. In August of 1914 the invaders passed in swift advance on Paris. When the Marne battle drove them back, they dug themselves into trenches a mile from St. Quentin’s suburbs and there, with tragic monotony, the giant battle fluctuated. On August 15, 1917, suddenly, like a candle in the night, St. Quentin’s great church flamed up, lighting the country for miles around. The projectiles came from the south where the invaders, not the Allies, were intrenched. From beneath this hill, in April of 1918, started the final desperate thrust toward Paris. Four months later the Allies, taking the offensive, swept all before them, and in October the Germans quitted the city in too great haste to destroy the big church, as the bored holes in every one of its piers would indicate had been their intention. A ghost of its former self is the collegiate of St. Quentin to-day. The venerated crypt, part of which dated from 840, was blown up with gunpowder before the evacuation (1918). The notably good XIII-and XV-century windows are wrecked, and the Flamboyant Gothic Town Hall, close to the church, is a ruin.
St. Quentin has always been in the way of invading armies. A lot of its valuable glass was destroyed in 1557 when Philip II of Spain attacked the town on St. Laurence Day, and to commemorate his victory, he built the Escorial. The siege of 1870 damaged the city dedicated to Caius Quintinus, the son of a Roman senator who evangelized this region and was martyred here. In August 1914, the invaders advanced rapidly toward Paris. After the Battle of the Marne pushed them back, they dug trenches just a mile from St. Quentin’s suburbs, and there, in a tragic cycle, the huge battle continued. On August 15, 1917, suddenly, like a candle in the dark, St. Quentin’s great church burst into flames, illuminating the countryside for miles. The shells were fired from the south where the invaders, not the Allies, were entrenched. From under this hill, in April 1918, began the final desperate push toward Paris. Four months later, the Allies went on the offensive and swept everything away, and by October, the Germans left the city in such a hurry that they didn’t demolish the big church, as the bored holes in each of its piers suggest they had planned to. Today, the collegiate of St. Quentin is a shadow of its former self. The revered crypt, part of which dated back to 840, was blown up with gunpowder before the evacuation in 1918. The beautiful 13th and 15th-century windows are destroyed, and the Flamboyant Gothic Town Hall near the church is in ruins.
About 1115 was begun the present collegiate as a Romanesque edifice; the north arm of the easternmost transept and the side wall between it and the larger transept are pre-Gothic. St. Quentin is an exception, in France, in possessing two transepts. When in 1257 St. Louis came to St. Quentin for the removal of the martyrs’ relics to the new crypt, the Gothic choir was completed. Three of the small chambers in the XIII-century crypt are of Carolingian origin, and vestiges of Carolingian work remain in the west tower, placed directly before the church, and serving as a kind of vestibule to it. Till the present nave was extended to meet that ancient belfry, it stood isolated.
About 1115, the current collegiate building was started as a Romanesque structure; the north arm of the easternmost transept and the side wall between it and the larger transept are pre-Gothic. St. Quentin is unique in France, as it has two transepts. When St. Louis arrived at St. Quentin in 1257 to move the martyrs’ relics to the new crypt, the Gothic choir was finished. Three of the small chambers in the 13th-century crypt are of Carolingian origin, and remnants of Carolingian work can still be seen in the west tower, which is located directly in front of the church and acts as a sort of entrance to it. Until the current nave was extended to connect with that ancient belfry, it stood alone.
Fissures showed in the new constructions and much time was wasted in consolidations. Only as the XIV century opened was the big transept between choir and nave begun; it was made twenty feet wider than the transept between apse curve and choir. The tracery in the rose windows of both cross inclosures is most artistic. The nave continued building all through the XIV century. It repeated the shafts which, in the choir, had been later additions needed for consolidation. Only by 1470 was St. Quentin’s nave completed by joining it to the ancient west tower. Three different campaigns of work built this church, and three breaks in its axial line are distinctly visible. Toward its repairs the good king Charles V contributed, and Louis XI bore the expense of remaking the small transept.
Fissures appeared in the new constructions, and a lot of time was wasted on consolidations. It wasn't until the 14th century began that work started on the large transept between the choir and the nave; it was made twenty feet wider than the transept between the apse curve and the choir. The tracery in the rose windows of both cross enclosures is very artistic. Construction of the nave continued throughout the 14th century. It repeated the shafts that had been later added to the choir for consolidation. It was only by 1470 that St. Quentin’s nave was completed by connecting it to the old west tower. This church was built in three different phases, and three breaks in its axial line are clearly visible. The good king Charles V contributed towards its repairs, and Louis XI covered the cost of rebuilding the small transept.
To Villard de Honnecourt is attributed the plan of St. Quentin, since there are details in his sketchbook—the thirty-three parchment leaves now a treasure of the National Library at Paris—to substantiate the claim. His annotations are in the Picard dialect. St. Quentin’s ordinance followed that of Rheims Cathedral sketched by Villard. The planting of columns between axis chapel and ambulatory—a Champagne feature—is the kind of charming novelty which would have appealed to the eager traveler who, at Kassovie, made a church for the king of Hungary wherein he repeated the unique fan-spreading eastern end of St. Yved at Braine.
To Villard de Honnecourt is credited the design of St. Quentin, as there are details in his sketchbook—the thirty-three parchment pages that are now a treasure of the National Library in Paris—to support this claim. His notes are in the Picard dialect. St. Quentin’s layout was based on that of Rheims Cathedral, which Villard sketched. The arrangement of columns between the axial chapel and the ambulatory—a feature from Champagne—is the kind of charming innovation that would have attracted the keen traveler who, in Kassovie, built a church for the king of Hungary, where he replicated the unique fan-shaped eastern end of St. Yved at Braine.
Thus he opened his precious book: “Villard de Honnecourt salutes you, and he begs all those who work at different classes of studies contained in these pages, to pray for his soul and remember him, for in this book can be found great help in teaching oneself fundamental principles of masonry and church carpentry.”
Thus he opened his precious book: “Villard de Honnecourt sends his greetings and asks everyone who engages with the various studies in these pages to pray for his soul and keep him in their thoughts, for this book offers great assistance in learning the fundamental principles of masonry and church carpentry.”
CHAPTER VII
Plantagenet Gothic Architecture[174]
Il n’y a pas seulement deux principes opposés dans l’homme. Il y en a trois. Car il y a trois vies et trois ordres de facultés. Il y a trois espèces de dispositions l’âme bien différentes: la première, celle de presque tous les hommes, consiste à vivre exclusivement dans le monde des phénomènes qu’on prend pour des réalités. La deuxième est celle des esprits les plus réfléchis qui cherchent longtemps la vérité en eux-mêmes ou dans la nature.... La troisième enfin est celle des âmes éclairées des lumières de la religion, les seules vrai et immuables. Ceux-là seuls ont trouvé un point d’appui fixe.—Maine de Biran (1766-1825; born in Périgord).
Il n’y a pas seulement deux principes opposés dans l’homme. Il y en a trois. Car il y a trois vies et trois ordres de facultés. Il y a trois types d'attitudes de l'âme bien différentes : la première, celle de presque tous les hommes, consiste à vivre exclusivement dans le monde des phénomènes qu’on prend pour des réalités. La deuxième est celle des esprits les plus réfléchis qui cherchent longtemps la vérité en eux-mêmes ou dans la nature.... La troisième enfin est celle des âmes éclairées par les lumières de la religion, les seules vraies et immuables. Ceux-là seuls ont trouvé un point d’appui fixe.—Maine de Biran (1766-1825; born in Périgord).
HE Gothic of the southwest grew out of the meeting of the cupola church
of Aquitaine with the intersecting ribbed vault of northern France. It
rose and spread in a region then under Plantagenet rule, Anjou, Poitou,
Maine, and Touraine. As the first known vault of the Angevin type was
dated approximately 1150, and as the system died out about the middle of
the XIII century, Plantagenet Gothic was but an incident of a hundred
years in French architecture. However, it was a phase which produced
monuments of such remarkable individuality and grace that the school
deserves more notice than has hitherto been given it.
THE Gothic style in the southwest developed from the combination of the dome churches of Aquitaine and the intersecting ribbed vaults of northern France. It emerged and spread in a region that was then ruled by the Plantagenets, including Anjou, Poitou, Maine, and Touraine. Since the first known vault of this Angevin style was dated around 1150 and the style faded around the mid-13th century, Plantagenet Gothic was really just a brief period of about a hundred years in French architecture. However, this period produced monuments with such unique character and beauty that it deserves more recognition than it has received so far.
The dominant feature in Plantagenet Gothic is its cup-shaped vaulting. The French term “bombé” is more exact than such expressions as “domical” and “domed.” The panels of an Angevin vault do not form parts of a spherical dome. The keystone of each section is raised higher than the four arches framing the section. Similar vaults were built during the first trials of diagonals by other Gothic schools, in districts where there were no cupola churches to serve as models. They were the result of inexperience in constructing ribbed-groined vaults, and their bombé shape disappeared as soon as architects learned to raise their transverse and wall arches, by stilting and pointing them, to the level of the keystone. While the so-called domical vault in other schools had been a transitional step, in Plantagenet Gothic it was intentionally persisted in and became the most distinguishing characteristic of the school.
The key feature of Plantagenet Gothic is its cup-shaped vaulting. The French term “bombé” is more accurate than terms like “domical” and “domed.” The sections of an Angevin vault aren't parts of a spherical dome. The keystone of each section is raised higher than the four arches surrounding it. Similar vaults were constructed during the initial experiments with diagonals by other Gothic schools, in areas without cupola churches to use as models. These vaults resulted from a lack of experience in building ribbed-groined vaults, and their bombé shape faded away once architects figured out how to raise their transverse and wall arches by stilting and pointing them to the height of the keystone. While the so-called domical vault in other schools was a transitional phase, in Plantagenet Gothic it was deliberately maintained and became the most defining feature of the style.
In principle and in construction, the Plantagenet school is truly Gothic. The cells are carried on the backs of diagonal ribs. The Angevin builders recognized at once the advantage of concentrating the thrust of the stone roof at fixed points and counterbutting and grounding the load at those points only, so they followed close on the northern architects in adopting the new system. At the same time they felt that the cupola tradition in their region was not to be wholly set aside. M. Anthyme Saint-Paul well expressed it when he said that southwestern France “s’est conduit en nation tributaire et non soumise.”
In terms of both design and construction, the Plantagenet school is genuinely Gothic. The vaults are supported by diagonal ribs. The Angevin builders quickly realized the benefits of directing the weight of the stone roof to specific points and stabilizing the load only at those points, so they closely followed the northern architects in adopting this new approach. At the same time, they believed that the dome tradition in their region should not be completely disregarded. M. Anthyme Saint-Paul captured this idea well when he remarked that southwestern France “s’est conduit en nation tributaire et non soumise.”
There can be little doubt that the presence in the Plantagenet territories of churches covered by a number of small cupolas encouraged a decided curve in the newly imported diagonals. It was not for nothing that near Angers and Saumur, the two cities where Angevin vaults were first constructed, lay the famous abbatial of Fontevrault, a masterpiece of the cupola school. Had not the arrival, midway in the XII century, of the northern French type of masonry roof checked the construction of such churches, it is probable that they would have extended farther north. From the meeting of the two schools developed the Plantagenet phase of Gothic.
There’s no doubt that the presence of churches with several small domes in the Plantagenet territories influenced the design of the newly introduced diagonal patterns. It’s no coincidence that near Angers and Saumur, the two cities where Angevin vaults were first built, is the famous abbey of Fontevrault, a masterpiece of the dome style. If the arrival of the northern French type of masonry roof in the mid-12th century hadn’t put a stop to the construction of such churches, they likely would have spread further north. The fusion of the two styles led to the Plantagenet phase of Gothic architecture.
Before proceeding to a description of the successive steps taken by Plantagenet architecture in its best-known examples at Angers, Saumur, and Poitiers, it is well to touch on the cupola churches of southwestern France, building for a century before the beginning of the regional Gothic school. M. de Lasteyrie has divided Romanesque architecture into some half dozen schools—those of Normandy, Burgundy, Auvergne, Poitou, the Midi, Champagne, and the scarcely enunciated Picardy Ile-de-France school. To these he added two isolated developments of short duration, one typified at Tournus, in Burgundy, where half barrels are placed transversely across a nave; and the other consisting of cupola-covered edifices which were building from Saintes to Fontevrault in the same hour as the Poitou-Romanesque churches surrounding them. For three generations the cupola haunted the imagination of southwestern France. The majority of them came into existence by hazard, as it were. They were not in the first plan of the church, but were built to replace other roofs, and in France they have been set on every kind of pedestal.[175] They were a variant of the barrel vault of the region preferred because less material was required.
Before describing the steps taken by Plantagenet architecture in its most famous examples at Angers, Saumur, and Poitiers, it's important to mention the cupola churches of southwestern France, which were being built for a century before the regional Gothic school began. M. de Lasteyrie divided Romanesque architecture into about six schools: those of Normandy, Burgundy, Auvergne, Poitou, the Midi, Champagne, and the barely mentioned Picardy Ile-de-France school. He also included two isolated developments of short duration, one represented at Tournus in Burgundy, where half barrels are placed across a nave, and the other made up of cupola-covered buildings that were constructed from Saintes to Fontevrault around the same time as the Poitou-Romanesque churches nearby. For three generations, the cupola captured the imagination of southwestern France. Most of them were created by chance. They weren't part of the original church design but were constructed to replace other roofs, and in France, they have been placed on all kinds of bases. They were a variation of the barrel vault common in the region, preferred because they required less material.
How the cupola arrived in Aquitaine is still an open question. M. de Lasteyrie has belittled the explanation of an Oriental source, since the mode of construction in France differed from that of cupolas in the East. His idea is that the use of the cupola never died out from the earlier days in Gaul, and that the domed churches of France may be considered to be fairly indigenous. M. Enlart has contended that no matter how or when the use of the cupola got into France, its origin was undeniably Byzantine, since Rome took the feature from Byzantium. He has dwelt on the fact that it was while such churches were building in France, the men of western Europe were going on pilgrimages, on crusades, and on trading ventures into countries where the cupola was a common feature.
How the cupola came to Aquitaine is still a mystery. M. de Lasteyrie has dismissed the idea of an Oriental source, arguing that the construction methods in France were different from those of Eastern cupolas. He believes that the cupola's use never completely vanished from the early days in Gaul and that the domed churches of France can be seen as somewhat local to the region. M. Enlart has argued that regardless of how or when the cupola was introduced to France, its origins were undoubtedly Byzantine, since Rome adopted the feature from Byzantium. He emphasized that while these churches were being built in France, people from Western Europe were going on pilgrimages, crusades, and trading missions to places where the cupola was a common element.
Is it not better to dwell a little sadly far from the world, under the hand of God? The world gives but vain pleasures. You will be like others beguiled by it and hardened. You will hear many evil conversations, you will see many contemptible pushing people with distinguished names, you will feel malignant envy, many will be the faults with which you will reproach yourself.... Nothing is good apart from Peace. Peace is the mark of God’s finger. All that is not Peace is but illusion, and disturbing self-love.... Be simple and insignificant, and Peace will be your reward. It is only you yourself who can trouble your own Peace. It is in forgetting self that Peace comes.—Fénelon (1651-1715; born near Périgueux).
Isn’t it better to spend some time a bit sadly away from the world, under God’s guidance? The world offers only empty pleasures. You’ll end up like everyone else, misled and hardened. You’ll hear a lot of harmful conversations, see many pushy people with fancy titles, and feel the sting of jealousy; there will be many faults you’ll blame yourself for.... Nothing is good except for Peace. Peace is the symbol of God’s presence. Everything that isn’t Peace is just an illusion and bothersome self-love.... Stay simple and humble, and Peace will be your reward. Only you can disrupt your own Peace. It’s by letting go of yourself that Peace comes.—Fénelon (1651-1715; born near Périgueux).
The most discussed of the cupola churches is St. Front at Périgueux. For a while it was considered a mother church of the school, but such well-constructed domes are a culmination, not a beginning. One of the oldest cupolas extant is that of St. Astier, near Périgueux, finished in 1018; there are two large domes over Cahors Cathedral, in which church Pope Calixtus II blessed an altar in 1119.[177] The two cupolas over Cahors’ unaisled nave appear in the exterior view, but were not well enough constructed for their inner surfaces to be left uncovered by coats of plaster, whereas the interior masonry of St. Front is beautifully finished, proving that in point of time it was separated from St. Astier.
The most talked-about cupola church is St. Front in Périgueux. For a time, it was viewed as a leading church of the style, but such well-built domes are an end point, not a starting point. One of the oldest existing cupolas is at St. Astier, near Périgueux, completed in 1018; there are two large domes over Cahors Cathedral, where Pope Calixtus II blessed an altar in 1119.[177] The two cupolas over the unaisled nave of Cahors show in the exterior view, but they weren’t constructed well enough for their inner surfaces to remain uncovered by plaster, while the interior masonry of St. Front is beautifully finished, indicating that it was built later than St. Astier.
Long and heated have been the controversies over the date of the cathedral of Périgueux. As much space has been devoted to the discussion as to the little Morienval in the Ile-de-France. At first it was taken to be the church begun before 1000 and dedicated in 1047. To-day no one dreams of saying it predates the fire of 1120. A few of the bays of the ancient church, burned in 1120 with much loss of life, were retained as parish rooms and now stand to the south of the present cathedral’s façade. It is very evident that they never were intended to be incorporated in the new church.
Long and intense have been the debates about the date of the cathedral of Périgueux. As much discussion has happened about it as about the small Morienval in the Ile-de-France. Initially, it was believed to be the church that began before 1000 and was dedicated in 1047. Today, no one claims that it predates the fire of 1120. A few sections of the old church, destroyed in the 1120 fire which caused significant loss of life, were kept as parish rooms and now are located to the south of the current cathedral’s façade. It's clear that they were never meant to be part of the new church.
Once it was thought that the actual St. Front, which is in the shape of a Greek cross, with a dome over each of its arms, copied St. Mark’s at Venice. St. Mark’s was modeled on the church of the Apostles at Constantinople, destroyed by Mohammed II in 1464. However, its domes were added only when the basilica was rebuilt, in 1063. And furthermore, there are indications at St. Front to show that the original design was to lengthen its nave by another bay, which would have changed the plan from a Greek cross to the universally used Latin cross.
Once, it was believed that the actual St. Front, shaped like a Greek cross with a dome over each arm, was inspired by St. Mark’s in Venice. St. Mark’s was designed after the church of the Apostles in Constantinople, which was destroyed by Mohammed II in 1464. However, its domes were only added when the basilica was rebuilt in 1063. Additionally, there are signs at St. Front suggesting that the original plan was to extend its nave by another bay, which would have transformed the layout from a Greek cross to the commonly used Latin cross.
The present St. Front was begun after 1120 and probably was completed by 1180, in which year a record says that Bishop Pierre de Mimet (1169-80) moved the ancient tombs into the basilica. During some modern repairs parchments were discovered in a scaffold hole thirty feet from the ground and closed only by a loose stone. The MSS. were in the Romance dialect of the XII century, and were abusive of Henry II of England, who besieged Périgueux in Bishop de Mimet’s time. Such a hiding place for compromising papers might well have been thought of during the last stage of a building while yet the scaffolding stood in place.
The current St. Front was started after 1120 and likely finished by 1180, the year when a record mentions that Bishop Pierre de Mimet (1169-80) moved the ancient tombs into the basilica. During some recent repairs, parchments were found in a scaffold hole thirty feet up, which was only covered by a loose stone. The manuscripts were in the Romance dialect from the 12th century and contained insults directed at Henry II of England, who besieged Périgueux during Bishop de Mimet’s time. Such a hidden spot for sensitive documents might have been planned during the last phase of construction while the scaffolding was still up.
St. Front’s interior possesses a fine, plain solidity of its own, but its garish white walls cry out for mosaics or fresco. The cupolas rise above the big arcades without any vertical foundation members. Each is divided into a hemispherical dome and a drum having the shape of spherical triangles. So massive are the square piers supporting the cupolas that narrow corridors have been threaded through them. Those dense piles of masonry saved St. Front when the Huguenots lighted bonfires at the base of the piers. St. Étienne, formerly the cathedral of Périgueux, was devastated then, so that only two of its cupolas remain; the westernmost one is rougher, earlier work.
St. Front’s interior has a solid, understated feel, but its stark white walls really need mosaics or frescoes. The domes rise above the large arcades without any vertical support structures. Each dome is made up of a hemispherical top and a drum shaped like spherical triangles. The square pillars holding up the domes are so massive that narrow corridors have been created through them. Those heavy blocks of stone saved St. Front when the Huguenots set bonfires at the base of the pillars. St. Étienne, once the cathedral of Périgueux, was destroyed at that time, leaving only two of its domes; the westernmost one is rougher and an earlier style.
The restorer, Abadie, took deplorable liberties with St. Front, but it is an exaggeration to call it a modern church studied from a Romanesque original. Abadie from 1865 to 1875 reconstructed the great broad arches hitherto slightly pointed, and the actual sanctuary is entirely his work. Oriental and un-French as is the exterior of Périgueux Cathedral with its white domes, its neo-minarets, its immense tower each of whose stories is lesser in size than the one below it, and whose summit is a pavilion covered with the inverted tiles called pineapple scales, one has to accept the disconcerting fact that it was building in the same year with the cathedrals at Paris and Laon. Well has St. Front been called an archæological monster defying the laws of that science.
The restorer, Abadie, took questionable liberties with St. Front, but it's an overstatement to refer to it as a modern church influenced by a Romanesque original. Abadie reconstructed the large, somewhat pointed arches from 1865 to 1875, and the sanctuary is entirely his creation. Despite the exterior of Périgueux Cathedral being Oriental and not typically French, with its white domes, neo-minarets, and massive tower where each level is smaller than the one below, topped with a pavilion covered in inverted tiles known as pineapple scales, it's surprising to realize that it was built around the same time as the cathedrals in Paris and Laon. St. Front has rightly been called an archaeological monster that defies the principles of that science.
If we wish to know all that is worthy of being imitated, we must make of legends a part of our studies and observations. The marvel of the lives of the saints is not their miracles, but their conduct.—Joubert, Pensées (1754-1824; born in Périgord).
If we want to understand everything that's worth imitating, we need to include legends in our studies and observations. The wonder of the saints' lives isn’t their miracles, but their behavior.—Joubert, Pensées (1754-1824; born in Périgord).
Angoulême Cathedral. A XII-century Cupola Church of
Aquitaine with a Typical Façade of Poitou’s Romanesque School
Angoulême Cathedral is a 12th-century dome church located in Aquitaine, showcasing a typical façade of Poitou's Romanesque style.
The cathedral of Angoulême shares with St. Front and Fontevrault the distinction of being the finest cupola church in France. It is unsurpassed in the setting on the edge of the city’s steep hill above the Charente valley. In ancient Angoumois, now the department of the Charente, are over five hundred XII-century Romanesque churches.[179]
The cathedral of Angoulême, along with St. Front and Fontevrault, is recognized as the finest cupola church in France. It stands out for its location on the steep hill overlooking the Charente valley. In the historic region of Angoumois, now known as the department of the Charente, there are over five hundred Romanesque churches from the 12th century.[179]
Angoulême Cathedral was begun in 1109 by Bishop Gérard (1101-36), who had taught at Périgueux in the cathedral school and no doubt learned there to admire cupolas. His first dome at Angoulême—the easternmost one—is slightly later than the older cupola of St. Étienne at Périgueux. Bishop Gérard had the moral courage to rebuke the sinful union of the troubadour-duke, Guillaume IX, and the fair Vicomtesse Malbergeon, whose portrait he wore on his shield when he marched into battle. Guillaume informed Gérard that only when hair grew on his bald, prelate pate would he give up the lady of his affections. Gérard was papal legate in Gaul for Pascal II, Calixtus II, and the second Honorius, and was the prelate chosen, because of his eloquence, to be spokesman for the bishops who opposed Paschal II’s compromise with the German emperor on the question of investitures. And yet this able man, because Innocent II had not renewed his dignities, joined the anti-pope faction and took with him Guillaume X of Aquitaine. Only the passionate genius of St. Bernard was able to end the scandal.
Angoulême Cathedral was started in 1109 by Bishop Gérard (1101-36), who had taught at Périgueux in the cathedral school and likely learned to appreciate cupolas there. His first dome at Angoulême—the easternmost one—is slightly newer than the older cupola of St. Étienne at Périgueux. Bishop Gérard had the courage to confront the sinful relationship between the troubadour-duke, Guillaume IX, and the beautiful Vicomtesse Malbergeon, whose portrait he bore on his shield when he went into battle. Guillaume told Gérard that he would only give up the lady he loved when hair grew on his bald, clerical head. Gérard served as the papal legate in Gaul for Pascal II, Calixtus II, and the second Honorius, and he was the prelate selected, due to his eloquence, to speak on behalf of the bishops who opposed Paschal II’s compromise with the German emperor regarding investitures. Yet this capable man, because Innocent II had not renewed his titles, joined the anti-pope faction and took with him Guillaume X of Aquitaine. Only the passionate genius of St. Bernard was able to put an end to the scandal.
The cathedral built at Angoulême by Bishop Gérard, like most of the churches of the southwest, lacks the charm of perspective, since it has neither curving processional path nor side aisle. A note of force is given to the interior by the strong projection of the buttress piers, more salient within the church than without. Farther to the south, when the Gothic day had dawned, buttresses were to be disguised as walls between the side chapels. The three cupolas that roof the nave—each covering a large square bay—are among the largest in France. The side walls are divided at mid-height: below is a huge blind arch, while above are two round-headed windows. Angoulême’s hemispherical domes on pendentives were sufficiently well constructed to dispense with plaster coatings, an advance over Cahors Cathedral and St. Étienne at Périgueux.
The cathedral built in Angoulême by Bishop Gérard, like most churches in the southwest, lacks perspective charm because it has neither a winding processional path nor side aisles. The interior feels powerful due to the strong projection of the buttress piers, which stick out more inside the church than outside. Further south, as the Gothic era emerged, buttresses would be designed to look like walls between the side chapels. The three domes covering the nave—each covering a large square bay—are among the largest in France. The side walls are divided at mid-height: there is a massive blind arch below, and above are two rounded windows. Angoulême’s hemispherical domes on pendentives were built well enough to avoid needing plaster coatings, an improvement over Cahors Cathedral and St. Étienne in Périgueux.
At the transept-crossing is an immense dome forming within the church a lantern lighted by a series of round-headed windows that open in its pedestal. The arrangement derives directly from the Orient and is rare in France. A very fine tower, whose stories lessen as they rise, covers the northern arm of the transept, and till the cathedral was sacked, during the XVI-century wars, a similar tower spanned the transept’s southern limb.
At the crossing of the transept is a huge dome that creates a lantern effect inside the church, illuminated by a set of round-headed windows at its base. This design comes directly from the East and is uncommon in France. A beautifully crafted tower, with stories that become smaller as they ascend, sits over the northern arm of the transept, and until the cathedral was looted during the 16th-century wars, a similar tower capped the southern part of the transept.
Angoulême’s elaborate XII-century façade is one of the noted pages of monumental decoration in France, a frontal more of ornate beauty than of power, in which M. André Michel finds the influence of old ivories. Tier on tier rise its carven scenes, with a Christ in Majesty crowning the whole. The XIX-century restorer, M. Paul Abadie, who worked such havoc at Périgueux, took equal liberties here. He made the upper story with its turrets topped by conical spires, and over-restored the principal sculptural groups. These pre-Gothic churches of southwest France obsessed his imagination, for when he came to design a church of his own he put up on the Mount of Martyrs in Paris a neo-Byzantine, neo-Gothic basilica most strangely reminiscent of Aquitaine as it stands in exotic isolation under the cold, northern sky.
Angoulême’s intricate 12th-century façade is one of the standout examples of monumental decoration in France, showcasing more ornate beauty than strength, where M. André Michel notes the influence of ancient ivories. Its carved scenes rise in tiers, culminating in a Christ in Majesty that crowns the entire work. The 19th-century restorer, M. Paul Abadie, who caused significant damage at Périgueux, also took liberties here. He created the upper story with its turrets topped by conical spires and over-restored the main sculptural groups. These pre-Gothic churches of southwest France captivated his imagination, so when he designed a church of his own, he erected a neo-Byzantine, neo-Gothic basilica on the Mount of Martyrs in Paris, which strikingly resembles Aquitaine as it sits in exotic isolation beneath the cold, northern sky.
Angoulême’s west façade had not long been completed when under its portal passed John Lackland to be married to the fourteen-year-old daughter of the Count of Angoulême, Isabella, already affianced to a Lusignan. Henry III of England, the builder of Westminster Abbey, was the fruit of that union. Twenty years later Isabella married the son of her discarded fiancé, and her jealousy filled France with war. Jezebel, the people called her. She rests in effigy at Fontevrault, beside the tomb of her great father-in-law, Henry II, the first Plantagenet.
Angoulême’s west façade had just been finished when John Lackland passed under its portal to marry Isabella, the fourteen-year-old daughter of the Count of Angoulême, who was already promised to a Lusignan. Henry III of England, the builder of Westminster Abbey, was the result of that marriage. Twenty years later, Isabella married the son of her former fiancé, and her jealousy plunged France into war. The people referred to her as Jezebel. She lies in effigy at Fontevrault, next to the tomb of her great father-in-law, Henry II, the first Plantagenet.
A trait peculiar to this epoch is the close resemblance between the manners of men and women.... Men had the right to dissolve in tears, and women that of talking without prudery. The women appear distinctly superior. They were more serious, more subtle. Richard Cœur-de-Lion, the crowned poet-artist, a king whose noble manners and refined mind, in spite of his cruelty, exercised so strong an impression on his age, was formed by the brilliant Aliénor of Aquitaine. St. Louis was brought up exclusively by Blanche of Castile, and Joinville was the pupil of a widowed and regent mother.—Gareau, Social State of France During the Crusades.
A unique feature of this time is the close similarity between how men and women behave. Men were allowed to cry, and women could speak freely without being seen as improper. The women appear clearly superior. They were more serious and more insightful. Richard the Lionheart, the celebrated poet-artist and king, whose noble demeanor and refined intellect left a strong impression despite his cruelty, was influenced by the brilliant Eleanor of Aquitaine. St. Louis was raised entirely by Blanche of Castile, and Joinville was taught by a widowed mother who also acted as regent.—Gareau, Social State of France During the Crusades.
The art of the cupola church may be said to have culminated in the abbatial at Fontevrault on the confines of Anjou, Poitou, and Touraine, and practically the northernmost point to which attained the cupola development of Aquitaine. Undoubtedly it would have spread farther afield had it not been checked—even while Fontevrault was building—by the advent of ogival ribs which initiated a new manner of masonry roofing. In Fontevrault’s bourg is a village church covered gracefully in the Plantagenet Gothic manner.
The art of the cupola church reached its peak at the abbey in Fontevrault, located at the borders of Anjou, Poitou, and Touraine, which is essentially the northernmost point where the cupola style of Aquitaine developed. It would have likely spread further if it hadn't been halted—even during the construction of Fontevrault—by the arrival of pointed arches that introduced a new style of masonry roofing. In the village near Fontevrault, there's a church that is beautifully topped in the Plantagenet Gothic style.
The untenable theory was advanced by a French architect that the cupola church was the egg out of which hatched the radical organ of Gothic architecture, that the first ribs were employed to stiffen a dome.[182] No one to-day concedes this. Yet, though cupola monuments may not have affected French Gothic in general, they certainly exerted a local influence on the Gothic of the West. The hemispherical domes at Fontevrault were directly under the eye of the first architects of Plantagenet Gothic.
The unsupported theory was proposed by a French architect that the dome church was the egg from which the radical element of Gothic architecture emerged, claiming that the first ribs were used to support a dome.[182] No one today accepts this. However, even if dome monuments didn't impact French Gothic architecture as a whole, they definitely had a local effect on the Gothic style in the West. The hemispherical domes at Fontevrault were directly visible to the first architects of Plantagenet Gothic.
An abbess ruled over men at Fontevrault. Its founder, the Blessed Robert d’Arbrissel, had been impressed by the Saviour giving St. John into the spiritual guidance of the Virgin. So he organized a new Order comprised of four communities ruled by a woman: a main house for nuns and another for men; a hospital dedicated to St. Lazarus, and a house for repentant Magdalenes. Robert d’Arbrissel was a Breton, schooled in Paris, and noted for his eloquence, which so impressed Urban II, who heard him preach at the dedication of Angers’ church of St. Nicolas, that he named him an apostolic missionary to spread the First Crusade.
An abbess led the men at Fontevrault. Its founder, the Blessed Robert d’Arbrissel, was inspired by the Savior entrusting St. John to the care of the Virgin. He established a new Order made up of four communities overseen by a woman: a main house for nuns and another for men; a hospital dedicated to St. Lazarus, and a place for repentant Magdalenes. Robert d’Arbrissel was a Breton who studied in Paris and was known for his eloquence, which impressed Urban II so much when he heard him preach at the dedication of the church of St. Nicolas in Angers that he appointed him as an apostolic missionary to promote the First Crusade.
Feeling need of spiritual renewal, Robert had retired for meditative peace to these forests when one day he was attacked by bandits. He yielded all he possessed on condition that they give him their souls to guide, and, having converted them, the name of their chief, Evrault, was given, it is said, to the congregation that gathered in cells about the holy man. Pious folk came and sinners, the rich and the poor, the halt and the hale, and the impetuous Robert called them one and all “the poor of Christ.” “I never read of a hermit,” said honest old Samuel Johnson, “but in imagination I kiss his feet; never of a monastery but I fall on my knees and kiss the pavement.”
Feeling the need for spiritual renewal, Robert had retreated to these forests for some meditative peace when one day he was attacked by bandits. He gave up everything he had on the condition that they would give him their souls to guide. After converting them, the name of their leader, Evrault, was supposedly given to the group that gathered in cells around the holy man. Faithful people showed up, as did sinners, the rich and the poor, the weak and the strong, and the passionate Robert called them all “the poor of Christ.” “I never read about a hermit,” said honest old Samuel Johnson, “without imagining I’m kissing his feet; nor about a monastery without falling to my knees and kissing the ground.”
In 1106, Paschal II approved the Order and in Blessed Robert’s lifetime some five thousand gathered at Fontevrault. Abbot Suger, who was a young student at that time near the new abbey, testified to the edification it gave. A sermon by the Blessed Robert converted the fair Bertrada de Montfort, who had quitted her ignoble husband, Fulk IV of Anjou, to marry Philip I, king of France, which illegal union kept churchmen busy during sixteen years; she callously brought her second master to visit her first. The fight which Rome waged to preserve monogamy in western Christendom deserves the highest praise. Bertrada died the second abbess of Fontevrault. The historic names of France compose the list of abbesses. The young widow of the only son of Henry I of England retired here, after the loss of the White Ship, and her father, Fulk V of Anjou, came to visit her as he quitted his career in Europe to take up his new role as king of Jerusalem. Margaret of Burgundy, the builder of Tonnerre’s hospital hall, and second wife of Charles d’Anjou, St. Louis’ brother, was educated at Fontevrault by her aunt the abbess. About 1500 Abbess Renée de Bourbon built the Renaissance cloister. To-day the famous house serves as a state prison.
In 1106, Paschal II approved the Order, and during Blessed Robert's lifetime, about five thousand people gathered at Fontevrault. Abbot Suger, who was a young student at that time near the new abbey, testified to the inspiration it provided. A sermon by Blessed Robert converted the noble Bertrada de Montfort, who left her unworthy husband, Fulk IV of Anjou, to marry Philip I, king of France. This illegal union kept church officials busy for sixteen years; she brazenly brought her new husband to visit her first one. The struggle that Rome undertook to maintain monogamy in western Christendom deserves the highest recognition. Bertrada died as the second abbess of Fontevrault. The notable names of France make up the list of abbesses. The young widow of Henry I of England's only son retired here after the tragedy of the White Ship, and her father, Fulk V of Anjou, came to visit her as he ended his career in Europe to take on his new role as king of Jerusalem. Margaret of Burgundy, who built Tonnerre’s hospital hall and was the second wife of Charles d’Anjou, St. Louis’ brother, was educated at Fontevrault by her aunt, the abbess. Around 1500, Abbess Renée de Bourbon built the Renaissance cloister. Today, the famous house serves as a state prison.
Fontevrault church played a part in the Gothic story. Its earliest cupola, over the transept-crossing, differs from those over the nave in that its base is not distinct from its dome. Angers copied it in its churches of St. Nicholas and St. Martin, and so did Saumur in St. Pierre. When in 1119 Calixtus II dedicated Fontevrault, the church consisted of the present choir and the transept. During the first quarter of the XII century the aisleless nave was spanned by four cupolas on clearly defined pedestals. Perhaps from Angoulême Cathedral came the fashion of domes on pendentives, after some Fontevrault monks had gone on legal business, in 1117, to the capital of Angoumois.
Fontevrault church played a role in the Gothic narrative. Its original cupola, located over the transept crossing, differs from those positioned over the nave in that its base isn't separate from its dome. Angers replicated it in its churches of St. Nicholas and St. Martin, and Saumur did the same in St. Pierre. When Calixtus II dedicated Fontevrault in 1119, the church included the present choir and the transept. During the early 12th century, the nave without aisles was topped by four cupolas on clearly defined pedestals. The trend of domes on pendentives may have originated from Angoulême Cathedral, after some Fontevrault monks traveled to Angoumois in 1117 for legal matters.
The abbaye-double was favored both by the Angevin rulers and their Poitevin neighbors, the dukes of Aquitaine. Henry II’s father and mother, Geoffrey the Handsome of Anjou and the ex-empress Matilda of England, gave generously toward the building of the new church, and so did Aliénor of Aquitaine’s forbears of the illustrious house of Poitiers; hence it was fitting they both, Henry and Aliénor, should lie in burial there. When Henry Plantagenet died in 1189 in his castle at Chinon, which the old chronicler tells us rises steeply from the Vienne “straight up to heaven”—the Chinon whither Jeanne d’Arc was to come to give France a new soul—the dead monarch was carried to Fontevrault church near by, instead of to the Grammont he favored, the mother-house of a new Order founded by Stephen de Tierney in 1176. The archbishop of Tours came to Fontevrault to conduct the funeral, and Henry’s rebellious son, Richard Cœur-de-Lion, stood by while they lowered into the tomb the great administrator who gave us the germs of our jury system, the man of the same unbridled passions, the same strong leadership in arms and statecraft, as his ancestor, Fulk Nerra, who had won this strip of middle France by sheer ability. And well Richard might feel serious, for the nine generations of increasing prosperity, promised to Fulk I of Anjou, ended with him.
The abbaye-double was supported both by the Angevin leaders and their Poitevin neighbors, the dukes of Aquitaine. Henry II’s father and mother, Geoffrey the Handsome of Anjou and the former empress Matilda of England, contributed generously to the construction of the new church, as did Aliénor of Aquitaine’s ancestors from the notable house of Poitiers; thus, it was fitting that both Henry and Aliénor should be buried there. When Henry Plantagenet died in 1189 in his castle at Chinon, which the old chronicler describes as rising steeply from the Vienne “straight up to heaven”—the same Chinon where Jeanne d’Arc would later come to give France a new spirit—the deceased king was taken to the nearby Fontevrault church instead of to the Grammont he preferred, which was the motherhouse of a new Order founded by Stephen de Tierney in 1176. The archbishop of Tours came to Fontevrault to lead the funeral, and Henry’s rebellious son, Richard Cœur-de-Lion, stood by as they lowered into the tomb the great administrator who gave us the foundations of our jury system, a man with the same unrestrained passions and strong leadership in war and politics as his ancestor, Fulk Nerra, who had gained this piece of central France through sheer capability. And Richard had good reason to feel grave, for the nine generations of growing prosperity promised to Fulk I of Anjou ended with him.
In 1199 the Lion-hearted himself was brought to Fontevrault for burial; he had begged to be laid in penitence at the feet of the father he had defied, like the true Angevin he was. As his elder brother had said: “It has ever been the way with Plantagenets for brother to hate brother, and for son to turn against father.” The ceremony for Richard in Fontevrault abbey church was conducted by St. Hugh from Lincoln, where he was raising a splendid Early-English cathedral. He had come to France to protest to Richard against further spoliation of his see. At this ‘shrouding of a second Angevin among the shrouden women,’ Aliénor stood beside the nuns, and, the ceremony over, St. Hugh, so wise and holy amid such seething passions, proceeded to comfort the widowed Berengaria.
In 1199, Richard the Lionheart himself was brought to Fontevrault for burial; he had requested to be laid to rest in penance at the feet of the father he had defied, just as a true Angevin would. As his older brother noted, “It has always been common for Plantagenets to hate each other as brothers and for sons to turn against their fathers.” The ceremony for Richard in the abbey church at Fontevrault was led by St. Hugh from Lincoln, who was building a magnificent Early-English cathedral. He had come to France to protest to Richard against further plundering of his diocese. During this ‘shrouding of a second Angevin among the shrouded women,’ Aliénor stood next to the nuns, and once the ceremony was complete, St. Hugh, so wise and holy amidst all the turmoil, went on to console the grieving Berengaria.
Richard, like his father, was a cosmopolite. “Miey hom e miey baron, Angles, Norman, Peytavin et Gascon,” he sang in his prison lay, and indeed one would be puzzled to know which of them were the countrymen of him whom Guizot called “the bravest, most inconsiderate, most passionate, most ruffianly, most heroic adventurer of the Middle Ages.”
Richard, just like his dad, was a global citizen. “My home and my baron, Angles, Norman, Peytavin and Gascon,” he sang in his prison song, and honestly, it would be confusing to figure out which of them were actually his fellow countrymen, the one Guizot referred to as “the bravest, most reckless, most passionate, most ruthless, most heroic adventurer of the Middle Ages.”
In 1204 his equally turbulent, able, and seductive mother, Aliénor, was buried at Fontevrault beside the husband against whom she had stirred up undutiful sons, and who in his last years had kept her shut away from further mischief. From 1122 to 1204 stretched her full life; queen of France for fifteen years, queen of England for fifty, a pernicious influence upon them both, but always a most sensible ruler for her own Aquitaine. She passed her final years in peaceful Fontevrault, but her stormy destiny was to be troubled to the end. In 1204 her grandson, Arthur of Brittany, besieged her in a Midi castle where she was visiting, and when John Lackland heard of his mother’s plight he came by forced marches to her relief and captured Arthur, who soon after was foully murdered. Aliénor had seen the rise of Gothic at St. Denis, whose corner stone her French husband laid, and she lived to found churches of the gracious Plantagenet phase of the new art. But true daughter of the Midi that she was, an Aquitaine cupola church is her rightful funeral monument. In her, as in her own Midi of that age, culture and corruption were precocious.
In 1204, his equally turbulent, capable, and charismatic mother, Aliénor, was buried at Fontevrault next to the husband she had incited her disobedient sons against, who in his later years had kept her confined to prevent further chaos. Her life spanned from 1122 to 1204; she was queen of France for fifteen years, queen of England for fifty, a toxic influence on both, yet always a pragmatic ruler of her own Aquitaine. She spent her last years in tranquil Fontevrault, but her tumultuous fate troubled her until the end. In 1204, her grandson, Arthur of Brittany, besieged her in a castle in the Midi where she was staying, and when John Lackland learned of his mother’s situation, he marched quickly to her aid and captured Arthur, who was soon after brutally murdered. Aliénor witnessed the rise of Gothic architecture at St. Denis, where her French husband laid the cornerstone, and she lived to establish churches representing the elegant Plantagenet phase of the new art. But being a true daughter of the Midi, an Aquitaine cupola church stands as her fitting memorial. In her, as in her own Midi of that time, culture and corruption thrived early.
The fourth of the famous Plantagenet tombs at Fontevrault which England has tried to get for Westminster Abbey, is that of Isabelle of Angoulême (d. 1247), the wife of John Lackland. And there once were two others, the tomb of Richard Cœur-de-Lion’s favorite sister, Jeanne (d. 1199), who became the fourth wife of Raymond VI of Toulouse, and that of her son, Count Raymond VII (d. 1249), of the Albigensian wars—tombs swept away either by the Huguenots or during the Revolution. As the XIX century opened, the Plantagenet tombs lay forgotten in a cellar. When England became aware of their value they were shipped to Paris in 1846, to be taken across the Channel. Luckily, however, an Angevin, M. de Falloux, became minister on the declaration of the Second Republic, and the four precious mausoleums were returned to Fontevrault church.
The fourth of the famous Plantagenet tombs at Fontevrault that England tried to obtain for Westminster Abbey is the grave of Isabelle of Angoulême (d. 1247), the wife of John Lackland. There were once two other tombs: one belonged to Richard Cœur-de-Lion’s beloved sister, Jeanne (d. 1199), who became the fourth wife of Raymond VI of Toulouse, and the other was that of her son, Count Raymond VII (d. 1249), associated with the Albigensian wars—these tombs were destroyed either by the Huguenots or during the Revolution. As the 19th century began, the Plantagenet tombs were forgotten in a cellar. When England recognized their worth, they were sent to Paris in 1846, with plans to transport them across the Channel. Fortunately, an Angevin, M. de Falloux, became minister upon the declaration of the Second Republic, and the four precious mausoleums were returned to the Fontevrault church.
Aliénor was ninth in descent from that Duke of Aquitaine who had founded great Cluny itself. Her grandfather, Guillaume IX, the troubadour duke, was a benefactor of the newly established Fontevrault. When her father resigned his dominion in penitence, his will was that Aliénor, his heiress, should wed the son of the king of France. So in Bordeaux Cathedral, in 1137, Aliénor married the future Louis VII. No temperaments could have been more opposite. In 1249 she took the Crusader’s cross from St. Bernard, at Vézelay—where the monks were building their glorious basilica. At Constantinople her troublous beauty roused admiration, and scandal at Antioch, where the ruler was her own handsome young uncle, Raymond of Poitiers.[183] Her union with Louis became an irksome bond and she clamored for its dissolution on the ground of consanguinity. The flouted French king was only too happy to be rid of her, but Abbot Suger, foreseeing all too clearly the national calamity that would be precipitated should Aliénor’s great domains pass to a rival of France, held together the mismatched pair. When he died, in 1152, headstrong Aliénor broke loose, and as she rode away from the court of France the great lords came out to woo her—one of them even tried to kidnap her. Because she craved a strong arm to revenge herself on her first husband, she chose as consort young Henry Plantagenet, Count of Anjou and Maine, and Duke of Normandy; she was thirty, Henry not yet twenty. Thus began the long Capet-Angevin duel, not to be fought out to a finish until 1452, when all that Henry II had possessed on the Continent and all of Aliénor’s wide domain were in the hands of the king of France. It needed a St. Jeanne to atone for the very unsaintly Aliénor.
Aliénor was the ninth descendant of the Duke of Aquitaine who founded the great Cluny monastery. Her grandfather, Guillaume IX, the troubadour duke, supported the newly established Fontevrault. When her father gave up his rule in penance, he intended for Aliénor, his heiress, to marry the son of the king of France. So, in Bordeaux Cathedral in 1137, Aliénor wed the future Louis VII. They couldn't have been more different. In 1249, she took the Crusader’s cross from St. Bernard at Vézelay—where the monks were constructing their impressive basilica. In Constantinople, her troubled beauty drew admiration, and caused a scandal in Antioch, where the ruler was her own handsome young uncle, Raymond of Poitiers.[183] Her marriage to Louis became a burdensome tie, and she sought to have it annulled based on their close blood relation. The slighted French king was more than happy to be rid of her, but Abbot Suger, foreseeing the national disaster that would follow if Aliénor’s vast lands fell into the hands of a rival, kept the mismatched couple together. When he died in 1152, headstrong Aliénor broke free, and as she rode away from the French court, the great lords came out to court her—one even attempted to kidnap her. Desiring a strong partner to take revenge on her first husband, she chose young Henry Plantagenet, Count of Anjou and Maine, and Duke of Normandy; she was thirty, and Henry was not yet twenty. Thus began the long conflict between the Capets and the Angevins, not resolved until 1452, when all that Henry II had owned in mainland Europe and all of Aliénor’s extensive holdings were in the possession of the king of France. It would take a St. Jeanne to atone for the far from saintly Aliénor.
The Plantagenet Tombs at Fontevrault
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The Plantagenet Tombs at Fontevrault
From this unscrupulous, mischief-making, virile, and capable queen of the XII century sprang a vigorous brood of men and women, passionate in both good and evil, and most of them enlightened art patrons, builders of churches, and writers of verses. Cœur-de-Lion was a troubadour. John Lackland’s son built Westminster Abbey. Aliénor’s daughter, the queen of Castile, had an Angevin architect help in the building of Las Huelgas, by Burgos. Her daughter of Champagne set the trouvères singing of Lancelot, Tristan, and Iseult. Another Eleanor of her lineage had her funeral journey marked by sculptured crosses from Lincolnshire to Charing Cross. It was given Aliénor to make some atonement for the evil she brought on France in her youth; at eighty years of age she went into Spain to bring back her granddaughter, Blanche of Castile, as bride for the grandson of the discarded Louis VII, and Blanche gave France the saint-king who illuminated his realm with fair churches. Another of Aliénor’s great-grandsons was a saint-king, Ferdinand, the conqueror of Seville, who founded many a church. Even as the cruelty and craft of John Lackland cropped out in Charles d’Anjou, whom the Sicilian Vespers punished, so the culture and inconsistency of Cœur-de-Lion appeared again in his nephew of Champagne, Thibaut IV, the maker of songs. From Aliénor descended Bishop Eudes de Sully, who built the western portals of Notre Dame at Paris, and Henry de Sully, who had the plans drawn for Bourges Cathedral. Herself an outstanding figure in the early day of Gothic art, and ancestress of enlightened builders, much can be forgiven Aliénor. All of which brings us back to the starting point of our chapter, the formation of the Plantagenet Gothic school of architecture.
From this unscrupulous, troublemaking, charismatic, and skilled queen of the 12th century came a strong lineage of men and women, passionate in both good and bad, and most of them were enlightened art patrons, builders of churches, and poets. Cœur-de-Lion was a troubadour. John Lackland’s son built Westminster Abbey. Aliénor’s daughter, the queen of Castile, had an Angevin architect assist in the construction of Las Huelgas, near Burgos. Her daughter from Champagne inspired the trouvères to sing about Lancelot, Tristan, and Iseult. Another Eleanor from her line had her funeral processional marked by carved crosses from Lincolnshire to Charing Cross. Aliénor was given the opportunity to atone for the harm she caused France in her youth; at eighty years old, she traveled to Spain to bring back her granddaughter, Blanche of Castile, as the bride for the grandson of the disposed Louis VII, and Blanche gave France the saint-king who illuminated his kingdom with beautiful churches. Another of Aliénor’s great-grandsons was a saint-king, Ferdinand, the conqueror of Seville, who founded many churches. Just as the cruelty and cunning of John Lackland appeared in Charles d’Anjou, punished during the Sicilian Vespers, so too did the culture and inconsistency of Cœur-de-Lion reemerge in his nephew of Champagne, Thibaut IV, the songwriter. From Aliénor descended Bishop Eudes de Sully, who built the western portals of Notre Dame in Paris, and Henry de Sully, who had the plans drawn up for Bourges Cathedral. Being a remarkable figure in the early days of Gothic art and the ancestor of enlightened builders, much can be forgiven of Aliénor. All of this brings us back to the starting point of our chapter, the formation of the Plantagenet Gothic school of architecture.
PLANTAGENET GOTHIC
Plantagenet Gothic
The XII and XIII centuries were a period when men were at their strongest; never before or since have they shown equal energy in such varied directions or such intelligence in the direction of their energy; yet these marvels of history—these Plantagenets; these scholastic philosophers; these architects of Rheims and Amiens; these Innocents and Robin Hoods and Marco Polos; these crusaders who planted their enormous fortresses all over the Levant; these monks who made the wastes and barrens yield harvests—all, without apparent exception, bowed down before the woman. The woman might be the good or the evil spirit, but she was always the stronger force.—Henry Adams.
The 12th and 13th centuries were a time when men were at their peak; never before or since have they displayed such energy in so many different areas or such intelligence in how they directed that energy. Yet these incredible figures from history—these Plantagenets; these scholastic philosophers; these architects of Rheims and Amiens; these Innocents and Robin Hoods and Marco Polos; these crusaders who built massive fortresses across the Levant; these monks who turned barren lands into productive fields—each, without exception, submitted to the woman. The woman could be either a good or evil influence, but she was always the stronger force.—Henry Adams.
There have been various divisions of this school, and it is always well to bear in mind that such cut-and-dried classifications are arbitrary and made use of merely for the greater ease of the student. By dividing Plantagenet work into three periods—preceded by a brief incubation hour, the twenty years before 1150—it is easier to follow the evolving steps of this brilliant phase of the builder’s art.
There have been various divisions of this school, and it's important to remember that these strict classifications are arbitrary and used just for the convenience of the student. By splitting Plantagenet work into three periods—after a brief incubation hour, the twenty years before 1150—it's easier to trace the evolving steps of this impressive phase of the builder’s art.
During the short introductory stage before 1150 the cupola had the upper hand and imposed its construction on the intersecting ribs just imported from the north. The earliest bombé vaults with ribs are really cupolas still, since the stones of their infilling were laid in concentric rings round and round. Only a small number of these ribbed cupolas were built.
During the brief introduction period before 1150, the cupola was dominant and dictated its construction style on the intersecting ribs that had just been brought in from the north. The earliest bombé vaults with ribs are essentially still cupolas, as the stones used for their infill were arranged in concentric rings around and around. Only a limited number of these ribbed cupolas were constructed.
Then in the first phase of Plantagenet Gothic appeared the ascendency of ribbed vault over cupola. The dome was lowered and the stones of the infilling were laid like those of a true Gothic vault, not horizontally, round and round, but vertically, with the courses running parallel with the ridges of the triangular compartments traced by the diagonals. Each of the four triangular cells was concave in both directions, with a groin defining its axial line. Hence eight panels, not four, composed the bombé vault, groin ridges alternating with ribs.
Then in the first phase of Plantagenet Gothic, ribbed vaults became more popular than domes. The dome was lowered, and the stones used to fill it were placed like those in a real Gothic vault—not laid out horizontally, round and round, but vertically, with the layers running parallel to the ridges of the triangular sections created by the diagonals. Each of the four triangular spaces was curved inward in both directions, with a groin marking its center line. As a result, there were eight panels instead of four making up the bombé vault, with groin ridges alternating with ribs.
Such groin lines called for strengthening ribs beneath them, since a curving surface has more need of a bone skeleton to stiffen it. Given the bombé shape, it was inevitable for the architect to arrive soon at the use of ridge ribs between the diagonals. The Plantagenet vault par excellence is made up of eight ribs that branch from a central keystone, those ribs being of the same slight graceful profile as the arches framing each vault section.
Such curved lines required stronger ribs underneath them because a curved surface needs a skeleton to support it. Given the bombé shape, it was only a matter of time before the architect started using ridge ribs between the diagonals. The quintessential Plantagenet vault consists of eight ribs that spread out from a central keystone, and those ribs have the same delicate, elegant profile as the arches surrounding each vault section.
For a time the rib molds of the First Period were enormously heavy and wide, like the diagonals of the nave of Angers Cathedral—the oldest Angevin Gothic work extant (c. 1150). Their profile shows two large round molds with a flat space between. Before long the level space tended to swell into a roll molding, which in time predominated over the lateral ones; such are the diagonals of the Trinité church at Angers (c. 1170). Finally, the side rolls died out altogether, leaving one slender uniform torus, a characteristic of the Second Period of Plantagenet art.
For a while, the rib molds from the First Period were extremely heavy and wide, similar to the diagonals of the nave at Angers Cathedral—the oldest surviving Angevin Gothic structure (around 1150). Their profile features two large round molds with a flat space in between. Soon enough, the flat area began to bulge into a roll molding, which eventually dominated over the lateral ones; these are seen in the diagonals of the Trinité church in Angers (around 1170). Eventually, the side rolls disappeared completely, resulting in a single slender uniform torus, which is a defining feature of the Second Period of Plantagenet art.
When the lateral and transverse arches adopted the same delicate profile as that of the eight branching ribs, there was achieved the slender elegance and rare distinction typical of the best Plantagenet interiors. Keystones were richly carved, and pretty figures and heads were added where the vault ribs met the framing arches. During the last quarter of the XII century the Plantagenet school was building vaults of this type, and they remained in vogue till the cuplike shape died out altogether. In Plantagenet art the ramification and intercrossing of ribs had a structural reason, since they were the logical result of the concave outline of the vault and not, like the supplementary ribs of Flamboyant Gothic, mere ornamentations.
When the lateral and transverse arches took on the same delicate shape as the eight branching ribs, it created the slender elegance and unique character typical of the finest Plantagenet interiors. The keystones were elaborately carved, and attractive figures and heads were placed where the vault ribs met the framing arches. During the last quarter of the 12th century, the Plantagenet school was constructing vaults of this type, which remained popular until the cuplike design completely fell out of favor. In Plantagenet art, the branching and interconnecting ribs had a structural purpose, as they naturally resulted from the concave shape of the vault, unlike the supplementary ribs of Flamboyant Gothic, which were simply decorative.
In the third and final period of Plantagenet Gothic, the ribs ramified more and more. They had first been increased about the windows of apses, because an eight-branch vault was better suited to a square than to a curve. During the years preceding 1250, the ramification of the ribs grew very complicated. All divisions between the vault sections were eliminated, and the masonry roof appeared to be continuous, one bay melting subtly into the next—in reality a cradle vault, à pénétrations, carried on intercrossing, branching Gothic ribs. The construction of such stone roofs was no easy matter and comparatively few of them were built.
In the third and final period of Plantagenet Gothic, the ribs became more and more intricate. They were initially expanded around the windows of the apses because an eight-branch vault worked better in a square shape than a curved one. In the years leading up to 1250, the complexity of the rib designs increased significantly. All separations between the vault sections were removed, giving the masonry roof a seamless appearance, with one bay smoothly blending into the next—in reality, a cradle vault, à pénétrations, supported by intertwined, branching Gothic ribs. Building such stone roofs was quite challenging, and relatively few of them were constructed.
It is interesting to note that a germ of the Angevin school when carried to England, then under the same Plantagenet rule, developed into what is a unique architectural glory, English fan tracery vaulting.
It’s interesting to see that a part of the Angevin school, when brought to England, which was also under the Plantagenet rule, evolved into a distinctive architectural marvel, English fan tracery vaulting.
Most of the monuments of Angevin art fall under the three main divisions here given. Like a beautiful hybrid, the Plantagenet stone roof passed through a continuous series of transformations, while in northern France, once a satisfactory masonry vault had been achieved, it was adhered to faithfully as a classic type until the Flamboyant, or final, phase.
Most of the monuments of Angevin art fit into the three main categories mentioned here. Like a stunning blend, the Plantagenet stone roof underwent a series of continuous changes, while in northern France, once a solid masonry vault was established, it was faithfully maintained as a classic type until the Flamboyant, or final, phase.
Frequently a Plantagenet church is extremely plain outside, in striking contrast with the aërial grace of its interior. The cause is a structural one, hence satisfactory. The thrust of a bombé vault is not altogether concentrated on branching ribs, piers, and buttresses, but in part is borne by the inclosure walls. Hence these latter were made thick and pierced merely by lancet windows; with such walls there was no need of flying buttresses. When the piers were somewhat relieved of the roof load by the thick walls, they could be made exceedingly slender. There is an effect of gracious winsomeness in certain Plantagenet churches, to be described only by such words as “fairylike” and “Saracenic.” The transient perfect moment of the art of northern France was seized and rendered by the curving transept at Soissons, an ideal vision of the Beyond. In southwestern France the first, fine, careless rapture nothing can recapture is to be found in St. Serge at Angers, of lesser genius than Soissons, but, like it, possessed of an enthrallment that is enduring.
Often, a Plantagenet church looks very plain on the outside, which is a striking contrast to the airy beauty of its interior. This is mainly due to structural reasons, making it quite sensible. The pressure of a bombé vault isn't fully concentrated on the branching ribs, piers, and buttresses; a part of it is supported by the outer walls. As a result, these walls were made thick and only had lancet windows; with such walls, there was no need for flying buttresses. When the piers had some relief from the roof load thanks to the thick walls, they could be made very slender. There’s a graceful charm in some Plantagenet churches that can only be described as “fairylike” and “Saracenic.” The fleeting perfect moment of northern French art was captured in the curving transept at Soissons, representing an ideal vision of the Beyond. In southwestern France, one can find the first, fine, carefree beauty that nothing can replicate in St. Serge at Angers, which may not have the same genius as Soissons, but like it, possesses a lasting enchantment.
A mon avis, ceux qui n’ont pas au moins le tourment religieux ignorent la moitié de la vie, et la plus belle, la moitié de la pitié. Un esprit est bien incomplet s’il ne s’élève pas jusqu’à sa destinée, et un cœur est bien faible s’il n’a que des motifs humains d’agir, de se contraindre, et de se donner ou de pardonner.—René Bazin (born in Angers, 1850).
In my opinion, those who don’t experience at least some religious struggle miss out on half of life, and the most beautiful part of it, the half that involves compassion. A mind is quite incomplete if it doesn’t reach for its purpose, and a heart is pretty weak if it only has human reasons to act, to hold back, and to give or forgive.—René Bazin (born in Angers, 1850).
No city in southwestern France is a more satisfactory center for a comparative study of Plantagenet Gothic than Angers—the old Black Angers of history, which owed its importance not to any pre-eminence of site, but to the powerful line whose cradle land it was.
No city in southwestern France is a better hub for comparing Plantagenet Gothic than Angers—the historic Black Angers, which gained its significance not from its location, but from the influential line that originated there.
Each phase of the regional school of Gothic can be found in Angers. In the tower of St. Aubin, a vestige of an ancient abbey named after a VI-century bishop of the city, is a ribbed cupola, typical of the incubating period of the school.[185] It is more a cupola than a Gothic vault. The stones are laid horizontally in concentric rings, and the ribs are more decorative than structural, being in part embedded in the infilling. The abbot who erected it ruled from 1127 to 1154.
Each stage of the regional Gothic school can be seen in Angers. In the tower of St. Aubin, a remnant of an ancient abbey named after a 6th-century bishop of the city, is a ribbed dome, typical of the developing phase of the school.[185] It's more of a dome than a Gothic vault. The stones are arranged horizontally in concentric circles, and the ribs are more for decoration than support, being partially embedded in the infilling. The abbot who built it was in charge from 1127 to 1154.
The First Period of the Gothic of Anjou is represented at Angers by a masterpiece of elemental force—the nave of the cathedral. Three huge so-called domical vaults, truly Gothic in construction, span the sixty-foot unaisled nave of St. Maurice. The stones are laid parallel with the groin line of each triangular panel between the intersecting ribs. Those diagonals are needlessly heavy, for the builders were still experimenting. The crown of each vault section is ten feet higher than the framing arches—wall arch and transverse arch. The exceptional span of Angers’ three massive vaults is due to a reconstruction of the nave undertaken in the XII century, at which time the side aisles of the Romanesque cathedral were eliminated and the entire width of the edifice thrown into an unobstructed hall.
The First Period of the Gothic of Anjou is represented at Angers by a stunning example of raw power—the nave of the cathedral. Three massive domical vaults, genuinely Gothic in design, stretch across the sixty-foot unaisled nave of St. Maurice. The stones are arranged parallel to the groin line of each triangular panel between the crossing ribs. Those diagonal ribs are unnecessarily heavy, as the builders were still trying things out. The peak of each vault section is ten feet higher than the supporting arches—wall arch and transverse arch. The remarkable span of Angers’ three massive vaults is thanks to a renovation of the nave that took place in the 12th century, where the side aisles of the Romanesque cathedral were removed, creating a completely open hall.
Mr. John Bilson, the eminent English archæologist, belittles the influence of the cupola church in Angevin Gothic, the shape of whose vaults he attributes to a structural cause. He thinks that the extreme width of Angers’ nave made it essential to raise the keystone above the crowns of transverse and wall arches in order to prevent its settling. The diagonals were made more obtuse than the equilateral framing arches lest they might tower too high. Given the form adopted for the arches, the bombé vault web resulted inevitably. Arch curves determine the forms of a vault. None the less is M. Berthelé’s account of the Plantagenet school sound both ethnically and æsthetically. The Angevin architect chose to persist in the use of bombé vaults over narrow spans where there was no structural need to raise the keystone.
Mr. John Bilson, the renowned English archaeologist, downplays the impact of the cupola church in Angevin Gothic, claiming that the shape of its vaults is due to structural reasons. He believes that the wide nave of Angers required raising the keystone above the tops of the transverse and wall arches to prevent settling. The diagonals were made more obtuse than the equilateral framing arches to avoid them being too tall. Given the shape chosen for the arches, the bombé vault web was a natural result. The curves of the arches dictate the shapes of a vault. Nevertheless, M. Berthelé’s description of the Plantagenet school is sound both ethnically and aesthetically. The Angevin architect chose to continue using bombé vaults over narrow spans even when there was no structural need to raise the keystone.
A succession of cathedrals had stood on the site of Angers’ actual church. To that of the IV century, St. Martin, Gaul’s apostle, presented relics of St. Maurice and his legion of Theban soldiers. A Merovingian cathedral mentioned by Gregory of Tours was succeeded by a Carolingian basilica, and after the year 1000 the chief church of Angers was rebuilt several times as Romanesque. A dedication occurred in 1030. In 1032 the cathedral was wiped out by a fire caused by that remarkable personage, Fulk Nerra, the Black Falcon, who raised Anjou from an insignificant under-fief to be one of the chief powers in France.[186] To atone for his feudal excesses, Fulk built many shrines and made many pilgrimages; in Palestine, with the same melodramatic instinct for the picturesque which his descendant, Cœur-de-Lion, was to display, he walked barefooted in the streets of Jerusalem, flagellated by his own servitors, as he lamented, “Lord be merciful to a perjured, unfaithful Christian wandering far from his native land.”
A series of cathedrals have stood on the site of Angers’ current church. In the 4th century, St. Martin, the apostle of Gaul, presented relics of St. Maurice and his legion of Theban soldiers. A Merovingian cathedral mentioned by Gregory of Tours was replaced by a Carolingian basilica, and after the year 1000, the main church of Angers was rebuilt several times in the Romanesque style. A dedication took place in 1030. In 1032, the cathedral was destroyed by a fire caused by the notable figure, Fulk Nerra, the Black Falcon, who elevated Anjou from a minor fiefdom to one of the major powers in France.[186] To make up for his feudal excesses, Fulk built many shrines and undertook numerous pilgrimages; in Palestine, with the same dramatic flair for the picturesque that his descendant, Richard the Lionheart, would later show, he walked barefoot in the streets of Jerusalem, whipped by his own servants, as he lamented, “Lord, be merciful to a perjured, unfaithful Christian wandering far from his homeland.”
All over Anjou, and in Touraine, Fulk III put up abbey churches and castles; “the great builder,” he was called. One day, from his castle on the rock of Angers, his falcon eyes saw a dove fluttering over a certain spot beyond the river, and there he founded the abbey of St. Nicholas in 1020, and his wife at that period (he had a succession of wives, one of whom he is said to have killed) founded a nunnery close by to which was once attached the church of the Trinité. In the XVI century St. Nicholas was called Ronceray, because a bramble-rose insisted on pushing its way up through the choir’s pavement.[187] A superman was Fulk the Black, highly dowered intellectually, with enormous capacity for organization, but of shameless wickedness, calculating, subtle, unscrupulous as to the means by which he pursued his designs, and of demoniac temper—marked traits in his race from generation to generation.
All across Anjou and in Touraine, Fulk III built abbey churches and castles; he was known as “the great builder.” One day, from his castle on the rock of Angers, his sharp eyes spotted a dove fluttering over a certain spot beyond the river, and there he founded the abbey of St. Nicholas in 1020. At that time, his wife (he had several wives, and one of them is said to have been killed by him) established a nunnery nearby, which was once connected to the church of the Trinité. In the 16th century, St. Nicholas was referred to as Ronceray because a bramble-rose insisted on pushing its way up through the choir's floor.[187] Fulk the Black was like a superman, very gifted intellectually, with a huge ability to organize, but he was shamelessly wicked, calculating, subtle, and unscrupulous in the methods he used to achieve his goals, displaying a demoniac temper—a character trait that marked his family through generations.
Vestiges of the cathedral of Angers which rose after the fire of 1032, and in which Urban II preached the First Crusade, are in the actual nave, built by Bishop Ulger[188] (1125-49). He taught in the cathedral school, which school was the nucleus of the present University of Angers. His successor, Bishop Normand de Doué (1149-53), at his own expense, substituted for the timber roof of the new nave its massive Angevin vaults. When we recall that only fifteen years earlier Abbot Suger, who started Gothic architecture on its triumphal career, was building the heavy diagonals to be seen in the antechurch at St. Denis, we can understand what pioneers were the builders of southwest France in the use of the cardinal organ of the new system.
The remains of the cathedral of Angers, which was built after the fire of 1032 and where Urban II preached the First Crusade, are found in the current nave, constructed by Bishop Ulger[188] (1125-49). He taught at the cathedral school, which became the basis for what is now the University of Angers. His successor, Bishop Normand de Doué (1149-53), at his own cost, replaced the wooden roof of the new nave with its impressive Angevin vaults. Considering that just fifteen years earlier, Abbot Suger, who initiated Gothic architecture, was building the heavy diagonals visible in the antechurch at St. Denis, we can appreciate how pioneering the builders of southwestern France were in utilizing the key elements of the new architectural system.
Angers Cathedral continued building during the final years of the XII century, under Bishop Raoul de Beaumont (1177-97), who erected the southern arm of the transept and added a short choir; the city walls at that period prevented the farther extension of the apse. Along the west façade, the same prelate built a spacious porch, twenty-five feet deep, which stood till 1806, when, in spite of episcopal protest, the civic authorities tore it down rather than trouble to repair it. Sorely does the western entrance need that softening portico. Angers’ portal images are of the same archaic column-statue type as those at Chartres’ western doors, and here, too, in the tympanum is a Byzantine Christ in an elliptical aureole, surrounded by the symbols of the evangelists. Bishop Raoul de Beaumont came of one of the illustrious races of crusaders, statesmen, and prelates, the ancienne chevalerie in which France was so prolific for centuries. A XIII-century Beaumont, marshal of France, stood by Joinville in voting against the knight’s return to Europe until they had redeemed their servitors from captivity; a XIV-century Beaumont was instrumental in giving Dauphiny to France; a Beaumont in the XVIII century was the archbishop of Paris, who warned the nation that if it de-Christianized itself it would be denationalized. Bishop Raoul’s nephew, Guillaume de Beaumont, became bishop of Angers, and in 1236 donated land from his garden for the erection of the northern arm of the transept. Eight-branch Plantagenet vault sections cover transept and choir.
Angers Cathedral was still under construction in the late 12th century, led by Bishop Raoul de Beaumont (1177-97), who built the southern arm of the transept and added a small choir; the city walls at that time prevented further expansion of the apse. On the west façade, the same bishop constructed a large porch, twenty-five feet deep, which remained until 1806, when, despite opposition from church leaders, the city authorities demolished it instead of repairing it. The western entrance really needs that welcoming portico. The portal images at Angers are similar to the old column-statue style found at the western doors of Chartres, and here too, the tympanum features a Byzantine Christ in an elliptical halo, surrounded by the symbols of the evangelists. Bishop Raoul de Beaumont came from one of the prominent families of crusaders, statesmen, and bishops, the ancienne chevalerie from which France had many such figures for centuries. A 13th-century Beaumont, a marshal of France, sided with Joinville in voting against the knights returning to Europe until they had freed their servants from captivity; a 14th-century Beaumont played a key role in bringing Dauphiny into France; a Beaumont in the 18th century served as the archbishop of Paris, who warned the nation that if it stripped itself of Christianity, it would lose its national identity. Bishop Raoul’s nephew, Guillaume de Beaumont, became bishop of Angers and in 1236 donated land from his garden for the construction of the northern arm of the transept. Eight-branch Plantagenet vault sections cover the transept and choir.
The choir of Angers Cathedral was extended after 1274, when permission was obtained from St. Louis’ brother, Charles d’Anjou, to demolish part of the city ramparts. Heavy buttresses mark the junction of the old part and the new. By the extension of the eastern limb the church became a bold Latin cross. Secluded nooks in dim religious corners are not to be found in these unaisled churches of southwestern France. In them is no curving procession path, no picturesque perspective effects. Though they possess their own quiet nobility, seldom does their grave reverence rise to sublimity. The exterior of Angers Cathedral was made equally simple, without radiating apse chapels or flying buttresses.
The choir of Angers Cathedral was expanded after 1274 when permission was granted by St. Louis’ brother, Charles d’Anjou, to tear down part of the city walls. Thick buttresses mark the connection between the old section and the new. With the addition to the eastern end, the church took on a striking Latin cross shape. You won’t find secluded nooks in dimly lit religious corners in these unaisled churches of southwestern France. They lack a winding procession path or picturesque views. Although they have their own quiet dignity, their serious reverence rarely reaches a level of grandeur. The outside of Angers Cathedral is also quite simple, with no radiating apse chapels or flying buttresses.
The cathedral’s nave boasts some windows which were donated before 1180 by a generous canon. Borders of the St. Denis glass were repeated in them. The third window (north), which has an inimitable deep blue background and a wide border, relates St. Catherine’s life; the fourth portrays, the Burial of the Virgin; and the fifth is devoted to St. Vincent. Probably local workers allied with the St. Denis school made these lights. In the nave’s southern wall is a good Renaissance lancet, transferred here from a ruined château. When the choir was completed, its windows were filled with glass of the Paris school a century later than the nave’s windows. The transept roses are Flamboyant Gothic.
The cathedral’s nave features several windows that were donated before 1180 by a generous canon. The borders of the St. Denis glass were replicated in them. The third window (on the north side), which has a unique deep blue background and a wide border, tells the story of St. Catherine’s life; the fourth depicts the Burial of the Virgin; and the fifth is dedicated to St. Vincent. These windows were likely made by local craftsmen associated with the St. Denis school. On the southern wall of the nave, there is a beautiful Renaissance lancet that was moved here from a ruined château. When the choir was completed, its windows were filled with glass from the Paris school, made a century later than those in the nave. The transept roses are Flamboyant Gothic.
Angers Cathedral tops a high hill, so that its towers are landmarks, visible for thirty miles around. Its west façade has been so reconstructed that it now presents the ungainly proportions of the church fronts in Hanover and Brunswick. After a fire, in 1516, when the towers were renewed, stone spires were added by the well-known Flamboyant Gothic master, Rouland Le Roux, who elaborated the frontispiece of Rouen Cathedral. Then, in 1533, a third tower was built between the original two. One of its walls rested on the west façade, but the other three have mere arches for foundations, so that the tower hangs in space, as it were, the kind of feat applauded by the tourist guide, but which the true lover of structural sincerity can dispense with. Jean de l’Espine, a local master of whom Angers is proud, designed the curious central tower, and two sculptors who had worked on groups at Solesmes made the façades eight warrior images which have been restored.
Angers Cathedral sits atop a high hill, making its towers visible for thirty miles around. Its west façade has been reconstructed to resemble the awkward proportions of church fronts in Hanover and Brunswick. After a fire in 1516, the towers were rebuilt, and stone spires were added by the famous Flamboyant Gothic master, Rouland Le Roux, who also worked on the front of Rouen Cathedral. Then, in 1533, a third tower was added between the original two. One of its walls is supported by the west façade, while the other three rest on mere arches, giving the tower an illusion of floating in space, which the tourist guide applauds but the true admirer of structural integrity might question. Jean de l’Espine, a local master that Angers takes pride in, designed the unique central tower, and two sculptors who had worked on groups at Solesmes created the eight warrior images on the façades, which have since been restored.
Scarcely was Angers Cathedral newly dressed when came the tragic year 1562, to wreck the gathered treasures of generations. The Huguenots broke into the transept from the bishop’s garden—and ever since that door has been walled up in disgrace. For a fortnight they intrenched themselves in the church, looting its treasures, destroying tombs and images. More than a hundred splendid tombs lined the walls of the church. The neo-classic canons of the XVII and XVIII centuries lost so entirely the comprehension of the national art that they sent priceless bronze tombs to the smelting pot, even that of Bishop Raoul de Beaumont, the builder. A silver-gilt altar given by Bishop Normand de Doué who spanned the nave with its vaults of magnificent proportions, was sold, as was another altar, the gift of Bishop Guillaume de Beaumont, and with the proceeds was erected the pseudo-classic baldaquin over the high altar. They did away with the lower panels of the precious XII-century windows in order that a new metal balustrade might show to better effect. In a final attack of bon goût, those worthy canons proceeded to whitewash the entire inside of the cathedral, including the tombs and statues. The Revolution broke up the elaborate funereal monument of good King René, on which several generations had worked; Jacques Morel, who sculptured the Souvigny sarcophagus, was putting final touches to it when he died in Angers in 1453. For years after 1793 its chiseled stones were used by the city’s masons to adorn chimney pieces in civilians’ houses.
Scarcely had Angers Cathedral been renovated when the tragic year 1562 arrived, destroying the accumulated treasures of generations. The Huguenots broke into the transept from the bishop’s garden—and ever since, that door has been sealed up in shame. For two weeks, they barricaded themselves in the church, looting its treasures and destroying tombs and images. More than a hundred magnificent tombs lined the walls of the church. The neo-classical canons of the 17th and 18th centuries completely lost touch with national art, sending priceless bronze tombs to the smelting pot, including that of Bishop Raoul de Beaumont, the builder. A silver-gilt altar donated by Bishop Normand de Doué, who created the nave with its stunning vaults, was sold along with another altar, a gift from Bishop Guillaume de Beaumont, and with the proceeds, they built the pseudo-classical baldaquin over the high altar. They removed the lower panels of the precious 12th-century windows so that a new metal balustrade could stand out more effectively. In a final act of bad taste, those worthy canons decided to whitewash the entire interior of the cathedral, including the tombs and statues. The Revolution dismantled the elaborate funeral monument of good King René, which had been worked on by several generations; Jacques Morel, who sculpted the Souvigny sarcophagus, was putting the finishing touches on it when he passed away in Angers in 1453. For years after 1793, its carved stones were used by the city’s masons to decorate mantelpieces in civilian homes.
Anjou, after returning to the French crown in the XIV century, was again given as an appanage to a king’s son, to Louis,[189] son of Jean le Bon, and brother of those art-loving Valois princes, Charles V and the Dukes of Berry and Burgundy. Louis I d’Anjou had made for his palace chapel at Angers, in 1378, some tapestries telling the Apocalypse wonders. His grandson, good King René, presented them to the cathedral, where first they were hung for a visit of Louis XI. In the days when the cathedral walls were being whitewashed those one hundred and fifty yards of textile art, made by Parisian weavers after Flemish models—and the oldest-dated tapestries extant—were put up for sale, but, not finding a purchaser, were used to cover greenhouses and to line stables. When in 1843 the bishop of Angers was able to rescue a hundred yards of the Apocalypse, he was mocked for his taste for rubbish. Three hundred francs was all he paid for over sixty sections of the embroidery, and when one section was recently loaned to the exhibition at Ghent it was insured for forty thousand dollars.
Anjou, after returning to the French crown in the 14th century, was once again given as a fief to a king's son, specifically Louis,[189] son of Jean le Bon, and brother of those art-loving Valois princes, Charles V and the Dukes of Berry and Burgundy. In 1378, Louis I d’Anjou created some tapestries depicting the wonders of the Apocalypse for his palace chapel at Angers. His grandson, good King René, donated them to the cathedral, where they were first displayed during a visit from Louis XI. During a period when the cathedral walls were being whitewashed, those one hundred and fifty yards of textile art—made by Parisian weavers inspired by Flemish designs and the oldest-dated tapestries still in existence—were put up for sale. However, when no buyers came forward, they were used to cover greenhouses and line stables. In 1843, the bishop of Angers managed to rescue a hundred yards of the Apocalypse tapestries, only to be ridiculed for his taste in what was deemed rubbish. He paid just three hundred francs for over sixty sections of the embroidery, and when one section was recently loaned for an exhibition in Ghent, it was insured for forty thousand dollars.
Louis II d’Anjou married Yolande of Aragon, a statesman-like woman of sound character and good taste, and together they built the pavilion that stands within the fortress inclosure, and the chapel adjoining it (finished in 1411), whose bombé vaults are carried on ribs of prismatic profile. Yolande’s two sons, Charles and René, ruled Anjou. The claims of Louis XI to the duchy caused his uncle, King René, to spend his latter years in Provence, but never did he forget his birthplace, and to Angers Cathedral he sent the green marble Roman bath mounted on lions, now used as a holy-water font. René wrote poems and plays, composed church music, painted and illuminated, and throughout a long life of misfortunes proved himself a loyal knight and Christian philosopher. Shortly after his death Anjou returned to the French crown.
Louis II d’Anjou married Yolande of Aragon, a politically savvy woman of strong character and good taste. Together, they built the pavilion inside the fortress and the adjoining chapel (finished in 1411), which features vaulted ceilings supported by ribs with a prismatic design. Yolande’s two sons, Charles and René, ruled Anjou. Louis XI's claims to the duchy forced his uncle, King René, to spend his later years in Provence, but he never forgot his birthplace. He sent a green marble Roman bath, mounted on lions, to Angers Cathedral, which is now used as a holy-water font. René wrote poems and plays, composed church music, painted, and illuminated manuscripts. Throughout a long life filled with hardships, he proved himself to be a dedicated knight and a Christian philosopher. Shortly after his death, Anjou returned to the French crown.
The ramparts within whose somber walls was the palace[190] of the counts and dukes of Anjou’s three lines of rulers, was constructed by St. Louis, from 1228 to 1238, though begun by his grandfather, Philippe-Auguste. For the precincts of his huge fortress St. Louis was compelled to take lands from the congregation of Toussaint. With the compensation money the religious rebuilt their church and roofed it with a Plantagenet Gothic vault of the elaborate final phase of the regional school. The interlocking ribs had three lines of keystones, like the vault of Airvault (Deux-Sèvres).
The walls around the palace of the counts and dukes of Anjou were built by St. Louis between 1228 and 1238, although his grandfather, Philippe-Auguste, started it earlier. To create his massive fortress, St. Louis had to take land from the Toussaint congregation. With the compensation money, the church was rebuilt and topped with an elaborate Plantagenet Gothic vault from the final phase of the regional style. The interlocking ribs featured three lines of keystones, similar to the vault at Airvault (Deux-Sèvres).
Toussaint had been founded in the XI century by a pious canon, as a refuge for the poor and stricken, and the duty of its clergy was to visit the sick and bury the dead. That every forlorn soul might feel under the protection of his own chosen patron saint, the name All Saints was chosen. The Revolution suppressed the asylum of charity and in 1815 Prussian cavalry were stabled in the neglected church. The roofless nave now serves as an archæological museum. The vaults of the choir were made early in the XVIII century on the same model as the nave’s XIII-century Plantagenet roof.
Toussaint was established in the 11th century by a devoted canon as a haven for the poor and suffering, with the clergy's responsibility to care for the sick and bury the dead. To ensure that every lost soul could feel supported by their own chosen patron saint, it was named All Saints. The Revolution shut down the charity asylum, and in 1815, Prussian cavalry were housed in the abandoned church. The roofless nave now functions as an archaeological museum. The choir's vaults were constructed in the early 18th century, following the same design as the 13th-century Plantagenet roof of the nave.
The fortress built by St. Louis on the Toussaint property was saved from demolition by the seneschal of Anjou, who, when Henry III’s orders came to destroy the ramparts, had the tact to proceed in so leisurely a fashion that after seven years, when he was able to get the order revoked, little more was destroyed than the upper stories of the towers. A kneeling image of that truly patriotic seneschal, Donadieu de Puycharic, is now in the museum installed in the XII-century hospital of St. Jean.
The fortress built by St. Louis on the Toussaint property was saved from being torn down by the seneschal of Anjou, who, when Henry III's orders came to demolish the ramparts, cleverly took his time so that after seven years, when he managed to get the order overturned, only the upper stories of the towers were mostly destroyed. A kneeling statue of that truly patriotic seneschal, Donadieu de Puycharic, is now in the museum located in the 12th-century hospital of St. Jean.
That hospital of St. Jean was begun by another enlightened seneschal of Anjou, but before long (c. 1180) Henry Plantagenet undertook to finish and endow it, some say to expiate the assassination of St. Thomas Becket. The oldest parts of St. John’s establishment are the granary and the north and east corridors of the cloister; the latter’s south gallery was built (1538) by Angers’ local architect, Jean de l’Espine. The hospital hall was undertaken between 1174 and 1188, and at first was roofed in wood.
That hospital of St. Jean was started by another enlightened official from Anjou, but soon after (around 1180) Henry Plantagenet took over to complete and fund it, with some saying it was to atone for the assassination of St. Thomas Becket. The oldest parts of St. John’s establishment are the granary and the north and east corridors of the cloister; the south gallery was built (1538) by the local architect of Angers, Jean de l’Espine. The hospital hall was constructed between 1174 and 1188 and was initially roofed with wood.
Shortly after 1200 the Knights of St. John Hospitalier of Jerusalem were put in charge of Angers hospital, and governed it till 1232. During their occupancy the hall was covered by its twenty-four small cuplike sections, each of which is carried on four slender ribs. The effect of the three aisles of little bombé vaults is alluring. The slender torus usually distinguished the eight-branch Plantagenet type, and its use here for simple diagonals is an exception. The chapel attached to the hospital was also built in two campaigns; over part of it was employed the eight-rib vault, while portions were roofed in the more complicated Plantagenet way.
Shortly after 1200, the Knights of St. John Hospitalier of Jerusalem took over management of Angers hospital, and they ran it until 1232. During their time there, the hall was covered by its twenty-four small cup-like sections, each supported by four slender ribs. The three aisles of little bombé vaults create an inviting effect. The slender torus usually marked the eight-branch Plantagenet style, and its use here for simple diagonals is an exception. The chapel connected to the hospital was also built in two stages; part of it featured the eight-rib vault, while other sections were covered using the more complex Plantagenet style.
The singular grace of St. Jean’s hospital hall, with its slender columns and multiple little coupoliformes vaults, inspired the small choir of St. Serge, which many hold to be the most exquisite example of Plantagenet Gothic. The church[191] once formed part of an ancient Benedictine monastery named for the pope, who had instituted the triple chanting of the Agnus Dei in the Mass. Hitherto the Angevin masonry roof had been applied to churches without side aisles. The ground plan of the cupola church had been adhered to. The Plantagenet architects now began to copy another regional model, Poitou’s Romanesque church, whose side aisles were almost as high as the principal span they buttressed; hence the light came entirely from the lateral corridors. One roof covered all.
The unique beauty of St. Jean’s hospital hall, with its slim columns and numerous small dome-like vaults, inspired the small choir of St. Serge, which many consider to be the most beautiful example of Plantagenet Gothic. The church[191] was once part of an ancient Benedictine monastery named after the pope, who established the triple chanting of the Agnus Dei in the Mass. Until now, Angevin masonry roofs had been used for churches without side aisles. The original layout of the cupola church was maintained. The Plantagenet architects began to emulate another regional model, Poitou’s Romanesque church, where the side aisles were nearly as tall as the main span they supported; therefore, the light came entirely from the side corridors. One roof covered everything.
Poitiers Cathedral was among the first to use Poitou’s pre-Gothic plan in Plantagenet architecture. The choir of St. Serge developed the same idea in its own small, gracious way. No doubt the harmonious effect obtained in St. John’s hospital by the three aisles of bombé vaults inspired the architect of St. Serge, who built his choir, from 1220 to 1225. Six fragile-looking columns, thirty feet in height, support with ease the twelve little Plantagenet vaults, which are of the eight-branch type, with elaborate keystones, and minute figures at the intersection of the ribs and the framing arches. At the choir’s square eastern end the ribs ramify considerably around the windows. It is impossible to say wherein lies the witchery of this small monument—all elegance and lightness. Some call it Saracenic because of its exotic loveliness. Its science of construction is perfect. Certainly some individual genius designed it.
Poitiers Cathedral was one of the first to utilize Poitou’s pre-Gothic design in Plantagenet architecture. The choir of St. Serge developed this concept in its own small, graceful way. The harmonious effect created in St. John's hospital by the three aisles of bombé vaults undoubtedly inspired the architect of St. Serge, who constructed his choir from 1220 to 1225. Six delicate-looking columns, standing thirty feet tall, easily support the twelve small Plantagenet vaults, which are of the eight-branch type, featuring intricate keystones and tiny figures at the intersections of the ribs and framing arches. At the choir's square eastern end, the ribs spread out significantly around the windows. It’s hard to pinpoint what gives this small monument its charm—all elegance and lightness. Some refer to it as Saracenic due to its exotic beauty. Its construction techniques are flawless. Clearly, it was designed by some exceptional talent.
SAUMUR[192]
SAUMUR __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
L’ancienne Grand’ Rue de Saumur ... la rue montueuse qui mène au château, obscure en quelques endroits, remarquable par la sonorité de son petit pavé caillouteux, toujours propre et sec ... la paix de ses maisons impénétrables, noirs, et silencieuses—l’histoire de France est là, tout entière.—Balzac, Eugénie Grandet (whose scene is Saumur).
L'ancienne Grand' Rue de Saumur ... the steep street leading to the castle, dark in a few spots, notable for the sound of its small, gravelly cobblestones, always clean and dry ... the peacefulness of its impenetrable, dark, and silent houses—there lies the entire history of France.—Balzac, Eugénie Grandet (whose scene is Saumur).
Close by Angers lies Saumur on the Loire, “well-loved, well-set city.” It comprises, with its environs, another center for the study of Plantagenet Gothic. The town is topped by its castle, now in main part of the XIV century. In its former great hall, built by Henry Plantagenet, took place, in 1241, that celebrated fête called the Non-Pareille which Joinville has described. His memory of it was so fresh, after sixty years, that he could tell the color of Louis IX’s robe and surcoat; perhaps it was the first time that Joinville saw the saint-king who was to become his closest friend. He was not yet twenty when he accompanied his suzerain of Champagne, Thibaut IV, the maker of songs, to the feast held in Saumur château for the knighting of Alphonse of Poitiers, the king’s brother.
Close to Angers is Saumur on the Loire, a “well-loved, well-placed city.” It offers, along with its surroundings, another hub for studying Plantagenet Gothic. The town is crowned by its castle, mostly from the 14th century. In its former great hall, built by Henry Plantagenet, the famous celebration known as the Non-Pareille took place in 1241, which Joinville has recounted. His memories were so vivid, even after sixty years, that he could describe the color of Louis IX’s robe and surcoat; it might have been the first time Joinville saw the saint-king who would become his closest friend. He was not yet twenty when he accompanied his lord of Champagne, Thibaut IV, the songwriter, to the feast held at Saumur castle for the knighting of Alphonse of Poitiers, the king’s brother.
The Plantagenet Gothic Choir of St. Serge at Angers
(1220-1225)
The Plantagenet Gothic Choir of St. Serge in Angers
(1220-1225)
The bodyguard of St. Louis were a Bourbon, a Coucy, and a Beaujeu, behind whom stood ranged a host of barons and knights in silk and cloth of gold. The future king of Portugal and a prince from Thuringia, the son of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, waited on the table of the queen-mother, Blanche of Castile, who, when she heard the name of the princeling from beyond the Rhine, called him to her side and placed a kiss upon his brow, since there, she said, his saintly mother must often have blessed him. Jealous passions, too, burned behind the glitter and show. Isabelle of Angoulême, the widow of John Lackland, married now to a Lusignan who had to render homage to his new suzerain, cried out, imperiously, “Am I a waiting woman that I should stand while they sit at ease?” and she proceeded to stir up war.
The bodyguard of St. Louis included a Bourbon, a Coucy, and a Beaujeu, surrounded by a crowd of barons and knights dressed in silk and gold. The future king of Portugal and a prince from Thuringia, the son of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, served at the table of the queen-mother, Blanche of Castile. When she heard the name of the young prince from beyond the Rhine, she called him to her side and kissed his brow, saying that his saintly mother must have often blessed him there. Jealousy, too, simmered beneath the glitz and glamour. Isabelle of Angoulême, the widow of John Lackland and now married to a Lusignan who had to pay homage to his new ruler, demanded, “Am I supposed to stand while they sit comfortably?” and she went on to incite war.
Below the castle of Saumur lies the XII-century unaisled church of St. Pierre, whose masonry roof belongs to different phases of Angevin Gothic. Over the transept-crossing is a ribbed cupola without distinct pedestal, inspired evidently by the small unribbed cupola of Fontevrault’s crossing. The stones are laid in horizontal concentric courses like a true dome. Though archaic in structure, St. Pierre’s croisée is of skilled execution. It belongs to the last third of the XII century.
Below the castle of Saumur lies the 12th-century unaisled church of St. Pierre, featuring a masonry roof that reflects various phases of Angevin Gothic style. Above the transept crossing is a ribbed cupola without a distinct pedestal, clearly inspired by the small unribbed cupola of Fontevrault’s crossing. The stones are laid in horizontal concentric courses, resembling a true dome. Although it has an archaic structure, St. Pierre’s croisée is expertly crafted. It dates back to the last third of the 12th century.
Over the choir and transept are the heavy diagonals of the First Period of the Plantagenet development, and the nave’s vault sections are carried on the eight branches of the Second Period. Powerful transverse arches separate the wide, square bays, and against the inclosure walls are other strong arches beneath the windows. The walls of St. Pierre’s choir are not parallel, but draw closer together at the eastern end, for undoubtedly there was much intentional asymmetry in mediæval monuments. The Flamboyant day gave to St. Pierre its well-carved choir stalls and some exquisitely toned Flemish tapestries executed by local weavers.
Over the choir and transept are the bold diagonals from the early days of the Plantagenet era, and the vault sections of the nave rest on the eight branches from the later period. Strong transverse arches separate the wide, square bays, with additional robust arches supporting the walls beneath the windows. The walls of St. Pierre’s choir aren't parallel; they converge at the eastern end, reflecting a clear intention for asymmetry in medieval monuments. The Flamboyant period contributed to St. Pierre with its intricately carved choir stalls and beautifully designed Flemish tapestries made by local weavers.
Other superb tapestries adorn Notre Dame-de-Nantilly, a church patronized by Louis XI, who added to it the south aisle and a Flamboyant oratory. The body of the edifice belongs to the first half of the XII century; its barrel vault is braced by slightly pointed transverse arches. At the transept-crossing is a ribbed cupola, without distinct pedestal, like that of St. Pierre. Against the fourth pier, to the south, is the epitaph which good King René himself composed and set up because of his affection for his old nurse, Dame Tiphaine, for whose soul he begs a paternoster of all who pass by. Against the fifth pier is the Limousin enamel crozier of the archbishop of Tyr, keeper of the seal for St. Louis, who was buried here in his native city in 1266.
Other beautiful tapestries decorate Notre Dame-de-Nantilly, a church supported by Louis XI, who added the south aisle and a Flamboyant oratory to it. The main structure dates back to the first half of the 12th century; its barrel vault is supported by slightly pointed transverse arches. At the crossing of the transept is a ribbed dome, without a distinct pedestal, similar to that of St. Pierre. On the fourth pier, to the south, is the epitaph that good King René himself wrote and put up due to his affection for his old nurse, Dame Tiphaine, for whose soul he asks a paternoster from everyone who passes by. On the fifth pier is the Limousin enamel crozier of the archbishop of Tyr, the keeper of the seal for St. Louis, who was buried here in his hometown in 1266.
Behind the Gothic Town Hall is the now unused chapel of St. Jean, a small example of the Third Period of Angevin architecture, when ribs branched considerably; in the square chevet they ramify to the number of twenty.
Behind the Gothic Town Hall is the now unused chapel of St. Jean, a small example of the Third Period of Angevin architecture, when ribs branched considerably; in the square chevet, they spread out to the number of twenty.
A mile down the river lies what is left of St. Florent-les-Saumur[193] re-established by Fulk Nerra when he conquered Saumur in 1026. Its narthex, now the chapel of a nuns’ community, shows one of the earliest uses of the Plantagenet vault of eight branches (1170-1200). At St. Florent was living the daughter of the exiled poet-duke of Orléans, with her young husband, the Duke of Alençon, when one day in 1429 word came that at Chinon, near by, where Charles VII was staying, had arrived an inspired maid, and young d’Alençon, soon to be Jeanne d’Arc’s lieutenant—her gentil duc—galloped along the banks of the Loire to see the wonder. So delighted was he with Jeanne’s management of spear and horse that he presented her with a palfrey, and she came to St. Florent-les-Saumur for a four days’ visit to his duchess, promising[194] that anxious young wife that she would bring back her husband safe and sound.
A mile down the river is what’s left of St. Florent-les-Saumur[193] which was re-established by Fulk Nerra when he conquered Saumur in 1026. Its narthex, now the chapel of a community of nuns, features one of the earliest uses of the Plantagenet vault with eight branches (1170-1200). At St. Florent lived the daughter of the exiled poet-duke of Orléans, along with her young husband, the Duke of Alençon. One day in 1429, news arrived that an inspired maid had come to Chinon, nearby, where Charles VII was staying. Young d’Alençon, who would soon become Jeanne d’Arc’s lieutenant—her gentil duc—galloped along the banks of the Loire to see the wonder. He was so impressed with Jeanne’s skill with the spear and horse that he gave her a palfrey, and she visited St. Florent-les-Saumur for four days to see his duchess, promising[194] that she would bring back her husband safe and sound.
Fontevrault’s abbatial, where culminated the art of the cupola church, is the chief excursion to be made from Saumur. It can be reached by a ten-mile trolley ride. Only three miles from Fontevrault, and a pleasant cross-country walk from it, is the beautiful Plantagenet Gothic church of St. Martin, at Candes,[195] crowned with battlements, on the highland above the confluence of the Vienne and the Loire. In the ancient abbey here St. Martin died as the IV century closed. A chapel to the north of the choir marks the site of his cell, and its window recalls the pious piracy of his loyal parishioners of Tours, who claimed his body for burial, but who, knowing that Candes would not give it up, came by night and stole it away; and quite rightly they had judged, for when, centuries later, the Northmen invasions forced Tours to send its great relic for safe-keeping to Auxerre, it took an army of six thousand men to get it back.
Fontevrault’s abbey, which showcases the peak of cupola church design, is the main trip to take from Saumur. You can reach it with a ten-mile trolley ride. Just three miles from Fontevrault, and a nice cross-country walk away, is the stunning Plantagenet Gothic church of St. Martin in Candes,[195] topped with battlements, located on the highland above where the Vienne and the Loire meet. In the ancient abbey here, St. Martin passed away as the 4th century came to an end. A chapel to the north of the choir marks the spot where his cell used to be, and its window remembers the devoted theft by his loyal parishioners of Tours, who took his body for burial but, aware that Candes wouldn’t give it up, came by night and stole it away; and they were right to do so, because centuries later, when the Northmen invasions forced Tours to send its great relic for safe-keeping to Auxerre, it took an army of six thousand men to retrieve it.
The present choir of St. Martin’s at Candes was built in the latter half of the XII century (c. 1180). Fifty years later rose the nave, justly considered one of the most brilliant examples of Plantagenet Gothic architecture, its model, not the unaisled cupola-church, but the Romanesque church of Poitou, whose side aisles are so high that their lancets are the only lighting of the edifice. St. Martin’s hall-like interior of three spacious aisles is inundated with light. The well-proportioned clustered piers rising from pavement to vault-springing are placed considerably out of alignment, and in a number of other arrangements the architect here followed his personal bent. In the western porch the ribs of several Plantagenet vault sections fall on a central pillar.
The current choir of St. Martin’s at Candes was built in the second half of the 12th century (around 1180). Fifty years later, the nave was constructed, and it is rightly considered one of the most outstanding examples of Plantagenet Gothic architecture. Its inspiration was not the single-aisled cupola church but the Romanesque church of Poitou, which has side aisles so high that their lancets provide the only light for the building. The hall-like interior of St. Martin’s, with its three spacious aisles, is filled with light. The well-proportioned clustered piers, rising from the floor to the vault spring, are set significantly out of alignment, and in various other designs, the architect showcased his unique style. In the western porch, the ribs of several Plantagenet vault sections rest on a central pillar.
| Vexilla Regis prodeunt Fulget Crucis mysterium Qua vita mortem pertulit Et morte vitam protulit. |
Abroad the regal banners fly And bear the mystic Cross on high, That Cross whereon Life suffered Death And gave us Life with Dying breath. | |
| Impleta sunt quæ concinit David fideli carmine, Dicendo nationibus Regnavit a ligno Deus. |
That which the prophet-king of old Hath in mysterious verse foretold Is now accomplished whilst we see God ruling nations from a Tree. —Fortunatus, bishop of Poitiers (599-607).[197] |
The noblest Gothic monument due to Henry Plantagenet and Aliénor of Aquitaine is the cathedral church at Poitiers, founded by them in 1162 about the same time that, in Paris, Louis VII witnessed the laying of the corner stone for a new chief church in his capital. Never were contemporary edifices more unlike in their form and their informing spirit. In Notre Dame of Paris breathes the struggle of human existence and that Christian resignation voiced by the XIII-century Franciscan in the Dies Iræ. St. Peter’s Cathedral at Poitiers rings with Christian joy, with the triumphal strains of the hymn composed by its VI-century bishop for the arrival from Constantinople of the True Cross relic. From the hour that the ancient ecclesiastical city marched forth with banners flying to meet the Cross, Poitiers has held it to be a tree of royal honor, not of pathetic agony. Her greatest bishop, St. Hilary, was western Christendom’s champion for the Son’s divinity when the Arian heresy attacked it. Clovis defeated the Arian Visigoths at Poitiers in 508; Charles Martel checked the Mohammedans at Poitiers in 732.
The most impressive Gothic monument created by Henry Plantagenet and Aliénor of Aquitaine is the cathedral church in Poitiers, which they founded in 1162, around the same time that Louis VII in Paris oversaw the laying of the cornerstone for a new main church in his city. The contemporary buildings couldn’t be more different in style and essence. Notre Dame in Paris embodies the struggle of human existence and the Christian acceptance expressed by the 13th-century Franciscan in the Dies Iræ. St. Peter’s Cathedral in Poitiers resonates with Christian joy, echoing the triumphant hymn written by its 6th-century bishop to celebrate the arrival from Constantinople of the True Cross relic. From the moment the ancient ecclesiastical city marched out with banners flying to greet the Cross, Poitiers has regarded it as a symbol of royal honor rather than tragic suffering. Its greatest bishop, St. Hilary, was western Christendom’s defender of the Son’s divinity when the Arian heresy threatened it. Clovis defeated the Arian Visigoths at Poitiers in 508, and Charles Martel stopped the Muslims at Poitiers in 732.
A city’s spiritual history speaks by its monuments. In the high place of honor in Poitiers’ cathedral of St. Peter, hangs a gleaming canticle of translucent mosaic, a window which many hold to be the finest in the world. It celebrates God ruling nations from a tree. It is a passion and a triumph, an agony and an apotheosis. Eight centuries divide the inspiration of the Crucifixion window from St. Hilary’s struggle with Arianism, six centuries from the canticle of Bishop Venantius Fortunatus, but Hilary’s affirmation and the rejoicing of Fortunatus live in it, and through it have been passed on to us.
A city's spiritual history is reflected in its monuments. In the prominent position at Poitiers’ cathedral of St. Peter, there hangs a stunning mosaic window, which many consider to be the finest in the world. It depicts God ruling nations from a tree. It embodies passion and triumph, agony and apotheosis. Eight centuries separate the inspiration behind the Crucifixion window from St. Hilary’s struggle against Arianism, and six centuries from the canticle of Bishop Venantius Fortunatus, but Hilary’s affirmation and Fortunatus’s joy live on in this window, and through it, have been passed down to us.
Poitiers Cathedral is a spacious hall-church illuminated by large lancets that seem to be chanting Alleluias, yet whose piety is plain and robust. It is a church loyal to indigenous art traditions, yet blending those sober Romanesque inheritances of Poitou with the delicate grace of Plantagenet Gothic. Its loveliness is severe, its slenderness is sturdy. St. Peter’s both imposes and allures.
Poitiers Cathedral is a large hall-church filled with light from big lancet windows that seem to sing Alleluias, yet its devotion is straightforward and strong. It stays true to local artistic traditions while combining the serious Romanesque style of Poitou with the delicate elegance of Plantagenet Gothic. Its beauty is striking, and its slenderness is robust. St. Peter's both commands attention and attracts visitors.
Poitiers was the cradle of Aliénor of Aquitaine’s brilliant and debonaire line of troubadours, crusaders, and church builders. Charlemagne gave them the title of Duke of Aquitaine for their services against Islam. The first warrior duke died a hermit at St. Guilhem-le-Désert, which became a Midi pilgrim shrine where, in the Gothic dawn, appeared a very early use of diagonals, profiled like those of the Ile-de-France. A duke of Aquitaine founded Cluny, the greatest building energy of the ages. Another of the dynasty of the Guillaumes aided Bishop Fulbert to build Chartres, and, when fire wiped out Poitiers Cathedral, reconstructed it in Romanesque form. Guillaume VIII and Guillaume IX built at Bordeaux the churches of Ste. Croix, St. Seurin, and St. André. In Poitiers they raised anew Notre Dame-la-Grande and St. Hilaire, and founded Montierneuf,[198] blessed by Urban II in 1096. Aliénor’s grandfather, Guillaume IX, the first-known troubadour, especially favored Fontevrault. Her father was that Guillaume X, with the appetites of eight men, an open boaster of his crimes, whom it took St. Bernard to beat to his knees in penitence, after which he passed out of history in the odor of sanctity as pilgrim to Compostela.
Poitiers was the birthplace of Aliénor of Aquitaine's remarkable and charming line of troubadours, crusaders, and church builders. Charlemagne honored them with the title of Duke of Aquitaine for their contributions against Islam. The first warrior duke died as a hermit in St. Guilhem-le-Désert, which became a pilgrimage site in the Midi where, in the early Gothic period, there was a very early use of diagonal designs, similar to those of the Ile-de-France. A duke of Aquitaine established Cluny, the most significant building project of the era. Another member of the Guillaume dynasty helped Bishop Fulbert construct Chartres, and when a fire destroyed Poitiers Cathedral, he rebuilt it in Romanesque style. Guillaume VIII and Guillaume IX built the churches of Ste. Croix, St. Seurin, and St. André in Bordeaux. In Poitiers, they rebuilt Notre Dame-la-Grande and St. Hilaire, and founded Montierneuf,[198] which was blessed by Urban II in 1096. Aliénor's grandfather, Guillaume IX, the first-known troubadour, had a special fondness for Fontevrault. Her father was Guillaume X, who had the appetites of eight men, openly bragged about his wrongdoings, and it took St. Bernard to humble him in penitence, after which he faded from history with a reputation for sanctity as a pilgrim to Compostela.
With the art of the builder Aliénor’s own links were multiple. When Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves took charge of her as a young bride in Bordeaux, he was raising at Chartres the most beautiful tower in the world. She assisted at St. Denis’ dedication and knew Abbot Suger well; at Vézelay she watched the Burgundians sculpting a portal of paradise. Through all her crowded life, with all her reckless sins upon her, Aliénor was loyal to her own region. She began Poitiers Cathedral in the same decade that she had her favorite son Richard the Lion-hearted installed as ruler of Aquitaine—another troubadour duke—seating him in the abbot’s chair at St. Hilaire’s, according to ancient custom. She blended with her own Poitou’s Romanesque what was choicest in the Gothic art of her Angevin husband.
With the art of building, Aliénor had many connections. When Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves took her in as a young bride in Bordeaux, he was constructing the most beautiful tower in the world at Chartres. She attended the dedication of St. Denis and was familiar with Abbot Suger; at Vézelay, she watched the Burgundians carve a portal of paradise. Throughout her busy life, with all her reckless mistakes, Aliénor remained loyal to her region. She started the construction of Poitiers Cathedral in the same decade that she had her favorite son, Richard the Lion-hearted, appointed as ruler of Aquitaine—another troubadour duke—seating him in the abbot’s chair at St. Hilaire’s, following ancient tradition. She combined the Romanesque style of her own Poitou with the finest Gothic art from her Angevin husband.
Poitiers Cathedral was the prototype of monuments such as Candes and Puy-Notre-Dame, in whose interiors Aliénor’s own “high grace, the dower of queens,” seems incarnate. An Angevin architect probably designed St. Peter’s at Poitiers. The works started at the east end, which is square, and rises from the down-slope of the hill like a solid fortress, a hundred and fifty feet in height; Coligny’s troops were one day to riddle with bullets that big quadrangular target. So thick was the eastern wall that the round chapels ending the choir disappeared in its depth.
Poitiers Cathedral was the model for monuments like Candes and Puy-Notre-Dame, where Aliénor’s own “high grace, the gift of queens,” seems to come alive. An architect from Anjou likely designed St. Peter’s at Poitiers. Construction began at the east end, which is square and stands out from the hillside like a solid fortress, reaching a height of one hundred and fifty feet; Coligny’s troops would one day shoot at that large square target. The eastern wall was so thick that the round chapels at the end of the choir were hidden within it.
The easternmost bays and the south arm of the transept were built about the same time, soon after 1160, and their masonry roof belongs to the first phase of the Gothic of the West. Over the crossing is a six-branch vault; for the rest of the church, the eight-branch type was used. The lower half of the inclosure walls is ornamented with a blind arcade above which runs a circulating gallery carried on corbels carved with fantasy. Again was used the artifice employed in Poitiers’ Romanesque church of Notre Dame-la-Grande, whereby from the eastern end onward the edifice grew slightly wider and higher. The axial line deviates considerably, and it is known that this cathedral rose during different periods.
The easternmost bays and the south arm of the transept were built around the same time, shortly after 1160, and their masonry roof is part of the early phase of Western Gothic architecture. Above the crossing, there’s a six-branch vault; for the rest of the church, they used the eight-branch type. The lower half of the enclosing walls features a blind arcade, above which there’s a circulating gallery supported by corbels carved with imaginative designs. They also used the technique seen in Poitiers’ Romanesque church of Notre Dame-la-Grande, where the structure gradually became slightly wider and taller from the eastern end. The main axis shifts noticeably, and it’s clear that this cathedral was built over different periods.
While the plan and the beginning of the work were of Aliénor and Henry’s day, the greater part of the church was erected under their great-grandson, Alphonse of Poitiers, the brother of St. Louis. When he died in 1271, the two westernmost bays were incomplete. After a lull, the work was resumed at the close of the century. In the XIV century was erected the not very interesting west frontispiece which stands below the street level and which is too wide for its height; it would have been better had the towers been set in a line with the aisles and not planted beyond them like the towers of Rouen and Bourges. The first of the Avignon popes, Clement V, builder of the Rayonnant Gothic choir of Bordeaux Cathedral, watched Poitiers’ Rayonnant façade rising during the sixteen months that he spent in the city. While here he learned that fire had damaged St. John Lateran’s at Rome and ordered it to be reconstructed. The last windows in St. Pierre’s Cathedral have the Flamboyant tracery of Jean de Berry’s time. That amateur of art—sixth in descent from Henry and Aliénor—left his mark all through middle France.
While the planning and the initial work were done during the time of Aliénor and Henry, most of the church was built under their great-grandson, Alphonse of Poitiers, the brother of St. Louis. When he passed away in 1271, the two westernmost bays were unfinished. After a pause, work resumed at the end of the century. In the 14th century, they built the somewhat unremarkable west front that stands below street level and is too wide for its height; it would have been better if the towers had been in line with the aisles instead of set beyond them like the towers in Rouen and Bourges. The first of the Avignon popes, Clement V, who built the Rayonnant Gothic choir of Bordeaux Cathedral, observed Poitiers’ Rayonnant façade rising during the sixteen months he spent in the city. While there, he learned that fire had damaged St. John Lateran in Rome and ordered it to be rebuilt. The last windows in St. Pierre’s Cathedral feature the Flamboyant tracery from the time of Jean de Berry. That art lover—sixth in descent from Henry and Aliénor—left his influence throughout central France.
The interior of Poitiers Cathedral is an ample parallelogram of eight bays, divided into three aisles of equal height, by a dozen widely spaced piers, each of which is a cluster of lovely shafts rising from pavement to vault-springing. The eighteen bombé vault sections are grace itself. As the light floods in from the big lancets in the side walls, one scarcely notices that this church has ground supports. The plan of Poitou’s Romanesque churches—seen at its best at St. Savin[199]—shows adroit construction, since it employed the aisles to buttress the principal span, and used one roof to cover the entire structure.
The inside of Poitiers Cathedral is a spacious rectangle with eight sections, split into three equally tall aisles by a dozen widely spaced columns, each made up of beautiful shafts that stretch from the floor to the vaulted ceiling. The eighteen curved vault sections are simply stunning. As light pours in from the large windows in the side walls, you barely notice that this church has supporting structures. The design of Poitou’s Romanesque churches—best represented at St. Savin[199]—demonstrates skillful construction, as it used the aisles to support the main span and covered the entire building with a single roof.
Poitiers’ memorable Crucifixion window is in the flat, eastern wall of the central aisle. The three windows in that square chevet belong to the transition between the XII and XIII centuries. That to the north was the gift of Maurice de Blason, who became bishop of Poitiers in 1198, and who is supposed to have been also the donor of the Crucifixion, whose date has given rise to controversy. The straight saddle-bars still used in it were abandoned after 1200. In the lower panel of the central light, the founders of the cathedral, Henry and Aliénor, are pictured kneeling. Aliénor knew well Suger’s school of glassmakers, and as M. Mâle has proved that all the XII-century windows in western France proceed from those of St. Denis, very likely the ex-queen of France was instrumental in spreading their fame. At Poitiers the apostles gaze upward in quite the same attitude as those in the Ascension window at Le Mans, an accepted work of Suger’s craftsmen.
Poitiers' impressive Crucifixion window is located on the flat eastern wall of the main aisle. The three windows in that square chevet represent the transition from the 12th to the 13th centuries. The northern window was a gift from Maurice de Blason, who became the bishop of Poitiers in 1198 and is believed to have also donated the Crucifixion, the date of which has sparked debate. The straight saddle bars used in this window were discarded after 1200. In the lower panel of the central light, the founders of the cathedral, Henry and Aliénor, are depicted kneeling. Aliénor was familiar with Suger’s group of glassmakers, and as M. Mâle has demonstrated, all the 12th-century windows in western France are derived from those at St. Denis, suggesting that the former queen of France played a key role in promoting their reputation. At Poitiers, the apostles look upward in the same way as those in the Ascension window at Le Mans, a work recognized as crafted by Suger’s artisans.
Blue as profound as sapphires and a crimson that glows like blood-red rubies make of Poitiers’ Crucifix an unapproachable glory. The genius who conceived it had brooded over the ecstatic hymn composed for the glad celebration of November 19, 569. This is the Tree of Life, effulgent in fecundity, on its branches hanging such fruit as the Ransom of the World, the vine that gives sweet wine of the red blood of the Lord. No agonizing Christ on Poitiers’ Cross ornata regis purpura. The Saviour’s eyes are wide open to indicate that the Christ dies not. The arms are extended to great length as if embracing the entire world.[200] The halo is marked by the Greek cross, emblem of divinity. In many other chevets of France the Crucifixion holds the central place, in the Lady chapel at Tours, in the clearstory at Rouen, in the ambulatory at Bourges, in St. Remi’s wide gallery at Rheims, in the square east wall of Moulins, and at Ervy. And in many ways was the Sacrifice presented; sometimes the Cross became an apple-decked Tree of Knowledge with Adam and Eve beside it; sometimes the Saviour’s arms were high uplifted and angels received the precious blood in chalices. Never was the meaning of Calvary presented with more profundity than at Poitiers, whose ancient bishops had suffered exile to defend the Son and written verses to exalt him.
Blue as deep as sapphires and a crimson that shines like blood-red rubies give Poitiers’ Crucifix an unmatched beauty. The genius who created it was inspired by the ecstatic hymn written for the joyful celebration of November 19, 569. This is the Tree of Life, radiant with fertility, bearing such fruit as the Ransom of the World, the vine that produces the sweet wine of the Lord's red blood. There is no tortured Christ on Poitiers’ Cross ornata regis purpura. The Savior’s eyes are wide open to show that Christ does not die. The arms are stretched out as if to embrace the entire world.[200] The halo is marked by the Greek cross, a symbol of divinity. In many other chapels across France, the Crucifixion takes center stage, like in the Lady chapel at Tours, in the clearstory at Rouen, in the ambulatory at Bourges, in St. Remi’s wide gallery at Rheims, on the square east wall of Moulins, and at Ervy. The Sacrifice was depicted in various ways; sometimes the Cross became an apple-laden Tree of Knowledge with Adam and Eve beside it; sometimes the Savior’s arms were raised high as angels caught the precious blood in chalices. The meaning of Calvary was never presented with more depth than at Poitiers, where the ancient bishops endured exile to defend the Son and wrote verses to exalt him.
The other lancets of the cathedral are in most part XIII-century work of the closely woven pattern type that produces scintillation; contrary to the more general usage the medallions are to be read from the top downward. As color schemes they have been composed with extraordinary care. Few church interiors can equal this for jeweled riches: ‘And the building of the wall thereof was of jasper stone.... And the foundations of the wall were adorned with all manner of precious stones—jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, sardius, chrysolite, beryl, topaz, chrysoprasus, jacinth, and amethyst.’
The other lancets of the cathedral are mostly 13th-century work featuring a tightly woven pattern that creates a shimmering effect; unlike the usual practice, the medallions are meant to be read from the top down. The color schemes have been crafted with exceptional attention to detail. Few church interiors can match this level of jeweled beauty: ‘And the building of the wall was made of jasper stone.... And the foundations of the wall were decorated with all kinds of precious stones—jasper, sapphire, chalcedony, emerald, sardonyx, sardius, chrysolite, beryl, topaz, chrysoprasus, jacinth, and amethyst.’
Poitiers’ ancient church of Notre Dame-la-Grande has the appearance of a cathedral, and its elaborate front, the best of all Romanesque façades, is classed among peerless works such as Vézelay’s portico, St. Gilles’ portal, and the Auvergnat apses. The pre-Gothic school of Poitou, formulated as early as 1050, excelled in sculptured frontispieces, decorated apses, and ornate window frames. Sometimes the side aisles bracing the principal span were made too narrow, as here in Notre Dame, but where the school reached its structural apogee as in St. Savin-sur-Gartemps (which has lofty ample aisles and splendidly carved capitals), it can hold its own with that of any region. Poitou has been called the paradise for lovers of Romanesque architecture.
Poitiers’ ancient church of Notre Dame-la-Grande looks like a cathedral, and its detailed front, considered the best of all Romanesque façades, is ranked alongside exceptional works like Vézelay’s portico, St. Gilles’ portal, and the Auvergnat apses. The pre-Gothic style of Poitou, developed as early as 1050, was known for its sculptured front pieces, decorated apses, and intricate window frames. Sometimes the side aisles supporting the main span were made too narrow, like here in Notre Dame, but where the style reached its peak, as seen in St. Savin-sur-Gartemps (which features high, spacious aisles and beautifully carved capitals), it can compete with any region. Poitou has been described as a paradise for fans of Romanesque architecture.
In Notre Dame-la-Grande are some XII-century frescoes, but its modern experiment in polychromy is distressing. Many a gathering has the ancient church seen. When in 1100 a church council at Poitiers censured the illegal marriage of the king of France and the fair Bertrada de Montfort, Guillaume IX, the troubadour duke of Aquitaine who was present—and in much the same predicament, living with the wife of a neighboring lord—made a scene and indignantly left the hall. Stones were thrown at the churchmen who dared censure an open scandal. Then brave Robert d’Abrissel, founder of Fontevrault, tore off his cloak and stood forth, in token of his willingness to suffer in so good a cause.[201]
In Notre Dame-la-Grande, there are some 12th-century frescoes, but its modern use of color is disappointing. The ancient church has seen many gatherings. In 1100, a church council in Poitiers condemned the illegal marriage of the king of France and the beautiful Bertrada de Montfort. Guillaume IX, the troubadour duke of Aquitaine who was there—and in a similar situation, living with the wife of a neighboring lord—made a scene and angrily left the hall. Stones were thrown at the church officials who dared to criticize an open scandal. Then brave Robert d’Abrissel, the founder of Fontevrault, tore off his cloak and stepped forward, showing his willingness to suffer for such a worthy cause.[201]
Poitiers’ abbey church of St. Hilaire has much interest for archæologists.[202] The Vandals destroyed a church here, the Saracens burned another, twice was it wrecked by Norse pirates during the IX century when St. Hilary’s relics were carried to Le Puy Cathedral for safety. Then a daughter of the Duke of Normandy, Emma, the mother of Edward the Confessor, had her architect, Gautier Coorland, rebuild the abbatial, which was dedicated in 1049. Owing to continuous reconstructions, little of that period remains, save in the ambulatory and in the tower which once stood isolated. The XII century added the oblong cupolas whose only counterparts are to be found at Le Puy. To support its new cupola-vaulting, St. Hilaire built two rows of pillars with a narrow passageway between, and when, in later times, outer aisles were added, the interior was given the uncommon aspect of triple aisles. A Huguenot sacking worked irreparable damage, and after the Revolution the westernmost bays of the church had to be demolished.
Poitiers’ abbey church of St. Hilaire is very interesting for archaeologists.[202] The Vandals destroyed a church here, the Saracens burned another, and it was wrecked twice by Norse pirates during the 9th century when St. Hilary’s relics were moved to Le Puy Cathedral for safekeeping. Then, Emma, a daughter of the Duke of Normandy and mother of Edward the Confessor, had her architect, Gautier Coorland, rebuild the abbey, which was dedicated in 1049. Due to ongoing reconstructions, little from that period remains, except in the ambulatory and in the tower which once stood alone. The 12th century added oblong cupolas that can only be found at Le Puy. To support its new cupola-vaulting, St. Hilaire constructed two rows of pillars with a narrow passageway in between, and when outer aisles were added later, the interior took on the unusual appearance of triple aisles. A Huguenot raid caused irreparable damage, and after the Revolution, the westernmost bays of the church had to be torn down.
In Merovingian times the two most-visited shrines in France were St. Hilary’s at Poitiers, and St. Martin’s at Tours. When Hilary, the thirteenth bishop here (d. 368), returned from his exile in Phrygia, whither he had been driven for combating the Arian heresy, he brought back from the East a fondness for the interpretation of Scripture by allegory which was to have a strong influence on the iconography of Gothic cathedrals. To pray by St. Martin’s tomb at Tours there came north the Italian poet, Venantius Fortunatus, who continued his pilgrimage to the tomb of St. Hilary, the master who had trained Martin in the spiritual life. Never was he to quit Poitiers, where, in 607 he died, its revered bishop.
In Merovingian times, the two most-visited shrines in France were St. Hilary’s in Poitiers and St. Martin’s in Tours. When Hilary, the thirteenth bishop (d. 368), returned from his exile in Phrygia, where he had been sent for opposing the Arian heresy, he brought back from the East a love for interpreting Scripture through allegory, which significantly influenced the iconography of Gothic cathedrals. To pray at St. Martin’s tomb in Tours, the Italian poet Venantius Fortunatus traveled north and continued his pilgrimage to St. Hilary’s tomb, the mentor who had guided Martin in his spiritual journey. He never left Poitiers, where he died in 607 as its respected bishop.
In those days, Radegund, the Thuringian wife of Clotaire, son of Clovis, had retired to Poitiers to pass her life in study and prayer. Scripture and the works of the church fathers were read in Greek and Hebrew, in her cloister. About her gathered pious maidens, chiefly of the Gallo-Roman stock, harried by the rougher peoples from the north. Fortunatus became for Queen Radegund and her Abbess Agnes a sort of self-appointed intendant; he sent them gifts of fruit with verses. Puvis de Chavannes has painted it all on the walls of Poitiers’ Town Hall.
In those days, Radegund, the Thuringian wife of Clotaire, son of Clovis, had moved to Poitiers to spend her life in study and prayer. Scripture and the writings of the church fathers were read in Greek and Hebrew in her monastery. Around her gathered devout young women, mostly of Gallo-Roman descent, driven from their homes by the tougher peoples from the north. Fortunatus acted as a sort of self-appointed steward for Queen Radegund and her Abbess Agnes; he sent them gifts of fruit along with verses. Puvis de Chavannes has depicted it all on the walls of Poitiers’ Town Hall.
St. Radegund’s tomb became a pilgrim shrine. The savants see no reason to doubt the genuine antiquity of the queen’s sarcophagus of black marble now in the crypt of her church, part of which crypt escaped the fire of 1083 and so dates before 1000. The new apse was dedicated in 1099. The three big bays of the aisleless nave are covered by Plantagenet Gothic vaults with eight branches, and along the walls are the same blind arcades and carved carbels as in the cathedral. The sacristy shows an octagonal dome on ribs. The church has no transept, but over the north portal is a XIII-century rose window of deep blue hue, between which and the apse are some XIV-century windows that experimented not very successfully with colored figures in white glass. The porch is good Flamboyant Gothic.
St. Radegund’s tomb became a pilgrimage site. Experts see no reason to doubt the genuine age of the queen’s black marble sarcophagus now in the crypt of her church, part of which survived the fire of 1083 and thus dates back before the year 1000. The new apse was dedicated in 1099. The three large sections of the aisleless nave are covered by Plantagenet Gothic vaults with eight branches, and along the walls are the same blind arcades and carved corbels as in the cathedral. The sacristy features an octagonal dome supported by ribs. The church lacks a transept, but above the north portal is a 13th-century rose window in deep blue, and between that and the apse are some 14th-century windows that didn’t successfully experiment with colored figures in white glass. The porch showcases impressive Flamboyant Gothic style.
Poitiers boasts the oldest extant Christian church in France, the baptistry of St. Jean, in whose walls are Gallo-Roman IV-century vestiges.[203] There is VII-century Merovingian work in its apsidal chapels, and the later Romanesque and Gothic times added their quotas. The ancient well in which baptism by submersion was practiced has been preserved. A son of Poitiers feels doubly a Christian if baptized in the church of St. Jean’s.
Poitiers is home to the oldest surviving Christian church in France, the baptistry of St. Jean, which contains Gallo-Roman remnants from the 4th century.[203] There is also Merovingian work from the 7th century in its apsidal chapels, and later additions from the Romanesque and Gothic periods. The ancient well used for baptism by immersion has been preserved. A person from Poitiers feels even more like a Christian if baptized in St. Jean’s church.
The venerable little edifice to-day lies many feet below the level of the city streets, for Poitiers escaped few of the sackings of history. For safety from the Barbarian invasions some rich Gallo-Roman must have buried the statue of Minerva exhumed in 1902, in the garden of a girls’ school, and now in the town’s museum. It is a most lovely Greek marble of the VI century, B.C.[204]
The old building today sits many feet below the level of the city streets, as Poitiers hasn't escaped the ravages of history. To protect against Barbarian invasions, some wealthy Gallo-Roman must have buried the statue of Minerva that was dug up in 1902, now displayed in the museum of the town after being found in the garden of a girls' school. It's a beautiful Greek marble piece from the 6th century B.C. B.C.[204]
Henry Plantagenet and Aliénor of Aquitaine built in Poitiers the guard’s hall of the Counts’ Palace, in the center of the town, on its highest eminence.[205] The wall-arcading is like contemporary work in the cathedral and the church of St. Radegund. In late-Gothic times the south wall was remade. In this hall the second husband of Isabella of Angoulême made amends to his suzerain, Alphonse of Poitiers, for the war to which her jealous haughtiness had forced him. In this hall in 1307-08 the accused Templars were interrogated by Clement V, the pontiff who initiated the residence at Avignon, and the consequent papal subserviency to the French crown, Philippe le Bel cowed the pope, and the group of anti-cleric legists who controlled the king arranged that only picked specimens of the doomed military Order should appear at Poitiers. The royal coffers were empty and those of the Templars were full.
Henry Plantagenet and Aliénor of Aquitaine built the guard’s hall of the Counts’ Palace in Poitiers, right in the center of town on its highest point.[205] The archways are similar to those found in the cathedral and the church of St. Radegund. In the late Gothic period, the south wall was redone. In this hall, the second husband of Isabella of Angoulême made peace with his lord, Alphonse of Poitiers, after the war caused by her jealous pride. In this hall in 1307-08, the accused Templars were questioned by Clement V, the pope who started the Avignon papacy, leading to the pope's submission to the French crown. Philippe le Bel intimidated the pope, while a group of anti-clerical legal experts who were close to the king arranged for only a select few of the doomed military Order to appear in Poitiers. The royal treasury was empty, but the Templars' coffers were full.
Torture and intimidation had wrung from all too many of the monk-knights false avowals of guilt. In Spain, where the investigation was carried on without torture, the bishops found no heresy in the Order; instead, they bore testimony to its exemplary standing. One brave old crusader raised his voice in honest speech: “Let him have a care,” wrote Joinville, “this king who now reigns. Let him amend his ways, lest God strike him down without mercy.” The Grand Master of the Templars, Jacques Molay, was burned publicly in Paris, calling on king and pope to meet him before God’s judgment seat within the year. A month later Clement V died, and before 1314 closed, the young king met sudden death. And the people recalled that when Clement was crowned at Lyons, the tiara had been knocked from his head by a collapsing wall and one of its precious jewels lost.
Torture and intimidation had forced too many of the monk-knights to give false confessions of guilt. In Spain, where the investigation was conducted without torture, the bishops found no heresy in the Order; instead, they testified to its exemplary reputation. One brave old crusader spoke out honestly: “Let him be careful,” wrote Joinville, “this king who now reigns. Let him change his ways, or God will strike him down without mercy.” The Grand Master of the Templars, Jacques Molay, was publicly burned in Paris, calling on the king and pope to face him before God’s judgment within the year. A month later, Clement V died, and before the end of 1314, the young king met a sudden death. The people remembered that when Clement was crowned in Lyons, the tiara had been knocked off his head by a collapsing wall, and one of its precious jewels was lost.
Less discouraging were other doings of Clement V in Poitiers. Here he dated the nomination of John of Montecorvino (d. 1328), pioneer of Christian missionaries, to the see of Peking. Armed crusading had run its course; the crusade by preaching, prayer, and penance was to begin. Already in 1245 Innocent IV had sent Dominicans to Persia and Franciscans farther east, St. Louis had sent William de Rubruquis to the Mongols, and those astonishing Venetian merchants; the Polos, had roused the papacy to the spiritual needs of Cathay, the far Cathay of the mediæval tradition, to which Columbus was seeking a shorter route when he accidentally discovered America. For thirty years John of Montecorvino missionized Tartary. He translated the New Testament and the Psalms. To encourage missionary activity, Clement V ordered that Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic be taught publicly at Rome, Bologna, Paris, Oxford, and Salamanca.
Less discouraging were other actions of Clement V in Poitiers. Here he dated the appointment of John of Montecorvino (d. 1328), a pioneer of Christian missionaries, to the position in Peking. Armed crusades had run their course; the crusade by preaching, prayer, and penance was about to begin. Already in 1245, Innocent IV had sent Dominicans to Persia and Franciscans farther east. St. Louis sent William de Rubruquis to the Mongols, and the astonishing Venetian merchants, the Polos, had brought the papacy’s attention to the spiritual needs of Cathay, the far Cathay of medieval tradition, which Columbus was trying to reach by a shorter route when he accidentally discovered America. For thirty years, John of Montecorvino preached in Tartary. He translated the New Testament and the Psalms. To promote missionary work, Clement V ordered that Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic be taught publicly in Rome, Bologna, Paris, Oxford, and Salamanca.
The Hundred Years’ War, so fatal to French architectural progress, surged round Poitiers. After Crécy, in 1346, the hall of the Counts’ Palace was damaged by the English. In the environs of Poitiers took place the bitter French defeat of 1356, when King Jean le Bon was made prisoner. “Et fut là morte toute la fleur de chevalerie de France,” says Froissart. The siege by Duguesclin to recapture the hill city from the English damaged its monuments. When the Duke of Berry, son of King Jean the Good, became master of Poitiers he undertook to restore the Counts’ Palace, and he had noted Flamboyant Gothic masters construct for him the splendid triple chimney piece of the guard hall, decorated about 1383 by André Beauneveu with statues of Charles VI, of his wife Isabeau of Bavaria, and of Jean of Berry and his first duchess. In the pignon above the great fireplaces was set some XIV-century glass. Guy de Dammartin re-established the donjon tower called Maubergeon, now cut off at the third story. The images of the counts of Poitiers, decorating it, belong to that phase of French sculpture which preceded the Franco-Flamand school at Dijon. Before transalpine influences were imported, a truly national renaissance had begun. The Tour Maubergeon and the pignon of the great hall are all that remain of the palaces built at Poitiers by Jean de Berry; but what they were can be seen in his illuminated Book of Hours now in Chantilly’s museum.
The Hundred Years’ War, which was devastating for French architectural progress, swept around Poitiers. After the battle of Crécy in 1346, the hall of the Counts’ Palace was damaged by the English. Near Poitiers, the harsh French defeat of 1356 occurred, when King Jean le Bon was captured. “Et fut là morte toute la fleur de chevalerie de France,” says Froissart. The siege by Duguesclin to reclaim the hill city from the English also harmed its monuments. When the Duke of Berry, son of King Jean le Bon, took control of Poitiers, he began restoring the Counts’ Palace. He had Flamboyant Gothic masters create the stunning triple chimney piece for the guard hall, which was decorated around 1383 by André Beauneveu with statues of Charles VI, his wife Isabeau of Bavaria, and Jean of Berry with his first duchess. Above the large fireplaces, some 14th-century glass was installed. Guy de Dammartin restored the donjon tower called Maubergeon, now truncated at the third floor. The images of the counts of Poitiers that decorate it belong to that phase of French sculpture preceding the Franco-Flemish school in Dijon. Before foreign influences were introduced, a genuine national renaissance had already started. The Tour Maubergeon and the gable of the great hall are all that remain of the palaces built in Poitiers by Jean de Berry; but what they were can be seen in his illuminated Book of Hours now housed in Chantilly’s museum.
The historic hall of Poitiers has its memories of Jeanne d’Arc. Hither, in 1429, Charles XII brought her to be examined by learned men. When one of them told her, with condescension, that if God wished to deliver France he had no need of men-of-arms, swift was Jeanne’s reply, “Man does the battling and God gives the victory.” Finally her judges reported to the king that she was of sound sense and a true Christian and appeared to be sent of God, and that, given the desperate need of the kingdom, they advised the king to put her at the head of an army for the relief of Orléans. Decision momentous for the fate of France!
The historic hall of Poitiers holds memories of Joan of Arc. In 1429, Charles XII brought her here to be examined by scholars. When one of them, speaking down to her, said that if God wanted to save France, He didn’t need soldiers, Joan quickly replied, “Man does the fighting and God gives the victory.” Ultimately, her judges reported to the king that she was of sound mind, a true Christian, and seemed to be sent by God, advising him that, given the kingdom's urgent needs, he should put her in charge of an army to relieve Orléans. A momentous decision for the fate of France!
Jeanne, during her trial at Rouen, often referred to the answers she had given to her honest judges at Poitiers: “If you do not believe me, send to Poitiers, where I was questioned before.... It is written in the book at Poitiers.” Cauchon might wear a miter, well she knew it was not the Church which persecuted her, though the English left no stone unturned to have it so appear. Jeanne in Poitiers lodged with Maître Jean Rabateau, advocate, and it was the duty of his good dame to spy on her night and day. Many years after she testified to Jeanne’s habit of long prayer in the night-time. To test the maid’s virtue the king’s own mother-in-law visited her. That able Yolande of Aragon had brought up Charles VII. Her own son, the young knight René d’Anjou, was soon to fight under Jeanne, and Yolande, herself, convinced of the Maid’s mission, helped with funds for the expedition to Orléans. They say that Jeanne made answer to the court ladies with such sweetness and grace that she drew tears from their eyes.
Jeanne, during her trial in Rouen, often referenced the answers she had given to her honest judges in Poitiers: “If you don’t believe me, send to Poitiers, where I was questioned before.... It’s written in the book at Poitiers.” Cauchon might wear a miter, but she knew it wasn’t the Church that was persecuting her, even though the English did everything they could to make it seem that way. While in Poitiers, Jeanne stayed with Maître Jean Rabateau, an advocate, and it was expected of his good wife to keep an eye on her day and night. Many years later, she testified about Jeanne’s habit of long prayers at night. To test the maid’s virtue, the king’s own mother-in-law visited her. The capable Yolande of Aragon had raised Charles VII. Her own son, the young knight René d’Anjou, was soon going to fight alongside Jeanne, and Yolande, convinced of the Maid’s mission, contributed funds for the expedition to Orléans. They say Jeanne responded to the court ladies with such sweetness and grace that she brought tears to their eyes.
The old hill city of Poitiers, so ecclesiastical, so full of national memories, has had the good sense to keep itself très province, and its street directory still makes a sort of calendar of saints. At Bourges, the mania to wipe out its past has reached such a pass that the rue St. Michel is now the rue Michel-Servet and the rue St. Fulgent the rue Fulton. Poitiers has no desire to blot out her high historic memories.
The old hill city of Poitiers, so religious and rich in national history, has wisely chosen to stay very provincial, and its street directory still serves as a kind of calendar of saints. In Bourges, the obsession with erasing its past has gone so far that rue St. Michel is now rue Michel-Servet and rue St. Fulgent has become rue Fulton. Poitiers has no intention of erasing its significant historical memories.
CHAPTER VIII
Gothic in the Midi
The giant struggle we have witnessed is but the beginning of a long and complicated historical crisis in which men will have to make their choice between the unlimited augmentation of power (by force, riches, and success) and a forward-moving moral progress (by justice, charity, and loyalty). If we live always in exterior things, if we are always in movement, we become, little by little, incapable of recollection and fecund meditation.
The massive struggle we've seen is just the start of a long and complex historical crisis where people will need to choose between the endless increase of power (through force, wealth, and success) and a path of moral progress (through justice, kindness, and loyalty). If we always focus on external things and remain in constant motion, we gradually become unable to reflect and engage in meaningful thought.
—Guglielmo Ferrero, 1917.
—Guglielmo Ferrero, 1917.
T has been said that the Midi adhered long, if not always, to
Romanesque architecture, even when employing the Gothic vault. Gothic
art was not an indigenous development in the south, but was brought in
the wake of political events, when central France and Languedoc became
one with the royal domain. It proceeded, in part, from the architecture
of southwest France, and in part from the classic Ile-de-France Picard
region.
It's been said that the Midi held on to Romanesque architecture for a long time, if not always, even when using the Gothic vault. Gothic art wasn’t a local development in the south; it was introduced during political changes when central France and Languedoc joined the royal domain. It was partly influenced by the architecture of southwest France and partly by the classic Ile-de-France Picard region.
The realization of the local type of Midi Gothic was Albi’s fortress cathedral, which comprises a wide unaisled hall covered by twelve bays of diagonal vaults whose span is sixty feet—the width of Amiens’ nave being merely forty-five feet. The buttress are disguised as walls between the side chapels, the windows are long, narrow lancets, there is no triforium, and the roof is flat. Ogival art such as this has retained all the grand simplicity of Romanesque.
The local version of Midi Gothic is best represented by Albi’s fortress cathedral, which features a spacious hall without aisles, topped by twelve bays of diagonal vaults that span sixty feet—compared to Amiens’ nave, which is only forty-five feet wide. The buttresses are blended in as walls between the side chapels, the windows are tall and narrow lancets, there’s no triforium, and the roof is flat. This style of pointed arch art still maintains the grand simplicity of Romanesque architecture.
The chief care of the Midi architect was to avoid the flying buttress; he had inherited Rome’s admiration for wide, unincumbered interiors, and its aversion to showing the structural skeleton. His warm sun precluded the use of wall inclosures that were composed entirely of stained glass, which fragile screens would have necessitated wide-spreading buttresses. He seemed to disdain sculpture. And yet, during the pre-Gothic day, Languedoc had excelled in that important branch of the builder’s art, as Moissac’s wealth of imagery and Elne’s lovely cloister show.
The main focus of the Midi architect was to avoid flying buttresses; he had inherited Rome’s appreciation for spacious, unobstructed interiors and its dislike for revealing the structural framework. His warm climate made it impractical to use walls made entirely of stained glass, which would have required wide-spreading buttresses. He appeared to have little interest in sculpture. Yet, during the pre-Gothic period, Languedoc had thrived in that vital area of building artistry, as seen in Moissac’s rich imagery and Elne’s beautiful cloister.
Various causes led to the nudity of sculpture in the later churches of the south. The Gothic cathedrals of the Midi were erected after two generations of the Albigensian strife had impoverished the race. The new mendicant Orders of Francis and Dominic advocated austerity; the best Gothic of Provence is the Dominican church of St. Maximin. The building material available in some of the central and southern provinces did not lend itself to ornamentation; the lava of Auvergne, the granite of Limousin, and the brick of the Toulouse region are unyielding to sculpture.
Various factors contributed to the nudity of sculpture in the later churches of the south. The Gothic cathedrals of the Midi were built after two generations of the Albigensian conflict had depleted the population. The new mendicant Orders of Francis and Dominic promoted simplicity; the finest Gothic example in Provence is the Dominican church of St. Maximin. The building materials available in some central and southern regions were not suitable for decoration; the lava of Auvergne, the granite of Limousin, and the brick from the Toulouse area are not conducive to sculpture.
The chief Gothic churches of the Midi were built in the second half of the XIII and the first part of the XIV centuries. First there rose in central France the sister cathedrals of Clermont and Limoges—northern Gothic infused with the regional spirit. Directly derived from them are the cathedrals of Toulouse and Narbonne. Albi Cathedral was not begun till 1282. The choir of Bordeaux, built by the first of the Avignon popes, is a classic of Rayonnant Gothic, and so is that jewel of Carcassonne Cité, the whilom cathedral of St. Nazaire. St. Sauveur, at Aix-en-Provence, the cathedral of Rodez, and Béziers’ fortified church were the work of the successors of the apogee period of Gothic. At Montpellier, Mende, La Chaise Dieu, and Avignon, the XIV-century popes, all of whom were meridionals, built Gothic halls and chapels.
The main Gothic churches in the Midi were built in the late 13th and early 14th centuries. First, the twin cathedrals of Clermont and Limoges rose in central France—northern Gothic style blended with the local spirit. The cathedrals of Toulouse and Narbonne were directly inspired by them. Albi Cathedral wasn't started until 1282. The choir of Bordeaux, built by the first Avignon pope, is a classic example of Rayonnant Gothic, as is the stunning former cathedral of St. Nazaire in Carcassonne Cité. St. Sauveur in Aix-en-Provence, the cathedral in Rodez, and the fortified church in Béziers were all constructed by those who followed the peak period of Gothic architecture. In Montpellier, Mende, La Chaise Dieu, and Avignon, the 14th-century popes, all of whom were from the south, built Gothic halls and chapels.
Memorable and interesting as are the Gothic monuments of the Midi, the traveler carries away the impression that the inmost soul of these central and southern provinces lingers most happily in the venerated shrines of Our Lady and St. Michael at Le Puy, in such churches as Notre Dame-du-Port, St. Sernin, St. Trophime, in the sculptured portal of St. Gilles, and in Maguelonne’s isolated cathedral of St. Peter.
Memorable and interesting as the Gothic monuments of the Midi are, visitors often leave with the feeling that the true essence of these central and southern regions is most vibrantly alive in the cherished shrines of Our Lady and St. Michael at Le Puy, as well as in churches like Notre Dame-du-Port, St. Sernin, and St. Trophime, in the carved entrance of St. Gilles, and in the remote cathedral of St. Peter in Maguelonne.
Si c’est un aveuglement surnaturel de vivre sans chercher ce qu’on est, c’en est un terrible de vivre mal en croyant Dieu.... La conduite de Dieu, qui dispose toute choses avec douceur, est de mettre la religion dans l’esprit par les raisons, et dans le cœur par la grâce.—Pascal (1623-62; born in Clermont).
Si c’est un aveuglement surnaturel de vivre sans chercher ce qu’on est, c’en est un terrible de vivre mal en croyant Dieu.... La conduite de Dieu, qui dispose toute chose avec douceur, est de mettre la religion dans l’esprit par les raisons, et dans le cœur par la grâce.—Pascal (1623-62; born in Clermont).
In mediæval reckoning that mountainous, central province of France which was called Auvergne was counted in Languedoc. Therefore, to place the cathedral of Clermont in this general group of Midi Gothic is permissible. It is a daughter of Amiens, of the northern French type, and yet it belongs in a marked degree to its own volcanic region of mountains and storms. In it is the endurance and sturdy individuality of Auvergne, the inmost heart of France, where the Romanesque work may be said to be indigenous, so directly does it derive from the local traditions of Rome grafted on those of Gaul, and scarcely touched by those of Byzantium.
In medieval times, the mountainous central region of France known as Auvergne was considered part of Languedoc. Therefore, it’s acceptable to include the Clermont cathedral in this broader category of Midi Gothic. It draws inspiration from Amiens, representing the northern French style, yet it distinctly reflects its own volcanic backdrop of mountains and storms. It embodies the resilience and strong character of Auvergne, the very heart of France, where Romanesque architecture is truly native, as it directly stems from the local traditions of Rome combined with those of Gaul, and is barely influenced by Byzantine styles.
The chief Gothic church of Clermont has in it much of Romanesque austerity. The black lava of which it is built sets it apart among French cathedrals. “A pious fear of God makes itself felt in this spot,” wrote a son of Clermont, Gregory of Tours, of the cathedral governed by Bishop Sidonius Apollinaris, Gallo-Roman and “last zealot for Latin letters.” And though not a stone of the present edifice is of historian Gregory’s day, one often murmurs in its precincts, “Terribilis est locus iste,” and one often experiences in this abode of Jehovah the Lord, un frisson d’âme à la Pascal. In Clermont, where even the serene Gothic art could not free itself of the fire-torn mountains around, the somber soul of Pascal first experienced religion. That he should overstress the fall of man and original sin, what wonder? But Jansenist in temperament though he was—overwhelmed by man’s nothingness and God’s grandeur—the mystic Pascal was no rigid pessimist. Cathedral and man of genius both preach the resurrection after the fall, both have the upward surge of hope, even as the fearful summit of the Puy-de-Dôme, standing over Clermont, outsoars the storm clouds hiding its base, to rear its head in sunlight.
The main Gothic church in Clermont has a lot of Romanesque simplicity. The black lava it's made from makes it unique among French cathedrals. “A deep reverence for God can be felt in this place,” wrote Gregory of Tours, a son of Clermont, about the cathedral overseen by Bishop Sidonius Apollinaris, a Gallo-Roman and “the last enthusiast for Latin letters.” While no stone of the current structure dates back to Gregory’s time, people often whisper in its vicinity, “Terribilis est locus iste,” and many feel in this house of the Lord, un frisson d’âme à la Pascal. In Clermont, where even the calm Gothic art couldn't shake off the fiery mountains around it, Pascal's somber soul first encountered faith. Given that he emphasized man's fall and original sin, it’s no surprise. But although he had a Jansenist temperament—consumed by humanity's insignificance and God’s greatness—the mystical Pascal wasn’t a rigid pessimist. Both the cathedral and the brilliant man convey a message of resurrection after the fall and share an uplifting sense of hope, just like the imposing peak of Puy-de-Dôme, which towers above Clermont, rising above the storm clouds that conceal its base to bask in sunlight.
For all its soberness, the cathedral of Clermont has the true Gothic sweep of the spirit au-delà. Happy the traveler who first approaches it at sunset, coming slowly across the mountain-walled plain, out of the Forez hills of rushing torrents where is set the Chaise Dieu. The cathedral crowns the foothill around which has settled the city, and as it stands silhouetted against a bluish haze of mountain—the extinct crater, the Puy-de-Dôme—it fulfills the ideal of a church crowning a city.[207] Seen from the town, the massed volcanic hills are sufficiently near for their woods and villages to add picturesque details to the ever-changing views, yet not so close that they hang oppressively over the city. Other views of the cathedral can be gained from the foothills around Royat, whose small, sturdy church was fortified to bar the valley into the huge mountain behind it.
For all its seriousness, the Clermont cathedral has the true Gothic grace of the spirit au-delà. Lucky is the traveler who first sees it at sunset, coming gradually across the mountain-surrounded plain, from the Forez hills of rushing waters where the Chaise Dieu is located. The cathedral overlooks the foothill where the city has developed, and as it stands outlined against a bluish mist of mountain—the extinct crater, the Puy-de-Dôme—it embodies the ideal of a church that crowns a city.[207] Seen from the town, the clustered volcanic hills are close enough for their forests and villages to add charming details to the ever-changing landscapes, yet not so close that they loom heavily over the city. Additional views of the cathedral can be seen from the foothills around Royat, where the small, sturdy church was built to block the valley leading into the massive mountain behind it.
Lava stone is dusty black, therefore on closer inspection Clermont Cathedral has somewhat the aspect of the smoke-stained churches in manufacturing centers. The gray-black Volvic stone is of better effect within the church, though at first that interior may strike a chill. Lava does not lend itself to sculptural decoration. However, the essential lines of Clermont are of such masterly proportions, of so grand a simplicity, that deeper and deeper grows the influence of this church on those who frequent it. The diagonals etched black against the white vault panels fall with peculiar ease and vigor on the tall dark piers. The slenderness of those clustered columns is not foolhardy, since lava has much resistant force. The single aisles of the choir and the double aisles of the nave rise to half the height of the church, and we have seen at Bourges and Le Mans that when pier arches are above the average height there is given to an edifice a note of exotic beauty. Like Amiens, the height of this church is three times greater than its width. Its vista is closed imposingly; the imaged windows of its high apsidal chapels appear symmetrically behind the arches that surround the sanctuary.
Lava stone is a dusty black, which makes Clermont Cathedral look somewhat like the smoke-stained churches found in industrial areas upon closer inspection. The gray-black Volvic stone has a better visual impact inside the church, although the interior might initially feel a bit cold. Lava doesn’t really lend itself to sculptural decoration. However, the fundamental lines of Clermont are so masterfully proportioned and elegantly simple that the influence of this church grows ever deeper on those who visit it. The black diagonals against the white vault panels create a striking and dynamic effect on the tall dark piers. The slender clustered columns are not an imprudent choice, as lava is very strong. The single aisles of the choir and the double aisles of the nave rise to half the height of the church, and we’ve seen at Bourges and Le Mans that when pier arches are taller than average, it gives a building a unique beauty. Like Amiens, the height of this church is three times its width. Its view is impressively closed off; the stained glass windows of its high apsidal chapels are symmetrically positioned behind the arches surrounding the sanctuary.
The story of the chief church of Auvergne interests the archæologist. The crypt belonged to the previous Carolingian church, and so did the two western towers until the XIX century. M. Viollet-le-Duc removed the ancient belfries, extended the nave by two bays, and built the present towers, whose sky-pointing spires are superb in the general view of Clermont, but whose details can be criticized, as, for instance, the blocking of corner niches by pinnacles when the purpose of a niche is to hold a statue. Modern Gothic is too often a cold, hard imitation. The stair approaches here lack the old-time amplitude of the triple portals.
The history of the main church in Auvergne fascinates archaeologists. The crypt was part of the earlier Carolingian church, as were the two western towers until the 19th century. M. Viollet-le-Duc removed the old bell towers, expanded the nave by two bays, and constructed the current towers, which feature stunning spires that soar into the sky, creating a beautiful sight of Clermont. However, some details are open to criticism, such as the blocking of corner niches by pinnacles, even though niches are meant to hold statues. Modern Gothic too often ends up being a cold, hard copy. The stairways leading up lack the grand scale of the old triple portals.
The XIII-century cathedral of Clermont was practically the first Gothic monument raised in Auvergne, which province adhered stubbornly to its own exceptional Romanesque architecture. The first stone was laid in 1248, in the same year that Cologne Cathedral was begun. The founder, Bishop Hugues de la Tour, had attended the dedication of the Sainte-Chapelle at Paris, and then had returned to Clermont to begin his own cathedral. That same year he started out as a crusader, in the train of Louis IX, but as he died in Egypt the work on the church was not continued seriously till 1253, when St. Louis helped to raise to the see of Clermont his friend Guy de la Tour, nephew of Hugues. Belonging to a feudal family of great possessions, the new bishop, too, was able to be munificent toward his cathedral.
The 13th-century cathedral of Clermont was pretty much the first Gothic building built in Auvergne, a region that stubbornly stuck to its own unique Romanesque style. The first stone was laid in 1248, the same year work began on Cologne Cathedral. The founder, Bishop Hugues de la Tour, had attended the dedication of Sainte-Chapelle in Paris and then returned to Clermont to start his own cathedral. That year, he also set out as a crusader with Louis IX, but since he died in Egypt, serious work on the church didn’t really resume until 1253, when St. Louis helped elevate his friend Guy de la Tour, Hugues' nephew, to the see of Clermont. Coming from a wealthy feudal family, the new bishop was also able to be generous to his cathedral.
In 1254, when St. Louis was returning from his unsuccessful crusade, he paused in Clermont, to replenish his depleted treasury. Ten years later he presented windows to the cathedral, on the occasion of his son Philippe’s marriage there to the daughter of Jaime el Conquistador of Aragon. The lights in the Lady chapel show the fleur-de-lis and the donjons of Castile, and are apparently the work of Paris craftsmen, who controlled the vitrine art of the later XIII century. That unskilled local workers set them in place would seem to be indicated by the armature bars which do not follow the contour of the medallions, as was then the custom. In the choir’s clearstory are the single figures and grisaille that were in vogue during the next century.
In 1254, when St. Louis was coming back from his unsuccessful crusade, he stopped in Clermont to replenish his drained treasury. Ten years later, he donated windows to the cathedral to celebrate his son Philippe's wedding to the daughter of Jaime el Conquistador of Aragon. The windows in the Lady chapel feature the fleur-de-lis and the castles of Castile, and they were likely crafted by Parisian artisans, who dominated decorative glass art in the late 13th century. The use of unskilled local workers to install them seems indicated by the support bars that don’t follow the shapes of the medallions, which was the standard practice at the time. In the choir's clerestory are the single figures and grisaille that were popular in the following century.
Jean Deschamps made the plan of Clermont Cathedral. He may have studied in the north, since certain traits of Picardy appear here, but the spirit of the work is regional. His windows do not fill the entire upper space between the active members. Under Bishop Guy de la Tour he directed the building of the cathedral for almost forty years, till 1287. Perhaps he designed the cathedral of Limoges, in west-central France, since its plan and details closely resemble those of Clermont. Bishop Aymar de Cros, who carried on the works in Auvergne’s capital, was another of the schoolmen who were builders of churches; such was his intellect that St. Thomas Aquinas willed to him his manuscripts in the hope that his Summa might be completed.
Jean Deschamps created the design for Clermont Cathedral. He might have studied in the north, since some characteristics of Picardy are evident here, but the overall feel of the project is local. His windows don't occupy the entire upper space between the active structural elements. Under Bishop Guy de la Tour, he oversaw the construction of the cathedral for nearly forty years, until 1287. He might have also designed the cathedral in Limoges, in west-central France, as its layout and details closely resemble those of Clermont. Bishop Aymar de Cros, who continued the work in the capital of Auvergne, was another scholar who built churches; his intellect was such that St. Thomas Aquinas left him his manuscripts in the hope that his Summa could be finished.
Under Bishop Aubert Aycelin de Montaigu a new master-of-works took charge—Pierre Deschamps (1287-1325), the son probably of Jean who had made the plans. He erected the four westernmost bays of the choir, the transept, and the easternmost bay of the nave in its lower parts. From 1340 to 1359 the master-of-works was Pierre de Cabazat, who added three more bays to the nave, and was employed in those same years in making, with Hugues Morel, the abbey church of La Chaise Dieu in the Forez mountains across the plain from Clermont.[208] An Avignon pope, Clement VI, was the patron who undertook that gaunt granite structure, as full of sorrow as the times that produced it. Clement had been abbot at La Chaise Dieu, so naturally he contributed toward the erection of the cathedral of Auvergne as did his successor at Avignon, Innocent VI (d. 1362), a former bishop of Clermont.
Under Bishop Aubert Aycelin de Montaigu, a new master mason took over—Pierre Deschamps (1287-1325), likely the son of Jean who created the plans. He built the four westernmost bays of the choir, the transept, and the lower parts of the easternmost bay of the nave. From 1340 to 1359, the master mason was Pierre de Cabazat, who added three more bays to the nave and worked during those same years with Hugues Morel on the abbey church of La Chaise Dieu in the Forez mountains across the plain from Clermont. An Avignon pope, Clement VI, was the patron who initiated that stark granite structure, as filled with sorrow as the times that brought it into being. Clement had been abbot at La Chaise Dieu, so it was natural for him to contribute to the construction of the cathedral of Auvergne, just as his successor at Avignon, Innocent VI (d. 1362), a former bishop of Clermont, did.
The city was fortunate to have one of the notable D’Amboise family for its prelate in the late-Gothic day, Jacques d’Amboise (1505-16), who as abbot of Cluny had built at Paris the stately residence called the Hôtel Cluny. Close to his Auvergne cathedral he set up the Fontaine d’Amboise, now on the Cours Sablon. The eloquent Massillon was a later bishop of Clermont (1717-42); he founded its town library and bequeathed his fortune to the sick poor of the Hôtel Dieu. Before the French Revolution had turned to violence and destruction, in Clermont Cathedral gathered the people, with hearts beating high with generous desire for reform, for the blessing of their National Guard banner, embroidered by a community of nuns. With all too tragic swiftness came the day when in the same church were lighted bonfires for the destruction of vestments and missals. Among the precious things then wrecked was a portrait statue of Louis IX, made while his friend Guy de la Tour was bishop. Only by chance did the cathedral itself, riddled with bullets, escape annihilation.
The city was lucky to have a notable member of the D’Amboise family as its prelate during the late Gothic period, Jacques d’Amboise (1505-16), who, as abbot of Cluny, built the impressive residence known as the Hôtel Cluny in Paris. Near his Auvergne cathedral, he established the Fontaine d’Amboise, which is now located on the Cours Sablon. The eloquent Massillon later served as bishop of Clermont (1717-42); he founded the town library and left his fortune to support the sick poor at the Hôtel Dieu. Before the French Revolution descended into violence and destruction, the people gathered in Clermont Cathedral, their hearts filled with hope for reform, to bless their National Guard banner, which had been embroidered by a community of nuns. Tragically, the day came quickly when bonfires were lit in the same church to destroy vestments and missals. Among the irreplaceable items that were ruined was a portrait statue of Louis IX, created while his friend Guy de la Tour was bishop. By sheer luck, the cathedral itself, though riddled with bullets, managed to avoid total destruction.
The see of Clermont has gone by various designations; so ancient is this city that it has been called successively by five different names. Here where is more Celtic blood than in any other region in France, save Brittany, the Celtic hero, Vercingetorex, inflicted on Cæsar his sole defeat. When Gaul became Christian, Clermont continued to be important. Her first bishop, St. Austremonius, was one of the seven whom Gregory of Tours says were sent into Gaul in 250 by Pope Fabian, with St. Denis of Paris, St. Martial of Limoges, St. Saturninus of Toulouse, St. Just of Narbonne, St. Trophimus of Arles, and St. Gatien of Tours. At the close of the V century Clermont’s bishop, the celebrated Caius Apollinaris Sidonius, poet and scholar, son-in-law of an emperor, made his stand for Latin culture against Teutonic submersion. Dearly he loved his own enlightened Lyons, but of Clermont he said, “Such an horizon would make a stranger forget his native land.” A generation later another outstanding Gallo-Roman bishop of Clermont was St. Gall, uncle of Gregory of Tours, who was so just to all that even Jews marched with lighted tapers at his funeral. Some twenty-six of Clermont’s bishops have been canonized.
The see of Clermont has had various names; this city is so ancient that it has been known by five different names over time. Here, where there is more Celtic heritage than in any other part of France, except Brittany, the Celtic hero Vercingetorix dealt Caesar his only defeat. When Gaul became Christian, Clermont remained significant. Its first bishop, St. Austremonius, was one of the seven bishops sent to Gaul in 250 by Pope Fabian, alongside St. Denis of Paris, St. Martial of Limoges, St. Saturninus of Toulouse, St. Just of Narbonne, St. Trophimus of Arles, and St. Gatien of Tours. By the end of the 5th century, Clermont's bishop, the renowned Caius Apollinaris Sidonius, a poet and scholar and the son-in-law of an emperor, defended Latin culture against Teutonic influence. He loved his enlightened Lyons dearly, but he remarked about Clermont, “Such a horizon would make a stranger forget his native land.” A generation later, another notable Gallo-Roman bishop of Clermont was St. Gall, the uncle of Gregory of Tours, who was so fair to everyone that even Jews carried lit candles at his funeral. About twenty-six of Clermont’s bishops have been canonized.
The third cathedral of the city, and that which immediately preceded the present one, was consecrated in 946 by Bishop Étienne II. Clermont had suffered grievously by Saracen invasion, followed by the Northmen inroads. After the second Norman sacking the ruined houses smoldered for a month, and in the streets corpses lay unburied, for the population in terror had fled to the countryside. The bishop called back his flock to remake their homes. In his new church was a precocious use of ambulatory and radiating chapels, a disposition which was to lead to the chief beauty in the Gothic cathedrals of the land, but which made its appearance in the Ile-de-France only in the XII century. Bishop Étienne’s Carolingian cathedral became the prototype for the Auvergnat-Romanesque school.
The third cathedral of the city, which was the one before the current one, was dedicated in 946 by Bishop Étienne II. Clermont had endured severe devastation from Saracen invasions, followed by attacks from the Northmen. After the second Norman raid, the destroyed houses smoldered for a month, and corpses lay unburied in the streets, as the terrified population had fled to the countryside. The bishop called his people back to rebuild their homes. In his new church, there was an advanced use of ambulatory and radiating chapels, a design that would become a defining feature of the Gothic cathedrals in the region, but which appeared in the Ile-de-France only in the 12th century. Bishop Étienne’s Carolingian cathedral became the model for the Auvergnat-Romanesque style.
In the good Étienne’s church prayed the first crusaders when by papal bidding there gathered at Clermont a mighty council at whose tenth and last session was preached the First Crusade. Nature herself seemed to have prepared the people’s minds for some vast enterprise, for all the chroniclers of western Christendom describe the sublime shower of astral stars, thick as snowflakes, which whirled in the sky. So in this same primeval Auvergne, some six centuries earlier, at the break-up of Rome’s empire before the invading Barbarians, there had for three years been earthquakes and fiery volcanic eruptions.
In the good Étienne’s church, the first crusaders prayed when, at the pope's request, a huge council gathered in Clermont, where the First Crusade was preached during its tenth and final session. It seemed like nature had primed people's minds for a great undertaking, as all the chroniclers of western Christendom described a magnificent shower of stars, falling thick like snowflakes in the sky. Six centuries earlier, in the same ancient Auvergne, when Rome's empire was breaking apart due to invading Barbarians, there were earthquakes and volcanic eruptions for three years straight.
Tradition says that the momentous gathering of 1095 took place in what is now the Place Delille and the adjacent Cours Sablon. Many of our building friends were present—Bishop Odo from Bayeux, Bishop Ives from Chartres, Bishop Hoël from Le Mans, the abbots Geoffrey of Vendôme, Jarenton of St. Bénigne, and St. Hugues of Cluny, and from Spain came the great Bernardo who ruled the see of Toledo. For the people of Clermont to-day, November 28, 1095, is as vivid a reality as any of the revolutions of yesterday. A statue of Urban II stands outside the cathedral. Even so he stood, said a witness, as one having authority, high above the vast throng, on one side of him the stunted Peter the Hermit of Picardy, and on the other the Norman-Italian Bohemund of Taranto, a veritable Greek god in build and feature. From end to end of France Urban journeyed to arouse the people. Now he used persuasion, now invective; sometimes he appealed to idealistic motives or propounded colonial policies very like modern ideas. Europe had good cause to be apprehensive. The Almoravids had advanced into Spain. The Seljukian Turks were a menace more serious than the Saracens. Urban understood the peril and raised his voice in warning. “Cease to be a terror to peaceful citizens,” he exhorted the gathered barons. “Turn your arms to the defense of the soil trod by the King of Kings, of the tomb over which rose the sun of the Resurrection.... The great cities of Asia Minor have fallen a prey to the Mussulman, who has planted the crescent by the Hellespont, whence he menaces Europe.... Nation of the Franks, set beyond the mountains, nation cherished and chosen of God, as clearly your high deeds prove, nation distinct from others by your situation, by your faith, by your respect for Mother Church, to you I address my plea.... Who should right these wrongs but you who have received from on high agility of body, the training of arms and grandeur of soul?... Cease these mutual wars!... Jesus Christ died for you. You should be willing to die for him.” And a great answering cry rose from the hundred thousand gathered there, “God wills it,” to be the rallying call of the crusades.
Tradition says that the significant gathering of 1095 took place in what is now the Place Delille and the nearby Cours Sablon. Many of our notable attendees were there—Bishop Odo from Bayeux, Bishop Ives from Chartres, Bishop Hoël from Le Mans, and the abbots Geoffrey of Vendôme, Jarenton of St. Bénigne, and St. Hugues of Cluny, along with the impressive Bernardo who led the archdiocese of Toledo from Spain. For the people of Clermont today, November 28, 1095, feels as real as any recent revolution. A statue of Urban II stands outside the cathedral. Even then, a witness noted, he appeared as someone with authority, elevated above the large crowd, with the diminutive Peter the Hermit from Picardy on one side and the robust Norman-Italian Bohemund of Taranto on the other, resembling a Greek god in physique and appearance. Urban traveled the length of France to inspire the people. He alternated between persuasion and passionate words; sometimes he appealed to noble motivations or suggested colonial policies similar to modern concepts. Europe had good reason to be worried. The Almoravids had advanced into Spain, and the Seljuk Turks posed a grave threat, even more severe than the Saracens. Urban recognized the danger and raised his voice in warning. “Stop being a threat to peaceful citizens,” he urged the gathered barons. “Use your weapons to defend the land trodden by the King of Kings, and the tomb over which the sun of the Resurrection rises.... The great cities of Asia Minor have fallen prey to the Muslims, who have planted the crescent by the Hellespont, where they threaten Europe.... Nation of the Franks, set beyond the mountains, nation cherished and chosen by God, as clearly shown by your great deeds, nation distinguished by your location, your faith, and your respect for Mother Church, to you I send my plea.... Who should correct these wrongs but you who have received from above the strength of body, the skills of arms, and the greatness of spirit?.... Stop these internal wars!... Jesus Christ died for you. You should be willing to die for him.” And a great responding cry rose from the hundred thousand gathered there, “God wills it,” which became the rallying call of the crusades.
Thus in the heart of France a French pope initiated the cosmic ventures which were to change European ways of life, ventures in which Frenchmen played a leading part so that to this day a European is called a Frank by a Mohammedan. One can easily see in the crusades only their failures and their crimes, one can sneer at them with Voltaire—who sneered at Jeanne d’Arc. Europe’s aggression was needed then to save Christianity from Asiatic immobility. The benefits of the crusades outweigh their delinquencies.
Thus, in the heart of France, a French pope started the cosmic ventures that would change European ways of life, and Frenchmen played a leading role in them, so much so that even today, a European is called a Frank by a Muslim. It's easy to only see the failures and crimes of the crusades, and one can mock them like Voltaire did with Joan of Arc. Europe's aggression was necessary to protect Christianity from stagnation in Asia. The benefits of the crusades outweigh their wrongs.
Gesta Dei per Francos a monk called his chronicle of the First Crusade. And while those feats by God through the men of France in the East went on, other feats for God were ventured in France, the raising of Gothic cathedrals, sister movements that gave wings to the soul, purifying and molding the faith and the genius of those virile and faulty generations. Already the movement was stirring. On his way to Clermont, Urban II had seen Verona Cathedral building and S. Ambrogio’s at Milan. He had blessed S. Abondio at Como. In France he blessed the new choir of St. Sernin at Toulouse and the material gathered for the cathedral at Carcassonne. Cluny’s new choir he dedicated, and various other Romanesque churches. Before the Second Crusade set out Suger had built St. Denis.
Gesta Dei per Francos is what a monk named his chronicle of the First Crusade. While those accomplishments by God through the people of France in the East continued, other acts for God were occurring in France, like the construction of Gothic cathedrals, movements that uplifted the spirit, purifying and shaping the faith and creativity of those strong yet imperfect generations. The movement was already beginning to gain momentum. On his way to Clermont, Urban II had seen the construction of Verona Cathedral and S. Ambrogio’s in Milan. He had blessed S. Abondio in Como. In France, he blessed the new choir of St. Sernin in Toulouse and the materials gathered for the cathedral in Carcassonne. He dedicated Cluny’s new choir and various other Romanesque churches. Before the Second Crusade began, Suger had built St. Denis.
Notre Dame du Port at Clermont-Ferrand. Typical
XII-century Church of Auvergne’s Romanesque School
Notre Dame du Port in Clermont-Ferrand is a typical
12th-century church from the Auvergne Romanesque School.
In Clermont, though the cathedral of 1095 has been superseded by the present Gothic structure, there is intact a venerated sanctuary where Urban had a votive Mass chanted on the eve of the historic council. Every morning one can see the men and women of the city gather in the crypt of Notre Dame-du-Port to beg a blessing on their working day. They may not be able to put into words what it is each feels in that subterranean chamber impregnated by the petitions of those of their race who have gone before them, but each knows that here his prayer has plenitude and patriotic aspiration. A custodia matutina in Notre Dame-du-Port, usque ad noctem in the cathedral. One fears God in the cathedral, one loves God in Notre Dame.
In Clermont, although the cathedral built in 1095 has been replaced by the current Gothic structure, there is still a revered sanctuary where Urban had a votive Mass held on the eve of the historic council. Every morning, you can see the men and women of the city gather in the crypt of Notre Dame-du-Port to ask for a blessing on their workday. They might not be able to express what they feel in that underground chamber infused with the prayers of their ancestors, but each person knows that here their prayer carries depth and a sense of patriotism. A custodia matutina in Notre Dame-du-Port, usque ad noctem in the cathedral. People fear God in the cathedral, while they love God in Notre Dame.
Notre Dame-du-Port is a masterpiece of the Romanesque school of Auvergne.[209] When it was built lava stone was not in use for construction, but solely for decorative purposes. So curiously alike are all the pre-Gothic churches in this province that one architect might have planned them. The venerable crypt of Notre Dame-du-Port was built in the XI century. The Romanesque church above it was constructed during the XII century and has all the Auvergnese traits: a central tower in two stories set on a barlong which forms a kind of upper transept, a compact apse with snug absidioles whose exterior walls are decorated by colored volcanic stones in marquetry designs, a western narthex, and a principal span covered by a half-barrel vault undivided by transverse arches and buttressed by side aisles surmounted by tribunes, which meant that light entered the middle vessel indirectly. Auvergne, like Burgundy, attempted to light her upper church by a clearstory, but found the experiment hazardous and gave it up. Her churches have stood intact through centuries of harsh winters. The very mortar lines were made means of decoration; wide bands of red mortar were found to be effective with blocks of black lava.[210] In the volcanic soil of Auvergne were elements that rendered mortar as resistant as stone. The local Gallo-Romans had used the polychrome lava as decoration.
Notre Dame-du-Port is a masterpiece of the Romanesque style of Auvergne.[209] When it was built, lava stone was not used for construction but only for decorative purposes. The pre-Gothic churches in this region are so alike that one architect could have designed them all. The ancient crypt of Notre Dame-du-Port was built in the 11th century. The Romanesque church above it was constructed in the 12th century and features all the typical Auvergnese characteristics: a central tower with two levels set on a longer section that forms a type of upper transept, a compact apse with small side chapels whose exterior walls are decorated with colorful volcanic stones in intricate patterns, a western narthex, and a main span covered by a half-barrel vault without transverse arches that is supported by side aisles topped by tribunes, which allowed light to enter the central area indirectly. Like Burgundy, Auvergne tried to illuminate its upper church with a clerestory but found it risky and abandoned the idea. Its churches have survived centuries of harsh winters. The very mortar lines were intended as decoration; wide bands of red mortar were particularly effective against the black lava blocks.[210] The volcanic soil of Auvergne contained elements that made the mortar as durable as stone. The local Gallo-Romans had used the colorful lava for decoration.
The interior apse of Notre Dame-du-Port is a gem of masoncraft. Around the tiny processional path stand engaged pillars that are decoration and buttresses, too. The regional skill in sculpture appears in the capitals of the main piers, where the story is related with animation, even if the figures are too squat and the heads too large. The armor indicates that the work was done early in the XII century. The doorjamb images at the southern entrance of the transept were sculptured in the years when St. Thomas Becket came to Clermont wearing the white robe of the Cistercians who had given him hospitality in France. Crowds gathered every day to receive his blessing, for all Christendom held him to be a saint defending right and liberty. A cast of Clermont’s archaic portal, whose charm is exceptional, with its seraphim of the mystic triple wings, has been placed in the Trocadéro Museum at Paris. When this side entrance was completed, Richard Cœur-de-Lion was making over his claims in Auvergne to his lifetime rival, Philippe-Auguste, which cession was to lead, in time, to the erection of the Ile-de-France Picardy cathedral of Clermont.
The interior apse of Notre Dame-du-Port is a true masterpiece of masonry. Surrounding the small processional path are engaged pillars that serve both as decoration and as buttresses. The local talent in sculpture is evident in the capitals of the main piers, where the story is told with vigor, even if the figures are somewhat squat and the heads are oversized. The armor suggests that this work was completed early in the 12th century. The doorjamb sculptures at the southern entrance of the transept were carved during the time when St. Thomas Becket visited Clermont, wearing the white robe of the Cistercians who had hosted him in France. People gathered every day to receive his blessing, as all of Christendom regarded him as a saint who defended justice and freedom. A cast of Clermont's ancient portal, known for its exceptional charm and featuring seraphim with mystical triple wings, is displayed at the Trocadéro Museum in Paris. When this side entrance was finished, Richard Cœur-de-Lion was negotiating his claims in Auvergne with his longtime rival, Philippe-Auguste, a concession that would eventually lead to the construction of the Ile-de-France Picardy cathedral in Clermont.
Some of the most admirably sculptured capitals in Auvergne are at Mozac, a suburb of Riom.[211] The nave of Mozac’s abbey church was built from 1131 to 1147 by a brother of Peter the Venerable, who made Cluny’s nave, and of the doughty abbot, Pons de Montboissier, who erected Vézelay’s portico of paradise, all three of them belonging to a feudal family of Auvergne. The small abbatial holds a priceless treasure, the reliquary of St. Calmin, which an abbot presented in 1168. Its fourteen panels of Limoges enamel are ornamented in gold. A bold attempt was made to rob the church of this national heritage, so it is now protected by electric bells and every kind of burglar alarm.
Some of the most beautifully crafted capitals in Auvergne are at Mozac, a suburb of Riom.[211] The nave of Mozac’s abbey church was built from 1131 to 1147 by a brother of Peter the Venerable, who created Cluny’s nave, and by the brave abbot, Pons de Montboissier, who constructed Vézelay’s portico of paradise, all three members of a feudal family from Auvergne. The small abbey houses a priceless treasure, the reliquary of St. Calmin, which an abbot gave in 1168. Its fourteen panels of Limoges enamel are adorned with gold. A bold attempt was made to steal this national heritage from the church, so it is now protected by electric bells and various types of burglar alarms.
“Clermont le riche, Riom le beau,” so ran the old saying. Riom, the small but proud rival of the capital of Auvergne, was a town of magistrates who built themselves Gothic Renaissance houses as individual as the pre-Gothic work of the province. The church of St. Amable has a Romanesque nave and an early-Gothic choir. Jean, Duke of Berry, had Guy and André de Dammartin design the XIV-century Sainte-Chapelle for his palace at Riom. Its brilliantly cold stained glass was commanded for the wedding, in 1389, of sixty-year-old Duke John and the thirteen-year-old heiress, Jeanne de Boulogne. Froissart has described the curious union. Each window panel has a single statue under a canopy; the prophets and apostles carry appropriately inscribed scrolls. A XV-century window, representing the Bourbon dukes, Jean II and Pierre II, patrons of Moulins, contains a St. Marguerite so similar to one in the “Book of Hours” which Jehan Fouquet painted for Étienne Chevalier that the window is thought to be designed by the great primitif of Tours.
“Clermont the rich, Riom the beautiful,” goes the old saying. Riom, the small but proud competitor of the capital of Auvergne, was a town of magistrates who built Gothic Renaissance houses as unique as the pre-Gothic architecture of the area. The church of St. Amable features a Romanesque nave and an early-Gothic choir. Jean, Duke of Berry, had Guy and André de Dammartin design the 14th-century Sainte-Chapelle for his palace in Riom. Its vividly cold stained glass was commissioned for the wedding, in 1389, of sixty-year-old Duke John and the thirteen-year-old heiress, Jeanne de Boulogne. Froissart described the unusual union. Each window panel has a single statue under a canopy; the prophets and apostles carry scrolls with appropriate inscriptions. A 15th-century window, depicting the Bourbon dukes, Jean II and Pierre II, patrons of Moulins, contains a St. Marguerite that is so similar to one in the “Book of Hours” which Jehan Fouquet painted for Étienne Chevalier that the window is believed to be designed by the great primitif of Tours.
It may be to artists of Jean de Berry’s entourage that we owe the most entrancing Madonna of Flamboyant art, the vierge à l’oiseau, an image in the regional stone which stands at the trumeau of the XV-century church of Notre Dame-du Mathuret. One student after another has discussed the date of this exquisite figure, so purely French in essence, whose simplicity is as ample and unaffected as the best XIII-century art. Work as exceptional as this is of no date or school, but is due to some unrecorded individual genius. In that same late-Gothic day the spirit of St. Louis and Joinville lived again in The Very Joyous, Pleasing and Diverting History of the Gentle Lord of Bayard, written by the Loyal Servitor.
It might be the artists in Jean de Berry's circle that we owe the most captivating Madonna of Flamboyant art, the vierge à l’oiseau, an image carved from local stone that stands at the trumeau of the 15th-century church of Notre Dame-du Mathuret. One student after another has debated the date of this exquisite figure, so distinctly French in essence, whose simplicity is as rich and natural as the finest 13th-century art. A work as remarkable as this doesn't belong to any specific date or school, but is the result of some unrecorded individual genius. In that same late-Gothic period, the spirit of St. Louis and Joinville was revived in The Very Joyous, Pleasing and Diverting History of the Gentle Lord of Bayard, written by the Loyal Servitor.
The serrated foliage of the Madonna’s crown proves the sculpture to be late-Gothic. M. Gonse places it midway in the XIV century, M. Vitry early in the XVI, and M. Enlart thinks that it could not have been produced before the XV century. MM. Mâle, Palustre, Merimée, and others have discussed it. In the ideal innocence and dignity of the Virgin is Michel Colombe’s charm. The legend was that in Egypt the infant Jesus modeled images of birds, then breathed on them, imparting life. This is the mystic moment which the unknown master of Riom chose to render; there is a brooding reverence in the young mother’s face as she gazes at her Son, who ponders in a divine wonderment at a bird about to fly from his hand.
The jagged leaves of the Madonna’s crown indicate that the sculpture is late-Gothic. M. Gonse dates it to the middle of the 14th century, M. Vitry to the early 16th, and M. Enlart believes it couldn’t have been created before the 15th century. Misters Mâle, Palustre, Merimée, and others have discussed it. The ideal innocence and dignity of the Virgin reflect Michel Colombe’s charm. According to legend, in Egypt, the baby Jesus crafted images of birds and then breathed on them, giving them life. This is the mystical moment that the unknown master of Riom chose to depict; there’s a deep reverence in the young mother’s expression as she looks at her Son, who is lost in divine wonder at a bird about to take flight from his hand.
Into whatever country you carry war, remember that children, women and churchmen and the poor are not your enemies.—(Dying words of Bertrand Duguesclin, killed near Le Puy, 1380).
Into whatever country you bring war, remember that children, women, clergy, and the poor are not your enemies.—(Dying words of Bertrand Dugueclin, killed near Le Puy, 1380).
Le Puy is hoary with history. Perched high on basaltic rocks near the source of the Loire, picturesque beyond description, it stood on the great pilgrimage route from Italy to Compostela, the Via Francigena by which French art and poetry passed into Spain and penetrated to Italy, along whose pilgrim roads are found portal images of the Round Table heroes and the sculptured tympanums of France.[213] The cathedral is built near the top of the town’s hill, and above it on the hillcrest has been set a mammoth statue of Our Lady cast from cannon taken at Sebastopol. In the immediate suburbs rises another mass of volcanic rock, a needle some two hundred and fifty feet in height. The oldest part of the chapel crowning that extraordinary little basalt mountain dates before the year 1000. The sanctuary is trefoil, like the early-Christian churches at Rome, and like St. Laurent at Grenoble.[214] At the end of the XI century St. Michel d’Aiguille was enlarged irregularly. From time immemorial a shrine dedicated to the Archangel has crowned the pinnacle: “In the presence of angels I shall sing my psalms.”
Le Puy is rich with history. Perched high on basalt rocks near the source of the Loire, it's picturesque beyond description, and it was a major stop on the pilgrimage route from Italy to Compostela, the Via Francigena, through which French art and poetry made its way to Spain and reached Italy. Along these pilgrim roads, you can find portal images of the Round Table heroes and the sculptured tympanums of France.[213] The cathedral is built near the top of the town's hill, and above it, on the hillcrest, stands a massive statue of Our Lady made from cannon metal taken at Sebastopol. In the nearby suburbs, there’s another volcanic rock formation, a needle that rises about two hundred and fifty feet high. The oldest part of the chapel on that remarkable little basalt mountain dates back to before the year 1000. The sanctuary is trefoil, similar to the early Christian churches in Rome and like St. Laurent in Grenoble.[214] At the end of the 11th century, St. Michel d’Aiguille was expanded irregularly. For a long time, a shrine dedicated to the Archangel has stood on the pinnacle: “In the presence of angels I shall sing my psalms.”
The approach to the cathedral of Le Puy, while less difficult than the precipitous needle of St. Michel, is equally romantic and solemn. You mount the hill by the Street of Tables, so called from the days of pilgrimages, when the merchants’ booths lined it. As you climb, the way changes to a broad flight of steps, more than a hundred, and up and up you mount, with the polychromatic façade of the cathedral rising before you on high. Then suddenly, almost before you are aware of what has happened, you pass right under that western front of the church, ascending always, climbing under the cathedral’s western bays. Formerly you could have mounted right into the very sanctuary itself, coming to it through the pavement. To-day the stairway branches, and you enter the church at the side. Never was there such an approach to the House of Prayer as this, never a more sublime and grandiose conception than the shadowed stair over which hangs the façade. Halfway up, where stand red porphyry columns and doors of chiseled bronze, is carved, “If you do not fear crime, fear to cross this threshold, for the Queen of Heaven wishes a devotion without stain.”
The approach to the cathedral of Le Puy, while less challenging than the steep needle of St. Michel, is equally breathtaking and serious. You climb the hill along the Street of Tables, named from the pilgrimage days when merchants set up their stalls there. As you ascend, the path transforms into a wide staircase with over a hundred steps, and you keep climbing, with the colorful façade of the cathedral rising above you. Then suddenly, almost before you realize it, you walk right beneath the western front of the church, continuing up under the cathedral’s western sections. In the past, you could have walked straight into the sanctuary itself, coming through the floor. Today, the staircase branches off, and you enter the church from the side. Never has there been such an approach to the House of Prayer as this, nor a more impressive and grand design than the shadowed staircase beneath the façade. Halfway up, where red porphyry columns and intricately carved bronze doors stand, is engraved, “If you do not fear sin, fear to cross this threshold, for the Queen of Heaven desires a pure devotion.”
M. Thiollier has shown that the Romanesque school of the Velay region was an intermediary between Burgundy, Auvergne, and the Midi, with the meridional influences the strongest. Le Puy’s choir, transept, and two bays of the nave were erected in the XI century, and of that date is the cloister walk that touches the church. The transept has a tribune at each end. Beyond the chevet stood a tower of which the actual one is a replica. As all the level space available was covered by these structures, it became necessary, when they wished to lengthen the nave in the XII century, to build out from the hill a vast masonry foundation as a platform. It is under those westernmost bays that mounts the stairway of Wonderland. Each bay of the nave is covered by an oblong cupola set on an octagonal base, of a type found again only at Poitiers, in the church of St. Hilaire. At Le Puy the side aisles buttress the cupolas.
M. Thiollier has shown that the Romanesque school of the Velay region was a bridge between Burgundy, Auvergne, and the Midi, with the southern influences being the most prominent. The choir, transept, and two bays of the nave at Le Puy were built in the 11th century, and the cloister walk that connects to the church is also from that period. The transept features a tribune at each end. Behind the chevet stood a tower, and the current one is a replica of that. Since all the flat space available was used up by these structures, when they wanted to extend the nave in the 12th century, they had to build a large masonry foundation as a platform extending from the hill. It is beneath those westernmost bays that the stairway of Wonderland rises. Each bay of the nave is topped with an oblong cupola seated on an octagonal base, a style only found again in Poitiers, specifically in the church of St. Hilaire. At Le Puy, the side aisles support the cupolas.
No one should miss seeing a XV-century fresco discovered under whitewash, in 1860, in the library off the cloister. The Liberal Arts are symbolized by women of the type of Anne of Brittany with bombous foreheads, and at the feet of each sits a disciple. Thus Aristotle, with the sensitive face of a scholar, is seated at the feet of Logic, and Cicero learns of Rhetoric.
No one should miss the 15th-century fresco that was uncovered beneath layers of whitewash in 1860, located in the library off the cloister. The Liberal Arts are represented by women reminiscent of Anne of Brittany with prominent foreheads, and at the feet of each woman sits a student. For example, Aristotle, who has the thoughtful face of a scholar, sits at the feet of Logic, while Cicero learns from Rhetoric.
Le Puy in Old Auvergne
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Le Puy in Historic Auvergne
The cathedral of Le Puy has been venerated and visited by practically every ruler of France from Charlemagne to Francis I. This ancient city was almost chosen as the meeting place for launching the First Crusade. Urban II paused here in 1095, and the bishop of Le Puy, Adhémar de Monteil (1087-1100), accompanied him to Clermont, and when the pope’s great rallying speech was ended it was Bishop Adhémar, his face shining with enthusiasm, who first stepped forward to take the cross. Urban appointed him the spiritual chief of the expedition, and his skill in military strategics proved of use since he had been a knight before becoming a churchman. This good man died in the grievous days at Antioch, worn out with his efforts to check disorders in the crusaders’ camp. To Adhémar de Monteil has been attributed the Salve Regina called in the olden times the anthem of Puy. To Le Puy’s famous shrine St. Louis presented a thorn from the Crown he had obtained from Constantinople, and on his way back from his first crusade he deposited in the church the curious image of a black Virgin given him in Egypt.
The cathedral of Le Puy has been honored and visited by nearly every ruler of France from Charlemagne to Francis I. This ancient city was nearly selected as the meeting place for launching the First Crusade. Urban II stopped here in 1095, and the bishop of Le Puy, Adhémar de Monteil (1087-1100), accompanied him to Clermont. When the pope’s powerful rallying speech was over, it was Bishop Adhémar, his face glowing with enthusiasm, who was the first to step forward to take the cross. Urban appointed him the spiritual leader of the expedition, and his experience in military strategy was beneficial since he had been a knight before becoming a churchman. This good man died during the difficult times at Antioch, exhausted from his efforts to maintain order in the crusaders’ camp. To Adhémar de Monteil is attributed the Salve Regina, once known as the anthem of Puy. To Le Puy’s famous shrine, St. Louis offered a thorn from the Crown he had acquired from Constantinople, and on his way back from his first crusade, he placed in the church a unique image of a black Virgin that had been given to him in Egypt.
Who brings flowers and foliage; I really enjoy it when I hear __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Birds, the gentle chirping. But I prefer when on the meadow
I see the flag flying,
Floating like a war signal.
When I hear from hill to vale Run knight and horses And the earth trembles beneath their feet,
And the people shout: “Help! Help!”
To see both the young and the old. In the dying rolling ditches. To this pleasure, all other pleasures yield.[216]
—Bertran de Born (1140-1215).
Although in plan, in the mode of construction, in the covering of chapels and various details, the resemblances between the cathedrals of Clermont and Limoges are such that it is thought the same Jean Deschamps designed both, the cathedral of St. Étienne at Limoges possesses its own individual character because of the fine-grained, compact granite of which it is built and the unusual talent of its masons. M. Viollet-le-Duc considered the apse of Limoges one of the most scientific of Gothic constructions. The very beautiful leaf foliage is as crisply cut as when it came from the master’s hand. Full of character are the profiles of the molds used in the triforium for decorative effect.
Although in design, construction method, chapel coverings, and various details there are strong similarities between the cathedrals of Clermont and Limoges, which suggests that the same Jean Deschamps designed both, the cathedral of St. Étienne at Limoges has its own distinct character due to the fine-grained, compact granite it's made from and the exceptional skill of its masons. M. Viollet-le-Duc regarded the apse of Limoges as one of the most scientific examples of Gothic architecture. The beautiful leaf foliage is as sharply defined as when it was crafted by the master. The profiles of the moldings used in the triforium for decoration are full of character.
Because of the enduring quality of their building material, the Romanesque edifices of Limousin lasted so well that there was little temptation to tear them down in order to substitute Gothic churches. Till the Revolution, Limoges kept its great pre-Gothic abbatial of St. Martial, and its cathedral was, like that of Clermont in Auvergne, an isolated example of Gothic. Like Clermont’s chief church, the western bays of Limoges were not built till the XIX century. The general aspect of St. Étienne is Rayonnant. Its Flamboyant Gothic additions were held in rigorous restraint. When Bishop Aimeric de la Serre (1246-73), a man of wealth, determined to remake his church, he willed his fortune to the enterprise. As Bishop Aimeric had just died, the first stone was laid on June 1, 1273, by Hélie de Malemort, doyen of the chapter. For over fifty years they built steadily till under Bishop Hélie de Talleyrand the choir was completed in 1327. A second period of work, from 1344 to the end of the century, resulted in the south arm of the transept whose rose is Rayonnant, whereas that to the north is Flamboyant. In its tendency to eliminate the horizontal line Limoges is eminently a church of the XIV century. The shafts before the piers rise unbroken from pavement to vault-springing; the pier arches at the apse curve are very pointed. Yet there is no geometric dryness in this interior. Plain wall surfaces above the main arcade and around the triforium and clearstory add to its robust aspect.
Because of the lasting quality of their building materials, the Romanesque structures in Limousin endured so well that there was little incentive to tear them down to make way for Gothic churches. Until the Revolution, Limoges maintained its impressive pre-Gothic abbey of St. Martial, and its cathedral was, similar to Clermont in Auvergne, a unique example of Gothic architecture. Like the main church in Clermont, the western bays of Limoges weren’t constructed until the 19th century. The overall appearance of St. Étienne is Rayonnant. Its Flamboyant Gothic additions were kept under strict control. When Bishop Aimeric de la Serre (1246-73), a wealthy man, decided to remodel his church, he dedicated his fortune to the project. After the passing of Bishop Aimeric, the first stone was laid on June 1, 1273, by Hélie de Malemort, the dean of the chapter. For more than fifty years, construction continued steadily until the choir was completed in 1327 under Bishop Hélie de Talleyrand. A second phase of work, from 1344 to the end of the century, resulted in the south arm of the transept, featuring a Rayonnant rose window, while the north side showcases Flamboyant styling. Limoges is undeniably a church of the 14th century due to its tendency to eliminate horizontal lines. The shafts before the piers rise seamlessly from the pavement to the start of the vault; the pier arches at the apse curve are very pointed. However, there is no geometric dullness in this interior. The plain wall surfaces above the main arcade and around the triforium and clearstory contribute to its strong appearance.
In 1370 the Black Prince sacked Limoges and left little but the cathedral standing. Froissart recounts that “there was no pity taken of the poor people who had wrought no manner of treason ... more than three thousand persons of all ages and both sexes were slain that day ... and the city clean brent and brought to destruction.” It took time and treasure to repair the devastation. Only from 1458 to 1490 were the two easternmost bays of the nave erected.
In 1370, the Black Prince attacked Limoges and left almost nothing standing except for the cathedral. Froissart writes that “there was no mercy shown to the poor people who had committed no treason... more than three thousand men, women, and children were killed that day... and the city was completely burnt and destroyed.” It took a long time and a lot of money to rebuild from the destruction. Only between 1458 and 1490 were the two easternmost bays of the nave constructed.
The fourth period of energy at Limoges, from 1515 to 1530, created a gem of Flamboyant Gothic, the transept’s north façade, which is called the Portail de St. Jean, as it stood near a church dedicated to the Baptist. Bishop Philippe de Montmorency began it, and his successor, César de Villiers de l’Isle-Adam, completed it, as their carved armorials bear witness. Because it stood on the emplacement of the old Romanesque transept, it was somewhat too narrow. To obviate that impression the corner buttresses were offset at an angle. The wooden doors of this, the main entrance to Limoges Cathedral, are of the Renaissance. They represent the stoning of St. Stephen, and the first Christian missionary of Limousin, St. Martial, to whom an early local martyr, St. Valérie, is presenting her decapitated head. The ring of St. Valérie gave symbolic investiture to the dukes of Aquitaine.
The fourth period of energy at Limoges, from 1515 to 1530, produced a stunning example of Flamboyant Gothic architecture: the north façade of the transept, known as the Portail de St. Jean, named after the nearby church dedicated to the Baptist. Bishop Philippe de Montmorency started the project, and his successor, César de Villiers de l’Isle-Adam, finished it, as shown by their carved coats of arms. Since it was built on the site of the old Romanesque transept, it ended up being somewhat narrow. To counter that appearance, the corner buttresses were set at an angle. The wooden doors of this main entrance to Limoges Cathedral are from the Renaissance era. They depict the stoning of St. Stephen and the first Christian missionary of Limousin, St. Martial, who is being presented with the decapitated head of an early local martyr, St. Valérie. The ring of St. Valérie symbolically invested the dukes of Aquitaine.
Limoges was active in the Renaissance days. Her bishop, Jean de Langeac, erected an elaborate jubé between choir and transept, a rood loft which is one mass of hanging keystones, channeling, bas-reliefs, and arabesque panels, with six big statues of the Virtues made in 1536 by an artist of Tours named Jean Arnaud. It is plain to see that the Renaissance was in full swing. The Labors of Hercules were set forth, and Bacchus was placed beside Ambrose and Augustine. Perhaps the huge jubé and the episcopal tomb both came from the studios of Tours, where had settled the earliest artists of the transalpine Renaissance. The master hand that made the bishop’s tomb, says M. Mâle, followed Dürer, but his eight Apocalypse panels were an improvement over the designs of the German. Unfortunately the bronze recumbent figure of the munificent prelate whose pride it was to adorn his church was melted up for pennies in 1793. There are two other notable tombs in the choir’s procession path—that of a bishop-builder, Raynaud de la Porte—the only funeral monument in France that represents stone curtains drawn aside by angels—and the tomb of his nephew, Bernard Brun (d. 1350). Three of the Avignon popes were natives of art-loving Limousin.
Limoges was active during the Renaissance. Its bishop, Jean de Langeac, built an elaborate jubé between the choir and transept, a rood loft filled with hanging keystones, channels, bas-reliefs, and arabesque panels, featuring six large statues of the Virtues made in 1536 by an artist from Tours named Jean Arnaud. It’s clear that the Renaissance was in full bloom. The Labors of Hercules were depicted, and Bacchus was placed next to Ambrose and Augustine. Perhaps the grand jubé and the bishop's tomb both originated from the studios in Tours, where the earliest artists of the transalpine Renaissance had settled. According to M. Mâle, the skilled hand that crafted the bishop’s tomb was influenced by Dürer, but his eight Apocalypse panels improved upon the German's designs. Unfortunately, the bronze recumbent figure of the generous prelate who took pride in enhancing his church was melted down for scrap in 1793. There are two other notable tombs in the choir's procession path: the tomb of a bishop-builder, Raynaud de la Porte—the only funeral monument in France featuring stone curtains pulled aside by angels—and the tomb of his nephew, Bernard Brun (d. 1350). Three of the Avignon popes were from the art-loving Limousin.
The Revolution robbed Limoges of the noble abbey church of St. Martial, which had been dedicated by the pope of the First Crusade in 1095. St. Martial had formed the center of the Château section of Limoges, ruled by its own counts with a totally different administration from that of the Cité division, where the cathedral stood, and whose civic master was the bishop. Many a feud had Cité with Château. The abbatial of the “apostle of Aquitaine” would tell us the story had not blind passion laid it in ruins.
The Revolution took away Limoges' noble abbey church of St. Martial, which had been dedicated by the pope during the First Crusade in 1095. St. Martial was the heart of the Château section of Limoges, governed by its own counts with a completely different administration than that of the Cité division, where the cathedral was located and the bishop was the civic leader. There were many conflicts between Cité and Château. The abbatial of the "apostle of Aquitaine" would recount the story if blind passion hadn't left it in ruins.
For three hundred years no effort was made at Limoges to complete its cathedral’s nave until, through the enterprise of Monseigneur Duquesnay, the first stone of the sorely needed western church was laid in 1876 and the structure finished in 1888. It was joined, by means of a narthex or forechurch, to the ancient tower which had been built isolated before the Romanesque cathedral of St. Étienne. In its three lower stories, now hidden by cumbersome masonry propping, save on the east side, the tower belonged to the cathedral which Urban II blessed in 1095 when he dedicated St. Martial’s abbatial. Its four upper stories, mainly of the XII century, were begun by Bishop Sebrand-Chabot while the overlord of the province, Richard Cœur-de-Lion, was on his crusading venture. In this very region, at the castle of Chalus near Limoges, the Lion-hearted met his death in 1199.
For three hundred years, there was no effort in Limoges to finish the nave of its cathedral until Monseigneur Duquesnay took action. He laid the first stone of the much-needed western church in 1876, and the structure was completed in 1888. It was connected by a narthex, or forechurch, to the old tower that had been built separately before the Romanesque cathedral of St. Étienne. The three lower stories of the tower, now concealed by heavy masonry supports except on the east side, were part of the cathedral that Urban II blessed in 1095 when he dedicated St. Martial’s abbey. The four upper stories, mostly from the 12th century, were started by Bishop Sebrand-Chabot while the regional overlord, Richard the Lionheart, was on his crusade. In this very area, at the castle of Chalus near Limoges, the Lionheart met his end in 1199.
The dialect of Limousin was considered the purest form of Provençal by the troubadours. Here in the west center of France, Cœur-de-Lion’s troubadour friend, the malignant breeder of dissensions, Bertran de Born, had his castle of Hautefort south of Limoges. He excited Henry Plantagenet against his sons, and spurred on the sons to rebellion. Unlike the gentle Valérie who carries in her hands her own head with right Christian pride since she lost it to witness to the planting of the Cross, Bertran de Born, sower of discord, is represented swinging his severed head by the hair like a lantern. So Dante saw him in the ninth chasm of hell herded with the malicious ones who had abused the attribute of reason: “I made the father and the son rebels to each other,” he wailed. “Because I parted persons thus united, I carry my brain, ah, me! parted from its source. Thus the law of retribution is observed in me.”[217] And equally merciless has been the law of retribution for Limoges, than which no other city has suffered more from pillage, pest, and fire. Froissart tells us that during centuries the frontier lands of Limousin and Gascony exercised brigandage as a métier.
The Limousin dialect was seen as the purest version of Provençal by the troubadours. In the central-west of France, Cœur-de-Lion’s troubadour friend, the malevolent instigator of conflicts, Bertran de Born, had his castle at Hautefort, south of Limoges. He incited Henry Plantagenet against his sons and urged them to rebel. Unlike the gentle Valérie, who holds her own head in her hands with rightful Christian pride after losing it to bear witness to the planting of the Cross, Bertran de Born, the sower of discord, is depicted swinging his severed head by the hair like a lantern. That’s how Dante saw him in the ninth circle of hell, among the malicious who misused reason: “I made the father and son rebels against each other,” he lamented. “Because I divided those who were united, I bear my brain, alas, separated from its source. Thus, the law of retribution is fulfilled in me.”[217] And just as merciless has been the law of retribution for Limoges, which has suffered more than any other city from plundering, plague, and fire. Froissart tells us that for centuries, the borderlands of Limousin and Gascony thrived on banditry as a way of life.
Like the three lower stories of the tower, the crypt belonged to the XI-century Romanesque cathedral of Limoges. On its groin vault was painted a Byzantinesque Christ surrounded by the symbols of the Evangelists. The cathedral has recently lost by theft some precious enamels. From father to son in Limoges passed the skill in this beautiful art craft. St. Eloi was apprenticed to a goldsmith in Limoges in the VII century. At Le Mans is the XII-century plaque of Geoffrey Plantagenet, at Mozac an unrivaled Limousin reliquary, and Jean, duc de Berry, prince of amateurs, once possessed the best XIII-century work of Limoges enamel, the gold King’s Cup, now in the British Museum. In St. Pierre’s at Chartres are the splendid Apostle plaques of the XVI century by Léonard Limosin. The earlier method had been to sink the enamel like a jewel in cells or cloisons, hence the name cloisonné, but the Renaissance artists used no inclosing ribbon of metal.
Like the three lower stories of the tower, the crypt belonged to the XI-century Romanesque cathedral of Limoges. On its groin vault was painted a Byzantine-style Christ surrounded by the symbols of the Evangelists. The cathedral has recently lost some precious enamels to theft. The craft of this beautiful art has been passed down from father to son in Limoges. St. Eloi was apprenticed to a goldsmith in Limoges in the 7th century. At Le Mans is the 12th-century plaque of Geoffrey Plantagenet, at Mozac an unmatched Limousin reliquary, and Jean, duc de Berry, a prince of collectors, once owned the finest 13th-century work of Limoges enamel, the gold King’s Cup, now in the British Museum. In St. Pierre’s at Chartres are the magnificent Apostle plaques of the 16th century by Léonard Limosin. The earlier technique involved setting the enamel like a jewel in cells or cloisons, hence the name cloisonné, but the Renaissance artists did not use a metal enclosing ribbon.
The only ancient windows remaining in the cathedral’s clearstory are the two at the apse end, which a canon, Pierre de la Rodier, presented. When he became bishop of Carcassonne he built the south chapel that opens from St. Nazaire’s nave (1323-30). In the cathedral chapels are some XV-and XVI-century lights, and fragments of earlier glass. On the same river, Vienne, which at Limoges is crossed by two noble XIII-century bridges, lies Eymoutiers, some thirty miles to the west, between Clermont and Limoges. Its remarkable collection of windows is entirely of the XV century; each panel contains a single figure in an architectural setting.
The only ancient windows left in the cathedral’s clearstory are the two at the apse end, which were donated by a canon, Pierre de la Rodier. When he became the bishop of Carcassonne, he built the south chapel that opens from St. Nazaire’s nave (1323-30). In the cathedral chapels, there are some windows from the 15th and 16th centuries, as well as fragments of earlier glass. Along the same river, Vienne, which is crossed by two impressive 13th-century bridges at Limoges, is Eymoutiers, located about thirty miles to the west, between Clermont and Limoges. Its remarkable collection of windows is all from the 15th century; each panel features a single figure set in an architectural background.
French writers claim that between Eymoutiers and Limoges took place the apparition of the Infant Jesus to St. Anthony of Padua which became a favorite theme with painters, but the Italians insist that Padua was the privileged spot. Limoges city has its St. Anthony tradition. In its square, they say, while the saint was preaching in 1225, his audience was untouched by a rainstorm that inundated the other townspeople. As we have seen that the building of great churches was preceded in most cases by a spiritual regeneration, it is not extreme to think that the fervor roused in the Midi by the great son of St. Francis had much to do with the laying of the corner stone of Limoges Cathedral in 1273.
French writers say that between Eymoutiers and Limoges, the Infant Jesus appeared to St. Anthony of Padua, which became a popular subject for painters. However, Italians argue that Padua is the true location of this event. Limoges has its own St. Anthony tradition. In the city square, it's said that while the saint was preaching in 1225, his audience remained dry during a rainstorm that flooded the other townspeople. As we have seen, the building of major churches often follows a spiritual revival, so it seems reasonable to believe that the enthusiasm stirred up in the Midi by St. Francis's great follower contributed significantly to the laying of the cornerstone of Limoges Cathedral in 1273.
Celuy qui, d’une doulceur et facilité naturelle, mépriseroit les offenses reçues, feroit chose très belle et digne de louange: mais celuy qui, picqué et oultré jusques au vif d’une offense, s’armeroit des armes de la raison contre ce furieux appétit de vengeance, et aprèz un grand conflict s’en rendroit enfin maistre, feroit sans doubte beaucoup plus. Celuy là feroit bien; et celuy cy, vertueusement: l’une action se pourroit dire bonté: l’aultre, vertu; car il semble que le nom de la vertu présuppose de la difficulté et du contraste. Nous nommons Dieu bon, fort, et libéral, et juste, mais nous ne le nommons pas vertueux.—Montaigne (Mayor of Bordeaux from 1581 to 1585).
The person who, with natural grace and ease, dismisses the wrongs done to them would do something very beautiful and worthy of praise: but the one who, stung and deeply hurt by an offense, arms themselves with the tools of reason against this furious desire for revenge, and after a great struggle finally masters themselves, would undoubtedly do much more. That person would do well; and this one, virtuously: one action could be called kindness; the other, virtue; for it seems that the name of virtue presupposes difficulty and contrast. We call God good, strong, generous, and just, but we do not call Him virtuous.—Montaigne (Mayor of Bordeaux from 1581 to 1585).
While Bordeaux has the warm fertility of the Midi, there is much of the north in the big commercial city. And its cathedral of St. André is typical of the dual temperament. The nave is the aisleless, wide hall preferred by meridionals, the choir has the procession path with its circlet of chapels loved by the north. Excepting Le Mans, Amiens, and Rheims, it is the longest cathedral in France.
While Bordeaux enjoys the warm fertility of the Midi, it also reflects much of the northern character in its large commercial city. The cathedral of St. André embodies this dual nature. The nave is a wide, aisleless hall favored by southerners, while the choir features a procession path with a ring of chapels appreciated by those from the north. Aside from Le Mans, Amiens, and Rheims, it is the longest cathedral in France.
Bordeaux was an important city in the wide possessions of the dukes of Aquitaine. In 1137 Aliénor, the daughter of the last William, was wedded in its cathedral to the prince who immediately ascended the French throne as Louis VII. When she left him after fifteen years and wedded Henry Plantagenet the rich city on the Garonne passed under English rule. In all the vicissitudes of the three hundred years that followed, from 1154 to 1453, Bordeaux’ self-interest kept her faithful to her masters beyond the sea, the chief customers in her wine trade. Bordeaux remained French, however, in race and in the expression of race, architecture. Aliénor’s second husband, Henry II of England, was, like herself, more French than English; of his thirty-four years’ reign he passed only twelve in England, and his son, Cœur-de-Lion, was another Anglo-Frenchman.
Bordeaux was a significant city in the extensive lands of the dukes of Aquitaine. In 1137, Aliénor, the daughter of the last William, was married in its cathedral to the prince who quickly became Louis VII of France. After fifteen years, when she left him to marry Henry Plantagenet, the prosperous city on the Garonne came under English control. Throughout the ups and downs of the three hundred years that followed, from 1154 to 1453, Bordeaux’s self-interest kept it loyal to its overseas rulers, who were its main customers in the wine trade. However, Bordeaux remained French in its people and architectural style. Aliénor’s second husband, Henry II of England, was, like her, more French than English; of his thirty-four-year reign, he spent only twelve in England, and his son, Cœur-de-Lion, was another Anglo-Frenchman.
The hardy, domelike vaults carried on diagonals that span the nave of Angers’ Cathedral (c. 1150) have been considered the earliest extant examples of the Gothic of the West. And yet it is possible, thinks M. Brutails, the erudite archivist of the Gironde, that the vaults of the same type which were built over the nave of the present cathedral of Bordeaux antedated the notable ones of Angers. In Bordeaux occurred one of the premature isolated examples of Gothic ribs under the south tower of Ste. Croix. During a revival of builder’s energy, from 1052 to 1127 (under the eighth and ninth dukes of Aquitaine), Ste. Croix and St. Seurin were reconstructed and St. André begun. It seems more reasonable to suppose, however, that Anjou, where first the cupola church of Aquitaine met the diagonal ribs of northern France, should have been the cradle of that phase of the new architecture which we call Plantagenet.
The sturdy, dome-like vaults supported by diagonal arches that stretch across the nave of Angers' Cathedral (c. 1150) are considered the earliest remaining examples of Gothic architecture in the West. However, M. Brutails, the knowledgeable archivist of the Gironde, believes that similar vaults built over the nave of the current cathedral in Bordeaux might have come before the famous ones in Angers. Bordeaux also had one of the early standalone examples of Gothic ribbing beneath the south tower of Ste. Croix. During a period of renewed construction energy between 1052 and 1127 (under the eighth and ninth dukes of Aquitaine), Ste. Croix and St. Seurin were rebuilt, and St. André was started. Nevertheless, it seems more logical to think that Anjou, where the cupola church of Aquitaine first encountered the diagonal ribs of northern France, should be considered the birthplace of that phase of the new architecture known as Plantagenet.
The nave of St. André is a difficult page to read, Romanesque, Gothic, and Renaissance as it now is. The Romano-Byzantine church here which Urban II blessed in 1096 exists only in vestiges in the lower walls on either side of the wide hall. Originally the church had side aisles, but they were obliterated when the XII century spanned the entire width with Angevin diagonals. The side walls were then made into two stories, a lower wall arcade surmounted by a window story, such as we have seen in the cathedrals at Angers and Angoulême. In 1437 an earthquake caused the collapse of the masonry roof of the four westernmost bays, which were recovered by a Flamboyant Gothic vaulting rich with supplementary ribs.
The nave of St. André is a challenging space to interpret, combining Romanesque, Gothic, and Renaissance styles. The Romano-Byzantine church that Urban II blessed in 1096 exists only in remnants in the lower walls on either side of the wide hall. Originally, the church had side aisles, but they were removed in the 12th century when the entire width was covered with Angevin diagonals. The side walls were then transformed into two stories, featuring a lower wall arcade topped by a window story, similar to what we see in the cathedrals at Angers and Angoulême. In 1437, an earthquake caused the masonry roof of the four westernmost bays to collapse, which was then replaced by a Flamboyant Gothic vault with elaborate supplementary ribs.
The west front of St. André never was developed, as the church abutted there on the ancient ramparts. The main entrance was the Porte Royale in the north flank of the nave, whose statues, made in the golden hour of St. Louis’ reign, were used as models by Viollet-le-Duc when he refilled the empty niches of Notre Dame at Paris. There can be no clearer exposition of what qualities were lost in Rayonnant Gothic than to pass from this apogee portal to the smoother, more conventional images at the northern entrance to the transept; in the rugged apostles, full of character, is the touch which all time recognizes as genius; in the aristocratic churchmen of the XIV-century door is mere talent. To the nave of Bordeaux a XVI-century archbishop, Charles de Grammont, who initiated here the Italian Renaissance, added an elaborate buttress. That miniature façade is called the contrefort de Grammont.[219]
The west front of St. André was never developed because the church was next to the ancient ramparts. The main entrance was the Porte Royale on the north side of the nave, whose statues, created during the golden period of St. Louis’ reign, served as models for Viollet-le-Duc when he refilled the empty niches at Notre Dame in Paris. There’s no clearer way to demonstrate the qualities lost in Rayonnant Gothic than by moving from this peak portal to the smoother, more conventional images at the northern entrance of the transept; in the rugged apostles, rich in character, is the touch that all time recognizes as genius; in the aristocratic churchmen of the 14th-century door is just talent. Charles de Grammont, a 16th-century archbishop who brought the Italian Renaissance here, added an elaborate buttress to the nave of Bordeaux. That small façade is called the contrefort de Grammont.[219]
Under Archbishop de Mallemort (1227-60) St. André superseded St. Seurin as the cathedral of Bordeaux. As late as 1259 it lacked a suitable chevet. Gascony was in chaos in those years when Henry III, builder of Westminster Abbey, sent the Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort (son of the leader of the Albigensian Crusade), to straighten out the disorders. That strong administrator, who was on the constitutional liberal side in English politics, was frustrated by Midi corruption. Only as the XIII century closed was built the present splendid choir of Bordeaux Cathedral, a classic work of Rayonnant Gothic before that phase turned to geometric rule. How technique cramped and killed inspiration can be seen in the later Rayonnant church of St. Michel. At St. André, it is true, the capitals are slight and the profiles not overvirile. Decadence is foreshadowed, but not yet is the art academic and wiredrawn. The Midi appears in the clearstory and triforium, which do not fill the entire space between the shafts. The partiality of the meridional for unencumbered interiors had something to do with making the procession path thirty feet wide. Most grateful is the traveler for a curving aisle around the sanctuary after having sojourned among the cupola and hall-like churches of Anjou and Aquitaine. Bordeaux’ choir possesses some good stained glass of its own period, and some of its buttress statues are among the best imagery of the XIV century. Mary Magdalene, carrying her vase of ointment, appears as a chatelaine of the Middle Ages with the bandeau under her chin then fashionable; Aliénor of Aquitaine could not have been very unlike her.
Under Archbishop de Mallemort (1227-60), St. André replaced St. Seurin as the cathedral of Bordeaux. As late as 1259, it still lacked a proper chevet. Gascony was in turmoil during those years when Henry III, the builder of Westminster Abbey, sent the Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort (son of the leader of the Albigensian Crusade), to restore order. This capable administrator, who was on the constitutional liberal side of English politics, was frustrated by corruption in the Midi. It wasn't until the close of the 13th century that the current magnificent choir of Bordeaux Cathedral was built, a classic example of Rayonnant Gothic before that style transitioned to geometric design. The way technique stifled and diminished creativity is evident in the later Rayonnant church of St. Michel. At St. André, it’s true that the capitals are delicate and the profiles not overly strong. Decadence is hinted at, but the art isn't yet academic or overly refined. The Midi is reflected in the clearstory and triforium, which don't completely fill the space between the columns. The preference in the south for open interiors contributed to the procession path being thirty feet wide. Travelers appreciate the curved aisle around the sanctuary after spending time in the dome-like and hall-like churches of Anjou and Aquitaine. Bordeaux’s choir features some attractive stained glass from its period, and several of its buttress statues are among the finest imagery of the 14th century. Mary Magdalene, holding her vase of ointment, appears like a lady of the medieval era with the headband fashionable at that time; she could not have been very different from Aliénor of Aquitaine.
The most active patron of St. André’s Gothic choir was the archbishop of the city, Bertrand de Got, who in 1305 became Clement V, the first Avignon pope. When he died, in 1314, the new choir was practically completed. His image stands at the trumeau of the transept’s north door (the head and hand are reproductions), and around him are six prelates who may be intended to represent the French bishops whom Clement raised to the cardinalate. In technique these images may surpass the weather-beaten apostles at the Porte Royale (c. 1260), but they are their inferior in spirit. Five of the statues are studies from the same model. Casts of the transept portal of Bordeaux are in the Kensington Museum and in the Trocadéro. The Avignon popes were the chief art patrons of the XV century, with the four Valois princes—Charles V of France and his brothers at Dijon, Bourges, and Angers. No pontiff was more munificent than Clement V. While he was bishop at St. Bertrand-de-Comminges (Haute Garonne)[220] he renewed that small cathedral, which consists of two unequal parts, a Romanesque façade, donjon tower, and forechurch of the day when St. Bertrand had been bishop (1073-1123), and an unaisled Gothic choir, begun by Bertrand de Got, continued by him while pope and finished by Bishop Hugues de Chatillon, who died in 1352.
The main supporter of St. André’s Gothic choir was the archbishop of the city, Bertrand de Got, who became Pope Clement V in 1305, the first pope from Avignon. When he passed away in 1314, the new choir was almost finished. His image is located at the trumeau of the transept’s north door (the head and hand are replicas), surrounded by six bishops who might represent the French bishops that Clement elevated to the cardinalate. In terms of technique, these images might outshine the weathered apostles at the Porte Royale (circa 1260), but they lack the same spirit. Five of the statues are based on the same model. Casts of the transept portal from Bordeaux are found in the Kensington Museum and the Trocadéro. The Avignon popes were the primary art patrons of the 15th century, alongside the four Valois princes—Charles V of France and his brothers in Dijon, Bourges, and Angers. No pope was more generous than Clement V. While serving as bishop at St. Bertrand-de-Comminges (Haute Garonne), he renovated that small cathedral, which has two unequal sections: a Romanesque façade, a donjon tower, and a forechurch from the time when St. Bertrand was bishop (1073-1123), and a Gothic choir without aisles, initiated by Bertrand de Got, continued by him while he was pope, and completed by Bishop Hugues de Chatillon, who died in 1352.
The Rayonnant chevet of Bordeaux Cathedral and its transept, two of whose towers are spire-crowned, compose an effective architectural group, with a detached campanile in the gardens. In order to give employment to the poor, Archbishop Pierre Berland, who had been a shepherd’s son, erected the graceful, isolated tower for bells to hang in, “that God might be praised in the sky.” And the same generations built St. Michel’s tower (1472-92), the highest beacon in southwest France, mutilated mercilessly by M. Paul Abadie’s restoration. The lifeless church before which it stands is proof of how much needed was the vim, even if often exaggerated and bizarre, of the late-Gothic movement. M. Enlart considers Bordeaux and Bayonne[221] to be two of the principal doors by which the English Curvilinear style entered France. There its name is Flamboyant Gothic. And yet in this same Midi, M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, who denies the English origin of French late-Gothic architecture, claims to have found proof of his theory that already in Apogee Gothic and in the Rayonnant hour were developing the characteristics of the final phase. One cannot help but feel that the English builders’ partiality for exuberant decoration had something to do with the making of such towers as St. Michel and the Pey Berland. The landscape round Bordeaux is as rich in sky-pointing spires as Calvados in Normandy.
The Rayonnant chevet of Bordeaux Cathedral and its transept, with two of its towers topped by spires, create a striking architectural ensemble, featuring a detached bell tower in the gardens. To provide jobs for the poor, Archbishop Pierre Berland, who came from a humble background, built this elegant, stand-alone tower for the bells, “so that God might be praised in the sky.” The same generations constructed St. Michel’s tower (1472-92), the tallest monument in southwest France, which was harshly altered during M. Paul Abadie’s renovation. The lifeless church in front of it illustrates just how vital, albeit often exaggerated and strange, the late-Gothic movement was. M. Enlart considers Bordeaux and Bayonne[221] to be two of the main gateways through which the English Curvilinear style entered France. There, it’s called Flamboyant Gothic. Yet, in this same region, M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, who disputes the English roots of French late-Gothic architecture, claims to have found evidence supporting his theory that the characteristics of the final phase were already emerging during the Apogee Gothic and in the Rayonnant period. One can't help but think that the English builders’ fondness for elaborate decoration influenced the creation of towers like St. Michel and Pey Berland. The landscape around Bordeaux is as adorned with towering spires as Calvados in Normandy.
When, in 1451, the English surrendered Bordeaux, the great Dunois, Jeanne d’Arc’s companion in arms, was received as conqueror in its cathedral (where in 1376 the Black Prince had accepted the citizens’ oath of fealty to his father), and to the ringing of bells and cries of “Noël,” Archbishop Pierre Berland and the chief men of the town swore to be loyal subjects of France.
When, in 1451, the English gave up Bordeaux, the great Dunois, Jeanne d’Arc’s comrade in battle, was welcomed as a conqueror in its cathedral (where in 1376 the Black Prince had accepted the citizens’ oath of loyalty to his father). Amid the ringing of bells and shouts of “Noël,” Archbishop Pierre Berland and the town's leaders promised to be loyal subjects of France.
Among the ancient churches of historic interest in Bordeaux is Ste. Croix, rebuilt by Charlemagne when Saracens destroyed it, and again remade (1099) as Romanesque according to the school of Poitou. Under its tower, Gothic ribs were used early in the XII century. The church was partly wrecked in 1179 and revaulted at the end of the XIII century. In the sculpture of the rich façade is a certain Assyrian note. M. Brutails complains that Abadie, the restorer, made of the frontispiece a neo-Angoumois work and that the north tower is entirely of his building.
Among the ancient churches of historic interest in Bordeaux is Ste. Croix, rebuilt by Charlemagne after the Saracens destroyed it, and then remodeled in 1099 in Romanesque style according to the Poitou school. Early in the 12th century, Gothic ribs were added under its tower. The church was partly damaged in 1179 and was re-vaulted at the end of the 13th century. The sculpture on the rich façade has a distinct Assyrian influence. M. Brutails criticizes Abadie, the restorer, for turning the front into a neo-Angoumois work and notes that the north tower is entirely his construction.
Memories of the great Emperor Charles haunt the former cathedral of Bordeaux, St. Seurin. Fundamentally it belongs to the cupola type of edifice, and though incessantly rebuilt up to the XV century, it presents the aspect of a Romanesque church. The south portal (c. 1260), sculptured with elaborate foliate ornament, has images of unequal merit. In St. Seurin, says tradition, Charlemagne paused, in 778, with the bodies of the heroes of Roncevaux to be buried at Blaye, his nephew Roland and that paladin’s comrade, Sire Olivier, and Archbishop Turpin of Rheims, who fought pagans—par granz batailles et par mult bels sermuns. On the altar of St. Seurin the emperor laid the horn that Roland blew in his last extremity, the olifant which the Midi folk say still echoes in the Pyrenean gorges:
Memories of the great Emperor Charles linger in the former cathedral of Bordeaux, St. Seurin. Essentially, it belongs to the dome-style of buildings, and although it has been rebuilt many times up to the 15th century, it still looks like a Romanesque church. The south portal (c. 1260), decorated with intricate leaf motifs, features images of varying quality. According to tradition, in 778, Charlemagne stopped at St. Seurin with the bodies of the heroes of Roncevaux on their way to be buried in Blaye: his nephew Roland, that paladin’s companion Sire Olivier, and Archbishop Turpin of Rheims, who fought pagans—through great battles and many fine sermons. On the altar of St. Seurin, the emperor placed the horn that Roland blew in his final moments, the olifant, which the people of the Midi claim still echoes in the Pyrenean gorges:
On the other side of Saint Sevrin, the baron With the elephant, full of gold and treasures,
The pilgrims see that they are coming. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
And at the shrine of Baron St. Seurin,
The elephant Charles laid down, completely filled with gold,
And to this day, pilgrims can still see it there.)
The XX-century pilgrims to the old city on the Garonne must remember that the Chanson de Roland was written a long, long time ago, and that to-day the olifant of the paladin lives only in the pages of French history, where its place is as secure as the standard of Jeanne d’Arc. À la peine, à l’honneur. Without St. Seurin’s church we might have forgotten a proud page of Bordeaux’ past.
The 20th-century visitors to the old city on the Garonne should remember that the Chanson de Roland was written a very long time ago, and today the olifant of the paladin exists only in the pages of French history, where its place is as secure as the standard of Jeanne d’Arc. À la peine, à l’honneur. Without St. Seurin’s church, we might have overlooked a proud chapter of Bordeaux’s past.
And I see Saint-Sernin, the large Romanesque church, ...
And the rampart where the stone crushed the bird of
Prey that I don't want to name....
I raise my greetings and say: Holy City!
In the sun, forever thrive, powerful!...
The spirit of the South is sheltered in you,
Chivalrous and worthy, you have gone through the ages!
—Frédéric Mistral, at the Jeux Floraux in Toulouse, 1879.[224]
If the influence of both the north and the south is felt at Bordeaux, the unadulterated Midi reigns at Toulouse. It is eminently the capital city of this fertile Languedoc, where art and luxury developed precociously in the earlier periods of the Middle Ages. Here the troubadour still sings in the regional tongue which might to-day be the speech of France (instead of a dialect) had a genius such as Dante written in the langue d’oc, the most gracious form of the Romance language. It is spoken in Aragon and Catalonia—lands where the architectural development followed the same trend as that of French Languedoc.
If the influence of both the north and the south is felt in Bordeaux, the pure Midi rules in Toulouse. It is definitely the capital city of this fertile Languedoc, where art and luxury thrived early on in the Middle Ages. Here, the troubadour still sings in the regional language that could have been the speech of France today (instead of just a dialect) if a genius like Dante had written in the langue d’oc, the most elegant form of the Romance language. It’s spoken in Aragon and Catalonia—areas where architectural development followed the same trend as in French Languedoc.
Modern Toulouse is not a handsome city like the Bordeaux of to-day. Its most imposing church is not its cathedral of St. Étienne, which is as ungainly outside as it is irregular within. The nave and choir make no pretense of following the same axis line, since they never were intended to form one edifice; were the north wall of the nave extended down through the choir, it would abut on the high altar.
Modern Toulouse isn't as attractive as today's Bordeaux. Its most impressive church isn't the cathedral of St. Étienne, which is awkward on the outside and irregular on the inside. The nave and choir don't even try to line up because they were never meant to be part of the same building; if the north wall of the nave extended down through the choir, it would touch the high altar.
The nave is of enormous span like that of Bordeaux Cathedral. It once had side aisles, but the entire width of the edifice was thrown into one hall when the church was remodeled in 1211. Simon de Montfort (whom Mistral, as a patriotic son of the Midi, refuses even to name in his verses) was besieging the city while the Angevin vaults of its cathedral were building, and Count Raymond VI of Toulouse ordered that the works should continue, war or no war.
The nave is incredibly wide, similar to Bordeaux Cathedral. It used to have side aisles, but when the church was renovated in 1211, the whole width of the structure was turned into one hall. Simon de Montfort (whom Mistral, as a proud son of the Midi, won’t even mention in his poems) was laying siege to the city while the Angevin vaults of the cathedral were under construction, and Count Raymond VI of Toulouse insisted that the work should go on, regardless of the war.
The choir of Toulouse Cathedral belongs to the same current of northern Gothic that produced Clermont, Limoges, and Narbonne. Begun in 1275, it was inspired directly by Narbonne Cathedral, whose foundation stone was laid in 1273. The plan is of the north, but the feeling is meridional. After the death of the wealthy Bishop Bernard de Lille, the founder, the chapter had not sufficient funds to continue building on the same ambitious scale. Only in the XV century was the triforium level reached, and it was not until the XVII century that the masonry roof was added. Even then it was so skimped that the exterior aspect of the choir is deplorable. At St. Étienne there seemed to be a fatality against symmetry. When all hope was given up of replacing the Romanesque nave by one of the same character as the choir, it was decided to make its entrance more important; but instead of setting the new Flamboyant portal in the center of the west façade, it was placed to one side. The window dedicated to two sons of the Midi, St. Roch and St. Sebastian, is attributed to Arnaud de Moles who made the celebrated Creation, prophets, and sibyls of Auch Cathedral. Some of the grisaille in St. Étienne came from the Jacobins.
The choir of Toulouse Cathedral is part of the same northern Gothic movement that produced Clermont, Limoges, and Narbonne. Construction started in 1275, influenced directly by Narbonne Cathedral, whose foundation stone was laid in 1273. The design has northern elements, but the overall vibe is southern. After the wealthy Bishop Bernard de Lille, the founder, passed away, the chapter didn't have enough money to keep building on such an ambitious scale. It wasn't until the 15th century that they reached the triforium level, and the masonry roof was added only in the 17th century. Even then, it was so poorly done that the outside appearance of the choir is quite disappointing. At St. Étienne, it seemed like there was a curse on symmetry. When hopes of replacing the Romanesque nave with one similar to the choir faded, they decided to make the entrance more prominent; however, instead of placing the new Flamboyant portal in the center of the west façade, it ended up off to one side. The window dedicated to two local saints, St. Roch and St. Sebastian, is credited to Arnaud de Moles, who created the famous Creation, prophets, and sibyls of Auch Cathedral. Some of the grisaille in St. Étienne came from the Jacobins.
There are few church interiors in Europe more stately and unique than that of the brick abbatial in Toulouse, called the Jacobins’, a name given the Dominicans because their Paris convent was in the rue St. Jacques. The house of wisdom is founded on seven pillars, Scripture tells us.[225] So the Friars Preachers planted directly down the center of their lofty hall church seven columnar piers that soar to an enormous height. The easternmost one is set in the middle of the apse and on it fall some fourteen ribs. The vault arches of white stone against the red brick infilling are of striking effect. No mediæval pillars—save those of the late-Gothic church of St. Nicolas-du-Port near Nancy—are higher than the seven giants of Toulouse. In the desecration of the edifice after the Revolution, its pavement was covered with soil, for the stabling of horses, but within the last ten years excavations have exposed the true bases of the piers.
There are few church interiors in Europe that are as impressive and distinctive as the brick abbey in Toulouse, known as the Jacobins. This name was given to the Dominicans because their convent in Paris was located on rue St. Jacques. The house of wisdom is built on seven pillars, as Scripture tells us.[225] So, the Friars Preachers placed seven towering columns right down the center of their grand church hall, reaching an incredible height. The easternmost column is situated in the center of the apse, and from it extend about fourteen ribs. The white stone vault arches against the red brick infilling create a striking effect. No medieval pillars—except for those in the late-Gothic church of St. Nicolas-du-Port near Nancy—are taller than the seven giants of Toulouse. After the Revolution, the building was desecrated, and its floor was covered with dirt to stable horses, but in the last ten years, excavations have revealed the true bases of the pillars.
The Jacobins’ church was founded in 1229 by a rich citizen and his wife, who had vowed to devote a large portion of their fortune to God’s service, should their only daughter recover from a desperate illness. The edifice, constructed with an audacious massiveness, as if for eternity, has been allowed to fall into general decay, and now appears more desolate than would a ruin of stone. Like alien images, gargoyles protrude forlornly from the red brick walls, so inconsistent is brick with the true Gothic spirit. The Midi was too wedded to classic traditions to excel in the national art, which it never took completely to its heart. There is little of the ogival style about these narrow loophole windows, these diagonals unbraced by flying buttresses. Gothic in the south has an accidental aspect.
The Jacobins’ church was founded in 1229 by a wealthy citizen and his wife, who promised to dedicate a significant part of their fortune to God’s service if their only daughter recovered from a serious illness. The building, made with a bold massiveness as if meant to last forever, has fallen into general decay and now looks more desolate than a stone ruin. Like foreign images, gargoyles hang sadly from the red brick walls, which are not in harmony with the true Gothic spirit. The Midi was too attached to classic traditions to excel in the national art, which it never fully embraced. These narrow loophole windows lack the ogival style, and the diagonals are not supported by flying buttresses. Gothic in the south has a haphazard appearance.
The Jacobins’, or Dominicans’, Church at Toulouse
(XIII Century)
The Jacobins' or Dominicans' Church in Toulouse
(13th Century)
To the greatest of Dominican churches the Avignon pope, Urban V, who covered the Midi with his monuments, gave the body of St. Thomas Aquinas, greatest of Dominican doctors. It was saved when the Jacobins were sacked in 1562, and is now in St. Sernin, whose collection of authentic relics is the richest in France—and some say in Europe.
To the largest Dominican churches, Pope Urban V of Avignon, who filled the Midi region with his monuments, donated the remains of St. Thomas Aquinas, the most renowned Dominican scholar. These remains were saved when the Jacobins were looted in 1562 and are now housed in St. Sernin, which has the most extensive collection of authentic relics in France—and some claim in all of Europe.
Toulouse also had a Franciscan brick church, whose wall bordered on the city ramparts, so that passages of defense were thrown from buttress to buttress. That church of the Cordeliers (rich with memories of St. Anthony of Padua) was burned in 1870, and its lovely XV-century cloister now forms part of the Museum that is housed in the former convent of the Augustinians. The graceful octagonal brick tower of the Cordeliers,[226] saved from the wreckage, was modeled on that of the Jacobins’, just as the Jacobins’ tower, in lessening stories, was designed probably by the architect who made the top stories of St. Sernin’s beacon. Artists have preferred the Jacobins’ belfry to its prototype.
Toulouse also had a Franciscan brick church, with its wall adjacent to the city ramparts, allowing for defensive passages between buttresses. That church of the Cordeliers (rich with memories of St. Anthony of Padua) was burned down in 1870, and its beautiful 15th-century cloister now forms part of the museum located in the former convent of the Augustinians. The elegant octagonal brick tower of the Cordeliers,[226] saved from the ruins, was modeled after the Jacobins' tower, just as the Jacobins' tower, with its diminishing stories, was probably designed by the same architect who created the upper levels of St. Sernin’s beacon. Artists have favored the Jacobins' belfry over its prototype.
The paucity of stone in the province caused the creation of a school of brick architecture of which Toulouse was the center. One may prefer a stone architecture, but one cannot deny the lovely tones of brown and crimson madder acquired in time by these brick monuments of the Midi that seem created especially for resistance and long duration.
The lack of stone in the region led to the development of a style of brick architecture, with Toulouse at its heart. While some might favor stone structures, it's impossible to overlook the beautiful shades of brown and crimson madder that these brick buildings of the Midi have developed over time, which appear to be made specifically for strength and longevity.
Not the cathedral of Toulouse, but its monastic brick church of St. Sernin, is the supreme religious monument of the city and the grandest Romanesque edifice in France. Its date has been discussed by MM. de Lasteyrie, Corroyer, Saint-Paul, and Jules de Lahondès. In the last quarter of the XI century the monks began the choir of the present church, which combined the characteristics of the Romanesque schools of Burgundy and Auvergne. Those influences had passed south by way of Conques, where the abbatial of Ste. Foi had been rebuilt a generation before St. Sernin. In 1083 Cluny monks replaced at St. Sernin the canons regular, and where Cluny reformed, building activities usually followed.
Not the Toulouse Cathedral, but its monastic brick church of St. Sernin, is the city's top religious site and the largest Romanesque building in France. The date has been debated by MM. de Lasteyrie, Corroyer, Saint-Paul, and Jules de Lahondès. In the last quarter of the 11th century, the monks began the choir of the current church, which blended the styles of the Romanesque schools of Burgundy and Auvergne. These influences had moved south through Conques, where the abbey of Ste. Foi had been rebuilt a generation before St. Sernin. In 1083, Cluny monks took over from the canons regular at St. Sernin, and where Cluny reformed, construction usually followed.
While the Toulouse monastery church was rising, its selfsame plan appeared in the northeast corner of Spain in the cathedral of Santiago Compostela, begun in 1082, too direct a copy to have been done by any but St. Sernin’s own architect or his favorite pupil. In Spain the works went faster, so that Santiago Cathedral was completed long before the abbatial at Toulouse, and, being constructed in stone, its interior has not been marred by centuries of whitewashing.
While the Toulouse monastery church was being built, the same design showed up in Spain’s northeast corner at the cathedral of Santiago Compostela, which started in 1082. It was too exact a copy to have been created by anyone other than St. Sernin’s own architect or his favorite student. In Spain, the work progressed more quickly, so Santiago Cathedral was finished long before the abbey at Toulouse, and because it was made of stone, its interior hasn't been ruined by centuries of whitewashing.
“The entry of Urban II into Toulouse” is pictured by Benjamin Constant in the Museum. In 1096, on his journey through France, preaching the First Crusade, he blessed the unfinished choir and transept of St. Sernin. The aisles around the transept form the most imposing part of the church. As the XI century closed, the transept was continued and the nave begun under the direction of a monk-builder, St. Raymond Gaynard, a man of wealth before entering the cloister. He conceived the masterly plan of five aisles. The side aisles were covered by a quarter-barrel vaulting that serves the purpose of a continuous flying buttress. Perhaps it was when the original architect of St. Sernin had proceeded to Santiago Compostela that St. Raymond became master-of-works at Toulouse. In 1119, a year after his death, another pontiff, Calixtus II, blessed St. Sernin.
“The entry of Urban II into Toulouse” is depicted by Benjamin Constant in the Museum. In 1096, during his journey through France preaching the First Crusade, he blessed the unfinished choir and transept of St. Sernin. The aisles around the transept are the most impressive part of the church. As the 11th century came to a close, the transept was extended and the nave was started under the guidance of a monk-builder, St. Raymond Gaynard, who was wealthy before he joined the monastery. He designed the master plan of five aisles. The side aisles were covered with quarter-barrel vaulting that acts as a continuous flying buttress. It’s possible that when the original architect of St. Sernin went to Santiago Compostela, St. Raymond became the head architect in Toulouse. In 1119, a year after his death, another pope, Calixtus II, blessed St. Sernin.
From 1120 to 1140 was made the south portal, which constitutes, with Moissac’s[227] portal and cloister, the chief works extant of the Languedoc school of sculpture. That school needs a competent biographer who will do for it what M. Paul Vitry has done for the Region-of-the-Loire school, and MM. de Vasselot and Koechlin for the imagery of southern Champagne.[228] The high-water mark of the regions’ sculpture was attained in the Annunciation group at Moissac, whose ethereal elongated figures in clinging draperies rouse the imagination. The monks of Moissac, being Cluniac and not Cistercian, found imagery profitable to their souls. What were Bernard’s thoughts as he gazed at their haunting rendering of the Incarnation?
From 1120 to 1140, the south portal was created, which, along with Moissac’s portal and cloister, represents the main works still existing from the Languedoc school of sculpture. This school needs a skilled biographer who can do for it what M. Paul Vitry has done for the Region-of-the-Loire school and MM. de Vasselot and Koechlin for the sculptures of southern Champagne. The peak of the region’s sculpture was reached in the Annunciation group at Moissac, where the ethereal, elongated figures in fitted draperies stimulate the imagination. The monks of Moissac, being Cluniac and not Cistercian, found art beneficial to their souls. What were Bernard’s thoughts as he looked at their haunting depiction of the Incarnation?
Puritan Bernard thundered against the bizarre grotesques carved in cloisters. Up to 1140 they were popular, since the untrained stonecutters found it easier to make a caricature than an image true to nature. The invasions of the Barbarians had wiped out the sculptor’s art, and the men of the XI century had to rediscover it. While St. Bernard sojourned in Toulouse he lived in St. Sernin’s monastery, a Cluniac house, and it is probable that he paused with the monks at Moissac on the memorable journey he made into Languedoc to combat the fast-spreading dualist heresy of the Catharists. He was accompanied by Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves of Chartres, the builder of the most beautiful tower in the world. Surely those enlightened men mused with spiritual benefit before the Ecce ancilla Domini at Moissac? But one very much doubts if Bernard could have approved of four hundred carven capitals in the abbatial at Toulouse.
Puritan Bernard criticized the strange grotesques carved in cloisters. Up until 1140, they were popular because untrained stonecutters found it easier to create a caricature than a lifelike image. The invasions of the Barbarians had destroyed the art of sculpting, and the people of the 11th century had to rediscover it. While St. Bernard stayed in Toulouse, he lived in St. Sernin’s monastery, a Cluniac house. It’s likely that he stopped with the monks at Moissac during his notable journey into Languedoc to combat the rapidly spreading dualist heresy of the Catharists. He was accompanied by Bishop Geoffrey de Lèves of Chartres, who built the most beautiful tower in the world. Surely those enlightened men reflected spiritually before the Ecce ancilla Domini at Moissac? But one seriously doubts that Bernard would have approved of the four hundred carved capitals in the abbey at Toulouse.
Slowly the making of St. Sernin’s nave advanced. At first it was built story by story, but later the more usual procedure of bay by bay was adopted. In 1217, from the roof of St. Sernin, the stone was thrown that killed Simon de Montfort, who was besieging Toulouse. To the end of time a character such as his will rouse both enthusiasm and detestation. His personal morals were exemplary, his own troops adored him. The leading men of Christendom regarded him as an instrument of Heaven and right progress. The Midi execrated him, and does to this day, even as Ireland execrates Cromwell, whom good Puritans consider a hero, for the religious psychology of those two born leaders was curiously alike. With God’s name on their lips their troops felt righteous in butchering.
Slowly, the construction of St. Sernin’s nave progressed. Initially, it was built story by story, but later the more common method of bay by bay was adopted. In 1217, from the roof of St. Sernin, a stone was thrown that killed Simon de Montfort, who was besieging Toulouse. For all time, a character like him will inspire both enthusiasm and hatred. His personal morals were commendable, and his own troops adored him. The leading figures of Christendom saw him as an instrument of Heaven and a force for good. The Midi despised him, and still does today, just as Ireland detests Cromwell, whom good Puritans view as a hero, as the religious motivations of those two born leaders were strikingly similar. With God’s name on their lips, their troops felt justified in their killings.
With the death of Simon de Montfort the Albigensian wars changed in character. Simon’s son, Amaury de Montfort, was incapable of retaining the principality won by his father’s sword, so he sensibly passed over his claims to the king of France. The struggle henceforth was purely political. Blanche of Castile’s wise head solved the Midi tangle when she married her son Alphonse of Poitiers to the heiress of the Count of Toulouse, with the understanding that, should the young people die childless, Languedoc fell to the French Crown. Alphonse gave the Midi, says Molinier, the first intelligent administration it had received since the better times of the Roman Empire. When he and his wife died, returning from St. Louis’ fatal crusade of 1270, the great southern land became a part of France.
With the death of Simon de Montfort, the Albigensian wars changed significantly. Simon's son, Amaury de Montfort, was unable to hold onto the principality that his father had won through battle, so he wisely gave up his claims to the king of France. From that point on, the conflict became purely political. Blanche of Castile used her intelligence to resolve the situation in the Midi when she married her son Alphonse of Poitiers to the heiress of the Count of Toulouse, with the understanding that if the young couple died without children, Languedoc would become part of the French Crown. Alphonse provided the Midi, as Molinier states, with the first effective administration it had seen since the better days of the Roman Empire. When he and his wife died while returning from St. Louis’ disastrous crusade of 1270, the great southern region became part of France.
The Albigensian wars—for with reluctance one calls those years of bitter strife a crusade—delayed the completion of St. Sernin, whose main façade is gaunt and bare, and whose westernmost windows lack stone casements. When the Midi came under French rule the monks attained sufficient prosperity to erect the octagonal tower in five stories—each of lesser dimensions than the one below it. The upper stories used the miter arch so suited to brick. M. Enlart has called attention to the affinity of the clochers Toulousans and the Lombard steeples. At present the underpinning of the tower obstructs the transept-crossing, but propping is better than demolition, which is what M. Viollet-le-Duc proposed in his blind enthusiasm for unity of style. The townspeople indignantly protested and the supreme beacon of this patroness city of art was saved.
The Albigensian wars—though it's hard to even call those years of intense conflict a crusade—held up the completion of St. Sernin, which has a stark and empty main façade, and its westernmost windows are without stone frames. When the Midi came under French control, the monks gained enough wealth to build the five-story octagonal tower, with each level being smaller than the one below. The upper levels featured the miter arch, which worked well with brick. M. Enlart pointed out the similarity between the clochers Toulousans and the Lombard steeples. Currently, the tower's support structure blocks the transept-crossing, but propping it up is better than tearing it down, which is what M. Viollet-le-Duc suggested in his misguided passion for a unified style. The townspeople strongly objected, and this magnificent symbol of the city's art was preserved.
A proud boast of Toulouse is that the first Dominican monastery was established there, and by Dominic himself, the saint whom Dante called “the messenger and familiar of Christ.”[229] The Friars Preachers, like the Franciscans (who, because of a new appreciation of their founder’s character, are found sympathetic by many who still call a Dominican a “bloody sort of monk”), were agents for the quickening of the religious fervor of the XIII century. Both Orders were protests against abuses such as luxury, love of gold, and selfish privilege, which feudalism had helped to foster in the clergy.
A point of pride for Toulouse is that the first Dominican monastery was founded there, by Dominic himself, the saint whom Dante referred to as "the messenger and friend of Christ."[229] The Friars Preachers, like the Franciscans (who, due to a new understanding of their founder's character, are viewed positively by many who still refer to a Dominican as a "bloody sort of monk"), played a key role in renewing the religious enthusiasm of the 13th century. Both Orders stood against issues like luxury, greed, and selfish privilege, which feudalism had helped to create within the clergy.
Dominic de Guzman was a Castilian gentleman, a trained scholar, a man whose luminous face won instant affection and respect. In the first years of the XIII century he came north with the bishop of Osma on a diplomatic mission relating to a royal marriage. As those two good men journeyed through Languedoc amid the fearful havoc wrought by heresy, the vocation of the younger priest took shape. Returning from Italy in 1206, he and the bishop of Osma laid aside pomp and comforts to evangelize according to primitive Christianity. Only too clear was it to them that heresy was fed by the unworthy priesthood of the Midi that had lost the people’s esteem. Two generations earlier St. Bernard had lamented over the same evil. Innocent III rebuked the worldling prelate of Bordeaux, and asked the bishop of Narbonne if he had a purse in place of a heart. After ten years’ heroic missionizing both before and during the Albigensian Crusade, Dominic won papal sanction for his new Order in 1216. He was then a man of forty-seven. When he died, at Bologna in 1221, he left flourishing houses all over Christendom.
Dominic de Guzman was a Castilian gentleman, a trained scholar, a man whose bright face quickly earned him affection and respect. In the early 1200s, he traveled north with the bishop of Osma on a diplomatic mission related to a royal marriage. As these two good men journeyed through Languedoc, witnessing the terrible chaos caused by heresy, the younger priest’s calling began to emerge. After returning from Italy in 1206, he and the bishop of Osma set aside luxury and comfort to spread the message of primitive Christianity. It was clear to them that heresy was fueled by the unworthy priesthood of the Midi, which had lost the people’s trust. Two generations earlier, St. Bernard had expressed concern over the same problem. Innocent III criticized the worldly prelate of Bordeaux and asked the bishop of Narbonne if he had a purse instead of a heart. After ten years of heroic missionary work both before and during the Albigensian Crusade, Dominic secured papal approval for his new Order in 1216. He was then forty-seven years old. When he died in Bologna in 1221, he left behind thriving communities across Christendom.
The function of his Friars was to teach again Christian doctrine in its purity; hence it was only natural, when the Inquisition[230] was founded, after the death of Dominic, that it should be intrusted to such trained theologians. They were to be a kind of jury to ascertain whether a case was heretical; if it was so decided, then the civic authorities stepped in and took action, since heresy was a state offense.
The role of his Friars was to teach Christian doctrine in its purest form. So, when the Inquisition[230] was established after Dominic's death, it made sense to put it in the hands of these trained theologians. They acted as a sort of jury to determine if a case was heretical; if they decided it was, then the civil authorities would intervene and take action, as heresy was considered a crime against the state.
The best minds of that day held the theory that the decline of religion was a menace to law and order. The violent repression of heresy to prevent the dissolution of society seemed then as necessary as the repression of anarchy seems to-day. It had not always been so. “Slay error, but always love the man who errs,” was St. Augustine’s maxim. St. Ambrose and St. Hilary reprobated physical violence toward heretics. Gregory VII had protested against the “impious cruelty” which had burned a man of Cambrai for heresy. “Heretics are to be taken by force of arguments, not by force of arms,” said the vehement St. Bernard himself on one occasion. Gradually a different outlook had taken possession of men’s minds, a change of view that was to cost the Church dear. Crusades against the infidel were on every side, in the Orient, in the Balkans, in Spain. When heresy took on so alien and perverse an aspect as the Catharist errors, which were at root the negation of Christian standards and a veritable antisocial menace, it needed but an incident to start a crusade against heretics in France.
The smartest people of that time believed that the decline of religion was a threat to law and order. The harsh punishment of heresy to prevent society's collapse seemed just as necessary then as stopping anarchy does today. It hadn’t always been this way. “Fight against error, but always love the person who makes mistakes,” was St. Augustine’s principle. St. Ambrose and St. Hilary condemned the use of physical violence against heretics. Gregory VII spoke out against the “ungodly cruelty” that had led to the burning of a man from Cambrai for heresy. “Heretics should be convinced with arguments, not with weapons,” said the passionate St. Bernard on one occasion. Slowly, a new perspective took hold of people’s minds, a shift that would cost the Church dearly. Crusades against non-believers were widespread, in the East, in the Balkans, in Spain. When heresy began to look as foreign and twisted as the Catharist beliefs, which fundamentally rejected Christian principles and posed a real threat to society, it only took one incident to ignite a crusade against heretics in France.
It should not be forgotten that had the Albigensians won the victory, the south of France would have been placed outside the pale of western civilization as effectively as was southern Spain under Moslem rule. Had the Midi wars been conducted by civil authority many a partisan of to-day would not hold them up as exceptional horrors, but, since all the thinking of the Middle Ages was expressed in religious form, unfortunately the term “crusade” was used for the embittered struggle in the south.
It shouldn’t be overlooked that if the Albigensians had won, the south of France would have been excluded from western civilization just as southern Spain was under Muslim rule. If the Midi wars had been managed by civil authorities, many of today’s partisans wouldn’t view them as exceptional atrocities. However, since all thought in the Middle Ages was framed in religious terms, the term “crusade” was unfortunately used to describe the bitter struggle in the south.
La vérité n’est point a nous, nous n’en sommes que les témoins, les défenseurs, et les dépositaires.—Massillon.
La vérité ne nous appartient pas, nous ne sommes que des témoins, des défenseurs et des gardiens de celle-ci.—Massillon.
So interwoven is the architectural story of Languedoc with the Albigensian Crusade that to find the underlying significance of the southern monuments it is needful to comprehend the trend of thought of the Midi people. We have the unbroken testimony of five hundred years as to what were the tenets of Catharism, the final form taken by the Manichean heresy. They held that two principles, one good and one evil, ruled the universe. In the third century Manes in Persia had woven a curious tissue of beliefs, largely Zoroastrian with a tinge of Buddhism, and had coated it all with a thin veneer of Christianity of the gnostic type. The dualist idea and a complete rejection of the Old Testament were leading Manichean doctrines. Manes was put to death in Persia, but his teachings lingered on in the Orient, and after seven centuries crept into Europe by way of the Slav countries of the Balkans. Without a doubt, the intercourse of Europe with the Orient, through the crusades, fostered the gnostic superstitions. The dualist heresy cropped out in the north of France, but after the XII century was confined more or less to Languedoc, where the Visigoths’ Arian beliefs had prepared the soil. From the XI to the XIII century these neo-Manicheans were called Catharists. The local name Albigensian came into usage because in the region round Albi, though not especially in that city itself, the new ideas flourished. Toulouse was the heretic’s stronghold.
So closely connected is the architectural history of Languedoc with the Albigensian Crusade that to understand the deeper meaning of the southern monuments, it’s essential to grasp the mindset of the Midi people. We have five hundred years of consistent evidence regarding the beliefs of Catharism, which was the final form of the Manichean heresy. They believed that one good principle and one evil principle governed the universe. In the third century, Manes in Persia created a strange blend of beliefs, mainly Zoroastrian with a hint of Buddhism, and added a thin veneer of gnostic Christianity. The dualist idea and a complete rejection of the Old Testament were core Manichean beliefs. Manes was executed in Persia, but his teachings persisted in the East and eventually made their way into Europe through the Slavic countries of the Balkans after seven centuries. Undoubtedly, the interaction between Europe and the East, especially during the crusades, encouraged these gnostic beliefs. The dualist heresy emerged in northern France but was largely confined to Languedoc after the 12th century, where the Arian beliefs of the Visigoths had laid the groundwork. From the 11th to the 13th century, these neo-Manicheans were referred to as Catharists. The local term Albigensian became common because the new ideas thrived in the area around Albi, even though not specifically in the city itself. Toulouse was the stronghold of the heretics.
It has always seemed illogical that many Protestants who revere the Bible should be sympathetic toward the Midi heretics who reprobated the Jehovah of the Old Testament as a vindictive assassin, the creator of this the visible world, which is Hell. Life is a nightmare, they taught, and suicide a virtue. Moses was sorcerer and thief (and the Ten Commandments?). John the Baptist was a strong incarnation of the Devil sent to combat the coming Christ. Baptism by water was reprehensible. On this muddle of the Old Law was grafted some neo-Christian spiritism. Christ was the God of good who created the invisible world of spirits. He was a phantom being who never really lived on earth or suffered or died. The Albigensian denied His human nature. Man’s body, living or dead, was Satan’s (Jehovah’s) creation and to be annihilated; respectful burial of the dead was frowned on; marriage was sinful, since to engender was to capture souls and imprison them in the material world or Hell. Libertinage was preferable to marriage, since it did not pose as virtuous. We find in an official recantation of his Albigensian beliefs by a Midi lord that he promises to accept the Church’s tenet that marriage is not sinful, as was taught by his sect.
It has always seemed illogical that many Protestants who honor the Bible would support the Midi heretics, who condemned the God of the Old Testament as a vengeful assassin, the creator of this visible world, which they viewed as Hell. They taught that life is a nightmare and that suicide is a virtue. They saw Moses as a sorcerer and a thief (and what about the Ten Commandments?). John the Baptist was portrayed as a strong embodiment of the Devil sent to oppose the coming Christ. Baptism with water was considered disgraceful. This confusion over the Old Law was mixed with some new forms of Christian spiritism. Christ was viewed as the God of good who created the unseen world of spirits. He was seen as a ghostly figure who never truly lived on Earth or suffered or died. The Albigensian rejected His human nature. They believed that man’s body, living or dead, was the creation of Satan (Jehovah) and should be destroyed; they disapproved of respectful burials; and saw marriage as sinful, arguing that procreation was a way to trap souls and imprison them in the material world or Hell. They preferred libertinism over marriage since it didn’t pretend to be virtuous. In an official retraction of his Albigensian beliefs, a Midi lord promises to accept the Church’s belief that marriage is not sinful, contrary to what his sect taught.
The Albigensian heresy was an anti-social peril. It is sophistry to say, as has Molinier, that we do not know what they taught, or to call their movement a step in freeing the human mind, as do certain modern rationalists. They had two moralities, one for the people, or Hearers, and a stricter code for the elect, or the Perfect. If a Perfect relapsed, he had, after death, to pass through another existence, or Hell, in another body.
The Albigensian heresy was a social threat. It's misleading to claim, as Molinier does, that we have no idea what they taught, or to suggest their movement was a step toward liberating the human mind, as some modern rationalists do. They followed two sets of morals: one for the general population, known as the Hearers, and a stricter code for the chosen ones, referred to as the Perfect. If a Perfect fell from grace, they believed that after death, they would have to experience another life or Hell in a different body.
This current of anti-Christian thought, flowing in from the East, brought with it the over-rigid asceticism of the Orient, but in the Midi few lived up to ascetic practices. There were minor divergencies in the tenets according to the different regions, but always, East or West, the heretics were one in their detestation of the Jehovah of the Old Testament, and of the Church and her sacraments, especially that of Holy Eucharist. The Church was held to be a prolongation of the abhorred synagogue, and, like it, an incarnation of Satan.
This wave of anti-Christian ideas coming from the East brought with it the strict asceticism of the Orient, but in the South of France, few people truly followed those practices. There were some differences in beliefs based on the regions, but whether in the East or West, the heretics all shared a strong hatred for the God of the Old Testament, as well as for the Church and its sacraments, especially the Holy Eucharist. The Church was seen as a continuation of the hated synagogue and, like it, a representation of Satan.
No one can deny the crying need of reform in the Midi church. But the Albigensians damned one half of the Creator’s work—the visible world—and the perfection which they preached was race suicide. When, more recently, Mormonism struck at the root of the social fabric, the United States government took immediate action. Had the Mormons resisted, had they, for instance, murdered an ambassador from Washington and war resulted, would we not think that the use of force by the Federal government was legitimate?
No one can deny the urgent need for reform in the Midi church. However, the Albigensians condemned half of the Creator’s work—the visible world—and the ideal they promoted was essentially self-destructive. More recently, when Mormonism challenged the foundations of society, the U.S. government acted swiftly. If the Mormons had resisted—say, by killing an ambassador from Washington and initiating a war—wouldn't we consider the Federal government's use of force to be justified?
From 1100 to 1208 Rome had sent one peaceful ambassador after another into Languedoc. St. Bernard, who was loved all over Europe, was stoned in the Midi streets. The Albigenses were aggressive wherever they outnumbered the orthodox, and as most of the Midi lords held the new tenets, it was the believer who was persecuted in Languedoc. Churches were attacked and bishops flung into prison. Because the Count of Béziers accepted a local council which had censured the heretics, he was murdered by the people of Béziers in the very church and on the very day where they themselves, forty years later, were massacred by the northerners. “On all sides is the image of death,” wrote the visiting bishop of Tournai, in 1182, “villages are in ashes, churches in ruin, and the inhabitants living like beasts.” Long before the crusaders arrived in Languedoc life there was a bloody feud, and like ravening wolves the heretic lords warred one on another; their repeated divorces were a flaunted scandal.
From 1100 to 1208, Rome sent one peaceful ambassador after another to Languedoc. St. Bernard, who was beloved across Europe, was stoned in the streets of the Midi. The Albigensians were aggressive wherever they had the numbers over the orthodox, and since most of the Midi lords embraced the new beliefs, it was the believers who faced persecution in Languedoc. Churches were attacked, and bishops were thrown in prison. Because the Count of Béziers accepted a local council that had condemned the heretics, he was killed by the people of Béziers in the very church and on the exact day when they themselves were massacred by the northerners forty years later. “On all sides is the image of death,” wrote the visiting bishop of Tournai in 1182, “villages are in ruins, churches are destroyed, and the inhabitants live like animals.” Long before the crusaders arrived in Languedoc, life there was marked by a bloody feud, and like ravenous wolves, the heretic lords fought amongst themselves; their repeated divorces were a notorious scandal.
The Albigensian Crusade is no isolated page in the annals of the Midi. Read of the anarchy in the south, previous to 1208, and then pass from the XIII century to the gigantic duel between France and England in the Hundred Years’ War. You will feel no sense of dislocation. The crusade methods were hideous, but not exceptional. In the later debacle, Froissart relates as a matter of course the pleasant little jaunt of the Black Prince, fleur de toute chevalerie, into Languedoc, in 1355,[232] when he burned some seven thousand houses in the faubourgs of Toulouse, when Carcassonne was twice sacked and burned, Narbonne wrecked, treasure seized, and all ages and sexes butchered “till a line of fire and blood stretched from Toulouse to the sea.” And the Black Prince was succeeded by avowed freebooters who gnawed France to the bone, the Grandes Compagnies who, as said the harassed pontiff at Avignon, mettaient tout la Crestienté à combustion. It was in the dire times of the XIV century that the Midi churches fortified themselves.
The Albigensian Crusade is not just a single event in the history of the Midi. Look at the chaos in the south before 1208, and then jump from the 13th century to the massive conflict between France and England during the Hundred Years' War. You won't feel any disconnect. The methods used in the crusade were brutal but not unusual. Later, Froissart casually describes the enjoyable little expedition of the Black Prince, fleur de toute chevalerie, into Languedoc in 1355,[232] when he burned around seven thousand houses in the suburbs of Toulouse, when Carcassonne was sacked and burned twice, Narbonne destroyed, treasure taken, and people of all ages and genders slaughtered “until a line of fire and blood stretched from Toulouse to the sea.” After the Black Prince, avowed raiders took over, draining France of its resources, the Grandes Compagnies who, as the overwhelmed pope in Avignon said, mettaient tout la Crestienté à combustion. It was during the terrible times of the 14th century that the Midi churches fortified themselves.
War slackens architectural work in any period. A radical decay of builders’ energy in the Midi was not the result of the Albigensian Crusade, since Languedoc erected its chief Gothic churches between those wars and the Hundred Years’ War, a period, moreover, that was controlled by the newly functioning Inquisition. To generations torn by anarchy, the methods of that tribunal, hateful though they appear to us, were an advance in jurisprudence. Every leader of the day accepted them as a progress. The civil courts were not to be able, for centuries to come, to offer even such guaranty for justice. No balanced mind can read the lives of such chief inquisitors as, for instance, St. Raymond of Penafort,[233] and fail to comprehend that past history is not to be read in the light of modern prejudices.
War slows down architectural work in any era. The significant decline in builders’ energy in the Midi wasn’t caused by the Albigensian Crusade, since Languedoc built its main Gothic churches between those wars and the Hundred Years' War, a time that was also influenced by the newly functioning Inquisition. For generations torn by chaos, the tribunal's methods, though they seem awful to us now, were considered an advancement in law. Every leader at the time viewed them as progress. The civil courts wouldn’t be able to provide such guarantees for justice for many centuries. No rational person can read about the lives of key inquisitors like St. Raymond of Penafort and not understand that past history shouldn’t be judged through the lens of modern biases.
Rome had carried on a hundred years’ diplomatic negotiation with the Midi heretics. Finally, in 1208, the pope’s legate was murdered by a henchman of the Count of Toulouse and hostilities were precipitated. Innocent III proclaimed a crusade. Later he regretted its excesses just as he had cause to deplore the divergence of the Fourth Crusade to filibustering purposes, but he was too entirely a man of his own epoch to regret the Albigensian Crusade itself. By 1209 the northern barons had invaded Languedoc and many a building-bishop was in their ranks.
Rome had been negotiating diplomatically with the Midi heretics for a hundred years. Finally, in 1208, the pope’s legate was murdered by an assassin working for the Count of Toulouse, which sparked hostilities. Innocent III declared a crusade. Later, he regretted the excesses of it, just as he had reason to mourn the Fourth Crusade’s diversion to selfish ends, but he was too much of his time to regret the Albigensian Crusade itself. By 1209, the northern barons had invaded Languedoc, and many bishops were among their ranks.
The spirit of crusading was at first strong enough to prevent their attacking the rich trading city of Montpellier which lay in their path but which was singularly free of heresy. Yet their very next step was a sacrilege. The orthodox population of Béziers, when called on to deliver up their heretic citizens, answered they would sooner see themselves sunk in the deep sea. It would seem that from the first hour many Catholics of the Midi looked on the crusade as a war of conquest on the part of the barons of the north. Between north and south was deep-rooted antipathy. The more cultivated but more corrupted Midi scorned the rougher peoples beyond their confines, who in their turn despised the southerners. Inevitable was it that a clash between those opposite civilizations should acquire the character of racial hate.
The spirit of crusading was initially strong enough to stop them from attacking the wealthy trading city of Montpellier, which was on their path but notably free of heresy. However, their very next move was a sacrilege. The orthodox people of Béziers, when asked to hand over their heretical citizens, replied they would rather drown in the sea. It seemed that from the very beginning, many Catholics in the Midi viewed the crusade as a land grab by the barons from the north. There was a deep-rooted hostility between the north and south. The more cultured yet more corrupted Midi looked down on the rougher people from beyond their borders, who, in turn, despised the southerners. It was inevitable that a clash between these opposing civilizations would take on the characteristics of racial hatred.
Simon de Montfort, chosen leader of the crusaders after the sack of Béziers, soon overran the heretical region, whereupon many barons of the north, deeming that the ethical purpose of the Midi excursion was accomplished, returned to their homes. Henceforth the racial and political aspects of the struggle were accentuated. Cruelty and perfidy marked both sides. The Midi lords boasted that no crusader escaped them with eyes, fists, or feet, and they cut into little pieces the nephew of Albéric de Humbert, archbishop-builder of Rheims Cathedral. In retaliation Simon de Montfort cut off heretics’ ears and noses.
Simon de Montfort, elected leader of the crusaders after the sack of Béziers, quickly took control of the heretical region. Many barons from the north, believing that the moral goal of the Midi campaign was achieved, returned to their homes. From that point on, the racial and political dimensions of the conflict became more pronounced. Both sides displayed cruelty and treachery. The Midi lords claimed that no crusader escaped without losing their eyes, hands, or feet, and they mutilated the nephew of Albéric de Humbert, the archbishop who helped build Rheims Cathedral. In response, Simon de Montfort severed the ears and noses of the heretics.
By 1212 word was sent to Innocent III that hate and cupidity, as much as zeal for the Faith, actuated the invaders, whereupon the pope roundly ordered them to pass into Spain to fight Islam. It was too late to stem the tide. In 1215, at the Fourth Lateran Council, in which every power in Christendom, lay and ecclesiastic, had a voice, Simon de Montfort’s retention of his Midi conquests was sanctioned. Simon’s death, in 1218, led young Raymond VII of Toulouse to rise in arms and the wars that followed were frankly political. In 1229 peace was signed under the portal of Paris Cathedral and the only daughter of Raymond VII affianced to the brother of the king of France.
By 1212, word got to Innocent III that the invaders were driven by hate and greed, as much as by their zeal for the Faith. In response, the pope firmly ordered them to move to Spain to battle against Islam. It was too late to reverse the situation. In 1215, at the Fourth Lateran Council, where every significant power in Christendom—both secular and religious—had a say, Simon de Montfort was allowed to keep his conquests in the Midi. Simon’s death in 1218 prompted young Raymond VII of Toulouse to take up arms, and the subsequent wars were clearly political. In 1229, peace was established at the portal of Paris Cathedral, and Raymond VII's only daughter was betrothed to the brother of the king of France.
ALBI CATHEDRAL[234]
ALBI CATHEDRAL__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Laissons-nous aller de bonne foi aux choses qui nous prennent par les entrailles et ne cherchons point de raisonnements pour nous empêcher d’avoir du plaisir.—Molière.
Laissons-nous aller de bonne foi aux choses qui nous prennent par les entrailles et ne cherchons point de raisonnements pour nous empêcher d’avoir du plaisir.—Molière.
The city which gave its name to the terrible episode of the XIII century lies forty miles east of Toulouse. The local saying is, “Who has not seen the cathedral of Albi and the tower of Rodez has seen nothing.” Albi Cathedral yields to none in its gaunt majesty. It stands apart in one’s visions of travel, as unique a memorial of past history as the Mount of the Archangel off the coast of Normandy, as Vézelay looking out over the soft valleys of Burgundy, as Le Puy on its basaltic pinnacles. Never was a monument more absolutely itself.
The city that gave its name to the terrible event of the 13th century is located forty miles east of Toulouse. The local saying goes, “Anyone who hasn't seen the cathedral of Albi and the tower of Rodez hasn't seen anything.” Albi Cathedral is unmatched in its stark grandeur. It stands out in the memory of travel, just as unique a reminder of history as the Mount of the Archangel off the coast of Normandy, as Vézelay overlooking the gentle valleys of Burgundy, as Le Puy on its basaltic peaks. There has never been a monument more authentically itself.
Albi Cathedral (1282-1399). A Midi Fortress Church
Albi Cathedral (1282-1399). A fortress church from the Midi region.
Unfrequented Albi was once in the stir of life, and over its stone bridge, built nine centuries ago, have passed the notable folk of the Middle Ages[235] as they wended their way to Santiago Compostela, whither all the world was going in those days. Time-scarred houses border the reddish Tarn; dark, decayed streets climb the hill. At a curve of the river, bastions and ramparts rise in terraces to a fortified episcopal palace and—crowning all—the enormous bulk of the cathedral. Its long, stark wall strikes the sky in a formidable straight line. The west façade is a massive donjon, four hundred feet above the Tarn. No welcoming west portals here, no extended transept arms of sacrificial mercy, no soaring buttress, no leaping pinnacles. Not the lore of Christ, “Do as you would be done by,” seems to have inspired Albi, but the Hebraic spirit of breaking one’s enemies’ bones, as if the Jehovah of the Old Testament, outraged by Albigensian blasphemies, here asserted himself in a temple that would forever be a looming menace for heretics.
Unvisited Albi used to be bustling with life, and over its stone bridge, built nine centuries ago, notable figures from the Middle Ages[235] crossed their way to Santiago Compostela, where everyone was heading back then. Timeworn houses line the reddish Tarn; dark, worn streets climb the hill. At a bend in the river, bastions and walls rise in terraces leading to a fortified episcopal palace and—at the top—the massive bulk of the cathedral. Its long, stark wall reaches high into the sky in a formidable straight line. The west façade is a massive watchtower, four hundred feet above the Tarn. There are no welcoming west doors, no extended transept arms of sacrificial mercy, no soaring buttresses, no leaping pinnacles. The teaching of Christ, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” doesn’t seem to have inspired Albi; instead, it feels like the Old Testament spirit of breaking one’s enemies’ bones prevails here, as if the God of the Old Testament, angered by Albigensian blasphemies, declared His power in a temple that would always stand as a threatening presence for heretics.
Albi’s forbidding structure rose between those two harsh epochs—the Albigensian Crusade and the Hundred Years’ War. Its aggressive mass was planned by a most aggressive churchman, Bernard, Cardinal de Castanets, the city’s learned bishop detested of the people as their uncompromising feudal master, as well as a spiritual chief so harsh in his inquisitorial functions that a pontifical commission was appointed, in 1306, to repair his excesses. In 1282 Bernard de Castanets laid the first stone of Albi Cathedral and for twenty years he and the chapter contributed a twentieth of their revenues. The church was finished by the sixty-fifth bishop, Guillaume de la Voulte, in the last years of the XIV century.
Albi’s imposing structure rose between two harsh periods—the Albigensian Crusade and the Hundred Years’ War. Its bold design was created by a very forceful churchman, Bernard, Cardinal de Castanets, the city’s educated bishop who was disliked by the people as their unyielding feudal master, as well as a spiritual leader so stern in his inquisitorial role that a papal commission was established in 1306 to address his excesses. In 1282, Bernard de Castanets laid the first stone of Albi Cathedral, and for twenty years, he and the chapter contributed a fifth of their revenues. The church was completed by the sixty-fifth bishop, Guillaume de la Voulte, in the last years of the 14th century.
To approach the cathedral at its apse end is not so picturesque as from the river side, but it is formidable enough. The prodigious apse rises abruptly, imperiously, from the town square. One fairly shivers beneath its Tolosan brick walls, overtowering and overpowering, broken merely by a few narrow windows—surely the narrowest ever made in a Gothic church—and by uniform bastion-tower buttresses. Gargoyles, of as alien an aspect as those of the Jacobins’ at Toulouse, crane their gaunt necks from the upper walls, as if asking what manner of Gothic this is.
Approaching the cathedral from its apse end isn’t as picturesque as from the river side, but it’s still quite impressive. The massive apse rises sharply and commanding from the town square. You can’t help but feel a chill beneath its towering Tolosan brick walls, which dominate the space, interrupted only by a few narrow windows—probably the smallest ever made in a Gothic church—and by uniform bastion-tower buttresses. Gargoyles, looking as strange as those at the Jacobins in Toulouse, stretch their long necks from the upper walls, as if wondering what kind of Gothic this is.
Albi Cathedral is the meridional interpretation of the national art. The traditions of Rome held tenaciously in southern France, where builders disliked to show the machinery by which their edifices stood. The buttresses at Albi are in larger part hidden within the church under the guise of walls between the side chapels. The flying buttress is uncommon in the Midi. Like Rome again, with her preference for an unencumbered floor space, Albi’s immense interior is unbroken by aisles. The vault’s diagonals spring over a width of sixty feet—a span unrivaled by any in the north. Albi Cathedral is a vast hall three hundred feet long, one hundred feet high, not high enough for its length, perhaps, but few will regret having the marvelous frescoed ceiling, “the missal of St. Cecilia,” brought nearer to the eye.
Albi Cathedral is the southern interpretation of national art. The traditions of Rome are firmly held in southern France, where builders preferred to conceal the structures that supported their buildings. The buttresses at Albi are mostly hidden within the church, disguised as walls between the side chapels. The flying buttress is rare in the Midi. Like Rome, which favors an open floor space, Albi’s enormous interior is uninterrupted by aisles. The diagonals of the vault stretch across a width of sixty feet—a span unmatched by any in the north. Albi Cathedral is a massive hall, three hundred feet long and one hundred feet high, which may not be high enough for its length, but few will mind having the amazing frescoed ceiling, “the missal of St. Cecilia,” closer to view.
The tutelary of this fortress-church is the gentle patroness of music. Half the fascination of Albi comes from its convincing inconsistencies. It would seem that not Cécile—doubly feminine and gracious under her French name—but Michael Archangel with a brandished sword, should guard this rugged pile. As if the good people of Albi felt the incongruity, they added, long after Bishop de Castanets’ day, a southern portal preceded by a porch, the baldaquin, with all its elaborate Flamboyant tracery executed in a creamy-white marble in which surely Cécile, saint though she was, must have felt a personal satisfaction. An architect of genius set that marble porch of Albi against its red time-dulled walls, ’alabaster on corall’; one takes liberties with Chaucer’s rime:
The guardian of this fortress-church is the gentle patron saint of music. Half the charm of Albi comes from its compelling contradictions. It seems that not Cécile—so feminine and gracious with her French name—but Michael the Archangel, brandishing a sword, should protect this rugged structure. As if the good people of Albi recognized the mismatch, they added a southern entrance later on, complete with a porch and a canopy, featuring all its intricate Flamboyant design crafted from a creamy-white marble that surely brought personal satisfaction to Cécile, saint though she was. A genius architect set that marble porch of Albi against its weathered red walls, 'alabaster on coral'; one takes liberties with Chaucer’s rhyme:
In honor of the Roman Cicily.
To ascend to the marble baldaquin one passes under a fortified sculptured gateway, erected by the Dominican bishop of Albi, Dominique de Florence (1392-1410). The marble portal and porch were executed under Bishop Louis I d’Amboise (1472-1502) and his successor, Louis II d’Amboise (1502-11) his nephew, belonging to an enlightened family all of whose members excelled in affairs, war, letters, and art, leaving their memorials at Chaumont on the Loire, their feudal seat, at Cluny, Paris, Clermont, Gaillon, and Rouen.
To reach the marble canopy, you go under a fortified sculpted gate built by the Dominican bishop of Albi, Dominique de Florence (1392-1410). The marble entrance and porch were created under Bishop Louis I d’Amboise (1472-1502) and his successor, Louis II d’Amboise (1502-11), his nephew, who came from an enlightened family known for their achievements in politics, warfare, literature, and art, leaving their legacy at Chaumont on the Loire, their feudal home, as well as in Cluny, Paris, Clermont, Gaillon, and Rouen.
Louis I d’Amboise also adorned the interior of his cathedral by the sumptuous screen of white stone that surrounds the choir, leaving a passageway between it and the side chapels. The rood-loft, or jubé (so called because from its balcony the clerk chanted Jube Domine dicere before the gospel), is sculptured with the ermine of Anne of Brittany and the lilies of France, being made about 1499, when Anne wedded Louis XII. Bishop Louis at Albi was brother of the king’s prime minister, Cardinal Georges d’Amboise.
Louis I d’Amboise also decorated the interior of his cathedral with an impressive white stone screen that encircles the choir, leaving a pathway between it and the side chapels. The rood-loft, or jubé (named because from its balcony the clerk chanted Jube Domine dicere before the gospel), is intricately carved with the ermine of Anne of Brittany and the lilies of France. It was created around 1499, when Anne married Louis XII. Bishop Louis in Albi was the brother of the king’s prime minister, Cardinal Georges d’Amboise.
Originally the choir screen of Albi was painted in colors. While the accessories indicate that the Italian Renaissance was obtaining headway in France, the images derive from the short, overdraped Franco-Flamand figures of Dijon. Perhaps the stonecutters who made Albi’s choir wall came direct from Cluny, where a late-Gothic chapel, on which had worked Abbot Jacques d’Amboise, was adorned with prophets and apostles, each with his suitable text. On the inner wall of Albi’s choir screen are sculptured homely but charming little angels, and the twelve apostles holding scrolls inscribed with phrases of the Crédo. Old Testament personages, who only heralded the Messiah, were not admitted to the sanctum sanctorum; the vestibule was their proper place. Prosper Mérimée called Albi’s screen “a splendid folly before which one is ashamed to be wise.” Inside and out it is exuberant with sculpture, though its extravagant caprices do not stifle a very real religious feeling in the images. Such a profusion of delicate ornament led the modern critic to suspect that the choir wall was modeled in cement, not chiseled in stone, but when a Sorbonne geologist analyzed the substance it was found to be a fine-grained white stone that grows harder with time.
Originally, the choir screen of Albi was painted in vibrant colors. While the details show that the Italian Renaissance was making strides in France, the images come from the short, draped Franco-Flemish figures of Dijon. It’s possible that the stonecutters who worked on Albi’s choir wall came directly from Cluny, where a late-Gothic chapel, worked on by Abbot Jacques d’Amboise, was decorated with prophets and apostles, each accompanied by their respective text. On the inner wall of Albi’s choir screen are charming little angels and the twelve apostles holding scrolls with phrases from the Crédo. Old Testament figures, who only foreshadowed the Messiah, were not allowed in the sanctum sanctorum; the vestibule was their proper space. Prosper Mérimée referred to Albi’s screen as “a splendid folly before which one is ashamed to be wise.” It is richly adorned inside and out with sculpture, though its extravagant whims do not overshadow a genuine religious sentiment reflected in the images. This profusion of intricate ornamentation led a modern critic to speculate that the choir wall was made of cement rather than carved from stone, but when a geologist from Sorbonne examined the material, it was confirmed to be a fine-grained white stone that hardens over time.
Everywhere in St. Cecilia’s cathedral is fragile loveliness set side by side, as an afterthought, with stern forcefulness. Bishop Louis II d’Amboise brought from Italy a group of artists to paint the panels of Albi’s cyclopean vaulting, and the work accomplished by those men of northern Italy, from 1509 to 1512, remains the most splendid color decoration of the Middle Ages in France. Michael Angelo was painting the Sistine Chapel ceiling in those same years. Languedoc produced another superb array of color, the windows of Auch Cathedral,[236] and we must not forget that the greatest of all Renaissance glassworkers, the friar who filled Arezzo with glory, was a Midi Frenchman.
Everywhere in St. Cecilia’s cathedral, delicate beauty exists alongside strict strength. Bishop Louis II d’Amboise brought a group of artists from Italy to paint the panels of Albi’s massive vaulting, and the work done by those northern Italian artists from 1509 to 1512 remains the most stunning color decoration of the Middle Ages in France. During those same years, Michelangelo was painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Languedoc produced another amazing display of color with the windows of Auch Cathedral,[236] and we shouldn’t forget that the greatest of all Renaissance glassworkers, the friar who brought fame to Arezzo, was from southern France.
Amid Albi’s arabesques the artists from Bologna and Modena inscribed their names, and some young lovers wrote “Antonia, mia bella,” and “Lucrezia Cantora, bolognesa.” The frescoes give the genealogy of Christ. They recall Perugino, Francia, and Pintoriccio. Never was blue background more marvelous—a strong rare hue neither indigo nor Prussian nor peacock, but a blending of them all in a cerulean depth of color—an art as entirely lost to posterity as the blue background of Suger’s windows. Chemical analysis has busied itself with Albi’s frescoes, too; but though the blue color of the vault panels was found to be obtained from the precipitation of salts of copper by carbonate of potassium, how to produce a similar hue to-day remains unsolved. Over the blue background wind lovely arabesques, and the saints portrayed are stately Italians of the Renaissance. The diagonals and transverse arches are colored in old-gold. On the western wall of the church a XV-century fresco was painted directly on the bricks, a Last Judgment copied from popular woodcuts of the day, with the punishments of the seven deadly sins pitilessly set forth. The painting was ruthlessly cut into when a chapel was introduced under the western tower. The side chapels of Ste. Cécile are illuminated in gold and color like a Book of Hours. Never was there a church of such contrasts: within—a shrine of warm, polished, over-splendid beauty, and without—the most rugged feudal challenge of the Middle Ages.
Amid Albi’s intricate designs, artists from Bologna and Modena wrote their names, and some young lovers inscribed “Antonia, my beautiful one,” and “Lucrezia Cantora, from Bologna.” The frescoes illustrate the genealogy of Christ. They remind us of Perugino, Francia, and Pintoriccio. The blue background is more stunning than ever—a rich, rare shade that’s neither indigo, Prussian, nor peacock, but a blend of them all in a deep cerulean color—an art completely lost to later generations, just like the blue background of Suger’s windows. Chemical analysis has also studied Albi’s frescoes; although it has been found that the blue color of the vault panels comes from copper salts precipitated by potassium carbonate, how to create a similar hue today remains a mystery. Beautiful arabesques flutter over the blue background, and the saints depicted are dignified Italians from the Renaissance. The diagonals and transverse arches are painted in a faded gold. On the western wall of the church, a 15th-century fresco was painted directly onto the bricks, depicting a Last Judgment copied from popular woodcuts of the time, displaying the punishments for the seven deadly sins without mercy. The painting was harshly damaged when a chapel was added under the western tower. The side chapels of Ste. Cécile are illuminated in gold and color like a Book of Hours. There has never been a church with such contrasts: inside—a shrine of warm, polished, dazzling beauty, and outside—the most rugged feudal challenge of the Middle Ages.
CARCASSONNE[237]
CARCASSONNE__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
It is the first sharp vision of an unknown town, the first immediate vision of a range of hills, that remains forever, and is fruitful of joy within the mind ... that is perhaps the chief of the fruits of travel.—Hilaire Belloc.
It’s the first clear sight of an unfamiliar town, the first immediate view of a group of hills, that sticks with you forever and brings joy to the mind... that might be one of the best rewards of traveling.—Hilaire Belloc.
The Cité of Carcassonne was long one of the most formidable fortresses of Europe, covering the route from ocean to sea and guarding a pass into Spain. These Pyrenean provinces of France gave Joffre and Foch to the World War. The lower walls of the Cité were of Rome’s building; above came the Visigothic defenses; then St. Louis extended the fortifications and his son completed them.
The Cité of Carcassonne has long been one of the strongest fortresses in Europe, controlling the route from the ocean to the sea and protecting a pass into Spain. These Pyrenean regions of France produced Joffre and Foch during World War I. The lower walls of the Cité were built by the Romans; above them are the Visigothic defenses; then St. Louis expanded the fortifications, and his son finished the work.
Within its double belt of walls and half a hundred towers is the precious little church of St. Nazaire, once of cathedral rank. Its western front was never opened by a portal because it stood near what were long the outer ramparts. The Romanesque nave is small and dark, without triforium or clearstory, and with high aisles that buttress the tunnel vault of the principal span, whose transverse ribs are slightly pointed. Piers and columns alternate. The materials to build this early church were blessed by Urban II in 1096 in the same month that he dedicated the new choir of St. Sernin at Toulouse. St. Nazaire was an entirely Romanesque church when Simon de Montfort ruled the Cité for ten years. In this church St. Dominic married Amaury de Montfort to a princess of Dauphiny. St. Dominic had held a public controversy of eight days with the heretics of Carcassonne in 1205, before the coming of the northern barons, and in St. Nazaire he preached the Lent of 1213. Simon de Montfort was buried temporarily in St. Nazaire, and there exists in a nave chapel a sculptured stone which some have thought to be part of his sepulcher, but which is more probably from the tomb of a brother of Count Raymond of Toulouse, who, having sympathized with the northern barons, was slain in consequence. The curious stone shows the engines of war described in the Chanson de la Croisade, and the costumes of that period.
Within its double belt of walls and around fifty towers stands the precious little church of St. Nazaire, which was once a cathedral. Its western facade never had a doorway because it was located near what used to be the outer ramparts. The Romanesque nave is small and dark, lacking a triforium or clearstory, and features high aisles that support the tunnel vault of the main span, with slightly pointed transverse ribs. Piers and columns alternate. The materials used to build this early church were blessed by Urban II in 1096, the same month he dedicated the new choir of St. Sernin in Toulouse. St. Nazaire was entirely Romanesque during Simon de Montfort’s ten-year rule over the Cité. In this church, St. Dominic married Amaury de Montfort to a princess from Dauphiny. St. Dominic had engaged in an eight-day public debate with the heretics of Carcassonne in 1205, before the arrival of the northern barons, and he preached during Lent in 1213 at St. Nazaire. Simon de Montfort was temporarily buried in St. Nazaire, and there’s a sculpted stone in a nave chapel that some believe to be part of his tomb, but it’s more likely from the tomb of a brother of Count Raymond of Toulouse, who was killed due to his support for the northern barons. The intriguing stone depicts the war machines mentioned in the Chanson de la Croisade and the clothing from that era.
Under Bishop Radulph (1255-66), who built the Gothic chapel beside the south arm of the transept, permission was obtained to replace the ancient transept and choir by a new one. Bishop Radulph won forgiveness for those citizens of Carcassonne who were expelled from the fortress in 1262, because they had conspired against the crown with one of the Trencavel dynasty, their old rulers, and the builders of the Cité’s château. Louis IX, who governed Carcassonne through a seneschal, allowed the exiles to start the present town of Carcassonne beyond the river, in the plain below the citadel.
Under Bishop Radulph (1255-66), who constructed the Gothic chapel next to the south side of the transept, approval was granted to replace the old transept and choir with a new one. Bishop Radulph secured forgiveness for the citizens of Carcassonne who had been expelled from the fortress in 1262 because they had plotted against the crown with one of the Trencavel dynasty, their former rulers and the builders of the Cité’s château. Louis IX, who governed Carcassonne through a seneschal, permitted the exiles to establish the current town of Carcassonne across the river, in the plain below the citadel.
The erection of the Gothic half of St. Nazaire took place under Bishop Pierre de Roquefort (d. 1321) during the first twenty years of the XIV century. To him we owe the radiant glass lantern which is St. Nazaire’s transept and choir, a structure that is really a big transept with seven chapels, equally high, along its eastern wall, the central of which chapels, and the longest, serving as choir. The windows in the chapels rise to the roof, and are filled with clear and brilliant glass ranked with the best of the XIV century; those in the first two chapels excel the others. Two windows show the arms of Pierre de Roquefort. St. Nazaire was one of the last to use the legend-medallion type of window; henceforth, in each panel, a single figure was placed in an architectural setting.
The construction of the Gothic half of St. Nazaire happened under Bishop Pierre de Roquefort (d. 1321) during the first twenty years of the 14th century. We owe him the stunning glass lantern that is St. Nazaire’s transept and choir, a structure that is essentially a large transept with seven equally tall chapels along its eastern wall, with the central chapel, which is the longest, serving as the choir. The windows in the chapels reach up to the roof and are filled with clear and brilliant glass, featuring some of the best from the 14th century; the first two chapels have windows that stand out the most. Two windows display the arms of Pierre de Roquefort. St. Nazaire was one of the last to use the legend-medallion style of window; from then on, each panel featured a single figure set in an architectural background.
The seven eastern chapels of the transept open one on the other above a low dividing wall, and standing out from those walls, so that a narrow passage is made between them and the transept, are detached piers that rise powerfully from pavement to vault-springing. Above their capitals the molds die away in the column—a very early use of a Flamboyant characteristic. The two pillars flanking the entrance to the choir are decorated, midway up, with statues under canopies sculptured by northern artists before 1320.
The seven eastern chapels of the transept connect to each other above a low dividing wall, with detached piers standing out from those walls, creating a narrow passage between them and the transept. These piers rise robustly from the pavement to the point where the vault begins. Above their capitals, the moldings gradually disappear into the column—a very early example of a Flamboyant style. The two pillars on either side of the entrance to the choir are adorned, halfway up, with statues under canopies carved by northern artists before 1320.
Archæologists declare that the Gothic part of the Cité’s ancient cathedral are the perfection of XIV-century construction, elastic in every part, each part fulfilling its own separate function. The ogival principle could not be carried farther. It is thought that some architect of the north made the plan, which local masons executed. The only Midi trait is the flat, tiled roof.
Archaeologists say that the Gothic section of the Cité’s ancient cathedral represents the pinnacle of 14th-century construction, flexible in every aspect, with each element serving its own distinct purpose. The pointed arch principle couldn’t be taken any further. It’s believed that a northern architect created the design, which local stoneworkers built. The only regional feature is the flat, tiled roof.
Modern restoration has overhauled the citadel of Carcassonne too radically. Imperiously set though it is, does it grip the imagination as entirely as Aigues-Mortes, lying flat on marsh lands, its time-stained walls untouched? Often in France one echoes Pius IX’s response to Baron de Crozé, who proposed the restoration of the Coliseum: “Dear Son, I have read your memoir and I thank you for it; but do you not know that there are two sorts of vandalism, one which consists in destroying, the other in restoring? Never has the Coliseum been so beautiful as in its moving contrast of past splendor and magnificent present decay. To restore it is to annihilate the work of centuries, to recompose an ordinary pastiche with no éclat.”
Modern restoration has changed the citadel of Carcassonne way too much. Even though it stands proudly, does it captivate the imagination as much as Aigues-Mortes, which rests flat on marshland with its weathered walls still intact? Often in France, one recalls Pius IX’s reply to Baron de Crozé, who suggested restoring the Coliseum: “Dear Son, I have read your memoir and I thank you for it; but do you not know that there are two kinds of vandalism, one that destroys and the other that restores? The Coliseum has never looked more beautiful than in its striking mix of past glory and stunning present decay. To restore it is to erase centuries of work, to recreate a bland pastiche with no éclat.”
Not that Carcassonne, as redressed by M. Viollet-le-Duc, is deficient in éclat; it has too much of it. It is a vision of a feudal fortress too carefully prepared, too deliberately made ready for the tourist.
Not that Carcassonne, as revamped by M. Viollet-le-Duc, lacks éclat; it has way too much of it. It looks like a feudal fortress that's been too meticulously crafted and too intentionally set up for tourists.
In the lower town are the typically meridional churches of St. Michel, the actual cathedral of Carcassonne, and St. Vincent whose aisleless hall is the widest in the Midi—a span of sixty-eight feet. Even when using diagonals, the south kept true to its favorite Romanesque traditions. Neither church has a triforium, the apse windows are long and narrow, over the entrance of each chapel is an eight-lobed rose, and the buttresses are disguised as walls between the side chapels. The tracery is Rayonnant. St. Vincent was built after the Black Prince burned Carcassonne in 1355. At its sculptured portal was placed a statue of the newly canonized saint-king, Louis IX, under whom this modern Carcassonne was founded.
In the lower town are the typically southern churches of St. Michel, the actual cathedral of Carcassonne, and St. Vincent, whose hall without aisles is the widest in the region—a span of sixty-eight feet. Even when using diagonals, the south remained true to its favorite Romanesque traditions. Neither church has a triforium, the apse windows are long and narrow, each chapel has an eight-lobed rose above the entrance, and the buttresses are hidden as walls between the side chapels. The tracery is Rayonnant. St. Vincent was built after the Black Prince burned Carcassonne in 1355. A statue of the newly canonized saint-king, Louis IX, is placed at its sculptured portal, under whom this modern Carcassonne was founded.
Do good and feel compassion,
Don't worry about the amount:
This bread will be multiplied.
—Jean Aicard (born in the South of France, 1848).
At Narbonne one is at the very heart of the Midi. It is an ancient mother city of Europe, a capital of Celtic Gaul. Surpassed by nothing in the Roman world, Narbonne kept its pre-eminence under both pagan and Christian Rome. It became the seat of the Visigothic royal line, and of their Moorish conquerors. Charlemagne made it a fortified outpost, and during the Middle Ages it was the richest of trading centers, a third of whose population was Jewish. In 1311, the same covetous king who abolished the Templars banished the Jews, to whom Charlemagne had given the freedom of this town for their support of his cause against Islam. To-day one walks its dust-white streets with a strange sensation of loneliness. Narbonne is a dead city.
At Narbonne, you are right in the heart of the Midi. It's an ancient mother city of Europe, a capital of Celtic Gaul. Surpassed by nothing in the Roman world, Narbonne maintained its prominence during both pagan and Christian Rome. It became the center of the Visigothic royal line and their Moorish conquerors. Charlemagne turned it into a fortified outpost, and during the Middle Ages, it was the wealthiest trading hub, with a third of its population being Jewish. In 1311, the same greedy king who dissolved the Templars expelled the Jews, who Charlemagne had allowed to thrive in this town for their support against Islam. Today, as you walk its dust-white streets, there's a strange sense of loneliness. Narbonne is a dead city.
When in the latter part of the XIII century the great Gothic cathedral of St. Just was begun, there seemed no reason why so flourishing a trading center could not succeed in the enterprise. Unlike Beauvais, where the chief church was from its inception out of all proportion to the population, Narbonne could easily have erected a nave to complete its mighty choir. In 1272 was laid the first stone of St. Just Cathedral.[239] Then there occurred here what happens to all rivers that communicate with the sea by means of lagoons: gradually the salt lakes silt up till they become marshes through which the river winds tortuously till suddenly it breaks a new path to the sea. In 1320 occurred this catastrophe for Narbonne. The Roman dike gave way and the river Aude left its ancient bed, quitting Narbonne to flow toward Courson, where it still is. The stagnant waters bred disease, and the metropolis, greeted by Sidonius Apollinaris for its salubrity, Salve Narbo, potens salubritate, became a pestilential site. Narbonne sank into silent decay. Over the shrunken city stands the ghostly fragment of the great cathedral, surpassed in height only by Beauvais and Amiens.
When in the later part of the 13th century the grand Gothic cathedral of St. Just was started, there seemed to be no reason why such a prosperous trading hub couldn’t succeed in the project. Unlike Beauvais, where the main church was, from the start, way too big for the population, Narbonne could easily have built a nave to complete its impressive choir. In 1272, the first stone of St. Just Cathedral was laid.[239] Then what happens to all rivers that connect to the sea through lagoons took place here: over time, the salt lakes filled with silt until they turned into marshes, through which the river wound curiously until it suddenly found a new route to the sea. In 1320, this disaster struck Narbonne. The Roman dike broke, and the river Aude abandoned its ancient course, leaving Narbonne to flow towards Courson, where it still flows today. The stagnant waters caused disease, and the city, once praised by Sidonius Apollinaris for its healthiness, Salve Narbo, potens salubritate, became a breeding ground for illness. Narbonne fell into silent decline. Over the diminished city stands the eerie remnant of the grand cathedral, only outdone in height by Beauvais and Amiens.
St. Just was begun in 1272, and three years later the cathedral of Toulouse was started on a plan and with profiles so closely resembling Narbonne’s chief church that one master may have designed both. Both derive immediately from those northern Gothic churches translated with a meridional accent, the cathedrals of Clermont, whose choir was finished in 1265, and of Limoges, begun in 1273.
St. Just was started in 1272, and three years later, the cathedral of Toulouse was begun with a design and features so similar to Narbonne’s main church that one architect might have created both. Both cathedrals are directly influenced by those northern Gothic churches, adapted with a southern flair, like the cathedrals of Clermont, which had its choir completed in 1265, and Limoges, which started in 1273.
The Midi shows in Narbonne Cathedral in the simplified triforium which is framed by wall spaces, as are the clearstory windows, in the extremely high pier arcades, and in the stout buttresses that are disguised as dividing walls between the side chapels. The capitals are mere uncarved bands, and over them certain molds die away in the pier. M. Anthyme Saint-Paul’s theory was that even in the XIII century began the evolution which was to end in Flamboyant Gothic. He pointed out, in Narbonne’s chapels, windows with Rayonnant tracery side by side with flamelike undulations. M. Enlart thinks we cannot be sure that they were done at the same time. An unusual and graceful aspect was achieved in the choir’s northern aisle by the setting of piers beyond the dividing walls of the chapels, making a kind of double aisle like that in the transept of St. Nazaire at Carcassonne.
The Midi shows in Narbonne Cathedral in the simplified triforium, which is framed by wall spaces like the clerestory windows, in the very high pier arcades, and in the thick buttresses that are masked as separating walls between the side chapels. The capitals are just plain, uncarved bands, and above them, certain molds fade away into the pier. M. Anthyme Saint-Paul theorized that even in the 13th century, the evolution that would lead to Flamboyant Gothic was already beginning. He pointed out that in Narbonne’s chapels, windows with Rayonnant tracery are found alongside flame-like undulations. M. Enlart believes we can’t be certain they were created at the same time. An unusual and elegant look was achieved in the choir’s northern aisle by placing piers beyond the dividing walls of the chapels, creating a sort of double aisle similar to that in the transept of St. Nazaire at Carcassonne.
An architect named Henri is cited as master-of-works at Gerona Cathedral whose chevet, begun after 1312, resembles that of St. Just. Henri was a name uncommon in the Midi. It is thought that he was the original architect of Narbonne. His successor at Gerona, Jacques de Favari or Favers, a name of the central plateau of France, is known to have directed the works of Narbonne’s chief church. Catalonia, Aragon, and Languedoc were allied in architecture as in tongue. Poblet in Catalonia is directly the daughter of the abbey at Fontfroide, six miles from Narbonne.[240] The Gothic influence of Narbonne spread to the isles in the Mediterranean, to southern Italy and Cyprus.
An architect named Henri is mentioned as the master builder at Gerona Cathedral, whose chevet, started after 1312, is similar to that of St. Just. Henri was an uncommon name in the Midi. It’s believed that he was the original architect of Narbonne. His successor at Gerona, Jacques de Favari or Favers, a name from the central plateau of France, is known to have overseen the construction of Narbonne’s main church. Catalonia, Aragon, and Languedoc were united in architecture as much as in language. Poblet in Catalonia directly descends from the abbey at Fontfroide, six miles from Narbonne.[240] The Gothic influence of Narbonne spread to the islands in the Mediterranean, to southern Italy and Cyprus.
Archbishop Maurin began Narbonne Cathedral after the tragic crusade of St. Louis in 1270. He had vowed that if ever again he saw the fair land of France he would offer thanksgiving by rebuilding his church. The corner stone and relics were sent by Pope Clement IV, originally a lawyer at St. Gilles, and then archbishop of Narbonne, whose crumbling cathedral of Charlemagne’s time he had purposed to replace by a Gothic one, when his translation to the papacy intervened.
Archbishop Maurin started construction on Narbonne Cathedral after the unfortunate crusade of St. Louis in 1270. He had promised that if he ever returned to the beautiful land of France, he would show his gratitude by rebuilding his church. The cornerstone and relics were sent by Pope Clement IV, who had originally been a lawyer at St. Gilles and then became the archbishop of Narbonne. He intended to replace the crumbling cathedral from Charlemagne's era with a Gothic one before he was promoted to the papacy.
The apse chapels were built first. The main parts of the choir are the work of Archbishop Gilles Aycelin de Montaigu, (1292-1311), a noble of Auvergne, brother of the bishop who was building Clermont Cathedral and who had himself been a canon at Clermont. He also began the cloister, and to his own residence added a donjon tower. It is thought that the episcopal palace at Narbonne served as prototype for the palace of the popes at Avignon. In modern times, between its ancient towers a town hall has been constructed. In 1311 Gilles Aycelin was transferred to the see of Rouen, and Rouen’s archbishop, Bernard de Farges (d. 1341), a nephew of the pope who built the choir of Bordeaux Cathedral, took his place at Narbonne, where he completed the giant choir. Services were held in it in 1320.
The apse chapels were built first. The main parts of the choir were crafted by Archbishop Gilles Aycelin de Montaigu (1292-1311), a noble from Auvergne, who was the brother of the bishop constructing Clermont Cathedral and had also served as a canon there. He started the cloister and added a donjon tower to his own residence. It's believed that the episcopal palace in Narbonne served as a model for the papal palace in Avignon. In modern times, a town hall has been built between its ancient towers. In 1311, Gilles Aycelin was moved to the see of Rouen, and Rouen’s archbishop, Bernard de Farges (d. 1341), a nephew of the pope who built the choir of Bordeaux Cathedral, took over in Narbonne, where he completed the massive choir. Services were held there in 1320.
The truncated western end of the cathedral is a depressing sight. Work stopped after the completion of the east wall of the transept, whose window apertures had later to be filled in; by the XV century all hope of completing the church was abandoned, and two west towers were raised. In the XVIII century the plan to build a nave was revived and part of the city ramparts were thrown down to allow for its extension. One bay of the proposed structure was begun in bastard Gothic, and then the enterprise collapsed. The present entrance is through a door contrived in one of the apse chapels. The exterior of that apse was fortified. From one turreted buttress pile to the other was maneuvered a crenelated gallery, and originally the passage communicated with the bishop’s palace.
The shortened western end of the cathedral is a grim sight. Work stopped after the east wall of the transept was completed, and the window openings later had to be filled in. By the 15th century, all hope of finishing the church was given up, and two west towers were constructed. In the 18th century, the plan to build a nave was revisited, and part of the city walls was taken down to allow for its expansion. One section of the proposed structure was started in a mixed Gothic style, but then the project fell through. The current entrance is through a door created in one of the apse chapels. The outside of that apse was fortified. A crenelated gallery connected one turreted buttress to the other, and originally, the passage linked to the bishop’s palace.
Although sadly needing a nave, Narbonne’s choir is a proud and noble vessel. Critics have called it a work of mechanical skill more than of imagination. Its science is beyond cavil, each thrust being exactly counterbutted. Profiles, however are angular and there is a painful lack of sculpture. If, technically, Narbonne’s chief church is somewhat hard and dry, it has retained sufficient of the emotional quality of Gothic, what has been called its sursum corda, to belong to the grand tradition of the national art. Moreover, one can kneel reverentially on the very steps of the altar instead of being kept at a stately distance. In the clearstory are the loveliest XIV-century windows in France, like rare-toned etchings or delicate spider-web, time-stained lace. As there is color in them, it is inexact to call such windows grisaille, but the subdued note of grisaille glass predominates.
Although it sadly lacks a nave, Narbonne's choir is a proud and impressive structure. Critics have referred to it as more of a feat of engineering than a work of art. Its design is flawless, with each supporting thrust perfectly countered. However, the shapes are sharp and there is a noticeable absence of sculpture. While Narbonne’s main church may be somewhat stiff and dry technically, it still retains enough of the emotional quality of Gothic art, what has been called its sursum corda, to be part of the grand tradition of the national art. Additionally, visitors can kneel respectfully right at the altar steps instead of being kept at a formal distance. The clerestory features some of the loveliest 14th-century windows in France, resembling rare-toned etchings or delicate spider webs, time-worn lace. Although there is color in them, it isn't accurate to label these windows as grisaille, but the overall muted tone of grisaille glass is prominent.
Between Narbonne and Spain lies Perpignan’s XIV-century[241] cathedral, and Elne’s cloister, called a work of supreme elegance by the critical Prosper Merimée, and to the east at Béziers is a fortified cathedral with massive towers, begun in 1215 and building through the XIV century; it has good stained glass of this latter period.
Between Narbonne and Spain is Perpignan’s 14th-century[241] cathedral, along with Elne’s cloister, which the critic Prosper Merimée praised as a masterpiece of elegance. To the east in Béziers, there’s a fortified cathedral featuring massive towers that started construction in 1215 and continued through the 14th century; it showcases beautiful stained glass from this later period.
One’s interest in Béziers centers in the terrible massacre of 1209, the opening act of the Albigensian Crusade. Not that the mere sacking of a city would have roused such horror. In the course of its history eight massacres had occurred in Béziers. It was a day when such acts were the accepted methods of warfare and the northern leaders had discussed whether it were not good tactics to start their campaign by terrorization. It was the slaughtering of the citizens in the churches to which they had fled for sanctuary that violated the general standards.
One's interest in Béziers revolves around the horrific massacre of 1209, the opening act of the Albigensian Crusade. It's not that the mere looting of a city would have caused such outrage. Throughout its history, Béziers had experienced eight massacres. At that time, such acts were considered normal warfare tactics, and the northern leaders had debated whether it was a good strategy to begin their campaign with terror. It was the killing of citizens in the churches where they had sought refuge that crossed the line of accepted standards.
Witnesses of the sacking of Béziers say that while the chiefs of the besieging army were considering how to spare those in the city who were not Albigensian, an assault was started through the skirmish of lawless hangers-on of the crusading army and a few townspeople. In the confusion that followed, the northern knights rushed to arms and the city was captured. A XX-century wrecking of the Louvain-Dinant-Termonde type followed, and some twenty thousand perished.
Witnesses of the sack of Béziers report that while the leaders of the besieging army were debating how to spare those in the city who weren't Albigensian, an attack was launched by a chaotic mix of unruly crusaders and a few locals. Amid the ensuing chaos, the northern knights grabbed their weapons, and the city fell. A destruction reminiscent of the XX-century wrecking seen in Louvain, Dinant, and Termonde ensued, resulting in around twenty thousand deaths.
Modern scholars doubt that the famous Tuez-les-tous remark, attributed to Abbot Arnaud of Cîteaux, who died archbishop of Narbonne, was ever uttered. He is accused of saying, “Kill them all, God will know his own,” when asked how the orthodox were to be told from the heretics. No contemporary chronicle mentions it and Albigensian historians would certainly have flung such words at the crusaders; equally would an ardent admirer of Simon de Montfort, who wrote his Gestes, have lauded the sentiment, if one is to judge by other happenings he thought praiseworthy. Neither enemy nor friend mentions the Tuez-les-tous phrase. It first occurs in the history of a German monk at Bonn, long after the Midi crusade, and the pages of that chronicler are so filled with discredited assertions that little he says should be taken seriously.
Modern scholars doubt that the famous Tuez-les-tous comment, attributed to Abbot Arnaud of Cîteaux, who died as the archbishop of Narbonne, was ever actually said. He's reported to have claimed, “Kill them all, God will know his own,” when asked how to distinguish the orthodox from the heretics. No contemporary accounts mention this, and Albigensian historians would surely have used such words against the crusaders; likewise, an enthusiastic admirer of Simon de Montfort, who wrote his Gestes, would have praised the sentiment if his other writings are any indication. Neither opponents nor supporters mention the Tuez-les-tous phrase. It only appears in the writings of a German monk from Bonn, long after the Midi crusade, and that chronicler's pages are so filled with discredited claims that little of what he says should be taken seriously.
The tocsin sounded its lamentable notes of alarm over all the land of France. Fire? No. War. The voice of the bells long condemned to silence by the authorities suddenly rang out everywhere. From the high belfries spread the warning, and no one worried now to refuse to God, to the Inexplicable, the right of speech. From God’s house alone came to France, waiting in tense agony, the announcement of the most terrible catastrophe that ever fell like an avalanche on humanity. Sunrise to sunset from east to west, from north to south rang out the coming of War, the world’s misery.—Jean Aicard, on how the World War opened in the Midi.[243]
The alarm rang out across all of France. Fire? No. War. The bells, long silenced by those in power, suddenly rang out everywhere. From the tall bell towers, the warning spread, and no one was concerned about denying God, or the Unexplainable, the chance to speak. Only from God’s house did the news come to France, which was waiting in tense agony, announcing the most devastating disaster that ever hit humanity like an avalanche. From sunrise to sunset, from east to west, and from north to south, the arrival of War echoed, bringing the world's suffering.—Jean Aicard, on how the World War opened in the Midi.[243]
In Montpellier is a stately terrace called the Peyrou, built in the artificial, distinguished style of Louis XIV, from which one looks out on a most lovely landscape of Midi fertility.[244] Here Mistral in 1878 read his vibrant ode to the Latin race, la race lumineuse, la race apostolique, and a generation later the people gathered here to listen to the belfries far and near ring out over that peaceful Claude Lorraine scene the hour of unity in battle array, for all Frenchmen—Latin and Celt and Frank. No longer a Midi and a North. The time was past for race hate or conquest to pose as a crusade. The time had come to end the silencing of Christian steeples under the guise of freedom. As one man, Midi and North sprang up in answer to the tocsin of August, 1914.
In Montpellier, there's an impressive terrace called the Peyrou, designed in the stylish, refined manner of Louis XIV, from which you can gaze out at a beautiful landscape of the Midi’s rich fertility.[244] Here, Mistral read his passionate ode to the Latin race in 1878, la race lumineuse, la race apostolique, and a generation later, people gathered to listen as the bells from churches nearby chimed over that serene Claude Lorraine scene, marking the hour of unity in preparation for battle, for all Frenchmen—Latin, Celt, and Frank. No more division between the Midi and the North. The time for racial hatred or conquest disguised as a crusade was over. It was time to stop silencing Christian steeples under the pretense of freedom. In unison, both the Midi and the North rose up in response to the clarion call of August 1914.
What to-day is the cathedral of Montpellier was built from 1364 to 1367 as a monastery church, so that it hardly falls within our scope. But if architecturally the city of Montpellier is of lesser importance, it has been for long centuries the intellectual stronghold of the Midi, and we know that cathedrals are built with more than stones. Montpellier’s school of medicine was famous in the XII century. The city was free of Albigensian taint; no trading town was more flourishing during the XIII century. At the hour that the northern barons invaded the Midi, the heiress of Montpellier, whom the king of Aragon married for her dowry and immediately deserted, gave birth to one who was to build more churches than any monarch in Christendom. Twelve candles were set up in the chief church of Montpellier, each with the name of an apostle, and when the candle called James burned the longest the child was named Jaime. An inscription on the Tour du Pin, a vestige of the city ramparts that originally had twenty-five such towers, records the birth of Jaime el Conquistador, the scourge of Islam, the conqueror of Valencia and the Balearic Islands, and the builder of six thousand churches. His father was one of the victors of Las Navas de Tolosa, in 1212, where a vital blow was struck at Moorish domination in Spain; yet he was killed in the very next year in Languedoc, fighting on the heretic side.
What is now the cathedral of Montpellier was built between 1364 and 1367 as a monastery church, so it doesn't quite fit our focus. However, while Montpellier may not be architecturally significant, it has long been an intellectual hub of the Midi, and we know that cathedrals are created from more than just stones. Montpellier's school of medicine was well-known in the 12th century. The city was free from Albigensian influence; no trading town thrived more during the 13th century. When the northern barons invaded the Midi, the heiress of Montpellier, whom the king of Aragon married for her dowry and then quickly abandoned, gave birth to a child who would build more churches than any king in Christendom. Twelve candles were placed in the main church of Montpellier, each named after an apostle, and when the candle representing James burned the longest, the child was named Jaime. An inscription on the Tour du Pin, a remnant of the city's ramparts that originally had twenty-five such towers, marks the birth of Jaime el Conquistador, the scourge of Islam, the conqueror of Valencia and the Balearic Islands, and the builder of six thousand churches. His father was one of the victors at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212, where a significant blow was dealt to Moorish rule in Spain; however, he was killed the following year in Languedoc while fighting on the heretic side.
Peter of Aragon looked on the Albigensian Crusade as a northern war of conquest, and if outsiders were to win new lands why had he not the same right. Jaime’s mother fled to Rome, the sole court of arbitration then in Europe, and when she died there, she left her son the ward of Innocent III.[245] The pope compelled Simon de Montfort, who held the child as hostage, to return him to his Spanish subjects. Jaime’s tutor was that Languedoc knight, St. Peter Nolasco (d. 1258), who founded the Order of Mercy to redeem captives from Moslem prisons, but no saint-tutor or saint-neighbor could tame this fierce young eagle, the scion of the French Midi and the Spanish Pyrenees. From the time he buckled on his sword as a boy, to his death in 1276, the weapon never left his side. He cut off the ear of the bishop of Gerona who had rebuked his free living, for Jaime’s domestic relations were on a par with those of the Languedoc lords and of his Mahommedan neighbors.
Peter of Aragon viewed the Albigensian Crusade as a war of conquest to the north, and if outsiders could win new territories, why shouldn’t he have the same right? Jaime’s mother fled to Rome, the only court of arbitration in Europe at that time, and when she passed away there, she left her son in the care of Innocent III.[245] The pope forced Simon de Montfort, who was holding the child as a hostage, to return him to his Spanish subjects. Jaime's tutor was the Languedoc knight, St. Peter Nolasco (d. 1258), who started the Order of Mercy to free captives from Muslim prisons, but no saintly tutor or neighbor could tame this fierce young eagle, the descendant of the French Midi and the Spanish Pyrenees. From the moment he strapped on his sword as a boy until his death in 1276, the weapon never left his side. He even cut off the ear of the bishop of Gerona, who had criticized his free lifestyle, as Jaime’s personal relationships were on par with those of the Languedoc lords and his Muslim neighbors.
The church which now is Montpellier’s cathedral consists of a modern choir of the meridional type, without ambulatory or flying buttresses, and a nave built as an abbatial by Guillaume de Grimoard, the best of the Avignon popes, Urban V. The nave is a wide, unaisled hall, with small clearstory windows. Even when the Midi used diagonals, says M. Enlart, it remained faithful to Romanesque traditions. At the west façade is an ungainly canopy held up by two round turrets of solid stone, the sort of thing which is a builder’s notion, not the design of an architect. Urban was disappointed when he found that his architect from Avignon had erected a big chapel rather than a church. When he came to Montpellier in 1367 the new edifice was almost finished. He was honored as never man was before by any city. The townspeople marched out to meet him, every guild and corporation in the ranks, the lawyers carrying the image of the newly canonized St. Yves of Brittany. When the pope’s visit ended, half the population walked for miles with him into the country, and the town authorities escorted him all the way back to Avignon.
The church that is now Montpellier’s cathedral features a modern choir of the southern style, without an ambulatory or flying buttresses, and a nave built as an abbatial by Guillaume de Grimoard, the most notable of the Avignon popes, Urban V. The nave is a spacious, aisle-less hall, with small clerestory windows. Even when the Midi used diagonal designs, M. Enlart notes, it stayed true to Romanesque traditions. At the west façade is an awkward canopy supported by two solid stone round turrets, a feature that reflects a builder’s idea rather than an architect’s design. Urban was disheartened to find that his architect from Avignon had constructed a large chapel instead of a church. When he arrived in Montpellier in 1367, the new building was nearly complete. He was honored like no other man had been by any city. The townspeople came out to greet him, with every guild and corporation in attendance, lawyers carrying the image of the newly canonized St. Yves of Brittany. When the pope’s visit concluded, half the population walked for miles with him into the countryside, and the town authorities accompanied him all the way back to Avignon.
Urban V had been educated in Montpellier and he loved its university, in which for years he had taught law in the school where Petrarch studied. He renewed the departments of law and art, put new life into the famed medical school (which to-day is housed in the former bishop’s palace, fortified with propped machicolations), and founded a college for the free maintenance of a certain number of students. To this day Montpellier reveres him.
Urban V had studied in Montpellier, and he really valued its university, where he had taught law for years in the same school that Petrarch attended. He revitalized the law and art departments, breathed new life into the well-known medical school (which today is located in the old bishop's palace, fortified with supporting machicolations), and established a college to support a number of students financially. Montpellier still honors him to this day.
All over Christendom this energetic Midi baron endowed institutions of learning, supported hundreds of students, and built monuments. He founded the universities of Prague, Cracow, and Vienna, re-established that of Orvieto, made a school of music at Toulouse, began the cathedral of Mende,[246] near his birthplace, and in Marseilles rebuilt St. Victor’s, where he had been abbot,[247] and where remains his towering tomb. At Avignon he continued the making of its walls of defense, for it was a day when the lawless Grandes Compagnies roved over France.
All across Christendom, this energetic Midi baron established educational institutions, supported hundreds of students, and built monuments. He founded the universities of Prague, Cracow, and Vienna, restored the one in Orvieto, created a music school in Toulouse, started the cathedral of Mende,[246] near his birthplace, and in Marseilles rebuilt St. Victor’s, where he had served as abbot,[247] and where his impressive tomb still stands. In Avignon, he continued constructing its defensive walls, as it was a time when the unruly Grandes Compagnies roamed throughout France.
Urban was too wise a man not to perceive that his continued residence at Avignon was a detriment to the papacy, and he made a valiant effort to return to Rome. There, too, he was no sooner established than he initiated works of art.[248] Broken by the disorders round him with which he had not strength to cope, he returned to his beloved southern France, where he died almost immediately, in 1370. His successor, Gregory XI, inspired by St. Catherine of Siena, who journeyed to Avignon in 1376, was to be the pontiff who ended what Italy, sick to death, called “the Babylonian captivity.”
Urban was too wise not to realize that staying in Avignon was hurting the papacy, and he made a strong effort to go back to Rome. Once he settled there, he quickly started creating works of art.[248] Overwhelmed by the chaos around him that he couldn’t manage, he returned to his beloved southern France, where he died almost immediately in 1370. His successor, Gregory XI, inspired by St. Catherine of Siena, who traveled to Avignon in 1376, would be the pope who ended what Italy, exhausted and suffering, called “the Babylonian captivity.”
Montpellier was not a bishopric till 1536, when the see was removed from Maguelonne here, and no sooner was the new see established when the city was sacked twice—in 1561 and again in 1565. Every tomb in the present cathedral was violated. Were its walls lined with those old-time memorials they would appear less bare. Neither side was distinguished by amenity in those long years of civil strife.
Montpellier wasn't a bishopric until 1536, when the seat was moved here from Maguelonne, and as soon as the new seat was set up, the city was looted twice—in 1561 and again in 1565. Every tomb in the current cathedral was desecrated. If its walls were decorated with those old memorials, they would seem less empty. Neither side showed any kindness during those long years of civil conflict.
Maguelonne, the original bishopric, lies six miles from Montpellier on the Mediterranean. In ancient days it was a little island of volcanic formation, then in time an island in a swamp, connected artificially with the mainland. Climb to the flat stone roof of the ancient cathedral of St. Pierre, almost the only monument left standing here where civilization has followed civilization, and look across the lagoons that lie between France and the solitary dead city. Europe and the present seem no longer to exist in this the most aloof, self-effaced, most philosophic spot in the world.
Maguelonne, the original bishopric, is located six miles from Montpellier on the Mediterranean. In ancient times, it was a small volcanic island, and over time, it became an island in a swamp, joined to the mainland through artificial means. Climb up to the flat stone roof of the old St. Pierre Cathedral, almost the only monument still standing in this place where one civilization has replaced another, and gaze over the lagoons that stretch between France and the isolated, abandoned city. Europe and the present seem to fade away in this most remote, unassuming, and contemplative spot in the world.
Maguelonne had known all the peoples in their pride. During fifteen hundred years it played its part—Celt, Phœnician, Greek, and Roman ruled here in turn. Visigothic Wamba besieged it. Islam held it under the name of Port Saracen till Charles Martel drove the sea robbers from their stronghold by destroying the city; only the new church of St. Peter was saved. For the following three centuries Maguelonne lay deserted. Then in 1037 Bishop Arnaud undertook to restore the city, and the cathedral he rebuilt was blessed in 1054. Prosperity soon returned under a republican form of government, with the bishop as president. Maguelonne became an asylum for exiles and a retreat for scholars. Urban II blessed the island in 1095. When Pope Gelasius II, driven from Rome, landed at St. Gilles in 1118, he soon sailed thence for Maguelonne, and hither came Alexander III in 1162.
Maguelonne had known all the peoples in their pride. For fifteen hundred years, it played its part—Celt, Phoenician, Greek, and Roman ruled here in turn. Visigothic Wamba besieged it. Islam held it under the name of Port Saracen until Charles Martel drove the sea invaders from their stronghold by destroying the city; only the new church of St. Peter was saved. For the next three centuries, Maguelonne lay abandoned. Then in 1037, Bishop Arnaud took on the task of restoring the city, and the cathedral he rebuilt was blessed in 1054. Prosperity soon returned under a republican form of government, with the bishop as president. Maguelonne became a refuge for exiles and a retreat for scholars. Urban II blessed the island in 1095. When Pope Gelasius II was driven from Rome, he landed at St. Gilles in 1118 and shortly sailed from there to Maguelonne, and Alexander III came here in 1162.
The cathedral of St. Pierre stood up a very rock of defense against the corsairs of Spain and Africa. On its flat stone roof engines of war were placed. The present XI-century church replaces that of Charles Martel’s day; over an arm of its transept occurred one of the pre-Gothic early uses of diagonals. The transverse arches of the nave are slightly pointed. On the lintel of its portal of creamy-white marble—Classic, Saracenic, Romanesque, and Gothic, with doorjamb bas-reliefs of Peter and Paul, key and sword—were inscribed by Bernard de Trevies in 1178 some Latin verses still legible:
The cathedral of St. Pierre stood as a solid defense against the corsairs from Spain and Africa. War machines were set up on its flat stone roof. The current 11th-century church replaced the one from Charles Martel’s time; over an arm of its transept, one of the early pre-Gothic uses of diagonals was implemented. The transverse arches of the nave are slightly pointed. On the lintel of its portal, made of creamy-white marble—featuring Classic, Saracenic, Romanesque, and Gothic elements, with doorjamb bas-reliefs of Peter and Paul, key and sword—were inscribed by Bernard de Trevies in 1178 some Latin verses that are still legible:
To pray, you must not hold back; regret all your serious sins; Know that all your sins and fears can be washed away in tears.[249]
The cathedral of St. Peter was spared in the second annihilation of Maguelonne, which took place after the religious wars, when Richelieu’s policy was to level every possible fort that rebellion might use. Stone by stone the other monuments of the city were carried away. When the canal from Cette to Aigues-Mortes was built, in 1708, Maguelonne became a useful quarry. St. Peter’s church now stands alone, embalmed as in amber, preaching the sobering lesson, Sic transit gloria mundi.
The cathedral of St. Peter was saved during the second destruction of Maguelonne, which happened after the religious wars, when Richelieu aimed to demolish any fort that could be used for rebellion. One by one, the other monuments of the city were taken apart. When the canal from Cette to Aigues-Mortes was constructed in 1708, Maguelonne became a valuable source for building materials. St. Peter’s church now stands alone, preserved like in amber, conveying the sobering lesson, Sic transit gloria mundi.
Aigues-Mortes! Consonnance d’une désolation incomparable! Dans le train si lent à traverser la Camargue je m’imagine ces mornes remparts qui depuis sept siècles subsistent intacts. J’évoque ces mystérieux Sarrasins, ces légers Barbaresques qui pillaient ces côtes et fuaient, insaisis, même par l’histoire. Aigues-Mortes, le vieux guerrier qu’ils assaillaient sans trêve, est toujours à son poste, étendu sur la plaine, comme un chevalier, les armes à la main, est figé en pierre sur son tombeau.—Maurice Barrès.[251]
Aigues-Mortes! The sound of an unparalleled desolation! On the slow train crossing the Camargue, I imagine those grim ramparts that have stood intact for seven centuries. I think of those mysterious Saracens, those fleeting Barbarians who raided these coasts and slipped away, evading even history itself. Aigues-Mortes, the old warrior they attacked relentlessly, is still in his place, stretched out on the plain, like a knight, his weapons in hand, frozen in stone on his tomb.—Maurice Barrès.[251]
“I propose that we institute a pilgrimage,” sighed Rodin, “to all monuments de plein air yet spared by restoration.” Aigues-Mortes’ big quadrangle set on the dead lagoons is precisely as it came from its builder’s hand in the reign of Philippe III, son of St. Louis. No destructive restoration has ever chipped away the time stain of centuries. So shrunken is the little town of to-day, within those imposing ramparts with their fifteen towers and nine gateways, that it is as weird an experience to encircle the walls within as to make the solitary tour without.
“I suggest we take a pilgrimage,” sighed Rodin, “to all the outdoor monuments that have survived restoration.” Aigues-Mortes' large square, set on the lifeless lagoons, looks exactly as it did when it was built during the reign of Philippe III, son of St. Louis. No damaging restoration has ever erased the marks of time from centuries past. The small town of today is so diminished within those impressive ramparts, with their fifteen towers and nine gateways, that walking around the walls from the inside feels just as strange as walking around them alone on the outside.
No sooner did St. Louis take the crusaders’ vow, in 1244, when he began to look about for a concentration camp on the southern coast. He was suzerain only in the south of France. Narbonne had its own counts and so had Provence; St. Gilles and Adge were in the Toulouse countship, and the Montpellier coast was under Aragon. Practically only swampy Aigues-Mortes was available. St. Louis purchased it from the monks of Psalmodi, and reconstructed an old tower on the site which had served as a fort during piratical attacks. The grand Tour de Constance, now standing outside the quadrangle fortification, is the only part of Aigues-Mortes of Louis IX’s day. He deepened the tortuous canal of eight miles that led to the sea, since Aigues-Mortes never was directly on the Mediterranean. The Genoese architect, Boccanegra, who constructed the ramparts for Philippe III, followed the type of fortified town in the Orient; Aigues-Mortes especially resembled Antioch.
No sooner had St. Louis taken the crusaders’ vow in 1244 than he started looking for a concentration camp on the southern coast. He was only in charge in the south of France. Narbonne had its own counts, and so did Provence; St. Gilles and Adge were in the Toulouse region, and the Montpellier coast fell under Aragon. Practically only the swampy Aigues-Mortes was available. St. Louis bought it from the monks of Psalmodi and rebuilt an old tower on the site that had been used as a fort during pirate attacks. The grand Tour de Constance, now standing outside the quadrangular fortification, is the only part of Aigues-Mortes that dates back to Louis IX’s time. He deepened the winding canal that was eight miles long and led to the sea, since Aigues-Mortes was never directly on the Mediterranean. The Genoese architect, Boccanegra, who built the ramparts for Philippe III, followed the style of fortified towns in the East; Aigues-Mortes particularly resembled Antioch.
On both his crusades St. Louis started from his fort on the dead waters. When in 1248 the crusaders saw the low-lying spot so like the pestilential coasts of the East, many a heart felt oppressed. Again in 1270 the king’s army arrived at Aigues-Mortes. Finding his transport ships delayed, Louis IX thought it best to move his warriors to the more healthful site of St. Gilles. There he held brilliant court, to keep up the idle army’s spirit, and at the tourneys excelled his Provençal queen’s nephew, the future king of England, Edward I. The crusaders left their mark on the walls of St. Gilles.
On both of his crusades, St. Louis began from his stronghold on the stagnant waters. When the crusaders arrived in 1248 and saw the low area that resembled the unhealthy shores of the East, many felt a sense of dread. Again in 1270, the king’s army reached Aigues-Mortes. With his transport ships delayed, Louis IX decided it was better to move his troops to the healthier location of St. Gilles. There, he held a grand court to boost the morale of his idle army, and in the tournaments, he outperformed his Provençal queen’s nephew, the future king of England, Edward I. The crusaders left their mark on the walls of St. Gilles.
ST. GILLES[252]
ST. GILLES __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Get sorted out According to your provinces; then,
To spread your cult,
Have them sculpt you
On the marker and by the well!...
They left In the August sun.
"Death for us ... such a ... such a ..."
Three times, all low, as if in prayer,
On y shout: “Died for us ... for us ... for us!”
—Edmond Rostand (1868-1918; born in Marseille).[253]
To this day on the stones of St. Gilles’ abbatial are the graffiti of ships and warriors—a king among them—scratched by the swords of St. Louis’ crusaders before they crossed to their death in Africa, 1270. The sadly dilapidated bourg which is St. Gilles to-day played a prominent part in the important centuries of the Middle Ages. Many were the popes and kings who visited it to venerate the tomb of the VIII-century hermit, Ægidius, from Athens, whose cult was widely spread over western Christendom, as many a church image and window showing the holy man and his fawn remain to tell.
To this day, the stones of St. Gilles’ abbey bear graffiti of ships and warriors—a king among them—scratched by the swords of St. Louis’ crusaders before they crossed to their deaths in Africa in 1270. The sadly run-down town of St. Gilles today played a significant role during the important centuries of the Middle Ages. Many popes and kings visited to pay their respects at the tomb of the 8th-century hermit, Ægidius, from Athens, whose cult was widely spread across western Christendom, as many church images and windows depicting the holy man and his fawn continue to show.
The counts of Toulouse were the chief patrons of the abbey. On the First Crusade, Raymond IV of Toulouse bore the title Count of St. Gilles. Raymond VI held here, in 1208, an interview with the papal legate, Guy de Castelnau, the after-consequences of which precipitated the Albigensian wars. Angry words were uttered by the count when the legate rebuked him for shielding the heretics, and the next day the legate was murdered by one of the count’s retainers as he was about to cross the Rhone. Thereupon Innocent III declared the Albigensian Crusade. In the following year Raymond VI performed penance before the church door of St. Gilles—the last public canonical penance of the Middle Ages. The disasters of the house of Toulouse diminished the abbey’s building funds.
The counts of Toulouse were the main supporters of the abbey. During the First Crusade, Raymond IV of Toulouse held the title Count of St. Gilles. Raymond VI had a meeting here in 1208 with the papal legate, Guy de Castelnau, which led to the Albigensian wars. The count expressed his anger when the legate scolded him for protecting the heretics, and the next day, a retainer of the count murdered the legate as he was about to cross the Rhone. As a result, Innocent III announced the Albigensian Crusade. The following year, Raymond VI did penance in front of the church door of St. Gilles—the last public canonical penance of the Middle Ages. The misfortunes of the house of Toulouse reduced the abbey’s construction funds.
The discussions over the date of St. Gilles have been of importance because of its relation to the school of Provençal sculpture of which the most notable monument is its triple portal. Before St. Gilles’ western end is a mass of composite imagery, of different dates and material, yet composing an architectural unit. Six bays of the nave are covered by a masonry roof of the XVIII century; only the piers and side walls of the edifice are ancient. Beyond the nave lie the ruins of the choir, in which has been installed an open-air archæological museum.
The debates about the date of St. Gilles have been significant due to its connection to the Provençal sculpture school, which is best represented by its impressive triple portal. In front of St. Gilles’ western end is a collection of mixed imagery from various periods and materials, yet it forms a cohesive architectural unit. Six sections of the nave are topped with an 18th-century masonry roof; only the pillars and side walls of the building are ancient. Beyond the nave, you can find the remains of the choir, which now hosts an open-air archaeological museum.
Did the choir of St. Gilles still stand, it would be the best Gothic monument in the south of France, exceptional in possessing an ambulatory and radiating chapels. At its entrance still exists a spiral staircase, the vis de St. Gilles, the first of its kind constructed, which many a mason of the Middle Ages journeyed hither to see. The steps compose an annular vault, winding like a corkscrew.
If the choir of St. Gilles were still standing, it would be the best Gothic monument in southern France, remarkable for having an ambulatory and radiating chapels. At its entrance, there is still a spiral staircase, the vis de St. Gilles, the first of its kind ever built, which many masons from the Middle Ages came to see. The steps form a round vault, twisting like a corkscrew.
According to M. Labande, the choir of St. Gilles was built from 1140 to 1175, and at first there was no intention of vaulting it with diagonals. As the walls rose, however, a Gothic vault was prepared for. The nave, whose capitals have well-cut acanthus leaves, was erected from 1175 to 1209. It could not have been finished when in 1265 Clement IV rebuked his fellow citizens of St. Gilles for their delay in completing their church. Clement had been a local lawyer—a Romanesque house is still pointed out as his—by name, Guy Fouquet, or Fulcodi. The death of his wife caused him to embrace religion. When raised to St. Peter’s chair, such was his dread of nepotism that he wrote to his daughters they were not to expect matches any more important than if he were a simple knight; we learn that the well-admonished young ladies failed to obtain any husbands at all. This pope, whom St. Louis called “notre aimé et féal Guy,” instigated the crusade of 1270, which was associated in the hour of its departure with his own town.
According to M. Labande, the St. Gilles choir was built between 1140 and 1175, and initially, there was no plan to add diagonal vaulting. However, as the walls went up, a Gothic vault was anticipated. The nave, which features well-carved acanthus leaf capitals, was constructed from 1175 to 1209. It likely wasn’t finished by 1265 when Clement IV criticized the people of St. Gilles for their slow progress on the church. Clement had been a local lawyer—a Romanesque house is still noted as his—named Guy Fouquet, or Fulcodi. After his wife passed away, he turned to religion. Once he became pope, he was so wary of nepotism that he wrote to his daughters, telling them not to expect marriages any more prestigious than those of a simple knight; we find out that the well-informed young women ended up without any husbands at all. This pope, whom St. Louis called “notre aimé et féal Guy,” initiated the crusade of 1270, which was linked to his own hometown at its departure.
Despite his exhortation, St. Gilles’ choir was joined to its nave only in the XIV century, as is proved by the rows of Rayonnant Gothic foliage on the capital of the nave’s easternmost bay. The XVI-century religious wars devastated the abbey, which now was held by Calvinists, now by Catholics; and finally the Huguenots, after using the church as a citadel, ordered that it be razed. The tower was mined and its fall wrecked all around it, but the arrival of the king’s troops saved the edifice from entire destruction; as the masonry roof had collapsed, a bastard-Gothic restoration of the nave was undertaken from 1650 to 1670. Then came the Revolution; the choir was sold and its stones carted away. So dead seemed all appreciation of the national art that the constitutional curé of St. Gilles clamored for the demolition of the famous triple portal, as its images “were insupportable reminders of past servitude, recalling the odious feudal régime, displeasing to lovers of liberty and equality.” Till the middle of the XIX century the church was abandoned.
Despite his urging, St. Gilles’ choir was only connected to its nave in the 14th century, as shown by the rows of Rayonnant Gothic foliage on the capital of the nave’s easternmost bay. The religious wars of the 16th century devastated the abbey, which changed hands between Calvinists and Catholics; ultimately, the Huguenots, after using the church as a stronghold, ordered it to be demolished. The tower was blown up, causing destruction all around, but the arrival of the king’s troops saved the building from complete ruin; since the masonry roof had collapsed, a mixed Gothic restoration of the nave took place from 1650 to 1670. Then came the Revolution; the choir was sold and its stones were taken away. Appreciation for national art seemed so dead that the constitutional curate of St. Gilles called for the demolition of the famous triple portal, claiming its images “were unbearable reminders of past servitude, recalling the odious feudal regime, displeasing to lovers of liberty and equality.” The church remained abandoned until the mid-19th century.
During excavations in 1765 a chamber, or bay, of rough workmanship was unearthed in the crypt, and in it was found a tomb inscribed as that of St. Gilles. This is all that remains of the church in which Urban II blessed an altar in 1096. On a buttress of the crypt an inscription states that its foundation was laid Easter Monday of 1116. The abbey had been damaged by an irate count of Toulouse, and Calixtus II asked Peter the Venerable to send from Cluny a new abbot to reorganize things.
During excavations in 1765, a chamber with rough construction was discovered in the crypt, and a tomb labeled as that of St. Gilles was found inside. This is all that is left of the church where Urban II blessed an altar in 1096. An inscription on a buttress of the crypt notes that its foundation was laid on Easter Monday of 1116. The abbey had been damaged by an angry count of Toulouse, and Calixtus II requested Peter the Venerable to send a new abbot from Cluny to help reorganize everything.
The crypt’s north and west walls rose first, but the work was dropped and taken up several times. All the vaulting, whether groin or diagonals, was an afterthought, for all the piers have been rearranged for the masonry roof they now support. Only a few of the westernmost bays of the crypt used diagonals, and as their profiles are the same as those in the choir, building from 1140 onward, they are probably contemporary. Inscriptions on the outer west wall of the crypt prove that in 1142 people were buried there, which would indicate that the present stair to the west portal was not yet arranged. Perhaps for a time they were not sure of making an upper church above the spacious basement. By 1209 that upper nave was built, because Innocent III buried his murdered ambassador beside the tomb of St. Gilles, and when Raymond VI had performed public penance before the portal, we are told that he was brushed against by the crowd, and escaped through the lower church, passing his victim’s new tomb.
The north and west walls of the crypt were raised first, but the work was halted and restarted several times. All the vaulting, whether groin or diagonal, was added later, as all the piers have been rearranged for the masonry roof they now support. Only a few of the westernmost bays of the crypt used diagonal supports, and since their profiles are the same as those in the choir, built from 1140 onward, they are likely from the same period. Inscriptions on the outer west wall of the crypt indicate that burials took place there in 1142, suggesting that the current stairs leading to the west portal were not yet in place. It’s possible they were uncertain about constructing an upper church above the spacious basement for a while. By 1209, that upper nave was completed, as Innocent III buried his murdered ambassador next to St. Gilles' tomb, and when Raymond VI did public penance in front of the portal, it's said he was jostled by the crowd and escaped through the lower church, passing by his victim's new tomb.
The imaged portal of St. Gilles, which inspired the porch of Trinity Church, Boston, is a composite mass of imagery begun in the XII century and continued till St. Louis’ day. Pilfered fragments were made use of, as was only natural in a region where Rome had left many monuments. Some of the pillars are the fluted marbles of antiquity; others are of granite. Fourteen columns and fourteen large images of apostles and angels give unity to the composition, as does the continuous wide frieze.
The illustrated entrance of St. Gilles, which inspired the porch of Trinity Church in Boston, is a collection of images that started in the 12th century and continued until the time of St. Louis. Reused fragments were incorporated, as was typical in an area where Rome had left behind many monuments. Some of the pillars are made of fluted marble from ancient times, while others are made of granite. Fourteen columns and fourteen large images of apostles and angels provide cohesion to the composition, along with the continuous wide frieze.
St. Gilles’ images, strong and short like the figures on the Gallo-Roman sarcophagi near the mouth of the Rhone, are perfectly proportioned to the place they occupy, cold, impersonal figures, more architectural than sculptural, the fruit of an old art, not the beginning of a new tradition, as was the theory of Herr Vöge, who would trace to Provence the origin of French Gothic sculpture. M. de Lasteyrie contended that the Porte Royale at Chartres—first of the Gothic portals, last of the Romanesque—with its long, slender figures in whose visages expression has been attempted, descends from the imaged portals of Burgundy, not from St. Gilles or St. Trophime, but from a nascent rather than a dying art tradition. The Lombard school gave to St. Gilles its lion caryatides, a very popular feature at church doors; Lanfranco, who remade Modena’s cathedral in 1099, had been the first to plant pillars on the backs of lions, perhaps copying some lost work of antiquity.
St. Gilles' images, strong and brief like the figures on the Gallo-Roman sarcophagi near the mouth of the Rhone, are perfectly suited to the space they occupy: cold, impersonal figures that are more architectural than sculptural, representing an old art rather than the start of a new tradition, contrary to Herr Vöge's theory, which traced the origin of French Gothic sculpture to Provence. M. de Lasteyrie argued that the Porte Royale at Chartres— the first of the Gothic portals and the last of the Romanesque, with its long, slender figures that attempt to show expression—originates from the sculpted portals of Burgundy, not from St. Gilles or St. Trophime, but from a growing rather than a fading artistic tradition. The Lombard school contributed the lion caryatides to St. Gilles, a very popular feature at church entrances; Lanfranco, who redesigned Modena’s cathedral in 1099, was the first to place pillars on the backs of lions, possibly imitating some lost ancient work.
“A world in itself,” said Prosper Merimée of St. Gilles’ sculptured portal. Under the biblical scenes of the frieze animals crouch and crawl. Some of the frieze groups, such as the Flagellation, are full of spirit, and must be of later date than certain other stiff archaic figures. The Kiss of Judas with its grimacing soldiers is probably a XVII-century restoration. The only time that the Expulsion from the Temple was treated in the older work was here. The sisters Martha and Mary and their brother Lazarus, with Mary Jacobi and Mary Salome, are all imaged at St. Gilles’ door. The tradition of their arrival in Provence was gaining in favor every day while this portico was making.
“A world in itself,” said Prosper Merimée of St. Gilles’ sculptured portal. Below the biblical scenes of the frieze, animals crouch and crawl. Some of the frieze groups, like the Flagellation, are full of energy and must have been created later than some of the stiff archaic figures. The Kiss of Judas, with its grimacing soldiers, is likely a restoration from the 17th century. The Expulsion from the Temple was only depicted in the older work here. The sisters Martha and Mary, along with their brother Lazarus, and Mary Jacobi and Mary Salome, are all depicted at St. Gilles’ door. The tradition of their arrival in Provence was becoming more popular every day while this portico was being built.
The savants inform us, though not patriotic Provençal savants, that no mention of the saints of Bethany is to be found in Provence before the middle of the XI century. Monseigneur Duchesne of the Institute of France, who takes saints out of their niches as boldly as any Bollandist, tells us that it was the monks of Vézelay in Burgundy who first imagined the arrival in southern France of Mary Magdalene, in order to explain how it was they possessed her relics, the lodestar of their pilgrim shrine. Then, gradually, the legend grew till it was a remarkably full boatload that landed, in A.D. 40, at Les Saintes-Maries,[254] where the Little Rhone, on which stands St. Gilles, enters the Mediterranean: the risen Lazarus, whose relics were claimed by Autun in 1144; Martha, whose relics appeared at Tarascon in 1187 and caused a new church there to rise;[255] Marcella, the waiting woman of Martha and Mary; Maximinus, one of Our Lord’s disciples; Simon the leper; St. Sidonius; Joseph of Aramathea; and the Blessed Virgin’s sisters, Mary Jacobi, mother of James the Less, and Mary Salome, mother of James and John, and their dark handmaiden Sara, who became the patroness of gypsies.
The scholars tell us, though not the patriotic Provençal scholars, that there’s no record of the saints of Bethany in Provence before the mid-11th century. Monseigneur Duchesne from the Institute of France, who boldly brings saints out of their niches just like any Bollandist, explains that it was the monks of Vézelay in Burgundy who first imagined Mary Magdalene arriving in southern France to justify how they came to have her relics, the centerpiece of their pilgrimage site. Over time, the legend expanded until a surprisingly full group arrived in A.D. 40 at Les Saintes-Maries,[254] where the Little Rhone, on which St. Gilles stands, meets the Mediterranean: the risen Lazarus, whose relics were claimed by Autun in 1144; Martha, whose relics showed up in Tarascon in 1187 and led to the construction of a new church there;[255] Marcella, the waiting woman of Martha and Mary; Maximinus, one of Our Lord’s disciples; Simon the leper; St. Sidonius; Joseph of Arimathea; and the Blessed Virgin’s sisters, Mary Jacobi, mother of James the Less, and Mary Salome, mother of James and John, along with their mysterious handmaiden Sara, who became the patroness of gypsies.
Monseigneur Duchesne says that a grotto dedicated to the Virgin in the mountains east of Marseilles came to be regarded, by gradual unconscious fabrication, as the Sainte Baume where Mary Magdalene passed years of penitence, for the Midi wove the story of St. Mary the Egyptian with the saint of Bethany. All these holy people who had known the Lord fled from Syria after the martyrdom of St. Stephen and found asylum in southern France. The savants can prove what they will; while in Provence, in the “kingdom of sentiment,” one believes every word of it. Read Mistral’s Mireille and dare to be a skeptic! Under the leaden skies of Paris you may take the Institute’s learning seriously. But gazing at la grand bleu, the frequented highway between Syria and Gaul when Roman Emperors ruled both, you say to yourself that it all could have happened. For hundreds of years the people of Provence have been made better and happier because they have believed that the historic family of Bethany who entertained the Lord were entertained by them.
Monseigneur Duchesne mentions that a grotto dedicated to the Virgin in the mountains east of Marseilles gradually became seen, through unconscious storytelling, as the Sainte Baume where Mary Magdalene spent years in penance. The people of the Midi mixed the story of St. Mary the Egyptian with that of the saint from Bethany. All these holy figures who had known the Lord fled Syria after the martyrdom of St. Stephen and found refuge in southern France. The scholars can prove whatever they like; however, in Provence, the "kingdom of feeling," everyone believes every word of it. Read Mistral’s Mireille and try to be a skeptic! Under the gray skies of Paris, you might take the Academy’s knowledge seriously. But staring at la grand bleu, the bustling route between Syria and Gaul during the time of the Roman Emperors, you think to yourself that it all could have happened. For centuries, the people of Provence have been made better and happier because they believe that the historic family of Bethany, who welcomed the Lord, welcomed them too.
| Seigneur, des lois et voies antiques, nous avions quitté; l’austérité, vertus, coutumes domestiques, nous avions tout détruit, démoli.... |
Seigneur, pour tant d’aversités, de massacres, d’incendies; pour tant de deuil sur notre France, pour tant d’affronts sur notre front, |
| Seigneur, nous sommes tes enfants prodigues; mais nous sommes tes vieux chrétiens: que ta justice nous châtie, mais au trépas, ne nous laisse point.... |
Seigneur, désarme ta justice! Jette un regard par ici-bas; et enfin écoute les cris de meurtris et des blessés!... |
| Seigneur, au nom des pauvres gens, au nom des forts, au nom des morts—qui auront péri pour la patrie, pour leur devoir, et pour leur foi!... |
Seigneur, nous voulons devenir des hommes; en liberté— tu peux nous mettre! Gallo-Romans et fils de noble race, nous marchons droit dans notre pays. |
| —(Literal French translation of Mistral’s “Psaume de la pénitence,” 1870.) | |
The western portal of the cathedral at Arles, less carefully executed than that at St. Gilles, was begun at the end of the XII century and finished in a couple of generations. Both were inspired by the same local classic influences of Rome and the subsequent Gallo-Roman development. The large statues, eminently architectural, at the famous door of St. Trophime, are as sturdy and squat as the images on early Christian tombs. Two of those ancient tombs, of the V and VI centuries, have been turned to ecclesiastic usage in this very church, as baptismal font and altar, and across the square from the cathedral many others can be studied in the Museum of Arles. The strong Byzantine influences apparent in St. Trophime’s sculpture recall that Arles was the favorite residence of Constantine. From northern Italy came the animal-caryatides idea.
The western entrance of the cathedral in Arles, not as meticulously crafted as the one at St. Gilles, was started at the end of the 12th century and completed over a couple of generations. Both were influenced by the same local classical elements from Rome and the later Gallo-Roman evolution. The large statues, distinctly architectural, at the well-known door of St. Trophime, are as robust and compact as the images found on early Christian tombs. Two of those ancient tombs, from the 5th and 6th centuries, have been repurposed for church use as a baptismal font and altar, and across the square from the cathedral, many others can be viewed at the Museum of Arles. The strong Byzantine influences evident in St. Trophime’s sculpture remind us that Arles was a favored residence of Constantine. The concept of animal-caryatides came from northern Italy.
St. Trophime’s Romanesque entrance leads into a somber church under whose barrel vault reigns a mellow gloom.[257] Begun before the middle of the XI century, it was reconstructed in the XII century; the painfully narrow high side aisles are covered by quarter circles that buttress the central vessel, whose undergirding arches are slightly pointed because the pre-Gothic masons had learned that the thrust of a broken arch was less. The XV century built the insignificant choir (without the vestige of a capital), exceptional only in having the sole ambulatory and radiating chapels in Provence. A prelate of the Grignan family built a chapel projecting from the transept, for, not far away, in Dauphiny, is the château of Grignan, where Madame de Sévigné died while staying with her daughter; one knows that she and XIII-century Blanche of Castile had been friendly.
St. Trophime’s Romanesque entrance leads into a somber church, where a gentle gloom fills the barrel vault. [257] Started before the middle of the 11th century, it was reconstructed in the 12th century; the painfully narrow high side aisles are topped with quarter circles that support the central nave, whose arches are slightly pointed because the pre-Gothic builders discovered that the pressure from a broken arch was less. The 15th century added the unremarkable choir (lacking the remnants of a capital), notable only for having the only ambulatory and radiating chapels in Provence. A member of the Grignan family built a chapel extending from the transept, as not far away, in Dauphiny, is the château of Grignan, where Madame de Sévigné died while visiting her daughter; it is known that she and the 13th-century Blanche of Castile had been friends.
The Mediæval Cloister of Arles
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The Medieval Cloister of Arles
St. Trophime’s cloister, among the most beautiful in France, building from the XII to the end of the XIV century, is the fairest Christian monument of Arles.[258] This Midi art expands in the sunlight and grows melancholy under a masonry roof. Arles was a free town when it was begun, with its own podesta and consuls like a flourishing commercial city in Italy. About 1150, the north gallery was commenced, and the one to the east soon followed. The angle pier is composite (c. 1180), with St. Trophimus standing between St. John and St. Peter, the latter being sculptured in marble. The storied capitals of the cloister are exceedingly interesting. In the second half of the XIV century the west walk was begun, and almost immediately was followed by the south gallery, which is similar to it save for slight details. The cloister was completed under Bishop Jean de Rochechouart (1390-98).
St. Trophime’s cloister, one of the most beautiful in France, was built from the 12th to the end of the 14th century and is the most stunning Christian monument in Arles.[258] This Midi art thrives in the sunlight and takes on a somber mood under its masonry roof. Arles was a free town when construction began, with its own podesta and consuls, resembling a thriving commercial city in Italy. Around 1150, the north gallery was started, and the east gallery followed soon after. The angle pier is composite (c. 1180), featuring St. Trophimus between St. John and St. Peter, the latter of whom is sculpted in marble. The intricate capitals of the cloister are particularly fascinating. In the second half of the 14th century, the west walk began, soon succeeded by the south gallery, which is similar but has slight variations. The cloister was completed under Bishop Jean de Rochechouart (1390-98).
Arles, like Lyons, claims a direct apostolic origin. A tradition says that St. Trophimus, her first bishop, was the disciple of the gentile of Ephesus, whom St. Paul mentioned in his epistle to Timothy. For centuries before the popularity of the Saints of Bethany legends in the Midi, St. Trophimus was revered. Pope Zosimus, in the V century, called Arles “the source from which flowed all over Gaul the rivulets of the Faith.” Gregory of Tours voiced another tradition concerning St. Trophimus when he named him as one of the seven evangelists sent by Pope Fabian into Gaul in 250. At any rate, whether he lived in the first century or the third, St. Trophimus was the first bishop of Arles, and it is right that its primate church should be dedicated to him.
Arles, like Lyons, claims a direct connection to the apostles. There’s a tradition that St. Trophimus, its first bishop, was a disciple of the Gentile from Ephesus mentioned by St. Paul in his letter to Timothy. For centuries, even before the stories of the Saints of Bethany became popular in the Midi, St. Trophimus was honored. Pope Zosimus, in the 5th century, referred to Arles as “the source from which flowed all over Gaul the rivulets of the Faith.” Gregory of Tours mentioned another tradition about St. Trophimus, identifying him as one of the seven evangelists sent by Pope Fabian to Gaul in 250. Regardless of whether he lived in the first or third century, St. Trophimus was the first bishop of Arles, and it’s fitting that its main church is dedicated to him.
Arles, from which flowed over Gaul the rivulets of the Faith, is a city of ruins, and yet most gracious in aspect; Arles la blanc, Joinville called it as he sailed by on his way to the Sixth Crusade; Arles la Grecque. The women walk as nobly as the matrons of antiquity here where “the copper coins of Rome’s republic and the gold of the emperors gleam in the sun amid the springtime wheat.” “I tell you, and you can well believe me,” sings Mistral, “that the damsel of whom I speak is a queen, for, know you, she is twenty years old and she is Arlésienne.... She descended with lowered eyes the steps of St. Trophime, and the stone saints by the portal blessed her as she passed, for she was ineffably good.” There are books so typical of their race, or this period, that they belong to all time, and by them posterity can learn more of the basic forces that build monuments than from many a learned treatise. Such a book is Voragine’s Golden Legend, such a book is the Rationale of Durandus. The Barzas-Breiz teaches us to comprehend Carnac and the Calvaries of Brittany. Even so the soul of Provence has been interpreted by her own Mistral, who loved “the perfume of the ancient days when on the banks of the Rhone flourished a refined civilization that for a time bore the name, the Kingdom of Arles, but that really, through all the successive revolutions, was naught else but the direct survival, on French soil, of Rome’s civilization.”[259]
Arles, from which the streams of Faith flowed over Gaul, is a city of ruins, yet still looks beautiful; Joinville called it Arles la blanc as he sailed by on his way to the Sixth Crusade; Arles la Grecque. The women here walk with the same grace as the matriarchs of ancient times, where “the copper coins of Rome’s republic and the gold of the emperors shine in the sun among the spring wheat.” “I tell you, and you can certainly believe me,” sings Mistral, “that the girl I’m talking about is a queen, because, you see, she is twenty years old and she is Arlésienne.... She descended the steps of St. Trophime with her eyes downcast, and the stone saints at the entrance blessed her as she walked by, for she was incredibly good.” There are books so emblematic of their people or this era that they transcend time, and through them, future generations can learn more about the fundamental forces that create monuments than from many scholarly essays. Such a book is Voragine’s Golden Legend, such a book is Durandus's Rationale. The Barzas-Breiz helps us understand Carnac and the Calvaries of Brittany. In the same way, Mistral has expressed the spirit of Provence, who cherished “the scent of ancient days when a refined civilization thrived along the banks of the Rhone that was once known as the Kingdom of Arles, but which, through all its transformations, was really just the ongoing legacy of Rome’s civilization on French soil.”[259]
The cement, without which there can be no stability of the walls, is made of lime, sand, and water. The lime is fervent charity which joineth to itself the sand—that is, undertakings for the temporal welfare of our brethren. Now the lime and the sand are bound together in the wall by an admixture of water. Water is the emblem of the Spirit. And as without cement the stones cannot cohere, so neither can man be built up in the heavenly Jerusalem without that charity which the Holy Ghost worketh in them. The stones are built by the hands of the Great Workman into an abiding place in the Church: whereof some are borne and bear nothing, as the weaker members; some are both borne and bear, as those of moderate strength; and some bear and are borne of none save Christ the Corner Stone. All are bound together by one spirit of Charity as though fastened with cement, and these living stones are put together in the bonds of peace.
The cement, which is essential for wall stability, is made from lime, sand, and water. The lime represents passionate love that connects with the sand, which symbolizes actions taken for the well-being of our fellow humans. Now, the lime and sand are held together in the wall by a mixture of water. Water represents the Spirit. Just as the stones cannot stay together without cement, a person cannot be built up in the heavenly Jerusalem without the love that the Holy Spirit instills in them. The stones are formed by the hands of the Great Creator into a lasting home in the Church: some are carried and don’t bear anything, like the weaker members; some both carry and are carried, like those of moderate strength; and some carry and are carried by none other than Christ the Cornerstone. All are united by one spirit of love, as if held together by cement, and these living stones are joined together in the bonds of peace.
The bourg and church of St. Maximin lie about thirty miles east of Aix-en-Provence. Some rich Gallo-Roman noble of the V or VI century had his estate here, thinks Monseigneur Duchesne, on which he built a funereal chapel and crypt according to custom. That crypt with its early Christian sarcophagi is now under the church of St. Maximin, though why that saint is honored in the locality is not known. The first record of the site occurred when the estate was passed over to the monks of St. Victor’s at Marseilles, who built a priory here (1038), and chose Maximinus as its tutelary. It was only when some fertile brain, in Vézelay, said that St. Maximinus was one of the Lord’s seventy-two disciples, and had accompanied Mary Magdalene to Provence, that Aix-en-Provence began to claim him as her first bishop. For two centuries Provence allowed Vézelay to boast of the possession of the Blessed Magdalene’s remains. During Saracen inroads she had lost the relics of Lazarus and his sister, so the Burgundian church told her. Finally—we are quoting Monseigneur Duchesne, not a Midi savant—a patriotic Provençal whose mind was as fertile in inventions as the chronicler at Vézelay, arranged a rediscovery in 1279, in the crypt of St. Maximin, of the Magdalene’s relics, whereupon the pilgrimages to Vézelay ceased.
The town and church of St. Maximin are located about thirty miles east of Aix-en-Provence. Monseigneur Duchesne believes that some wealthy Gallo-Roman noble from the 5th or 6th century had his estate here and built a funeral chapel and crypt as was the custom. That crypt, which contains early Christian sarcophagi, is now underneath the church of St. Maximin, although it's unclear why this saint is celebrated in the area. The first documentation of the site occurred when the estate was handed over to the monks of St. Victor’s in Marseille, who established a priory here in 1038 and selected Maximinus as its patron. It wasn’t until some inventive minds in Vézelay claimed that St. Maximinus was one of Jesus’ seventy-two disciples who had traveled with Mary Magdalene to Provence that Aix-en-Provence started to regard him as its first bishop. For two centuries, Provence allowed Vézelay to proudly claim ownership of the Blessed Magdalene’s remains. The Burgundian church told her that during Saracen invasions, she had lost the relics of Lazarus and his sister. Ultimately—quoting Monseigneur Duchesne, not some Midi scholar—a proud Provençal, whose creativity was as abundant as that of the chronicler in Vézelay, orchestrated a rediscovery of the Magdalene’s relics in the crypt of St. Maximin in 1279, which caused pilgrimages to Vézelay to come to an end.
Before witnesses and the ruler of Provence, Charles II d’Anjou (nephew of St. Louis), was opened one of the sculptured tombs in the Gallo-Roman noble’s funeral crypt now under the nave of St. Maximin. In the sarcophagus was found a manuscript, in a wooden coffer, relating that in the year of the Incarnation, 716, on December 6th, under King Odoin, the body of Mary Magdalene had been moved from its alabaster tomb, in this same crypt, to the plainer tomb of St. Sidonius, in order to save it from those felons, the Saracens. The uncritical mind of the age accepted the obvious forgery as genuine. It was worded in XIII-century, not VIII-century Latin, the use of the term Incarnation for dating was an anachronism, and no such king as Odoin ever existed. Why should it have been expected that Saracens would spare one tomb more than the other, asks the courageous Monseigneur Duchesne. But why feel too critical of the pious fraud, since the genuine enthusiasm it aroused led to the building of the most imposing Gothic church in Provence and the one most pure in style, an edifice that inspired the imposing modern church of St. Vincent de Paul at Marseilles.
Before witnesses and the ruler of Provence, Charles II d’Anjou (nephew of St. Louis), one of the sculpted tombs in the Gallo-Roman noble’s funeral crypt now under the nave of St. Maximin was opened. Inside the sarcophagus, there was a manuscript in a wooden box stating that in the year of the Incarnation, 716, on December 6th, during King Odoin's reign, the body of Mary Magdalene had been moved from its alabaster tomb in this same crypt to the simpler tomb of St. Sidonius to protect it from those criminals, the Saracens. The uncritical mindset of the time accepted this obvious forgery as genuine. It was written in 13th-century, not 8th-century Latin; the use of the term Incarnation for dating was an anachronism, and no king by the name of Odoin ever existed. Why would anyone think that the Saracens would spare one tomb more than another, questions the brave Monseigneur Duchesne. But why be too harsh on this pious deception, since the genuine enthusiasm it sparked led to the construction of the most impressive Gothic church in Provence and the one most pure in style, a building that inspired the grand modern church of St. Vincent de Paul in Marseilles.
In 1295 Charles II d’Anjou[262] (1285-1309) began St. Maximin, which he passed into the care of the Dominicans. Abbé Albanès has discovered that the architect’s name was Jean Bandier. During two centuries the Angevin rulers of Provence continued the church, and good King René finished it before he died in 1480. As the first plans were adhered to, the edifice possesses unity save for a few Flamboyant windows in the aisles. Those side aisles of St. Maximin are almost as high as the central vessel; they braced the main span and did away with the need of flying buttresses. Traits of Midi Gothic are the exceedingly narrow windows, the lack of a triforium, and uncut bands for capitals, though the omission of sculpture may be due to the fact that the abbatial belonged to a mendicant Order, vowed to poverty. St. Maximin’s piers soar majestically from pavement to vault springing, nor has nobility of proportion been sacrificed in its severe granite interior.
In 1295, Charles II d’Anjou[262] (1285-1309) started St. Maximin and handed it over to the Dominicans. Abbé Albanès found out that the architect’s name was Jean Bandier. For two centuries, the Angevin rulers of Provence continued to build the church, and good King René completed it before his death in 1480. Since the initial plans were followed, the building has a cohesive design except for a few Flamboyant windows in the aisles. Those side aisles of St. Maximin are nearly as tall as the main nave; they help support the main structure and eliminate the need for flying buttresses. Features of Midi Gothic style include the very narrow windows, the absence of a triforium, and uncut bands for capitals, although the lack of sculpture might be because the abbey belonged to a mendicant Order committed to poverty. The piers of St. Maximin rise impressively from the floor to the vaulted ceiling, and the noble proportions are maintained in its austere granite interior.
AIX-EN-PROVENCE[263]
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Le désordre des malheureux est toujours le crime de la dûreté des riches.—Vauvenargues (1715—47; born in Aix-en-Provence).
The chaos of the unfortunate is always the fault of the harshness of the rich.—Vauvenargues (1715—47; born in Aix-en-Provence).
The cathedral of St. Sauveur is a composite edifice needing skilled archæologists to decipher it. Its semicircular apse, without ambulatory or chapels, was begun by Bishop Rostan de Noves. Its nave, of the XIV century (with typical capitals whose foliage is disposed in two bands), shows vestiges of a far more ancient church. The nave’s north aisle is neo-classic. The south aisle, called Corpus Domini, is Romanesque, and was held to be the ancient cathedral, since it conforms to the classic type of the regional Romanesque school, such as the Dom at Avignon.
The cathedral of St. Sauveur is a complex structure that requires skilled archaeologists to understand it. Its semicircular apse, which lacks an ambulatory or chapels, was started by Bishop Rostan de Noves. The nave, dating back to the 14th century, features typical capitals with foliage arranged in two bands and shows signs of an even older church. The north aisle of the nave is neo-classical. The south aisle, known as Corpus Domini, is Romanesque and was considered the original cathedral, as it follows the classic style of the regional Romanesque school, like the Dom in Avignon.
M. Labande has demonstrated that this pre-Gothic portion of Aix Cathedral was originally a church for the laity, built between 1150 and 1180 and dedicated to St. Maximinus, and that it was planted along the side of a church for the canons, dedicated to Notre Dame in 1108. Vestiges of this latter church are the ancient parts in the actual nave of St. Sauveur.
M. Labande has shown that this pre-Gothic part of Aix Cathedral was originally a church for regular people, built between 1150 and 1180 and dedicated to St. Maximinus. It was built next to a church for the canons, dedicated to Notre Dame in 1108. Remnants of this earlier church are the old sections in the current nave of St. Sauveur.
The Corpus Domini has its own sculptured doorway, and three bays covered by a barrel vault carried on pointed arches. Over the fourth bay is a shallow cupola ridged with eight pilasters in a manner inherited from ancient Rome. Classic, too, are the columns now arranged to form a baptistry.
The Corpus Domini features its own carved doorway and three sections topped by a barrel vault supported by pointed arches. Above the fourth section is a shallow dome with eight pilasters, a design that comes from ancient Rome. The columns are also traditionally arranged to create a baptistry.
Aix was the capital in Provence of the art-loving Anjou princes of the Capetian line. Under them in 1476 was begun St. Sauveur’s beautifully restrained Flamboyant Gothic façade and tower. In the nave is a stone reredos of 1470 called the Tarasque, from the dragon of St. Martha represented in it, and under King René’s inspiration was made the splendid triptych of the Burning Bush by the French primitif, Nicolas Froment, born in Avignon, but impregnated with the Flemish spirit of Van Eyck. King René kneels in one panel, and his second wife, Jeanne de Laval, in the other; the outer side of the folding panels is painted in grisaille. The Burning Bush was taken as a symbol of the Virgin’s integrity. The carved doors at the west entrance of St. Sauveur, rich with prophets and sibyls, are ranked with the noted doors of Beauvais and Rouen.
Aix was the capital in Provence of the art-loving Anjou princes from the Capetian family. Under their rule in 1476, the stunning Flamboyant Gothic façade and tower of St. Sauveur were started. In the nave, there’s a stone reredos from 1470 called the Tarasque, featuring the dragon of St. Martha. Inspired by King René, the magnificent triptych of the Burning Bush was created by the French artist Nicolas Froment, who was born in Avignon but influenced by the Flemish style of Van Eyck. In one panel, King René is depicted kneeling, and in the other, his second wife, Jeanne de Laval; the outer side of the folding panels is painted in grisaille. The Burning Bush symbolized the Virgin’s purity. The intricately carved doors at the west entrance of St. Sauveur, adorned with prophets and sibyls, are considered as significant as the famous doors of Beauvais and Rouen.
While the church of St. Maximinus, or the present south aisle of St. Sauveur, was building, a student at the University of Aix, across the way from its cathedral, was St. Jean de Matha (1156-1213), one of those good men of history who accomplished a great work but are overlooked by posterity. In Aix he passed his leisure waiting on the poverty-stricken sick. Then he went up to the Paris schools to perfect himself in theology, and good Bishop Maurice de Sully, then building Notre Dame, became interested in him, and with the prior of St. Victor’s, after attending the young Midi noble’s first Mass, prophesied that this was a soul chosen of God. Because Jean de Matha had been born in the south, a witness of Islam’s piracies, he vowed himself at his first Mass to the redemption of Christian captives. His fellow student at Paris, Innocent III, approved the new Trinitarian Order called popularly Maturins because their Paris house was dedicated to St. Maturin. So rapidly did it spread that before long it had fifty houses in far-off Ireland, and as many in England. In its annals are the names of all the western nations. Jean de Matha, until his death, passed backward and forward to Africa. When the first boatload of redeemed captives landed at Marseilles a cry of thanksgiving rose in Christendom. Sometimes a brother of the Order would remain in a captive’s place, when his funds for ransoming prisoners gave out. In Granada, Maturins were martyred. In the year 1260 five thousand Christians were redeemed from Islam prisons by these devoted men. And for five centuries the good work went on, so that we hear of Trinitarians freeing Christians from Mohammedans in the reign of Louis XIV. Cervantes was released from African captivity by the sons of St. Jean de Matha, else we would have no Don Quixote. All through the dark episodes of the Albigensian wars these lives of unobtrusive Christian charity endured. Their deeds have not been trumpeted to the winds. I dare say the historian who rings the changes on the Tuez-les-tous phrase never heard of St. Jean and his Maturins.
While the church of St. Maximinus, or the current south aisle of St. Sauveur, was being constructed, a student at the University of Aix, across from its cathedral, was St. Jean de Matha (1156-1213), one of those good people in history who did great things but are forgotten by later generations. In Aix, he spent his free time caring for the sick and poor. He then went to the schools in Paris to continue his studies in theology, where good Bishop Maurice de Sully, who was then building Notre Dame, took an interest in him. After attending the young noble's first Mass, the bishop and the prior of St. Victor’s predicted that he was a soul chosen by God. Since Jean de Matha was born in the south and had witnessed the piracy of Islam, he dedicated himself at his first Mass to redeeming Christian captives. His fellow student in Paris, Innocent III, approved a new Trinitarian Order, popularly known as the Maturins because their Paris house was dedicated to St. Maturin. It spread so quickly that soon there were fifty houses in far-off Ireland and the same number in England. Their records include the names of all the western nations. Until his death, Jean de Matha traveled back and forth to Africa. When the first boatload of redeemed captives arrived in Marseilles, a cry of thanksgiving rose throughout Christendom. Sometimes, a brother of the Order would stay in place of a captive when the funds for ransoming prisoners ran out. In Granada, Maturins were martyred. In the year 1260, five thousand Christians were freed from Islamic prisons by these devoted men. And for five centuries this good work continued, as we hear of Trinitarians freeing Christians from Muslims during the reign of Louis XIV. Cervantes was freed from African captivity by the sons of St. Jean de Matha; otherwise, we would have no Don Quixote. Throughout the dark times of the Albigensian wars, these lives of quiet Christian charity persisted. Their deeds have not been widely recognized. I would say the historian who frequently cites the phrase Tuez-les-tous has never heard of St. Jean and his Maturins.
AVIGNON[264]
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In abandoning Rome, their cradle, in departing from the venerated tomb of the Prince of the Apostle, in ceasing to reign on the site consecrated by the blood of martyrs, the popes failed to value the prop those august memories were for them. In their voluntary exile on the banks of the Rhone the popes were controlled by the king of France. Villeneuve’s high towers, a French stronghold, threw too protective a shadow over the papal palace of Avignon.—L. Salembier.
In leaving Rome, their birthplace, and stepping away from the revered tomb of the Prince of the Apostles, and in no longer ruling from the site blessed by the blood of martyrs, the popes did not recognize how important those powerful memories were for them. During their self-imposed exile along the Rhone River, the popes were under the influence of the king of France. The tall towers of Villeneuve, a French stronghold, cast too much of a protective shadow over the papal palace in Avignon.—L. Salembier.
Architecturally Avignon does not fit into our category, but who can close a chapter on the Midi and not mention, among gems, this diamond? There is no more imposing, no more magnificent a palace in the world than that of the XIV-century popes at Avignon.
Architecturally, Avignon doesn't quite fit our category, but who can finish a chapter on the Midi without mentioning this gem, this diamond? There’s no more impressive, no more magnificent palace in the world than that of the 14th-century popes in Avignon.
Romanesque architecture is represented by the Dom and the bridge built by frères-pontifes over the Rhone (1177-85) under the inspiration of the shepherd boy St. Bénézet. Many a time has the river carried away its bays. The chapel on the bridge shows the work of three epochs, part being of Little Benedict’s time, part of 1234, and an apse of 1513.
Romanesque architecture is showcased by the dome and the bridge built by frères-pontifes over the Rhône (1177-85) inspired by the shepherd boy St. Bénézet. The river has often washed away its arches. The chapel on the bridge reflects three different periods: part dates back to Little Benedict’s time, part is from 1234, and there’s an apse from 1513.
Notre Dame-des-Dom, as it was first built, belonged to the usual type of a Midi Romanesque church (1140-60), but to it have been added chapels and neo-classic decorations.[265] The west porch of the cathedral can claim to be one of the first conscious revivals of classic art in France, inspired by a Roman triumphal arch in neighboring Carpentras. Originally the inner walls of the porch were frescoed by Simone Martini of Siena, a friend of Petrarch. That humanist spent many years in Avignon, and it was at the door of the church of St. Clara that he first saw Laura, in 1327. If the Avignon popes employed Italian painters, their architects and sculptors were mainly local.
Notre Dame-des-Doms, as it was originally built, was a typical Midi Romanesque church (1140-60), but chapels and neoclassical decorations have since been added.[265] The west porch of the cathedral is considered one of the earliest conscious revivals of classical art in France, inspired by a Roman triumphal arch in nearby Carpentras. Originally, the inner walls of the porch were painted with frescoes by Simone Martini of Siena, a friend of Petrarch. This humanist spent many years in Avignon, and it was at the door of the church of St. Clara that he first saw Laura in 1327. While the Avignon popes hired Italian painters, their architects and sculptors were mostly local.
Avignon’s great day was under the seven Roman pontiffs who lived here in succession during sixty-eight years, a period disastrous to the interests and prestige of the Church, but fecund for the art life of southern France. All seven of the popes were meridionals.
Avignon's prominent era was during the time of the seven Roman popes who lived here in succession for sixty-eight years. This period was detrimental to the Church's interests and reputation, but it was a flourishing time for the artistic life of southern France. All seven of the popes were from the south.
Clement V (1305-13), whom the patriotic Italian poet places in hell for his subservience to the French king, was the first to take up his residence in Avignon, but his building enterprises were elsewhere, at Bordeaux and St. Bertrand-de-Comminges, and he chose to be buried near Bordeaux, at Uzeste, his native place, where his tomb was mutilated in 1577. Clement is pictured on the walls of the Spanish chapel in Santa Maria Novella at Florence. Neither his statue at the chief portal of Bordeaux Cathedral nor his effigy on his tomb is a portrait.
Clement V (1305-13), whom the patriotic Italian poet condemns to hell for his loyalty to the French king, was the first to settle in Avignon, but he focused his building projects elsewhere, in Bordeaux and St. Bertrand-de-Comminges, and he chose to be buried near Bordeaux, in Uzeste, his hometown, where his tomb was defaced in 1577. Clement is depicted on the walls of the Spanish chapel in Santa Maria Novella in Florence. Neither his statue at the main entrance of Bordeaux Cathedral nor his effigy on his tomb is an actual likeness.
After an interval he was succeeded by John XXII (1316-33), born in Cahors, where a tower of his palace still stands, as well as the most beautiful bridge of the Middle Ages, which he helped to build. John had been educated at Cahors, Montpellier, and Paris; he had taught law at Toulouse, and from 1310 was bishop of Avignon, so that he made it his permanent residence when elected to the papacy at seventy-two. John was an organizer of genius; he founded Perugia University and reformed those of Paris, Cambridge, and Oxford. The great treasure he left was the fund drawn on by his successors for the erection of their palace. His tomb in the cathedral of Avignon is like an immense reliquary, excessive lace stonework and pinnacles, though if some of the sixty statues that once embellished it remained, there would naturally be more character in the ornamentation. The tomb has recently been claimed as a late-Gothic west-of-England work, similar to monuments at Exeter and Tewksbury.
After a while, he was succeeded by John XXII (1316-33), who was born in Cahors, where a tower of his palace still stands, along with the most beautiful bridge of the Middle Ages that he helped to build. John was educated in Cahors, Montpellier, and Paris; he taught law at Toulouse, and from 1310, he was the bishop of Avignon, making it his permanent residence when he was elected pope at seventy-two. John was a brilliant organizer; he founded the University of Perugia and reformed those in Paris, Cambridge, and Oxford. The great legacy he left behind was the fund that his successors used to build their palace. His tomb in the Avignon cathedral resembles an enormous reliquary, featuring excessive lace stonework and pinnacles. However, if some of the sixty statues that once adorned it were still there, the ornamentation would have more character. The tomb has recently been recognized as a late-Gothic work from the west of England, similar to monuments found in Exeter and Tewksbury.
His successor, Benedict XII (1333-42), was the pope who really began the Avignon palace which was to be completed in twenty-five years. While abbot of Cistercian Fontfroide, he had watched Narbonne’s episcopal palace rising, and there are decided likenesses between it and the papal residence on the Rhone. Both were fortresses eminently of the Midi, not of Italy. Of Benedict it is related that when his father, a baker in the comté of Foix, came to visit him, dressed richly by courtiers who thought to save the pope’s amour propre, the pope declined to recognize him till he garbed himself humbly. His was a complex character. He spent vast sums lavishly on his palace, bringing artists from Italy to decorate its walls and ceilings. His tomb, that had resembled his predecessor’s, exists only in a few arcades housed in the Musée Calvert. The tomb called his in the cathedral is a composite affair. There is a statue of Benedict XII in the crypt of the Vatican.
His successor, Benedict XII (1333-42), was the pope who actually started the Avignon palace, which would take twenty-five years to complete. While he was the abbot of the Cistercian Fontfroide, he watched the episcopal palace in Narbonne being built, and there are clear similarities between it and the papal residence on the Rhone. Both were fortresses distinctly of the Midi, not of Italy. It's said that when his father, a baker from the comté of Foix, came to visit him, dressed lavishly by courtiers who wanted to save the pope’s pride, the pope refused to acknowledge him until he dressed simply. His character was complex. He spent huge amounts on his palace, hiring artists from Italy to decorate its walls and ceilings. His tomb, which used to look like his predecessor’s, now exists only in a few arcades at the Musée Calvert. The tomb identified as his in the cathedral is a mix of different elements. There’s a statue of Benedict XII in the crypt of the Vatican.
The next pontiff, Clement VI (1342-52), a Limousin lord of great lineage, more knight than churchman, made the most beautiful parts of the papal palace, the conclave gallery, the Audience Chamber, the Pontifical Chapel over it, and the tower called St. Jeane whose chapels, sotto and sopra, were decorated by Martini. Petrarch had praised Clement for his liberality toward the Jews, who, driven out of other countries, found a home here, “povres Juifs ars et escacés par tout le monde excepté en la terre d’Église dessous les clefs des papes.” For his burial Clement VI rebuilt, in the Forez mountains, the church of his former abbey, La Chaise Dieu, in the center of whose choir he placed his own sumptuous monument, whose forty-four statuettes represented his great relatives. In the religious wars of the XVI century the mausoleum was sacked and only the pontiff’s marble effigy now remains.
The next pope, Clement VI (1342-52), a noble from Limousin with a strong lineage, more a knight than a church leader, created the most stunning areas of the papal palace, including the conclave gallery, the Audience Chamber, the Pontifical Chapel above it, and the tower known as St. Jeane, which had chapels, sotto and sopra, decorated by Martini. Petrarch praised Clement for his generosity towards the Jews, who, expelled from other countries, found refuge here, “povres Juifs ars et escacés par tout le monde excepté en la terre d’Église dessous les clefs des papes.” For his burial, Clement VI rebuilt the church of his former abbey, La Chaise Dieu, in the Forez mountains, placing his lavish monument in the center of the choir, featuring forty-four statuettes of his notable relatives. During the religious wars of the 16th century, the mausoleum was looted, and now only the pope’s marble statue remains.
Clement VI purchased the city of Avignon from Queen Joanna of Naples of the Anjou house. The Comtat-Venaissin, but not Avignon, formed part of the possessions that fell to the French Crown on the death of Alphonse of Poitiers and his wife in 1271. Philippe III gave it to the popes, to whom it had been promised by the last count of Toulouse.
Clement VI bought the city of Avignon from Queen Joanna of Naples from the Anjou family. The Comtat-Venaissin, but not Avignon, was part of the assets that went to the French Crown when Alphonse of Poitiers and his wife died in 1271. Philippe III gave it to the popes, who had been promised it by the last count of Toulouse.
The papal palace was finished by Innocent VI (1352-62), another Limousin. He made the tower applied to the south wall of audience hall and church, and he added to the city’s fortifications. Across the Rhone he began the Chartreuse, later called Val de Bénédiction, a vast structure carried on by his family as a hereditary obligation.[266] To-day it is a mass of desolate ruins, and the pope’s mutilated tomb is now housed in the hospice at Villeneuve-lès-Avignon.
The papal palace was completed by Innocent VI (1352-62), another Limousin. He attached a tower to the south wall of the audience hall and church, and he strengthened the city’s defenses. Across the Rhone, he started the Chartreuse, later known as Val de Bénédiction, a large building maintained by his family as a hereditary duty.[266] Today, it’s a mass of crumbling ruins, and the pope’s damaged tomb is now located in the hospice at Villeneuve-lès-Avignon.
Urban V (1362-70), “moult saint homme et de belle vie,” says Froissart, was a patron for art and letters throughout the Midi. At Avignon he continued the fortifications. His work is to be found in Montpellier Cathedral, also at Mende, St. Flour, and Marseilles, where his mausoleum towers in St. Victor’s abbatial. His attempt to re-establish the papacy in Rome failed, but his successor, Gregory XI—Count Roger de Beaufort, a nephew of Clement VI—went back definitely in 1377 to the Holy City, where a bas-relief on his tomb, in Santa Francesca Romana, records his triumphal entrance. The consequences of the long exile were deplorable. Immediately came the Great Schism of the West, during which some of the doubtful pontiffs resided at Avignon.
Urban V (1362-70), “a humble man and of noble life,” says Froissart, was a supporter of art and literature throughout the Midi. In Avignon, he continued building the fortifications. His work can be seen in Montpellier Cathedral, as well as in Mende, St. Flour, and Marseille, where his mausoleum stands tall in St. Victor’s abbey. His effort to restore the papacy in Rome was unsuccessful, but his successor, Gregory XI—Count Roger de Beaufort, a nephew of Clement VI—returned definitively in 1377 to the Holy City, where a bas-relief on his tomb in Santa Francesca Romana commemorates his triumphant entry. The aftermath of the long exile was tragic. Soon after followed the Great Schism of the West, during which some of the questionable popes were based in Avignon.
After their return to Rome the popes governed their small Midi principality by viceroys till at the time of the Revolution it passed to France. The palace was turned into a prison and barracks; when a local antiquarian society begged that they might be allowed to preserve the precious frescoes of Simone Martini in the chapels of Clement VI, the military governor replied that such notions were contrary to military custom. Happily the Palace of the Popes is now a national monument, and its judiciously accomplished renovation is one of those restorals against which no one can cavil.
After their return to Rome, the popes ruled their small Midi territory through viceroys until the time of the Revolution when it became part of France. The palace was converted into a prison and barracks; when a local antiquarian society requested permission to preserve the valuable frescoes of Simone Martini in the chapels of Clement VI, the military governor responded that such ideas were against military customs. Fortunately, the Palace of the Popes is now a national monument, and its skillfully executed renovation is one of those restorations that no one can criticize.
CHAPTER IX
The Gothic Art of Burgundy[267]
Be strict in kindness and kind in strictness:
Be friendly in tough times and serious in good times.
—St. Columbanus’s Antitheses.
URGUNDY, “a country placed on Europe’s highways,” was a land of
monasteries. They dotted the fertile province. There were “prodigious
Cluny,” and Vézelay “the superb,” scenes of historic gatherings; at
Auxerre was St. Germain’s monastery; at Dijon, the abbey of St. Bénigne,
pioneer in the Romanesque renaissance of the region. There were Cîteaux,
the mother house of missions over the entire Christian world, Pontigny,
that harbored three archbishops of Canterbury, Fontenay with its
industrial forge, Tournus, Saulieu, Paray-le-Monial, and Flavigny, that
reminded Chateaubriand of Jerusalem set on its hill. Up and down the
land the laus perennis never ceased.
BURGUNDY, “a region located along Europe’s main routes,” was a land filled with monasteries. They were scattered throughout the fertile province. There was “prodigious Cluny,” and Vézelay “the magnificent,” sites of historic gatherings; at Auxerre stood St. Germain’s monastery; at Dijon, the abbey of St. Bénigne, which was a leader in the Romanesque revival of the area. There were Cîteaux, the motherhouse of missions across the entire Christian world, Pontigny, which was home to three archbishops of Canterbury, Fontenay with its industrial forge, and Tournus, Saulieu, Paray-le-Monial, and Flavigny, which reminded Chateaubriand of Jerusalem set on its hill. Throughout the land, the laus perennis never stopped.
On the confines of the old kingdom of Burgundy, as the VI century closed, St. Columbanus founded at Luxeuil, between the sources of the Moselle and the Saône, an abbey which was to mold the religious life of the VII century, most fertile of epochs in the number and fervor of its religious institutions. Luxeuil became the popular school of Gaul, the mother house of hundreds of monasteries. Her monks filled the sees of France. The Celtic Rule was harsh, a compound of the Orient, of Lerens, and of Bangor in Ireland; even on feast days fish was a luxury. It was only the personal genius of the impetuous Irish missionary that caused it to be accepted for a few generations; then as the VII century closed, the Benedictine Rule which conformed better to human limitations superseded the Columban. “Where Columbanus sowed, Benedict reaped.”[268]
On the edge of the ancient kingdom of Burgundy, as the 6th century came to an end, St. Columbanus established an abbey at Luxeuil, located between the sources of the Moselle and the Saône, which was set to shape the religious life of the 7th century, a period rich in the number and passion of its religious institutions. Luxeuil became the leading school in Gaul, the mother house of hundreds of monasteries. Its monks occupied the bishoprics of France. The Celtic Rule was strict, drawing from influences of the East, Lerens, and Bangor in Ireland; even on holy days, fish was considered a luxury. It was only due to the unique brilliance of the passionate Irish missionary that it was accepted for a few generations; then, as the 7th century came to an end, the Benedictine Rule, which aligned better with human limitations, replaced the Columban. “Where Columbanus sowed, Benedict reaped.”[268]
Three hundred years later there rose in Burgundy the most splendid monastic institution that Christendom has ever known, Benedictine Cluny, that stood shoulder to shoulder with the reforming popes in their fight for the purification of the Church.[269] Cluny initiated the Truce of God, the peace movement of the XI century that permitted the art renaissance which was to culminate in the Gothic cathedrals. Peace meant an unmolested commerce, peace meant city charters and stable laws. A reformed clergy meant the renewal of the people’s love of the altar, and their generous contributions toward the erection of churches. With Cluny as leader there was then formulated the architecture which was a stepping stone to a greater system.
Three hundred years later, the most impressive monastic institution that Christianity has ever known emerged in Burgundy: Benedictine Cluny. It stood alongside the reforming popes in their efforts to purify the Church.[269] Cluny kicked off the Truce of God, the peace movement of the 11th century that allowed for a renaissance in art, which would eventually lead to the Gothic cathedrals. Peace meant uninterrupted trade, peace meant city charters and stable laws. A reformed clergy ignited the people's renewed love for the altar and their generous donations towards building churches. With Cluny as the leader, a new architectural style was developed that served as a foundation for an even greater system.
Two hundred years after Cluny’s foundation, Burgundy again gave birth to a monastic movement which was to carry to the ends of Europe the Gothic system of building. Cîteaux, in the extent of its conquests and its centralized administration, has been compared with the Roman Empire. Cistercian monks carried Burgundian Gothic to Spain, to Italy, to Greece, to England, Germany, and Scandinavia. Owing to the conditions of society and of the episcopacy, the cloister then was chief patron of art. Simony infected the bishoprics and it is not under unworthy prelates that churches are reared. Gregory VII, Cluny, that supplied him with his army of reformers, and St. Bernard, with his white-cowled brethren, warred unceasingly on simony, concubinage, and investiture (the tormenting question of layman control of churchmen). And since it was monasteries that fought that battle of regeneration, monastic churches and not cathedrals were the first tangible proof of the ethical rebirth of Europe. À la peine ... à l’honneur. When the reform achieved by Cluny and Cîteaux had filled the sees with worthy bishops, then were built the great cathedrals.
Two hundred years after Cluny was founded, Burgundy gave rise to a monastic movement that spread the Gothic architectural style across Europe. Cîteaux, with its extensive influence and centralized management, has been likened to the Roman Empire. Cistercian monks introduced Burgundian Gothic to Spain, Italy, Greece, England, Germany, and Scandinavia. Because of the social and ecclesiastical conditions at the time, monasteries became the main supporters of art. The practice of simony tainted the bishoprics, and churches were not built under corrupt prelates. Gregory VII, along with Cluny, which provided him with an army of reformers, and St. Bernard and his fellow monks, continuously fought against simony, concubinage, and the issue of laymen controlling church leaders. Since monasteries were the frontlines in this battle for renewal, monastic churches, rather than cathedrals, were the first concrete evidence of Europe's moral revival. À la peine ... à l’honneur. Once the reforms initiated by Cluny and Cîteaux resulted in worthy bishops leading the sees, the grand cathedrals were constructed.
We have seen how the problem of roofing churches in stone caused the evolution from Romanesque to Gothic art. Burgundy’s struggle to achieve a permanent stone roof was bolder than that of other regional schools in France, and perhaps it was overhardy, since her abbatials, in Gothic times, had to be buttressed to keep them standing. Though the Burgundian discarded too early the Romanesque principle of equilibrium by dead load, his temerity was a step forward in the march toward new principles of construction. These monks on Europe’s highway made churches of ample width and height, and, rather than sacrifice their proper lighting, opened windows in the upper walls of the central vessel. However, they must have felt that their clearstory windows were an experiment, for they essayed, occasionally, an embryo flying buttress, keeping it hidden under the lean-to roof of the aisles.
We have seen how the challenge of roofing churches with stone led to the shift from Romanesque to Gothic art. Burgundy's effort to create a permanent stone roof was more ambitious than that of other regional schools in France, and maybe it was too bold, since during the Gothic period, their abbeys needed buttressing to stay upright. Although the Burgundians abandoned the Romanesque concept of stability through dead weight too soon, their boldness was a significant step forward in the evolution of construction techniques. These monks along Europe’s highway built churches with ample width and height and, instead of sacrificing proper lighting, added windows in the upper walls of the main nave. However, they likely viewed their clearstory windows as an experiment, as they occasionally tried out a primitive flying buttress, keeping it concealed beneath the lean-to roof of the aisles.
The militant Romanesque school of Burgundy was too well developed for it to bow instantly before the new art. Not here did the generating member of Gothic architecture first come into common usage, but in that region of northern France whose pre-Gothic school was of less importance. The Burgundian clung stubbornly to his early ways of building, and even after other provinces had accepted the ogival style he erected thoroughly Romanesque churches; St. Philibert at Dijon is the contemporary of the cathedrals at Chartres and Paris. Flying buttresses at no time found favor in Burgundy. Groin vaults were persisted in simultaneously with diagonals, and the sexpartite vault used long after the north had dropped it. Firm plain profiles for archivolts and window molds were preferred.
The militant Romanesque school of Burgundy was too advanced to quickly give in to the new art. The key elements of Gothic architecture didn't first become common here, but in the northern part of France where the pre-Gothic style was less significant. The people of Burgundy stubbornly held on to their traditional building methods, and even after other regions embraced the pointed style, they continued to build thoroughly Romanesque churches; St. Philibert in Dijon was contemporary with the cathedrals in Chartres and Paris. Flying buttresses were never popular in Burgundy. Groin vaults were used alongside diagonal vaults, and the sexpartite vault remained in use long after the north had abandoned it. They favored strong, simple profiles for archivolts and window moldings.
Once the Burgundian frankly accepted the new system, his bold genius led him to push its principles to their limit. Within the confines of the duchy were the quarries of hard Tonnerre stone that permitted audacious experiments in building. He dared traverse his exterior buttresses by circulation passages, he dared catch his heavily weighted diagonals on corbels (carved with original heads), and to poise a mass of material on the slenderest of colonnettes. Often he surmounted his triforium by a passage that passed directly through the active wall shafts, as in cathedrals of Auxerre, Nevers, and Semur. By the middle of the XIII century Dijon achieved a marvel of Gothic technique in its church of Notre Dame. Despite much notable Gothic work one is inclined, none the less, to maintain that Burgundy found her fullest expression in her earlier monastic churches. Alas, that the greatest of them, Cluny, should to-day be but the phantom of its once colossal self!
Once the Burgundian fully embraced the new system, his bold creativity pushed its principles to their limits. Within the duchy were the quarries of hard Tonnerre stone that allowed for daring building experiments. He dared to cross his exterior buttresses with circulation passages, he dared to support his heavy diagonal elements on corbels (carved with unique heads), and to balance a large amount of material on the thinnest of colonnettes. Often, he topped his triforium with a passage that went directly through the active wall shafts, as seen in the cathedrals of Auxerre, Nevers, and Semur. By the middle of the 13th century, Dijon achieved a marvel of Gothic technique in its church of Notre Dame. Despite much remarkable Gothic work, one tends to believe that Burgundy expressed itself most fully in its earlier monastic churches. It’s unfortunate that the greatest of them, Cluny, is now just a shadow of its once massive self!
Time will be ending soon, heaven will be rending soon, fast we and pray we: Comes the most merciful; comes the most terrible; watch we while may we.
Time will soon be up, heaven will soon be torn apart, quickly we pray: Here comes the most merciful; here comes the most terrifying; let’s watch while we still can.
The “mother abbey of Europe” lies in a fertile valley some fifteen miles off the express route that passes through Mâcon. The property was given to the monks by a duke of Aquitaine, who thus anathematized future despoilers: “I conjure you O holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to cut off from life eternal all robbers, invaders, or sellers of that which I herewith donate with full satisfaction and entire free will.”
The "mother abbey of Europe" is located in a fertile valley about fifteen miles from the express route that goes through Mâcon. A duke of Aquitaine gave the property to the monks, thus cursing any future thieves: "I urge you, O holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to deny eternal life to all robbers, invaders, or sellers of what I donate here with full satisfaction and complete free will."
When Cluny was founded in 910, the victory of Christianity over the Barbarians still hung in the balance. It was Cluny that weighed down the scale for justice and progress, Cluny that gave to Rome the needed reforming popes. Hers should be a name as honored in humanity’s history as Athens: “We leave college,” wrote Montalembert, “able to cite the list of Jupiter’s mistresses, but ignorant, even to their names, of the founders of the religious Orders that civilized Europe.” And the testimony of the Protestant Leibnitz is: “Without monks we should have no erudition, for it is certain that we owe to monasteries the preservation of letters and books.” Four of the best among the popes came out of Cluny’s cloister: Gregory VII, Urban II, Paschal II, and Urban V.
When Cluny was founded in 910, the victory of Christianity over the Barbarians was still uncertain. It was Cluny that tilted the scale toward justice and progress, Cluny that provided Rome with the reforming popes it needed. Its name deserves to be as respected in human history as Athens: “We leave college,” wrote Montalembert, “able to name Jupiter’s mistresses but ignorant, even of their names, about the founders of the religious Orders that civilized Europe.” And the testimony of the Protestant Leibnitz is: “Without monks, we would have no knowledge, for it is certain that we owe the preservation of literature and books to monasteries.” Four of the greatest popes came from Cluny’s cloister: Gregory VII, Urban II, Paschal II, and Urban V.
The XI-century Sanctuary of Cluny as It Was until the
Revolution
The 11th-century Sanctuary of Cluny as It Was Before the Revolution
The modern French school of mediæval archæology, delving into the past, has drawn Cluny from its long oblivion. In 1910 was celebrated with national honors the millennium of the Burgundian “abbey of abbeys,” and to the festival the French Academy sent M. René Bazin as its representative to voice the gratitude of French letters to the “great Order of Cluny which in the France of the Middle Ages exercised in its plenitude the mission of civilizer, apostle of the Gospel, apostle of peace, guardian of the whole field of knowledge, founder then, of all works of charity, initiator of both literary and agricultural progress, creator of an art which she spread over Europe.”
The modern French school of medieval archaeology, exploring the past, has brought Cluny back from its long neglect. In 1910, the thousandth anniversary of the Burgundian “abbey of abbeys” was celebrated with national honors, and to the festival, the French Academy sent M. René Bazin as its representative to express the gratitude of French literature to the “great Order of Cluny, which in medieval France fully embraced the role of civilizer, evangelist of the Gospel, promoter of peace, protector of knowledge, founder of all charitable works, initiator of both literary and agricultural advancements, and creator of an art that spread throughout Europe.”
During the Middle Ages the silent Burgundian valley was a busy hive of arts and crafts[272] with goldsmiths’ work, illuminating, carving in ivory and in stone, foundering of bells, and the making of stained glass. All that went toward the adornment of God’s house was fostered in Cluniac schools, but above all was the master art of the builder honored. In bands of twelve the monks carried not only the Gospel, but the arts to every part of Europe, and even farther afield, for there were houses of the Order on Mount Tabor, in Nazareth, and in Bethany. No uniform Cluniac building lore was followed; it was the usual custom for the monks to conform to the local traditions in each different country.[273]
During the Middle Ages, the quiet Burgundian valley was a bustling center for arts and crafts[272]. Goldsmithing, illumination, ivory and stone carving, bell founding, and stained glass making thrived there. Everything that beautified God’s house was nurtured in Cluniac schools, but above all, the master art of building was highly valued. In groups of twelve, the monks spread not only the Gospel but also the arts throughout Europe and beyond, with houses of the Order established on Mount Tabor, in Nazareth, and in Bethany. There wasn’t a standard Cluniac style of building; instead, the monks typically adapted to the local traditions of each country.[273]
It was natural that the big abbey church at Cluny proper should have been Burgundian Romanesque. Hazelon, a monk of Cluny, was the master-of-works, a learned man who had once occupied a high position in the world; he is said to have himself worked here with trowel and mortar. The tunnel vaulting was braced by transverse ribs that were slightly pointed; clearstory windows were opened in the upper walls. The channeled pilasters were a heritage from the classic traditions of the region; near by, in Rome’s former capital of Autun, were many monuments of antiquity.
It made sense for the large abbey church at Cluny to be built in the Burgundian Romanesque style. Hazelon, a monk from Cluny, was the chief architect, and he was an educated man who had once held a significant position in society; it is said that he personally worked here with a trowel and mortar. The tunnel vaulting was supported by slightly pointed transverse ribs; clerestory windows were installed in the upper walls. The fluted pilasters were a legacy of the classic traditions of the area; nearby, in Autun, the former capital of Rome, were many ancient monuments.
Cluny’s abbey church of St. Peter was the largest in the world, and covered an area about equal to that of the present St. Peter’s at Rome. It was over five hundred and fifty feet long; the cathedral at Paris is not four hundred feet in length. There were double aisles and double transepts. St. Hugues of Cluny, the sixth abbot, “a man of God greatest among the great,” “the pupil of the papacy’s eye,” ruled the Burgundian mother house during the sixty years that Cluny guided Christendom (1049 to 1109). No flattery, no subtlety could turn him from pure justice. Under him were trained Hildebrand, the future Gregory VII, who led the forces of church reform. “The giving up of justice is the shipwreck of the soul,” said Gregory VII. Abbot Hugues trained also Urban II, who preached the First Crusade. Among the houses he founded were St. Martin-des-Champs at Paris, and St. Pancras at Lewes; in England there were thirty-five Cluniac establishments in the time of Henry VIII.
Cluny's abbey church of St. Peter was the largest in the world and covered an area roughly the same as the current St. Peter’s in Rome. It measured over five hundred and fifty feet long; the cathedral in Paris is under four hundred feet in length. It had double aisles and double transepts. St. Hugues of Cluny, the sixth abbot, “a man of God greater than the great,” “the apple of the papacy’s eye,” led the Burgundian mother house for the sixty years that Cluny guided Christendom (1049 to 1109). No flattery or cunning could sway him from absolute justice. Under his leadership were trained Hildebrand, the future Gregory VII, who spearheaded the church reform movements. “Giving up justice is the shipwreck of the soul,” said Gregory VII. Abbot Hugues also trained Urban II, who called for the First Crusade. Among the houses he established were St. Martin-des-Champs in Paris and St. Pancras in Lewes; in England, there were thirty-five Cluniac institutions during the time of Henry VIII.
Twice St. Hugues went into Spain, where his niece was the Queen of Castile, engaged in substituting the liturgy of the Church universal for the Mozarabic rite. To the town of Cluny he granted a commune, and he built two of its parish churches, Notre Dame and St. Marcel.[274] When he felt death approaching, he had himself carried before the altar of St. Marcel, there to breathe his last on a bed of ashes, and a few days earlier than the Easter Tuesday of 1109 on which he passed away, his dear friend and frequent visitor at Cluny, St. Anselm of Canterbury, died, being privileged, he said, to go to meet his Saviour in time for the blessed Easter feast. Those two great men of the cloister by their ethical and intellectual leadership laid the basis for the Gothic cathedrals.
Twice St. Hugues went to Spain, where his niece was the Queen of Castile, working to replace the Mozarabic rite with the universal Church's liturgy. He granted a commune to the town of Cluny and built two of its parish churches, Notre Dame and St. Marcel.[274] When he sensed death coming, he had himself carried before the altar of St. Marcel to take his last breath on a bed of ashes. A few days before Easter Tuesday of 1109, when he passed away, his dear friend and frequent visitor at Cluny, St. Anselm of Canterbury, also died, saying he was fortunate to go meet his Savior just in time for the blessed Easter feast. These two great men of the cloister, through their ethical and intellectual leadership, laid the groundwork for the Gothic cathedrals.
The choir of St. Peter’s, at Cluny, was blessed by Urban II, in 1095, when he came into France to preach the First Crusade. He passed a week in his old home, after which he and his beloved master, St. Hugues, proceeded to the historic gathering at Clermont. The nave of St. Peter’s was carried forward by succeeding abbots of Cluny, and many a pope was to watch the edifice rising. Paschal II passed the winter of 1106-07 in Cluny, and his successor, Gelasius II, died there in 1119; he had recently consecrated the new Romanesque cathedral of Pisa.[275] On the site of the wing of the cloister where he lodged now stands a XIV-century building called by his name. On his death the cardinals at Cluny held conclave, electing as pope a member of the ducal house of Burgundy, the bishop of Vienne, who took the name Calixtus II; in Cluny church he canonized the great Abbot Hugues.
The choir of St. Peter’s at Cluny was blessed by Urban II in 1095 when he came to France to preach the First Crusade. He spent a week in his old home, after which he and his beloved teacher, St. Hugues, headed to the historic gathering at Clermont. The nave of St. Peter’s was developed by the subsequent abbots of Cluny, and many popes witnessed the building's progress. Paschal II spent the winter of 1106-07 in Cluny, and his successor, Gelasius II, died there in 1119; he had recently consecrated the new Romanesque cathedral of Pisa.[275] On the site of the cloister wing where he stayed now stands a 14th-century building named after him. After his death, the cardinals at Cluny held a conclave and elected a member of the ducal house of Burgundy, the bishop of Vienne, as pope, who took the name Calixtus II; in Cluny church, he canonized the great Abbot Hugues.
St. Hugues’ successor, Pons de Melgueil, after an estimable career, was led by pride to a downfall. On his resignation, Pierre de Montboissier, an Auvergne noble, known in history as Peter the Venerable, became the ninth abbot (1122-56). At that time he was but thirty years of age. Pons returned, seized Cluny abbey, and in the ensuing disorders the vaulting of the new nave collapsed. Abbot Peter restored the stone roof, and Innocent II dedicated the completed church in 1131.
St. Hugues’ successor, Pons de Melgueil, after a respected career, was brought down by his own pride. When he stepped down, Pierre de Montboissier, a noble from Auvergne, known in history as Peter the Venerable, became the ninth abbot (1122-56). At that time, he was only thirty years old. Pons returned, took control of Cluny Abbey, and during the chaos that followed, the ceiling of the new nave collapsed. Abbot Peter restored the stone roof, and Innocent II dedicated the completed church in 1131.
The capitals then carved are to be seen in the town’s Museum. Some of them personified the eight tones of liturgical music, for Cluny excelled in song, and every twenty-four hours her vast basilica echoed to the chanting of the entire book of Psalms; never, says the old chronicle, was there pause in the saintes clameurs, the laus perennis started by Irish Columbanus in the valleys of Burgundy. Some of the capitals from the abbatial are contemporaries of the statuary at Vézelay, where Peter the Venerable had been prior, and where his brother, Pons de Montboissier, was abbot. Vézelay was a pilgrimage church, so that its imagery was made of more popular character than that of Cluny, where worshiped an intellectual élite.
The capitals that were carved can be viewed in the town’s museum. Some of them represented the eight tones of liturgical music, as Cluny was renowned for its singing, and every twenty-four hours, its massive basilica resounded with the chanting of the entire book of Psalms; never, according to the old chronicle, was there a break in the saintes clameurs, the laus perennis initiated by Irish Columbanus in the valleys of Burgundy. Some of the capitals from the abbey were created around the same time as the sculptures at Vézelay, where Peter the Venerable had served as prior and where his brother, Pons de Montboissier, was the abbot. Vézelay was a pilgrimage church, so its imagery was more accessible and relatable than that of Cluny, which catered to an intellectual elite.
Cluny began the carving of the Bible for the Poor. The Burgundians were the first to develop the imaged portal which the Gothic cathedrals were to elaborate into their sumptuous triple entrances. While Cluny was building, a monk in the monastery composed a poem of some thousand lines, opening with a vision of the heavenly Jerusalem. Bernard of Morlaix must have found inspiration in his own Burgundian basilica, which we know to have contained over three hundred windows of translucent mosaic. He dedicated his poem to his beloved abbot, Pierre de Montboissier.
Cluny started working on the Bible for the Poor. The Burgundians were the first to create the illustrated portal, which the Gothic cathedrals later expanded into their magnificent triple entrances. While Cluny was under construction, a monk in the monastery wrote a poem of about a thousand lines that began with a vision of the heavenly Jerusalem. Bernard of Morlaix must have drawn inspiration from his own Burgundian basilica, known to have had over three hundred windows made of translucent mosaics. He dedicated his poem to his cherished abbot, Pierre de Montboissier.
Peter the Venerable was no Puritan in art, as was his friend St. Bernard, with whom he had many a skirmish, owing to their temperamental differences and the rivalship of their respective Orders. The abbot of Cluny never wavered in his reverence for the “fellow citizen of angels,” as he called the abbot of Clairvaux, and Bernard saw in Peter, man of the world though he was, “a vessel of election full of truth and grace.”
Peter the Venerable was not a Puritan when it came to art, unlike his friend St. Bernard, with whom he often clashed due to their different temperaments and the rivalry between their Orders. The abbot of Cluny never lost his respect for the "fellow citizen of angels," as he referred to the abbot of Clairvaux, and Bernard recognized in Peter, despite his worldly nature, "a chosen vessel filled with truth and grace."
Like Abbot Suger, Pierre de Montboissier was the type of the liberal culture of the Benedictine, and he was to live again in the XVII-century scholars of the St. Maur reform, even as Bernard’s uncompromising spirit reappeared then in De Rancy and his Trappists, a reform of Cîteaux. Like Suger, Peter the Venerable was a quoter of the classics, and a literary man. “To write was for an abbot of Cluny a hereditary tradition,” said a XII-century historian. He had Arabic taught at Cluny for mission purposes. Journeying in Spain, he was the first to have the Koran translated for Europe; he held it to be Islam’s best refutation. Very modern appears this old-time abbot in the zest with which he set out to travel, to inspect the houses of his Order. When he died in 1156, he was ruling over two thousand establishments, in every part of Christendom.
Like Abbot Suger, Pierre de Montboissier embodied the liberal culture of the Benedictines, and his influence can be seen in the 17th-century scholars of the St. Maur reform, just as Bernard's uncompromising spirit resurfaced in De Rancy and his Trappists, a reform of Cîteaux. Like Suger, Peter the Venerable was an admirer of the classics and a literary figure. "For an abbot of Cluny, writing was a hereditary tradition," said a 12th-century historian. He introduced Arabic studies at Cluny for missionary purposes. While traveling in Spain, he was the first to have the Koran translated for Europe, believing it to be the best refutation of Islam. This old-time abbot seems quite modern in the enthusiasm with which he traveled to inspect the houses of his Order. When he died in 1156, he was overseeing two thousand establishments across all of Christendom.
In person Peter was distinguished, and in character most generous, humane, and free from narrowness. He was wisely moderate always, and simple and direct. The letters of his which still exist make him a living personality. Though as keen a theologian as his friend Bernard, Abbot Peter kept the defeated Abélard with him at Cluny until his irritated spirit was soothed, and when the great schoolman died in 1142, Abbot Peter wrote to Héloïse, in her nunnery of the Paraclete, in Troyes diocese, to arrange that Abélard’s body be brought there for burial, and he himself went to preach the funeral sermon.[276] In his letter to Héloïse he said that never had he seen truer humility and retirement than Maître Pierre’s; “after which,” as M. René Bazin remarks, “none of us need despair.”
In person, Peter was impressive, and in character, he was very generous, compassionate, and open-minded. He was always wisely moderate, straightforward, and honest. The letters of his that still exist make him feel like a real person. Although he was as sharp a theologian as his friend Bernard, Abbot Peter kept the defeated Abélard with him at Cluny until his troubled spirit was calmed, and when the great scholar died in 1142, Abbot Peter wrote to Héloïse, in her convent at the Paraclete in the Troyes diocese, to arrange for Abélard’s body to be brought there for burial, and he personally went to deliver the funeral sermon.[276] In his letter to Héloïse, he stated that he had never seen truer humility and withdrawal than that of Maître Pierre; “after which,” as M. René Bazin remarks, “none of us need despair.”
Cluny’s abbatial of St. Peter was enlarged in the XIII century by a forechurch of several bays, with double aisles. An antechurch or narthex was a frequent addition to the Burgundian basilica; sometimes it was open as at Autun and Beaune, sometimes wholly inclosed as at Vézelay. Although Cluny’s narthex was built as late as 1220, groin vaulting was used for the aisles.
Cluny's abbey of St. Peter was expanded in the 13th century with a forechurch that had several bays and double aisles. An antechurch or narthex was a common feature in the Burgundian basilica; sometimes it was open like at Autun and Beaune, and other times it was completely enclosed like at Vézelay. Although Cluny's narthex was constructed as late as 1220, groin vaulting was used for the aisles.
In 1245 Innocent IV paused for a month at Cluny, having in his train a dozen cardinals and their suites, and Louis IX came for a fortnight’s conference with the pope, accompanied by the queen mother, his brothers, and courtiers. The emperor of Constantinople and the heirs both of Castile and Aragon were guests at that same time, and yet so immense was the establishment, that all were accommodated without the monks quitting their usual quarters. In 1248 St. Louis paused again in Cluny before his first crusade.
In 1245, Innocent IV took a month-long pause in Cluny, accompanied by a dozen cardinals and their entourages. Louis IX came for a two-week conference with the pope, bringing along his mother, his brothers, and courtiers. The emperor of Constantinople and the heirs of both Castile and Aragon were also guests at the same time, yet the establishment was so large that everyone was accommodated without the monks having to leave their usual quarters. In 1248, St. Louis stopped again in Cluny before his first crusade.
With material success came spiritual decline. The tale runs the same in most of man’s organizations. As a reformer Cluny was succeeded first by the Cistercians, whose fervor lasted for a century, when were needed the two mendicant Orders of Francis and Dominic. The system that allowed the king to appoint abbots, initiated by the Concordat of 1516, proved fatal, and there is truth in the saying that the court prelates paved the way for the religious wars. Three times in those bitter years of strife was Cluny sacked, its famous library ravaged, and its art treasures burned.
With material success came spiritual decline. The story is the same in most of humanity's organizations. As a reformer, Cluny was first succeeded by the Cistercians, whose enthusiasm lasted for a century, until the two mendicant Orders of Francis and Dominic were needed. The system that allowed the king to appoint abbots, initiated by the Concordat of 1516, proved disastrous, and there is truth in the saying that the court prelates paved the way for the religious wars. Three times during those harsh years of conflict, Cluny was looted, its famous library destroyed, and its artistic treasures burned.
The Revolution completed the ruin. The first mob that marched out from Mâcon to wreck the abbey was dispersed with firearms by the townspeople. The municipality of Cluny wrote to the National Assembly to tell of the constant benefits it had derived from the monks—so the rationalist Taine relates in his Ancien Régime—but the impious wrecking of the great monastery went on. Day after day cartloads of rare books were brought to feed the bonfires in the square. All through 1793 bands of looters came out from Mâcon to break windows and destroy images. The indignant townspeople looked on impotently at the vandalism that spelled their own material decline. At Napoleon’s advent they sent petition after petition to try to save the big church, but the Mâcon merchant who had purchased it proceeded to open a road right up its nave and sold the stones as building materials. First the narthex was blown up with gunpowder; then a transept arm. When the huge central tower fell with stupefying noise the people shivered with a nameless fear. The history of France was being obliterated before their eyes.
The Revolution completed the destruction. The first group that marched out from Mâcon to vandalize the abbey was dispersed with gunfire by the townspeople. The municipality of Cluny wrote to the National Assembly to report the ongoing benefits it had received from the monks—so the rationalist Taine describes in his Ancien Régime—but the irreverent destruction of the grand monastery continued. Day after day, cartloads of rare books were brought to feed the bonfires in the square. Throughout 1793, gangs of looters emerged from Mâcon to break windows and destroy statues. The furious townspeople watched helplessly as the vandalism spelled their own material decline. At Napoleon’s rise to power, they submitted petition after petition to try to save the large church, but the Mâcon merchant who bought it proceeded to create a road right through its nave and sold the stones as building materials. First, the narthex was blown up with gunpowder; then an arm of the transept. When the massive central tower collapsed with a deafening noise, the people trembled with an undefined fear. The history of France was being erased right before their eyes.
To save what remained the town offered in exchange its communal lands and market halls. In vain; the grandest monastic church in the world was demolished piecemeal after the nineteenth century opened. Some seven or eight towers had crowned St. Peter’s. In 1811 the one over the choir was destroyed. Gunpowder blew up the stately pillars of Pentelic marble and Italian cipolin set around his sanctuary by St. Hugues seven hundred years before. They destroyed the frescoes of the apse, which were so fresh that one who then sketched them said that they seemed to have come straight from the artist’s brush.
To save what was left, the town offered its communal lands and market halls in exchange. But it was pointless; the grandest monastic church in the world was torn down piece by piece after the nineteenth century began. St. Peter’s had about seven or eight towers. In 1811, the one above the choir was taken down. Gunpowder blew up the impressive pillars of Pentelic marble and Italian cipolin that St. Hugues had placed around his sanctuary seven hundred years earlier. They destroyed the frescoes of the apse, which were so vibrant that one artist who sketched them said they looked like they had just come from the painter’s brush.
To-day little of the abbey church is standing. There are vestiges of the choir, a small tower, and the south arm of the main transept with a big tower over it. There also remains the Flamboyant Gothic chapel built by Abbot Jean de Bourbon (1456-81), out of the smaller transept. In the town street are evidences of where the western doors of the abbatial once stood. The entrance arches to the abbey grounds are intact, and some few of the towers of the inclosure walls. The museum is now housed in the monastery’s guest quarters built by Jean de Bourbon. His successor, Abbot Jacques d’Amboise (1481-1514), erected the pavilion which now serves as Town Hall. Both of those art-loving prelates constructed at Paris the Hôtel Cluny as town residence for the abbot of the Burgundian mother house.
Today, little of the abbey church is still standing. There are remnants of the choir, a small tower, and the south arm of the main transept with a large tower above it. The Flamboyant Gothic chapel built by Abbot Jean de Bourbon (1456-81) remains, located off the smaller transept. In the town street, you can see where the western doors of the abbey once stood. The entrance arches to the abbey grounds are still intact, as are a few of the towers of the enclosing walls. The museum is now located in the monastery’s guest quarters, which were built by Jean de Bourbon. His successor, Abbot Jacques d’Amboise (1481-1514), constructed the pavilion that now serves as the Town Hall. Both of these art-loving abbots built the Hôtel Cluny in Paris as the town residence for the abbot of the Burgundian mother house.
The times are getting late,
Stay alert and watchful,
The Judge is at the gate!
The Judge who comes with mercy,
The Judge that comes with power,
To end the evil To crown the right. —Bernard de Morlaix, “Jerusalem the Golden.”[278]
Not far from Cluny lies Paray-le-Monial, “a town very dear to heaven,” said Leo XIII’s brief of 1896. The monastery was founded by the second abbot of Cluny, St. Majolus, who was instrumental in bringing to France William of Volpiano, the leading spirit in the renaissance of architecture after the year 1000. The present abbatial resembles on a very small scale that of Cluny. Its barrel vaulting is braced by pointed arches and there are the channeled pilasters of Rome’s tradition in the region. The exterior of the apse and the carven doorway are gems of pre-Gothic art. Towers and porch date from the end of the XI century, and the remainder about 1130. At present the monastery church (which is abominably marred with whitewash) is dedicated to the Sacré Cœur, a devotion that was initiated by the Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque, who died in the Visitation convent of this town in 1690. Paray-le-Monial has become one of the pilgrimages of modern France.
Not far from Cluny is Paray-le-Monial, “a town very dear to heaven,” as noted in Leo XIII’s brief from 1896. The monastery was founded by the second abbot of Cluny, St. Majolus, who played a key role in bringing William of Volpiano to France, the main figure in the architectural renaissance after the year 1000. The current abbey is a small-scale version of Cluny. Its barrel vaulting is supported by pointed arches, and it features the channeled pilasters typical of Rome’s tradition in the area. The exterior of the apse and the carved doorway are masterpieces of pre-Gothic art. The towers and porch date back to the end of the 11th century, while the rest was built around 1130. Today, the monastery church (which is unfortunately spoiled with whitewash) is dedicated to the Sacré Cœur, a devotion started by Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque, who passed away in the Visitation convent of this town in 1690. Paray-le-Monial has become one of the major pilgrimage sites in modern France.
St. Odilo, who governed Cluny for the half century preceding the sixty-year rule of Abbot Hugues, loved especially the priory of Paray-le-Monial. He inspired and organized the Truce of God, the Treuga Dei, by which war was prohibited on certain days and in certain holy seasons. The monk, Raoul Glaber, to whom Odilo was patron, has described in a chronicle covering the period from 900 to 1047 (an invaluable document for the sources of the Capetian line) how the war-wrecked populace flocked to the church councils that were their only hope, their hands uplifted, with the beseeching cry, “Peace! Peace! Peace!” In the rebirth of hope and energy that succeeded to the terrors of the year 1000, Glaber has told us how the earth reclothed herself in a white mantle of churches. He had been spurred on to write his history by the chief builder of the age, William of Volpiano. The great monastic churchmen of Burgundy were leaders in the movement that was to culminate, within four generations, in Gothic cathedrals. To Abbot Odilo is attributed, also, the founding of the feast of All Souls, which he set on the day following All Saints, as if to place the suffering ones in the care of the elect. From the observance of this feast in Cluny houses it spread to the entire Church.
St. Odilo, who led Cluny for the fifty years before Abbot Hugues' sixty-year tenure, had a special affection for the priory of Paray-le-Monial. He initiated and organized the Truce of God, the Treuga Dei, which banned warfare on specific days and during certain holy seasons. The monk, Raoul Glaber, who was supported by Odilo, described in a chronicle that covers the years from 900 to 1047 (an invaluable resource for understanding the Capetian line) how the war-ravaged people flocked to church assemblies, their only source of hope, raising their hands and crying out, “Peace! Peace! Peace!” After the fears of the year 1000, Glaber recounts how the earth was renewed, cloaked in a white mantle of churches. His motivation to write his history came from the prominent builder of the time, William of Volpiano. The influential monastic leaders of Burgundy played a key role in a movement that would eventually lead to the creation of Gothic cathedrals within four generations. Abbot Odilo is also credited with establishing the Feast of All Souls, which he set for the day after All Saints, as if to place the suffering in the care of the elect. The observance of this feast began in Cluny houses and eventually spread throughout the entire Church.
THE ROMANESQUE CATHEDRAL OF AUTUN[279]
THE ROMANESQUE CATHEDRAL OF AUTUN__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Et c’est ainsi que Dieu travaille quand il veut nous châtier sans nous perdre, quand il ne veut pas que la guerre finisse, par le feu, le sang, la désolation générale, la ruine entière et le changement d’un État. Il sépare les gens de bien: il faut que les uns se mettent avec choix au parti qu’ils estiment le plus juste, et que les autres se trouvent dans le parti qu’ils approuvent quelquefois le moins.—Le Président Jeannin (1540-1622; born in Autun).
Et c’est ainsi que Dieu travaille quand il veut nous punir sans nous perdre, quand il ne veut pas que la guerre se termine, à travers le feu, le sang, la désolation générale, la ruine totale et le changement d’un État. Il sépare les gens de bien: il faut que certains se joignent délibérément au parti qu’ils jugent le plus juste, tandis que les autres se retrouvent dans le parti qu’ils approuvent parfois le moins.—President Jeannin (1540-1622; né à Autun).
Autun’s chief church, one of the few cathedrals in France which is Romanesque, was begun in 1120 and consecrated in 1132 by Innocent II. In that same year he blessed Cluny’s nave and Vézelay’s narthex. A friend of St. Bernard, Bishop Étienne de Baugé (1112-36), was its chief benefactor, as he was, also, of the Burgundian abbey of Saulieu.[280]
Autun's main church, one of the few Romanesque cathedrals in France, started construction in 1120 and was consecrated in 1132 by Innocent II. That same year, he also blessed the nave at Cluny and the narthex at Vézelay. A friend of St. Bernard, Bishop Étienne de Baugé (1112-36), was its main benefactor, as he was for the Burgundian abbey of Saulieu.[280]
The Last Judgment over Autun’s west door, signed by one Gislebertus, dates from that period. Its strange, elongated figures are not the culmination of an old art, but a first effort in a development that was to produce the imaged portals of Gothic cathedrals. Autun’s curious tympanum was saved from the iconoclasts of the Revolution because the gens de goût of the XVIII century had covered it over with the neo-classic plaster ornamentation they preferred. The graceful trumeau images of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary are restorations. Before the western door an open narthex for the use of lepers was added about 1178.
The Last Judgment over Autun’s west door, signed by one Gislebertus, dates from that time. Its unusual, elongated figures aren't the final result of an old style, but rather an initial attempt in a progression that would lead to the sculpted portals of Gothic cathedrals. Autun’s unique tympanum was saved from the iconoclasts of the Revolution because the refined taste of the 18th century had covered it with their preferred neo-classical plaster decoration. The elegant trumeau images of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary are restorations. An open narthex for lepers was added in front of the western door around 1178.
In the first part of the XII century, the cathedral school was directed, during thirty years, by Honoré d’Autun, whose popular book, The Mirror of the Church, introduced the use of animal symbolism into the iconography of cathedrals. M. Mâle discovered that the New Alliance window in Lyons Cathedral copied his book verbatim. In the learned Honoré’s day Autun Cathedral had not yet laid claim to the relics of the risen Lazarus. Originally the church was consecrated to St. Nazaire, which name was changed to Lazare after the Burgundian abbey of Vézelay had spread the story that Mary Magdalene had died in Provence. No one knew how Autun obtained the relics said to be those of Lazarus of Bethany. They were first exposed for veneration in the cathedral in 1147. Monseigneur Duchesne has thought that the legend grew by unconscious fabrications. It certainly did the Burgundian towns little harm to honor those whom the Lord had cherished. Through long centuries Burgundy delighted to call her sons Lazare.
In the early 12th century, the cathedral school was led for thirty years by Honoré d’Autun, whose popular book, The Mirror of the Church, brought animal symbolism into cathedral art. M. Mâle found that the New Alliance window in Lyons Cathedral copied his book word for word. During the scholarly Honoré’s time, Autun Cathedral had not yet claimed the relics of the risen Lazarus. The church was originally dedicated to St. Nazaire, but the name was changed to Lazare after the Burgundian abbey of Vézelay spread the story that Mary Magdalene died in Provence. No one knew how Autun came to possess the relics believed to be those of Lazarus of Bethany. They were first shown for veneration in the cathedral in 1147. Monseigneur Duchesne suggested that the legend grew from unintentional additions. It certainly benefited the Burgundian towns to honor those whom the Lord had loved. For many centuries, Burgundy proudly referred to her sons as Lazare.
The cathedral of Autun has a barrel vault undergirded by pointed arches. Channeled pilasters,[281] great and small, abound; they are on all four sides of the piers. In Autun stand gateways of Rome’s empire to serve as classic models. The acanthus leaves of the cathedral’s triforium can compare with those of the Porte d’Arroux. Autun was a Roman capital in Gaul, founded by Augustus. It covered then twice its present area. Agrippa, son-in-law of Augustus, built the great military road that ran from Lyons to Autun, Autun to Auxerre, Auxerre to Troyes, Troyes to Châlons-sur-Marne, Châlons to Rheims, Rheims to Soissons, Soissons to Senlis, Senlis to Beauvais, Beauvais to Amiens, and thence to Boulogne-sur-Mer.
The cathedral in Autun features a barrel vault supported by pointed arches. It has channeled pilasters, both large and small, on all four sides of the piers. In Autun, there are gateways from Rome’s empire that serve as classic examples. The acanthus leaves in the cathedral’s triforium can be compared to those of the Porte d’Arroux. Autun was a Roman capital in Gaul, founded by Augustus, and it previously covered twice its current area. Agrippa, Augustus’s son-in-law, constructed the major military road that connected Lyons to Autun, Autun to Auxerre, Auxerre to Troyes, Troyes to Châlons-sur-Marne, Châlons to Rheims, Rheims to Soissons, Soissons to Senlis, Senlis to Beauvais, Beauvais to Amiens, and then to Boulogne-sur-Mer.
The graceful central tower of the cathedral was added in the Flamboyant Gothic day by Cardinal Rolin (d. 1483), son of the builder of Beaune Hospital, Nicolas Rolin (a native of Autun), the self-seeking but able chancellor of Duke Philippe le Bon. Another son of Autun was Pierre Jeannin, president of the parliament of Burgundy and minister of Henry IV. His father, a tanner, was a man of civic importance in the town. President Jeannin’s kneeling statue and that of his wife, Anne Gueniot, are now in the cathedral choir, being all that remained, after the Revolution, of his tomb made by Nicolas Guillan of Paris. No man ever had a truer passion for the public weal than this Burgundian magistrate who saved Burgundy from the stain of blood on St. Bartholomew’s day in 1572. Word came from the king to kill, but the Catholic Jeannin on the governor’s council at Dijon urged delay, saying that when a king’s orders were given in anger, the wisest course was procrastination. He was to live long enough to aid Henry IV in drawing up the Edict of Nantes in 1598.
The elegant central tower of the cathedral was added during the Flamboyant Gothic period by Cardinal Rolin (d. 1483), the son of Nicolas Rolin, who built the Beaune Hospital and served as the self-serving yet capable chancellor of Duke Philippe le Bon. Another notable figure from Autun was Pierre Jeannin, the president of the parliament of Burgundy and minister to Henry IV. His father was a tanner who held significant civic status in town. President Jeannin’s statue, along with that of his wife, Anne Gueniot, can now be found in the cathedral choir, representing the only remnants of his tomb created by Nicolas Guillan of Paris, following the Revolution. No one had a truer commitment to the public good than this Burgundian magistrate, who protected Burgundy from bloodshed on St. Bartholomew’s Day in 1572. When the king ordered killings, the Catholic Jeannin, serving on the governor’s council in Dijon, advocated for delay, arguing that when a king's commands come from anger, the wisest option is to wait. He lived long enough to assist Henry IV in drafting the Edict of Nantes in 1598.
Jeannin’s attitude in 1572 was all the more meritorious because Burgundy had suffered acutely from the Calvinists, who invited their co-religionists from Germany to fight their fellow citizens. In 1569 a band of the invaders left behind them a trail of four hundred burned villages. Cluny was attacked, and Cîteaux was sacked from top to bottom; to-day some XIV-century debris is all that marks the mother house of the Cistercian Order. The destruction of Cîteaux was irreparable for art, since during centuries its abbatial was the St. Denis of the first Capetian dukes who ruled Burgundy. The leading families of the province felt it an honor to be buried at Cîteaux. In its church was once the splendid tomb (now in the Louvre) of the seneschal of Burgundy, Philippe Pot (d. 1494). The effigy of the baron in armor is carried on the shoulders of eight black, cowled figures—a further development of the pleurant type of tomb.
Jeannin’s stance in 1572 was especially commendable because Burgundy had endured significant suffering from the Calvinists, who called their supporters from Germany to fight against their fellow citizens. In 1569, a group of these invaders left behind a trail of four hundred burned villages. Cluny was attacked, and Cîteaux was plundered completely; today, only some 14th-century ruins remain as a reminder of the mother house of the Cistercian Order. The devastation of Cîteaux was irreversible for art, as for centuries its abbey served as the St. Denis for the first Capetian dukes who ruled Burgundy. The prominent families of the region took pride in being buried at Cîteaux. In its church once stood the magnificent tomb (now in the Louvre) of the seneschal of Burgundy, Philippe Pot (d. 1494). The statue of the baron in armor is supported by eight black-cloaked figures—a further evolution of the pleurant style of tomb.
In a chapel of Autun Cathedral is a beautiful modern statue of Pope Gregory the Great, presented to Cardinal Perraud (1882-1906) of the French Academy, as bishop of this ancient city whose prelate in the VI century had entertained Augustine and his monks on their way to missionize England. Cardinal Vaughan of Westminster was the donor of this grateful souvenir.
In a chapel of Autun Cathedral is a stunning modern statue of Pope Gregory the Great, given to Cardinal Perraud (1882-1906) of the French Academy, as the bishop of this historic city whose leader in the 6th century welcomed Augustine and his monks on their journey to spread Christianity in England. Cardinal Vaughan of Westminster donated this heartfelt tribute.
THE HOSPITAL AND ROMANESQUE COLLEGIATE AT BEAUNE[282]
THE HOSPITAL AND ROMANESQUE COLLEGIATE AT BEAUNE[282]
L’art du Moyen Âge—aussi ennemi de l’art académique figé dans ses moules conventionnels que du désordre matérialiste—est une esthétique très simple, très certaine, très puissante et très libre. Cette esthétique n’invoque pas un idéal abstrait; elle impose le culte de la réalité, de la plus humble comme de la plus éclatante; elle pourrait s’appeler un réalisme trancendant, respectant la forme telle que Dieu l’a faite, et en même temps la transfigurant par la grand frisson de l’au-delà.—Robert Vallery-Radot.[283]
L'art du Moyen Âge—just as much an enemy of rigid academic art stuck in conventional molds as it is of materialistic chaos—is a very simple, certain, powerful, and free aesthetic. This aesthetic doesn't call upon an abstract ideal; it demands reverence for reality, from the most humble to the most brilliant. It could be called a transcendent realism, honoring the form as God created it, while also transforming it through the great thrill of the beyond.—Robert Vallery-Radot.[283]
The Hospital of the Holy Ghost, built by Chancellor Nicolas Rolin from 1444 to 1457, is a gem of the province, reminding us of the close union of Burgundy and the Netherlands under the four great dukes of the West. The third of those rulers, Philippe le Bon, patronized Jean Van Eyck, as did the enterprising man who was the duke’s chancellor during forty years. For a church at Autun, Rolin ordered of Van Eyck, in 1425, the magnificent Madonna now in the Louvre in which he kneels as donor—a shrewd, hard-featured, capable man.
The Hospital of the Holy Ghost, built by Chancellor Nicolas Rolin from 1444 to 1457, is a highlight of the province, reminding us of the close relationship between Burgundy and the Netherlands under the four great dukes of the West. The third of those rulers, Philippe le Bon, supported Jean Van Eyck, as did the ambitious man who served as the duke’s chancellor for forty years. For a church in Autun, Rolin commissioned Van Eyck in 1425 to create the stunning Madonna now in the Louvre, where he appears as the donor—a shrewd, hard-featured, capable man.
For his new hospital at Beaune he commissioned Roger Van der Weyden to paint, in many panels, the Last Judgment now in the little museum of the establishment, but originally installed in the large raftered hall. After the Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Lamb it was the most important work of Flemish art undertaken. Philippe le Bon is portrayed in it twice, and so is the donor. The outside of the panels is painted in monochrome—what the French call camaïeu from its cameo effect, and the Italians call chiaroscuro. When this superb painting hung at the end of the hospital hall that ended in a chapel like the XIII-century hospice at Tonnerre, the patients could see it from their beds. The Hôtel Dieu at Tonnerre had been founded by Marguerite of Burgundy, in 1293. After the death of her husband, Charles d’Anjou, whose cruelty roused the Sicilian Vespers, she retired to the city of which she was hereditary countess, and with two other dethroned ladies, the Empress of Constantinople and the Countess of Tripoli, gave herself up to good works. La bonne Reyne, the people called this princess who passed her days serving the sick poor in a hospital where the spirit of the Beatitudes ruled. None was dismissed from its door without new cloak and shoes. To-day the great rafter-covered hall at Tonnerre lies empty; the raising of its pavement has somewhat impaired its proportion.
For his new hospital in Beaune, he hired Roger Van der Weyden to create a series of panels depicting the Last Judgment, which is now in the small museum of the establishment but was originally placed in the large beamed hall. After Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Lamb, it was the most significant work of Flemish art ever completed. Philippe le Bon appears twice in it, as does the donor. The outer sides of the panels are painted in monochrome—what the French refer to as camaïeu because of its cameo effect, and what the Italians call chiaroscuro. When this stunning painting was displayed at the end of the hospital hall leading to a chapel, similar to the 13th-century hospice at Tonnerre, the patients could see it from their beds. The Hôtel Dieu at Tonnerre was founded by Marguerite of Burgundy in 1293. After the death of her husband, Charles d’Anjou, whose cruelty sparked the Sicilian Vespers, she withdrew to the city where she was the hereditary countess, and along with two other dethroned women, the Empress of Constantinople and the Countess of Tripoli, devoted herself to charitable works. The people called this princess La bonne Reyne, as she spent her days caring for the sick and poor in a hospital governed by the spirit of the Beatitudes. No one was turned away without a new cloak and shoes. Today, the grand beamed hall in Tonnerre stands empty; raising its floor has somewhat disrupted its proportions.
Beaune’s hospital hall, that indubitably copied Tonnerre’s, serves still the charitable purpose for which it was founded. Its quiet courtyard is a vision of Flanders. In the kitchen the ancient iron crane of the fireplace is ornamented with I.H.S.; the Middle Ages made even work artistic. On feast days, such as Corpus Christi, the quaint half-timber hospice is hung with beautiful XV-century tapestry. It is deemed an honor for the leading families of the region to count one of its members among the nuns whose service is for a few years, after which they may return to their own people.
Beaune’s hospital hall, which clearly copied Tonnerre’s, still serves the charitable purpose for which it was created. Its peaceful courtyard looks like something out of Flanders. In the kitchen, the old iron crane of the fireplace is decorated with I.H.S.; even in the Middle Ages, work was made beautiful. On feast days, like Corpus Christi, the charming half-timbered hospice is adorned with stunning 15th-century tapestries. It’s considered an honor for prominent families in the area to have one of their members serve as a nun for a few years, after which they can return to their own community.
The collegiate church of Notre Dame at Beaune is a typical Burgundian Romanesque edifice of the XII century, to which the following century added a graceful open narthex of two bays. It possesses seventeen embroidered panels relating Our Lady’s life, presented in 1500 by the Chanoine Hugues le Coq, and held to be among the most lovely tapestries in France, evoking memories of Memling and the Flemish primitives.
The collegiate church of Notre Dame in Beaune is a classic Burgundian Romanesque building from the 12th century, which had a beautiful open narthex with two bays added in the following century. It features seventeen embroidered panels depicting the life of Our Lady, gifted in 1500 by Canon Hugues le Coq, and is considered one of the most beautiful tapestries in France, reminiscent of Memling and the Flemish primitives.
AVALLON, MONTRÉAL, FLAVIGNY, AND FONTENAY[284]
AVALLON, MONTRÉAL, FLAVIGNY, AND FONTENAY
L’esprit humain, poussé par une force invincible, ne cessera jamais de se demander: qu’y a-til au delà? Il ne sert à rien de répondre: au delà sont des espaces, des temps, ou des grandeurs sans limites. Nul ne comprend ces paroles. Celui qui proclame l’existence de l’infini accumule dans cette affirmation plus de surnaturel qu’il n’y en a dans tous les miracles de toutes les religions. La notion de l’infini dans le monde j’en vois partout l’inévitable expression. Par elle, le surnaturel est au fond de tous les cœurs. L’idée de Dieu est une forme de l’idée de l’infini. Tant que le mystère de l’infini pesera sur la pensée humaine, des temples seront élevés au culte de l’infini. Et sur la dalle de ces temples, vous verrez des hommes agenouillés, prosternés, abimés dans la pensée de l’infini. Où sont les vraies sources de la dignité humaine, de la liberté, et de la démocratie moderne, sinon dans la notion de l’infini devant laquelle tous les hommes sont égaux?—Louis Pasteur (1822-95; born in Burgundy).[285]
The human mind, driven by an unstoppable force, will never stop asking: what’s beyond? There’s no point in answering: beyond are spaces, times, or limitless magnitudes. No one understands these words. Those who assert the existence of the infinite pack more supernatural weight into this claim than there is in all the miracles of all religions. I see the notion of infinity everywhere as an inevitable expression in the world. Through it, the supernatural lies deep in every heart. The idea of God is a form of the idea of infinity. As long as the mystery of infinity weighs on human thought, temples will be built to honor the infinite. And on the floors of these temples, you will see men kneeling, prostrated, absorbed in the thought of infinity. Where are the true sources of human dignity, freedom, and modern democracy, if not in the notion of infinity, before which all men are equal?—Louis Pasteur (1822-95; born in Burgundy).[285]
The hill town of Avallon, above the gorge of the Cousin, with a square that would do honor to any capital, makes a convenient center from which to explore various Burgundian churches. Its own church of St. Lazare still possesses the apse and absidioles of the edifice blessed by Paschal II in 1107. The remainder of the church was built in mid-XII century, and the portal (in five orders richly carved, with channeled and twisted columns) belongs to the end of the century. A copy of Avallon’s door is in the Trocadéro Museum at Paris where it can be compared at close range with the two other notable Romanesque portals of the province—those of Autun and Vézelay. The interior of St. Lazare is excessively plain, having a high expanse of unbroken wall over the pier arches, with the clearstory opened merely by little circular windows.
The hill town of Avallon, overlooking the gorge of the Cousin, with a square that would impress any capital city, serves as a great starting point for exploring various churches in Burgundy. Its own church, St. Lazare, still features the apse and small chapels of the building that was dedicated by Paschal II in 1107. The rest of the church was constructed in the mid-12th century, and the portal (richly carved in five sections, with fluted and twisted columns) dates from the end of that century. A copy of Avallon’s door can be found in the Trocadéro Museum in Paris, where it can be closely compared with two other notable Romanesque portals in the region—those in Autun and Vézelay. The interior of St. Lazare is very plain, with a high expanse of unbroken wall above the pier arches, and the clerestory is simply made up of small circular windows.
Twenty miles from Avallon is the church of Montréal, like a feudal fort guarding one of the main passageways from Champagne. The lord of Montréal was among the few hundred barons who returned from the dire experience of famine, treason, and death which was the Second Crusade, on which had set forth a hopeful hundred thousand knights and pilgrims. In the latter part of the XII century he built Montreal’s collegiate church, one of the earliest Gothic ventures in the province, showing a simultaneous use of Romanesque and Gothic vaulting. Its two westernmost bays were added early in the XIII century. The beautiful alabaster reredos of the XV century, and the carved choir stalls, are well worth studying. Beyond Montréal, to the north of Avallon, lies Tonnerre’s hospital hall and to the south can be visited the abbatial at Saulieu and the XIII-century castle of Chastellux, a son of which ancient house fought in America with Rochambeau and was the good friend of George Washington.[286]
Twenty miles from Avallon is the church of Montréal, resembling a feudal fortress that guards one of the main routes from Champagne. The lord of Montréal was one of the few hundred barons who survived the devastating experiences of famine, betrayal, and death during the Second Crusade, which had seen a hopeful hundred thousand knights and pilgrims set out. In the latter part of the 12th century, he built Montreal’s collegiate church, one of the earliest Gothic structures in the region, showcasing a mix of Romanesque and Gothic vaulting. Its two westernmost bays were added in the early 13th century. The beautiful alabaster reredos from the 15th century and the intricately carved choir stalls are definitely worth a closer look. Beyond Montréal, to the north of Avallon, lies the hospital hall of Tonnerre, and to the south, you can visit the abbey at Saulieu and the 13th-century castle of Chastellux, a descendant of which fought in America alongside Rochambeau and was a close friend of George Washington.[286]
To the east, at Flavigny, set picturesquely on a hill near the last stronghold held by the Gauls against the Romans, stood one of the most interesting of abbey churches, of which portions of the XIII-century sanctuary remain, a few arches of the nave, and a Carolingian crypt built by the abbot who ruled here from 755 to 768, hence that subterranean chamber can claim to be the oldest dated monument extant in France. Over the choir of Flavigny was a cupola, and the Lady chapel was an XI-century octagon like that which William of Volpiano constructed for his abbey at Dijon. This precious Benedictine abbatial was destroyed in the XIX century. At Flavigny are two ancient parish churches. What is now the Pension Lacordaire was the Dominican convent opened in 1849 by that brilliant son of Burgundy, with funds donated by his admirers of Dijon.
To the east, at Flavigny, beautifully located on a hill near the last stronghold the Gauls had against the Romans, stood one of the most interesting abbey churches, with parts of the 13th-century sanctuary still intact, a few arches of the nave, and a Carolingian crypt built by the abbot in charge from 755 to 768, making that underground chamber the oldest dated monument still standing in France. Above the choir of Flavigny was a dome, and the Lady chapel was an 11th-century octagon similar to the one William of Volpiano built for his abbey in Dijon. This valuable Benedictine abbey was destroyed in the 19th century. Flavigny also has two ancient parish churches. What is now the Pension Lacordaire used to be the Dominican convent that opened in 1849, funded by the grateful admirers from Dijon of that brilliant son of Burgundy.
To the northeast of Avallon, at Fontenay, near Montbard, is the oldest extant Romanesque church of the Cistercian Order, built from 1139 to 1147, on land given by the lord of Montbard, the maternal uncle of St. Bernard; on his mother’s side St. Bernard was of the blood of Burgundy’s first line of Capetian dukes. The great abbot of Clairvaux himself conducted hither the twelve monks who were to found the new house and reclaim the marshy region; and for his brethren of Fontenay he wrote his treatise on Pride and Humility.
To the northeast of Avallon, in Fontenay, close to Montbard, is the oldest surviving Romanesque church of the Cistercian Order, built between 1139 and 1147 on land provided by the lord of Montbard, who was St. Bernard’s maternal uncle; on his mother’s side, St. Bernard was descended from the first line of Capetian dukes in Burgundy. The great abbot of Clairvaux himself brought the twelve monks who were to establish the new monastery and reclaim the marshy area; and for his brethren at Fontenay, he wrote his treatise on Pride and Humility.
The first small sanctuary at Fontenay was soon replaced by the actual one, built on the same lines as the church at Clairvaux, which no longer stands. Both followed the Cistercian plan; no tower; no triforium nor clearstory; uncut capitals; the east end rectangular; square chapels opening on the eastern wall of the transept. Funds for the new constructions at Fontenay were provided by a wealthy English prelate who had retired here, Evrard de Montgomery, of the Arundel family, who, while bishop of Norwich, completed the long Norman nave of that cathedral. In 1147 the church was consecrated by Pope Eugene III, St. Bernard being present. As it was frequent in Cistercian monasteries to make a specialty of some branch of manual work, Fontenay conducted a forge, and the massive XII-century building which housed it still stands. The forge, the abbey church, and the refectory to-day comprise part of a paper factory whose proprietor has taken a patriotic pride in restoring these precious monuments of ancient Burgundy.
The original small sanctuary at Fontenay was soon replaced by the current one, built similar to the church at Clairvaux, which no longer exists. Both followed the Cistercian design: no tower, no triforium or clearstory, uncut capitals, a rectangular east end, and square chapels opening on the eastern wall of the transept. Funding for the new buildings at Fontenay came from a wealthy English bishop who had retired here, Evrard de Montgomery, from the Arundel family, who, while bishop of Norwich, completed the long Norman nave of that cathedral. In 1147, the church was consecrated by Pope Eugene III, with St. Bernard present. It was common in Cistercian monasteries to specialize in a particular type of manual work, and Fontenay operated a forge, with its massive 12th-century building still standing today. The forge, abbey church, and refectory now make up part of a paper factory whose owner takes pride in restoring these valuable monuments of ancient Burgundy.
Whatever draws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and from my friends be the frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue.... That man is little to be envied whose patriotism does not gain force on the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.—Dr. Samuel Johnson.
Whatever pulls us away from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future more important than the present, elevates us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and my friends be the cold philosophy that leads us to be indifferent and unmoved on any ground that has been honored by wisdom, bravery, or virtue.... That person is not to be envied whose patriotism does not strengthen on the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona.—Dr. Sam Johnson.
The oldest Gothic church in Burgundy is the Cistercian abbatial at Pontigny. “Cradle of bishops and asylum of great men,” Pontigny is parfumée de souvenirs, to use a charming stilted French phrase. It was the first daughter of Cîteaux, founded in 1114. When a pious canon of Auxerre proposed to endow a house of the new Order, the abbot of Cîteaux, St. Stephen Harding, came to overlook the site on the confines of Champagne, and then sent twelve monks to found the house, under the leadership of Hugues de Mâcon, kinsman and childhood friend of St. Bernard.
The oldest Gothic church in Burgundy is the Cistercian abbey at Pontigny. Known as the “cradle of bishops and refuge for great men,” Pontigny is full of memories, to use a charming old French phrase. It was the first daughter of Cîteaux, founded in 1114. When a devout canon from Auxerre suggested establishing a house for the new Order, the abbot of Cîteaux, St. Stephen Harding, came to oversee the site on the edge of Champagne, and then sent twelve monks to set up the house, led by Hugues de Mâcon, a relative and childhood friend of St. Bernard.
The Cistercians had not the Benedictines’ weakness for a noble site, but if they planted their monasteries in a marsh—as at Fontenay and Pontigny—their agricultural industry soon made the desert bloom. The earlier Cistercian churches obeyed St. Bernard’s ascetic admonitions for architecture, a Puritanism that became monotonous in the Italian churches of the Order. In France the Cistercians ceased to adhere to church simplicity, raising sanctuaries such as Ourscamp, Longpont, and St. Julien-le-Pauvre at Paris.
The Cistercians didn’t have the Benedictines’ preference for a beautiful location, but when they set up their monasteries in a marsh—like at Fontenay and Pontigny—their farming efforts quickly transformed the land. The earlier Cistercian churches followed St. Bernard’s strict guidelines for architecture, a simplicity that eventually felt repetitive in the Italian churches of the Order. In France, the Cistercians moved away from this architectural simplicity, creating impressive sanctuaries like Ourscamp, Longpont, and St. Julien-le-Pauvre in Paris.
No towers adorned Pontigny, and stained glass was eschewed, but the leaded design of the grisaille windows is so lovely that, as M. André Michel has said, “one could not be poor with more nobility.” The architect of Pontigny made skillful use of certain essential constructive features to obtain his decorative effects. Thus, though monastic sobriety was followed by omitting the triforium, the bare wall between pier arches and clearstory was relieved (at the sanctuary curve) by carrying down the moldings from the upper windows; and in the procession path a fifth rib was introduced into each vault section, which rib fell on a corbel set above the entrance to each of the radiating chapels—a constructive subtlety by which was produced a graceful wall arcade.
No towers decorated Pontigny, and stained glass was avoided, but the leaded design of the grisaille windows is so beautiful that, as M. André Michel said, “one could not be poor with more nobility.” The architect of Pontigny skillfully used certain key structural elements to achieve his decorative effects. So, although monastic simplicity was maintained by leaving out the triforium, the empty wall between the pier arches and the clearstory was enhanced (at the sanctuary curve) by bringing down the moldings from the upper windows. In the procession path, a fifth rib was added to each vault section, resting on a corbel positioned above the entrance to each of the radiating chapels—a clever design choice that created an elegant wall arcade.
The present abbatial was begun a generation after the foundation of Pontigny, with funds contributed by Thibaut the Great, Count of Champagne. The transept, which is Romanesque, rose from 1150 to 1160. While the walls of the nave were mounting, the master-of-works began to prepare for a Gothic vault over the principal span. The lower windows were round-headed; the upper ones used the pointed arch. As the keystone of the diagonals was raised far above the arches framing each section, a pronounced bombé shape resulted. From 1160 to 1180 this transitional nave of Pontigny was building, and the most famous of the English exiles, who sought the hospitality of Pontigny, must have watched the works. The choir, as first erected, had a rectangular eastern wall after the usual manner of Cîteaux’s churches. Then, from 1170 to 1200, the present choir was erected with Gothic ambulatory and radiating chapels.[288] Alix of Champagne, daughter of the abbey’s generous patron, and mother of the French king, Philippe-Auguste, was buried in the new choir, in 1208. From 1207 to 1213 Pontigny harbored a second archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton, of Magna Charta fame. During the studious years he passed here he divided the Bible into chapters for the first time, and even the Greeks accepted his rulings. In later life Archbishop Langton often looked back to this byway of Burgundy; “his garden, his solace, his abode of peace,” he called it.
The current abbey was started a generation after Pontigny was founded, with funding from Thibaut the Great, Count of Champagne. The transept, which is Romanesque, was built from 1150 to 1160. While the walls of the nave were being constructed, the master builder began to prepare for a Gothic vault over the main span. The lower windows were round-headed, while the upper ones featured the pointed arch. As the keystone of the diagonals was raised well above the arches framing each section, a distinct bombé shape emerged. From 1160 to 1180, the transitional nave of Pontigny was built, and the most famous of the English exiles who sought refuge at Pontigny must have watched the construction. The choir, as originally built, had a rectangular eastern wall typical of Cîteaux’s churches. Then, from 1170 to 1200, the current choir was constructed with a Gothic ambulatory and radiating chapels.[288] Alix of Champagne, daughter of the abbey’s generous patron and mother of the French king, Philippe-Auguste, was buried in the new choir in 1208. From 1207 to 1213, Pontigny hosted a second archbishop of Canterbury, Stephen Langton, famous for Magna Carta. During his scholarly years spent here, he was the first to divide the Bible into chapters, and even the Greeks accepted his decisions. In later life, Archbishop Langton often reminisced about this peaceful retreat in Burgundy, calling it “his garden, his solace, his abode of peace.”
His predecessor at Pontigny was St. Thomas Becket, one of the outstanding figures of the XII century, whose story is told in many a French window and sculptured group. If ever an Englishman was all of a piece it was that son of a Rouen merchant settled in London. During his life as a courtier Becket was so lavish in grandeur that when he passed through France as Henry II’s ambassador, the countryside turned out to see him, since few were the king’s retinues that could equal his. When Henry raised him to the highest post in the English Church he instantly dropped luxury. He stood firm as a rock in defense of ecclesiastical rights against the king’s attempt at Church supremacy. Tennyson’s “Becket” says, “I served King Henry well as Chancellor; I am his no more, and I must serve the Church.”
His predecessor at Pontigny was St. Thomas Becket, one of the standout figures of the 12th century, whose story is depicted in many French windows and sculptures. If any Englishman was truly exceptional, it was that son of a Rouen merchant who settled in London. During his time as a courtier, Becket was so extravagant that when he traveled through France as Henry II’s ambassador, the locals would come out to see him, since few of the king’s retinues could compare to his. When Henry appointed him to the highest position in the English Church, he immediately gave up his lavish lifestyle. He stood firm as a rock in defending the Church's rights against the king’s attempts at dominance. Tennyson’s “Becket” states, “I served King Henry well as Chancellor; I am his no longer, and I must serve the Church.”
To the end of time such a character will be discussed; some for, some against, him; admired he certainly was by that sincerest and cleverest of men, John of Salisbury, who lived in his intimacy.[289] Both in England and France the populace felt that Becket was the champion of their civic rights by his defense of church independence—then the only supreme court against lay tyranny. Undeviatingly and enthusiastically they supported him all through his seven years’ exile. One of the articles of the Clarendon Constitutions which Henry Plantagenet tried to impose on English ecclesiastics was that no peasant could become a priest without his lord’s permission. The poet voiced the indignant outcry: “Hath not God called us all, bond or free, to his service?”
To the end of time, this character will be discussed; some will support him, while others will oppose him; he was certainly admired by the sincerest and most clever man, John of Salisbury, who was close to him.[289] Both in England and France, the people believed that Becket was the defender of their civic rights through his advocacy for church independence—at that time, the only supreme authority against lay tyranny. They consistently and passionately supported him throughout his seven years of exile. One of the articles in the Clarendon Constitutions that Henry Plantagenet tried to impose on English clergy stated that no peasant could become a priest without his lord’s permission. The poet expressed the outraged cry: “Has not God called us all, bond or free, to His service?”
When Henry II, with his usual Angevin bad faith, duped his new archbishop into a promise to maintain the customs of the kingdom, and thereupon proceeded to revive obsolete customs, Becket, repenting the concessions he had made, fled, in 1164, to Sens, to lay the case before Alexander III. The pope decided that certain of the Clarendon propositions were impossible for any churchman to accede to. The abbot of Pontigny offered hospitality to the persecuted primate and Becket stayed with him till 1168, conforming to the severe Cistercian Rule. He quitted the Burgundian monastery when Henry, in a burst of vindictive anger, threatened to shut up every house of the white monks in England as well as in his continental possessions if they harbored the rebellious churchman. Soon after Becket’s arrival at Pontigny, the irate king sent thither the primate’s relatives and friends, turned out to beggary, in order that their plight might oppress the archbishop’s spirit.
When Henry II, with his usual deceitful behavior, tricked his new archbishop into agreeing to uphold the kingdom's customs, and then went on to revive outdated practices, Becket, regretting the concessions he had made, fled to Sens in 1164 to present his case to Alexander III. The pope determined that some of the Clarendon proposals were impossible for any church member to accept. The abbot of Pontigny offered shelter to the persecuted archbishop, and Becket stayed with him until 1168, adhering to the strict Cistercian Rule. He left the Burgundian monastery when Henry, in a fit of vengeful anger, threatened to shut down every house of the white monks in England and in his continental territories if they sheltered the rebellious churchman. Shortly after Becket arrived at Pontigny, the angry king sent the archbishop's relatives and friends there, left destitute, so that their suffering could torment the archbishop's spirit.
The third exile from Canterbury, and the saint who has given his name to Pontigny’s abbatial, was a gentler spirit. St. Edmund Rich knew France as well as his native region of Oxford, having studied in Paris University and taught there for years. It is told how his mother, Mabel, sent him to the foreign schools with a hair shirt and a cord whip in his gripsack in order that he might learn to chastise and thus curb himself. She was a merchant’s wife, and alone reared her family, to enable her husband to follow the call he felt for the cloister; two of her daughters died the saintly abbesses of Catesby. At the knee of that XIII-century mother the little Edmund, as a child, recited every Sunday the entire book of Psalms. While lecturing at Oxford he initiated the study of Aristotle. In Paris, St. Edmund watched the cathedral of Notre Dame perfecting itself, and at Salisbury, while treasurer, he assisted at the laying of the corner stone of the Gothic cathedral in 1220.
The third exile from Canterbury, and the saint who gave his name to Pontigny’s abbey, was a kinder soul. St. Edmund Rich knew France just as well as his hometown of Oxford, having studied and taught for years at the University of Paris. It’s said that his mother, Mabel, sent him off to school with a hair shirt and a cord whip in his backpack so he could learn self-discipline. She was a merchant’s wife and raised her family alone to allow her husband to pursue his calling to the monastery; two of her daughters became the saintly abbesses of Catesby. As a child, little Edmund recited the entire book of Psalms every Sunday at that 13th-century mother's knee. While lecturing at Oxford, he started the study of Aristotle. In Paris, St. Edmund watched as the Notre Dame Cathedral was being completed, and at Salisbury, while serving as treasurer, he helped lay the cornerstone of the Gothic cathedral in 1220.
Worsted in the struggle to right crying abuses in English church affairs where the king kept bishoprics vacant for his financial profit, and the queen filled the sees with her own unpopular foreign relatives, the archbishop, accompanied by his chancellor, St. Richard, was on his way to Rome to remonstrate. He thought it wrong to condone further by his presence evils he was powerless to correct. He paused in Burgundy, and there death came to him in 1243. To-day his tomb stands over the high altar of the abbey church named St. Edmé, in his memory. Puritan Bernard most certainly would not approve the gymnastic-limbed angels that decorate the present Renaissance tomb of St. Edmund, but one fears that he would give his sanction to the whitewash that disfigures the interior of the interesting Primary Gothic church.
Worn down by the fight against serious issues in English church matters, where the king left bishop positions empty for his own financial gain, and the queen filled those positions with her unpopular foreign relatives, the archbishop, along with his chancellor, St. Richard, was on his way to Rome to protest. He believed it was wrong to further tolerate the problems he couldn't fix by just being there. He stopped in Burgundy, where he died in 1243. Today, his tomb is located over the high altar of the abbey church named St. Edmé, in his honor. Puritan Bernard definitely wouldn’t approve of the athletic-looking angels that adorn the current Renaissance tomb of St. Edmund, but one worries he might actually support the whitewash ruining the inside of the intriguing Primary Gothic church.
To the canonization ceremonies at Pontigny in honor of St. Edmund of Abingdon came St. Louis (who had known him well in Paris) and Blanche of Castile, and notables such as the archbishop-builder of Bourges Cathedral, and St. Richard, now become bishop at Chichester, in which cathedral his tomb was destroyed, in 1538, by order of Henry VIII. Few spots in France are more entirely apart from the come-and-go of modern life than is forgotten Pontigny, parfumée de souvenirs.
To the canonization ceremonies at Pontigny for St. Edmund of Abingdon came St. Louis (who had known him well in Paris) and Blanche of Castile, along with notable figures like the archbishop-builder of Bourges Cathedral and St. Richard, who had just become the bishop at Chichester, where his tomb was destroyed in 1538 by order of Henry VIII. Few places in France feel more removed from the hustle and bustle of modern life than forgotten Pontigny, parfumée de souvenirs.
Il y a des lieux qui tirent l’âme de sa léthargie, des lieux enveloppés, baignés de mystère, élus de toute éternité pour être le siège de l’émotion religieuse ... l’héroique Vézelay, le mont Saint-Michel, qui surgit comme un miracle des sables mouvants ... lieux qui nous commandaient de faire taire nos pensées et d’écouter plus profond que notre cœur. Silence! les dieux sont ici! Il y a des lieux où souffle l’Esprit.—Maurice Barrés, La colline inspirée.[291]
Il y a des endroits qui réveillent l'âme de sa torpeur, des endroits enveloppés, baignés de mystère, choisis depuis l'éternité pour être le foyer de l'émotion religieuse... l'héroïque Vézelay, le mont Saint-Michel, qui émerge comme un miracle des sables mouvants... des lieux qui nous demandent de faire taire nos pensées et d'écouter plus profondément que notre cœur. Silence ! Les dieux sont ici ! Il y a des endroits où souffle l'Esprit.—Maurice Barrès, La colline inspirée.[291]
The supreme excursion from Avallon is that to Vézelay, ten miles away. One can drive to it or walk to it, since no railway touches the valley which once was the beaten thoroughfare for Christendom marching to crusades. A good way to approach it in the proper spirit of pilgrimage is to walk from the station at Sermizelle with the church of St. Magdalene as the lodestar to guide one’s steps. Vézelay has the aspect of a hill city of Umbria. The abbey church, Gothic in its choir, Romanesque in its nave, transition in its forechurch, and practically all of it of the XII century, crowns the hill like a cathedral.
The top trip from Avallon is to Vézelay, which is ten miles away. You can either drive there or walk, since no train goes through the valley that used to be the main route for Christians heading to the crusades. A great way to get there in the right spirit of pilgrimage is to walk from the station at Sermizelle, using the church of St. Magdalene as your guiding star. Vézelay looks like a hill city in Umbria. The abbey church, Gothic in its choir, Romanesque in its nave, and transitional in its forechurch, with most of it dating back to the 12th century, sits atop the hill like a cathedral.
“Le grand nom de Vézelay sonne aux oreilles avec une sauvage poésie. La majesté du site est digne de la splendeur du monument.”[292] Always afterward will you remember this abode of reverie with that uplift of the heart which high art and high thoughts arouse. Like loved sites in Umbria, this, too, is “one of the earth’s oases of spiritual rest and refreshment.”
The great name of Vézelay resonates with a wild poetry. The majesty of the site matches the splendor of the monument. [292] You will always remember this place of daydreaming with the uplift of the heart that great art and profound thoughts inspire. Like cherished places in Umbria, this is also “one of the earth’s oases of spiritual rest and refreshment.”
The abbey was founded in the IX century by Girard de Roussillon[293] of chanson de geste fame, but its position as a leading pilgrim shrine was not established till Abbot Geoffrey was installed in 1037. Only then did the relics of the Magdalene appear here, given, it was claimed, by Charles Martel as reward for Burgundian aid during Saracen inroads in the Midi. Monseigneur Duchesne thinks that from Vézelay started the legends so loved in Provence, that the privileged family of Bethany, with others who had known the Lord, fled from persecution in Syria to the mouth of the Rhone about A.D. 40. Up to the XI century the Christian world had accepted Ephesus as the burial place of the Magdalene, and the tomb of Lazarus was claimed by Cyprus. In 899 the Emperor Leo VI had removed both bodies to Constantinople, where he built a church for them. Not a trace of the tradition concerning the Bethany sisters and brother is to be found in France before Vézelay monastery claimed the possession of the relics of the Magdalene and dedicated its church to her.
The abbey was founded in the 9th century by Girard de Roussillon[293] known for his epic poems, but it wasn't until Abbot Geoffrey took charge in 1037 that it became a major pilgrimage site. Only then did the relics of Magdalene appear here, which were supposedly given by Charles Martel as a reward for Burgundian support during Saracen invasions in the Midi. Monseigneur Duchesne believes that the legends cherished in Provence began at Vézelay, where the privileged family of Bethany, along with others who had known the Lord, fled persecution in Syria to the mouth of the Rhone around A.D. 40. Up until the 11th century, the Christian world accepted Ephesus as the burial place of Magdalene, and Lazarus's tomb was believed to be in Cyprus. In 899, Emperor Leo VI had both bodies moved to Constantinople, where he built a church for them. There was no trace of the tradition about the Bethany siblings in France before the Vézelay monastery claimed to possess Magdalene’s relics and dedicated its church to her.
Vézelay’s XII-century Abbey Church of the Madeleine
The Abbey Church of the Madeleine in Vézelay, built in the 12th century.
The founder of Vézelay freed its abbot of the control of local bishop or baron by establishing him as feudal proprietor of the town. The result was that the history of the abbey was a stormy one. The neighboring proprietors, resenting the abbot’s independence, excited against him the townspeople who had grown rich from the fairs held during the pilgrimages. The burghers chafed at their serfdom to the monastery, and in 1106, during riots, they murdered Abbot Artaud. He probably was the builder of the Romanesque choir to which was originally attached the actual nave, since there is record of a dedication ceremony at Vézelay in 1104. As the archives were burned by the Calvinists in 1560, no precise dates exist for the church, but M. Lefèvre-Pontalis thinks that the crypt under the choir is of Abbot Artaud’s time.
The founder of Vézelay relieved its abbot from the control of the local bishop or baron by making him the feudal owner of the town. This led to a tumultuous history for the abbey. The nearby landowners, upset by the abbot’s independence, stirred up the townspeople who had become wealthy from the fairs held during the pilgrimages. The townspeople were frustrated with their serfdom to the monastery, and in 1106, during riots, they killed Abbot Artaud. He was likely the builder of the Romanesque choir that was originally connected to the current nave, since there is a record of a dedication ceremony at Vézelay in 1104. As the archives were destroyed by the Calvinists in 1560, there are no exact dates for the church, but M. Lefèvre-Pontalis believes that the crypt under the choir dates back to Abbot Artaud’s time.
A fire in which hundreds perished occurred in 1120. The present nave could not have been in use before then. When it was completed the builders proceeded to erect a forechurch of three bays, and between it and the nave was opened the famous portico which has been called worthy of Paradise. Innocent II, in 1132, blessed the new parts of the abbatial. He had lately consecrated the cathedral of Piacenza, and at Pavia in that same year was blessed San Pietro-in-Ciel-d’Ore. North and south of the Alps the same energies were astir, but no sculpture of that period in Italy equals that of Vézelay. The date of the imaged portal of Ferrara Cathedral is 1135, and that of St. Zeno at Verona, 1183.
A fire that killed hundreds happened in 1120. The current nave couldn't have been in use before that. Once it was finished, the builders went on to construct a forechurch with three bays, and between it and the nave, they opened the famous portico, which has been called worthy of Paradise. Innocent II blessed the new parts of the abbey in 1132. He had recently consecrated the cathedral of Piacenza, and that same year, he blessed San Pietro-in-Ciel-d’Ore in Pavia. Both north and south of the Alps, similar energies were at work, but no sculpture from that period in Italy compares to the work at Vézelay. The date of the sculpted portal at Ferrara Cathedral is 1135, and for St. Zeno at Verona, it's 1183.
The nave at Vézelay had no triforium, nor was there a tribune over the aisles. However, in the narthex they built upper galleries, under whose lean-to roof was concealed a quarter-circle wall that did the work of a continuous flying buttress. The principal span was still further counterbutted by the side aisles themselves. Over the easternmost bay of the narthex appeared a vault section with Gothic ribs, but the diagonals were more decorative than functional; the vault web of rubble in a bed of mortar was molded on a temporary frame like a groin vault. Pointed arches were employed in the main arcade of the forechurch.
The nave at Vézelay didn't have a triforium, nor was there a gallery above the aisles. Instead, they built upper galleries in the narthex, under which there was a quarter-circle wall acting like a continuous flying buttress. The main span was further supported by the side aisles themselves. Above the easternmost bay of the narthex, there was a section of the vault with Gothic ribs, but the diagonals were more for decoration than support; the vault's rubble was set in mortar and shaped on a temporary frame like a groin vault. Pointed arches were used in the main arcade of the forechurch.
Vézelay’s capitals rivet attention, so dramatic are the Bible stories related—the suicide of Judas, David and Goliath, Absalom, Moses, some symbolized vices and virtues, too, and a few genre studies. The capital of the fifth pier on the north side of the nave shows field laborers who carry cones which some say were used for scattering grain, and others think were for the vintage, or for honey-gathering; the same agricultural scene was represented at Cluny. Vézelay even ornamented with sculpture some of the bases of its piers.
Vézelay’s capitals grab your attention with their dramatic Bible stories—like the suicide of Judas, David and Goliath, Absalom, Moses, and some that symbolize vices and virtues, along with a few genre scenes. The capital on the fifth pier on the north side of the nave depicts field workers carrying cones that some believe were used for scattering grain, while others think they were for harvesting grapes or gathering honey; the same agricultural scene can also be found at Cluny. Vézelay even decorated some of the bases of its piers with sculptures.
The triple doors between narthex and nave are a supreme work. At the middle trumeau stands John the Baptist, he who was sent before to prepare the way, the announcer as well as the witness. On the disk which he holds was once carved the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world. Observe that the trumeau was made narrow at its base, in order to let pass the pilgrim throngs. At each side of the door stand a few apostles, and among them M. Viollet-le-Duc cited St. Peter as one of the earliest attempts to escape the stereotyped Byzantine models by portraying individual expression in imagery.
The triple doors between the entrance and the main hall are an amazing piece of art. At the center pillar stands John the Baptist, the one sent ahead to prepare the way, both the announcer and the witness. On the disk he holds, there was once a carving of the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Notice that the pillar was made narrower at the bottom to allow the flow of pilgrims. On either side of the door, a few apostles are present, and among them, M. Viollet-le-Duc noted St. Peter as one of the earliest efforts to break free from the typical Byzantine styles by showing individual expression in the artwork.
In the tympanum is the Pentecost, or perhaps it may be called more exactly the Messiah’s mandate to the apostles: Go, teach all nations. Christ is surrounded by a gloria, and the Greek cross of his nimbus symbolizes divinity. From his outstretched hands spread rays which touch the head of each apostle. The explanations of the lintel stone have been various. It would seem to represent the strange peoples of the world to be won by Gospel preaching. Around the tympanum are eight medallions, thought to interpret John the Evangelist and the seven churches of Asia he exhorted.
In the tympanum is the Pentecost, or it might be better described as the Messiah’s command to the apostles: Go, teach all nations. Christ is surrounded by a glory, and the Greek cross of his halo symbolizes divinity. Rays extend from his outstretched hands, touching the heads of each apostle. The interpretations of the lintel stone have varied. It seems to represent the diverse peoples of the world to be reached through Gospel preaching. Around the tympanum are eight medallions, believed to depict John the Evangelist and the seven churches of Asia he urged to follow.
In 1136 an Auvergne noble, Pons de Montboissier, became abbot of Vézelay (d. 1161), when the forechurch was practically finished, but without doubt while its statuary was in progress, for certain uncut sides of the capitals prove that the stones were set up in the rough and carved in situ. Under Abbot Pons, Vézelay emancipated itself from Cluniac rule. He was the brother of Peter the Venerable of Cluny, who had become prior of Vézelay at twenty years of age. In vain the amenable Peter counseled Pons to show a more conciliatory spirit toward the restless townsmen, but Pons was as stubbornly convinced of the righteousness of his monastery’s privileges as is many a modern landlord who holds vast areas among the unlanded millions. He held a stiff head against popular demands, the trouble grew aggravated, and the embittered burghers passed beyond their first fair demands and compromised their cause. Abbot Pons was driven out, but returned a victor after Louis VII had investigated the case and imposed a heavy fine on the citizens. Some have thought that the penalty money was expended on the elaborate sculptures of the abbey church. The people might oppose their feudal master, but they were aware that their material prosperity came from the pilgrimage church of the monastery, and each Burgundian was proud to show the visiting strangers the region’s exceptional ability in stonecutting.
In 1136, a noble from Auvergne, Pons de Montboissier, became the abbot of Vézelay (d. 1161), when the forechurch was nearly complete, but undoubtedly while its statues were still being created, as certain uncut sides of the capitals indicate that the stones were set up roughly and carved in situ. Under Abbot Pons, Vézelay broke away from Cluniac authority. He was the brother of Peter the Venerable of Cluny, who had become the prior of Vézelay at just twenty years old. Despite Peter's efforts to advise Pons to take a more conciliatory approach toward the restless townspeople, Pons was adamantly convinced of his monastery’s rights, much like many modern landlords who own large tracts of land among the property-less masses. He firmly resisted the popular demands, which only intensified the conflict, causing the bitter townsfolk to exceed their initial reasonable requests and jeopardize their cause. Abbot Pons was ousted but returned victorious after Louis VII looked into the matter and imposed a hefty fine on the citizens. Some believe that the penalty money was used for the intricate sculptures of the abbey church. The people might have opposed their feudal lord, but they understood that their economic success stemmed from the pilgrimage church of the monastery, and every Burgundian was proud to showcase the region's outstanding stonecutting skills to visiting strangers.
In Vézelay occurred two notable gatherings of mediæval history. Here, on March 31, 1146, St. Bernard preached the Second Crusade, on the hillside without the northern gate. Abbot Pons built on the site the chapel of the Holy Cross, wherein was preserved the tribune on which the saint had stood. The leaders of France flocked into this valley of Burgundy, Louis VII and his brilliant queen, Aliénor of Aquitaine.[294]
In Vézelay, two significant events in medieval history took place. On March 31, 1146, St. Bernard preached the Second Crusade on the hillside just outside the northern gate. Abbot Pons built a chapel dedicated to the Holy Cross on the site, where the platform used by the saint was kept. The leaders of France gathered in this valley of Burgundy, including Louis VII and his impressive queen, Aliénor of Aquitaine.[294]
St. Bernard had been commissioned by the pope to set the new venture in motion, and he threw his whole passionate heart into the enterprise. Standing above the vast gathering, he read the papal letter that told of Odessa’s fall, two years earlier, and the horrifying massacre of eastern Christians. It was sound statesmanship that discerned the menace of the Eastern Question; the advance of the Seljukian Turk was indeed a knotty problem for the XII century, when XX-century Europe, after oceans of blood, has not settled the trouble. We may be sure that Bernard of Clairvaux used no flatteries in addressing the throng at Vézelay, if his public word was as uncompromising as his private letters: “Up! soldier of Christ! Go, expiate your sins! The breath of corruption is on every side. The license of manners is unchecked. Brigandage goes unpunished. Debout, soldats du Christ!” We know that his words of flame swept the crowd, and that, as at Clermont, fifty years earlier, again rose the cry: “God wills it! The Cross! The Cross!” The seductive queen, whose equivocal conduct on this very crusade was to start centuries of calamity for France, threw herself at Bernard’s feet, to receive from his hand the Cross. The lowly people jostled with the lords to take the vow, “les menues gens et les gens de grand air,” for crusades were democratic things that did more than aught else to break up feudal autocracy.
St. Bernard had been appointed by the pope to kick off the new initiative, and he poured his whole passionate heart into it. Standing above the large crowd, he read the papal letter that recounted the fall of Odessa, two years earlier, and the horrifying massacre of Eastern Christians. It was wise leadership that recognized the threat of the Eastern Question; the rise of the Seljuk Turks was indeed a complex issue for the 12th century, when 20th-century Europe, after a sea of bloodshed, has yet to resolve the problem. We can be sure that Bernard of Clairvaux didn’t use any flattery when addressing the crowd at Vézelay, if his public speech was as direct as his private letters: “Up! Soldier of Christ! Go, atone for your sins! The breath of corruption surrounds us. Immorality runs rampant. Banditry goes unpunished. Debout, soldats du Christ!” His fiery words inspired the crowd, and, just like at Clermont fifty years earlier, the cry rose again: “God wills it! The Cross! The Cross!” The alluring queen, whose questionable actions during this very crusade would lead to centuries of suffering for France, fell at Bernard’s feet to receive the Cross from his hand. The common people pushed alongside the nobles to take the vow, “les menues gens et les gens de grand air,” as crusades were democratic events that played a significant role in breaking down feudal autocracy.
The eager men and women of 1146 knelt in the actual nave and narthex of Vézelay’s abbatial. The choir which we have to-day was not yet built. In 1165 a fire damaged the choir of the Madeleine. A year later the exiled archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, excommunicated his enemies in England from Vézelay’s pulpit. The new choir was built mainly under Abbot Girard d’Arcy (1171-96), and is Burgundy’s Primary Gothic, though a generation behind the work of that phase in the Ile-de-France. Unpracticed hands made its vaulting, whose web is not built elastically as in the true Gothic fashion; the stones were welded in a compact mass by a bath of mortar. Viollet-le-Duc suggested that Abbot Hugues, deposed by the pope in 1206 for indebtedness, may have expended more than he should on the church.
The eager men and women of 1146 knelt in the actual nave and narthex of Vézelay’s abbey. The choir that we have today wasn’t built yet. In 1165, a fire damaged the choir of the Madeleine. A year later, the exiled archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, excommunicated his enemies in England from Vézelay’s pulpit. The new choir was mainly constructed under Abbot Girard d’Arcy (1171-96) and is Burgundy’s Primary Gothic, although it’s a generation behind the work from that period in the Ile-de-France. Inexperienced hands created its vaulting, which isn’t built as elastically as in true Gothic style; the stones were joined together in a solid mass using mortar. Viollet-le-Duc suggested that Abbot Hugues, who was deposed by the pope in 1206 for being in debt, may have spent more than he should have on the church.
The choir was well advanced when, in July of 1191, the second great gathering at Vézelay occurred. Here Philippe-Auguste and Richard Cœur-de-Lion met, swore eternal friendship, and then marched south together for the Third Crusade. Before ever they reached Palestine their pact of good will was broken, as was only to be expected with the virus of the Capet-Angevin duel in their veins. Richard’s mother, Aliénor, had flouted Philippe’s father, her first husband, on the former great enterprise for the East which had been initiated at Vézelay. The Madeleine church reconstructed its west frontispiece in the XIII century in order to light better its narthex; the pignon is overheavy and rather odd.
The choir was well advanced when, in July of 1191, the second major gathering at Vézelay took place. Here, Philippe-Auguste and Richard Cœur-de-Lion met, swore everlasting friendship, and then marched south together for the Third Crusade. Before they even reached Palestine, their agreement of goodwill fell apart, which was to be expected considering the rivalry of the Capet-Angevin feud running through their veins. Richard’s mother, Aliénor, had disrespected Philippe’s father, her first husband, during the previous grand effort for the East that had started at Vézelay. The Madeleine church rebuilt its west facade in the XIII century to better illuminate its narthex; the gable is overly heavy and somewhat strange.
Three times St. Louis came to pray in the famous Burgundian pilgrim church, his last visit being a few months before his death while crusading in Africa. Then, in Provence in 1279, was discovered what was claimed to be the real body of the Magdalene. Before the XIII century was ended the prestige of Vézelay’s pilgrimages was a thing of the past. The monastery’s ruin was consummated during the religious wars.[295] Such was the decrepitude into which the splendid church fell, that only a complete restoration by Viollet-le-Duc, from 1840 to 1858, saved the edifice from collapse.
Three times St. Louis came to pray in the famous Burgundian pilgrim church, with his last visit being a few months before his death while crusading in Africa. Then, in Provence in 1279, the supposed real body of the Magdalene was discovered. By the end of the 13th century, the prestige of Vézelay’s pilgrimages was just a memory. The monastery fell into ruin during the religious wars.[295] Such was the decline of the magnificent church that only a complete restoration by Viollet-le-Duc, from 1840 to 1858, saved the building from collapsing.
Because Vézelay’s nave belongs to Burgundy’s school of Romanesque it is spacious and amply lighted; no gloom, no cramping here. Such a nave could lead up to a Gothic choir, without sharp contrast. The choir, taken by itself, may be a cold work, but the sublimity of its setting places it beyond criticism. There is no more romantically ideal a vista in architecture than the white choir of Vézelay, as it appears from the narthex through the imaged portico. Seen thus down the prospect of the sober nave four hundred feet away, it rises like the crusaders’ dream of the Heavenly Jerusalem.
Because Vézelay's nave is part of Burgundy's Romanesque style, it is open and well-lit; there's no darkness or cramped feeling here. Such a nave could seamlessly lead into a Gothic choir without any jarring contrast. The choir, on its own, might seem cold, but the greatness of its surroundings makes it beyond criticism. There’s no more romantically perfect view in architecture than Vézelay's white choir, as seen from the narthex through the decorated entrance. Viewed this way, down the straightforward nave four hundred feet away, it rises like the crusaders' vision of the Heavenly Jerusalem.
The dominant note of Vézelay’s interior is serenity. Pace up and down its deserted aisles as a warm June day fades. The rose glow of sunset transmutes the coarse, porous stones to glory and the church seems voicing, securo e gaudioso, the grand old plain-chant psalmody which through long centuries echoed here. With you, like a tangible presence, is Faith’s certitude, the certitude of John the Baptist who witnessed, the vision of John the Evangelist who loved, the impassioned tranquillity of Mary of Magdala. Here reigns the benignant gladness, benigna letizia, that Dante attributes to St. Bernard in Paradise. The luminous stillness of Vézelay testifies that he that cometh to God must believe that He is. Here Faith is an overwhelming acquiescence of the conscience as entire as was the belief of the men and women of the XII century who, when they heard the preacher’s word, responded with the cry: “The Cross! The Cross!” In the solitary abbatial of to-day, half forgotten on a bypath of the world, breathes the living quietude, the active repose, the voluntary discipline of its old Benedictine builders. “Faith is the substance of things to be hoped for, the evidence of things that appear not. Without faith, it is impossible to please God.”
The main feeling of Vézelay’s interior is serenity. Walk up and down its empty aisles as a warm June day comes to an end. The golden glow of sunset transforms the rough, porous stones into something magnificent, and the church seems to echo the grand old plainchant psalms that have resonated here for centuries. With you is the undeniable presence of Faith’s certainty, the certainty of John the Baptist who witnessed, the vision of John the Evangelist who loved, and the passionate calm of Mary Magdalene. Here, there's a gentle joy, the benigna letizia that Dante ascribes to St. Bernard in Paradise. The bright stillness of Vézelay shows that anyone who approaches God must believe that He exists. Here, Faith is an all-encompassing acceptance of the conscience, as complete as the belief of the men and women of the 12th century who, when they heard the preacher, cried out, “The Cross! The Cross!” In the lonely abbey of today, somewhat forgotten on a side path of the world, lives the quiet strength, the active rest, the intentional discipline of its old Benedictine builders. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Without faith, it is impossible to please God.”
Like the Tag, in India, there is here a supersensual art beauty that renews the jaded spirit. Both have been embalmed for eternity in a vivifying peace. “Without holiness no man shall see God,” thought the faulty, vehement, crusading generations who prayed in Vezelay’s church, and holiness, then, meant primarily the humble repentance of sins. Whoever it was built the tomb of the Indian princess at Agra, whoever it was built the church in Burgundy called after Mary of Magdala, he worked in something more than stones and mortar. At Agra you end by thinking that the secret of the enthralling magic lies in the marvel of atmosphere, the deep soft shadows which break the dazzling sun expanses. At Vézelay, in the groping effort to put its spell into words, you end by saying that the beauty lies in the space which the inclosing walls have so holily shut in. But what analysis or what detailed description can convey how the spirit is impressed by this shrine, named for the Sinner who poured out the precious ointment with a Faith and Love so complete that it washed her clean!
Like the Tag, in India, there’s a transcendent beauty in art that revives the weary spirit. Both have been preserved forever in a refreshing peace. “Without holiness, no man shall see God,” thought the flawed, passionate, crusading generations who prayed in Vezelay’s church, and holiness, in this sense, primarily meant the humble repentance of sins. Whoever built the tomb of the Indian princess at Agra, whoever constructed the church in Burgundy named after Mary of Magdala, worked with more than just stones and mortar. At Agra, you start to believe that the secret of the captivating magic lies in the incredible atmosphere, the deep, soft shadows that break the glaring expanses of sunlight. At Vézelay, in the struggle to put its enchantment into words, you conclude that the beauty lies in the space that the surrounding walls have so sacredly enclosed. But what analysis or detailed description can truly capture how this shrine, named after the Sinner who poured out the precious ointment with such complete Faith and Love that it washed her clean, impresses the spirit?
In such a church come flashes of insight, momentary liftings of the veil, periods of mental fecundity that make clear why the true mystic passes without loss from his isolated reverie of Divine Love to an intensely practical activity, and when you begin to understand that you are on the way to a comprehensive sympathy with that pillar of French Christianity, that apostle sent of God as surely as was Paul to the Gentiles—Bernard the Burgundian, who prayed and preached in this abbey church.
In such a church, there are moments of insight, brief lifts of the veil, times of mental creativity that show why the true mystic effortlessly transitions from a deep reverie of Divine Love to highly practical action. When you start to realize this, you're on your way to truly empathizing with that important figure in French Christianity, that apostle sent by God just like Paul was to the Gentiles—Bernard the Burgundian, who prayed and preached in this abbey church.
Les Français, fils ainés de l’antiquité, Romain par le génie, sont Grec par le caractère. Inquiets et volages dans le bonheur; constant et invincibles dans l’aversité; formés pour les arts; civilisés jusqu’à l’excès durant le calme de l’État; grossiers et sauvages dans les troubles politiques; flottants comme des vaisseaux sans lest au gré des passions; enthusiastes du bien et du mal; aimants pusillanimes de la vie pendant la paix; prodigues de leur jours dans les batailles; charmants dans leur pays; insupportable chez l’étranger; tels furent les Athéniens d’autrefois, tels sont les Français d’aujourd’hui.—Chateaubriand.
Les Français, the eldest sons of antiquity, Roman in genius, are Greek in character. Restless and fickle in happiness; steadfast and unyielding in adversity; built for the arts; overly civilized during peaceful times; crude and wild during political turmoil; adrift like ships without ballast driven by passion; enthusiastic about good and bad; timidly fond of life in peace; extravagant with their lives in battle; charming in their homeland; unbearable abroad; such were the Athenians of old, such are the French of today.—Chateaubriand.
If the traveler has chosen little Avallon as the center from which to explore Burgundian churches, Semur-en-Auxois, lying a few miles to its east, will soon be visited. Picturesque and well kept, it is perched on a crest round which loops the river, a site such as a feudal baron chose, when possible, for his lair. The donjon towers at Semur belonged to a fortress built by Duke Philippe le Hardi.
If the traveler has picked little Avallon as the base for exploring Burgundian churches, Semur-en-Auxois, located just a few miles to the east, will soon be visited. Charming and well-maintained, it’s situated on a ridge that the river loops around, much like a feudal baron would have chosen for his stronghold. The donjon towers in Semur were part of a fortress built by Duke Philippe le Hardi.
The collegiate church of Notre Dame, included with the best Gothic work in Burgundy, derived indirectly from the choir of Auxerre Cathedral, through the church of Our Lady at Dijon. About 1225 the builders began to replace the XI-century Notre Dame at Semur by the present edifice, which reproduced the columnal piers with salient crockets that distinguish the most beautiful of Dijon’s churches. By 1250 they had terminated the choir, transept, and the bay of the nave touching the transept. The nave and transept are too narrow for their height, because they followed the same ground plan as the antecedent Romanesque church. Burgundy seemed to enjoy a problem in construction. Here, the arches of the vault being excessively pointed, the flying buttresses were made with a radius greater than is to be found elsewhere.
The Notre Dame collegiate church, known for its impressive Gothic architecture in Burgundy, was influenced by the choir of Auxerre Cathedral through the Church of Our Lady in Dijon. Around 1225, builders began replacing the 11th-century Notre Dame in Semur with the current structure, which featured the columnar piers with prominent crockets that are characteristic of Dijon’s most beautiful churches. By 1250, they completed the choir, transept, and the section of the nave adjacent to the transept. The nave and transept are narrower than their height would suggest, as they followed the same layout as the earlier Romanesque church. Burgundy seemed to face challenges in construction. Here, the vault arches are overly pointed, and the flying buttresses were built with a larger radius than is typically found elsewhere.
Early in the XIV century, three new bays were added to the nave, as is shown by their main arches, which are more pointed than those of the earlier bays. Then about 1370, probably after a fire, the nave’s stone roof was rebuilt and its triforium suppressed. The religious wars of the XVI century played havoc here in Notre Dame. During the Revolution, for two entire weeks, cartload after cartload of art treasures was carried away from the collegiate. Happily, the transept’s northern portal escaped destruction, for it is a small masterpiece of Burgundian sculpture. Its tympanum relates the adventures in India of St. Thomas the Apostle, whose builder’s rule was said to be of gold, in emblem of his spiritual masoncraft. St. Jerome would not sanction the Indian legends of the architect apostle, but the story of King Goldoforus and St. Thomas lingered in popular favor.
Early in the 14th century, three new bays were added to the nave, as seen by their main arches, which are more pointed than those of the earlier bays. Then around 1370, likely after a fire, the nave’s stone roof was rebuilt and its triforium was removed. The religious wars of the 16th century caused significant damage here at Notre Dame. During the Revolution, for two whole weeks, cartloads of art treasures were taken away from the college. Luckily, the northern portal of the transept survived destruction, as it is a small masterpiece of Burgundian sculpture. Its tympanum depicts the adventures of St. Thomas the Apostle in India, whose builder’s rule was said to be made of gold, symbolizing his spiritual craftsmanship. St. Jerome didn't endorse the Indian legends surrounding the architect apostle, but the story of King Goldoforus and St. Thomas remained popular.
In one of the chapels of Semur’s collegiate church is a XIV-century window dedicated to no saint, telling no Scriptural story, but merely setting forth, in large, clear panels, the working day of various artisans—dyer, vintager, butcher, tailor. The theologians who directed the iconography of mediæval churches permitted the old guildsmen to translate into sign language their sensible idea that honest work was prayer.
In one of the chapels of Semur’s collegiate church is a 14th-century window dedicated to no saint and telling no biblical story, but simply showcasing, in large, clear panels, the everyday activities of various tradespeople—dyer, vintner, butcher, tailor. The theologians who guided the imagery of medieval churches allowed the old guild members to express in visual terms their practical belief that honest work was a form of prayer.
The keystone over the sanctuary of Notre Dame, where eight ribs meet, is the most beautiful ever carved—a Coronation of the Virgin. Throughout the church the sculpture is exceptional. In the choir and transept, carved heads lean out from the triforium’s spandrels, heads of monarch, bishop, monk, nun, and chatelaine, with here and there a grinning mask or grotesque. The restorer has followed a wrong path when he makes the exaggerated images in XIII-century sculpture exceed the ideal or realistic ones. Semur’s triforium is among the most beautiful in Gothic art. On some of the capitals of the collegiate are vintage scenes, as was natural in this land of famous wines. There are noted modern vineyards, such as Chambertin and Vougeot, which were cultivated by the monks of Cluny and Cîteaux for many a long century.
The keystone above the sanctuary of Notre Dame, where eight ribs come together, is the most beautifully carved—depicting the Coronation of the Virgin. The sculpture throughout the church is exceptional. In the choir and transept, carved heads peek out from the triforium’s spandrels, featuring monarchs, bishops, monks, nuns, and ladies of the manor, with a few grinning masks or grotesques scattered around. The restorer has gone wrong by making the exaggerated figures in 13th-century sculpture overshadow the idealized or realistic ones. Semur’s triforium is one of the most beautiful in Gothic art. Some of the capitals in the collegiate feature vintage scenes, fitting for this land known for its famous wines. There are notable modern vineyards, like Chambertin and Vougeot, which were cultivated by the monks of Cluny and Cîteaux for many centuries.
Stone solitude, unchanging, still,
Image of the dwelling inhabited by God Himself,
Where everything is depth, mystery, eternity…
The voice of the bell tower gently fades away; And with his forehead resting against a sounding pillar,
I can feel it, all moved by the echo, Vibrate like a key of a celestial instrument ...
The evening rays that the West recalls,
They extinguish their last spark at the stained glass,
At the back of the sanctuary, a glowing floating fire shines,
Shine like an open eye on this night;
So, lifting my eyes from the cobblestones to the vault I feel that in this emptiness, an ear is listening to me,
That an invisible friend spreads throughout the nave,
He draws me to him, speaks a language I understand,
Communicate with me in an intimate silence. And in its vast embrace, it envelops and engulfs me. —Lamartine (1790-1869; from Burgundy).
At Auxerre, on the Yonne, two Gothic edifices stand imposingly above the city, the cathedral of St. Stephen and the abbatial church named after that bishop of Auxerre, St. Germain, who foretold the sanctity of la pucellette Geneviève in the village of Nanterre by Paris, and whose own sanctity was so assured that more churches have been called for him than for any other saint of France save the supreme St. Martin himself. Paris put her church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois under his protection. He had been the ruler of this region of middle France under the Emperor Honorius, and was a soldier and devoted to sports; yet the old bishop of Auxerre, St. Amâtre, chose him as his successor, divining in him a man destined to do great things for God.
At Auxerre, by the Yonne River, two impressive Gothic buildings rise above the city: the cathedral of St. Stephen and the abbatial church named after the bishop of Auxerre, St. Germain. He predicted the holiness of la pucellette Geneviève in the village of Nanterre near Paris, and his own sanctity was so recognized that more churches have been named after him than any other saint in France, except for the great St. Martin himself. Paris placed her church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois under his protection. He had governed this region of central France during the time of Emperor Honorius and was a soldier who enjoyed sports. However, the old bishop of Auxerre, St. Amâtre, saw him as a successor, sensing in him someone destined for great things for God.
The splendid abbey church at Auxerre stands on the site of the oratory which rose over the grave of St. Germain. Queen Clotilde on her way to wed Clovis, pausing here in 490, renewed the shrine by a church, which became the nucleus for an abbey favored by all three dynasties of France—Merovingian, Carolingian, and Capetian.[298] The monastery was a noted school whither came St. Patrick, and many generations later St. Thomas Becket studied here after he had finished his law courses at Bologna.
The magnificent abbey church in Auxerre is located where an oratory once stood over St. Germain's grave. Queen Clotilde, on her way to marry Clovis in 490, stopped here and rebuilt the shrine as a church, which became the foundation for an abbey supported by all three dynasties of France—Merovingian, Carolingian, and Capetian.[298] The monastery was a renowned school that attracted St. Patrick, and many years later, St. Thomas Becket studied here after completing his law courses in Bologna.
In memory of Auxerre’s reputation as a teacher, the cathedral has twice represented the Liberal Arts, in glass and in sculpture. The choir of St. Étienne Cathedral was begun about 1215 by a well-known schoolman, Bishop Guillaume de Seignelay, who undertook it at his own expense, stimulated thereto by some of the parish churches which had lately been rebuilt in the new way. The crypt (c. 1130), retained under the choir of the new cathedral, had been begun by the bishop, St. Hugues de Châlons, a friend of St. Bernard, and probably finished by his successor, Hugues de Mâcon (1137-51), the first abbot of Pontigny, and St. Bernard’s kinsman and childhood intimate. Of the cathedral of their day only the present crypt remains.
In honor of Auxerre’s reputation as a teacher, the cathedral has showcased the Liberal Arts twice, through glass and sculpture. The choir of St. Étienne Cathedral started around 1215, initiated by the well-known scholar, Bishop Guillaume de Seignelay, who funded it himself after being inspired by some of the local churches that had recently been rebuilt in the new style. The crypt (c. 1130), which is located beneath the choir of the new cathedral, was begun by Bishop St. Hugues de Châlons, a friend of St. Bernard, and was likely completed by his successor, Hugues de Mâcon (1137-51), the first abbot of Pontigny and a close acquaintance of St. Bernard from childhood. Of the cathedral from their time, only the current crypt remains.
When Bishop Guillaume de Seignelay was transferred to the see of Paris, in 1220, he worked on the west façade of Notre Dame of the capital, and his successor at Auxerre, Henri de Villeneuve, completed the choir of St. Étienne in 1234. Two lancets in the sanctuary are his gifts. The cathedral of Auxerre was building at both ends, while between lay the ancient Romanesque nave. The easternmost bay of the nave is XIII century, but the next five bays were erected only during the XIV century, at which time most of the statues of the western portals were done. With the choir’s superb stained glass they form the supreme accessory of this cathedral. M. Enlart holds Auxerre’s imagery to be, for delicacy and charm, among the best produced by the XIV century, and that the statuettes of the Liberal Arts, in the spandrels over the canopies of the David-Balthazar groups, are equal to Greek terra-cotta figurines. The Judgment of Solomon by the northwest door is excellent. Within and without the stonecutting of the transept’s southern façade should be observed. At that entrance appeared an early example of an accoladed arch, cited by M. Enlart as an indication of the English derivation of Flamboyant Gothic in France, since during the XIV century they were masters of Auxerre for a time.
When Bishop Guillaume de Seignelay was moved to the position of Bishop of Paris in 1220, he worked on the west façade of Notre Dame in the capital. His successor at Auxerre, Henri de Villeneuve, finished the choir of St. Étienne in 1234. Two lancets in the sanctuary are his contributions. The cathedral of Auxerre was under construction at both ends, while the ancient Romanesque nave remained in between. The easternmost bay of the nave dates back to the 13th century, but the next five bays were built only during the 14th century, at which point most of the statues on the western portals were created. Together with the choir’s stunning stained glass, they form the crowning feature of this cathedral. M. Enlart believes that the imagery of Auxerre is among the best produced in the 14th century for its delicacy and charm, and that the statuettes of the Liberal Arts, found in the spandrels above the canopies of the David-Balthazar groups, are comparable to Greek terra-cotta figurines. The Judgment of Solomon at the northwest door is remarkable. Both inside and outside, the stonework of the southern façade of the transept is noteworthy. At that entrance, there is an early example of an accolated arch, noted by M. Enlart as a sign of the English influence on Flamboyant Gothic in France, since the English were in control of Auxerre for a period during the 14th century.
As the Hundred Years’ War relaxed building enterprise, the nave was not covered by a masonry roof till the XV century, about the time when Jeanne d’Arc paused to pray in Auxerre Cathedral on her memorable journey of eleven days from Lorraine to Touraine, across a France ravaged by civil and foreign wars.[299] The gracious Flamboyant west front of Auxerre’s chief church is an expression of the hope and national pride renewed in France by the Maid’s feat at Orléans. The well-designed north tower proves that the final phase of Gothic art in France did not pass away in decrepitude; had only the south tower been raised above the roof, this frontispiece could claim foremost rank.
As the Hundred Years’ War eased up, building projects resumed, but the nave wasn’t covered with a masonry roof until the 15th century, around the time when Jeanne d’Arc stopped to pray at Auxerre Cathedral during her memorable eleven-day journey from Lorraine to Touraine, through a France torn apart by civil and foreign wars.[299] The elegant Flamboyant west front of Auxerre’s main church reflects the hope and national pride that the Maid’s victory at Orléans revived in France. The well-crafted north tower shows that the final phase of Gothic art in France didn’t fade away into decline; if only the south tower had been raised above the roof, this facade could be considered among the best.
For bold and light construction Auxerre’s choir is notable, and it made a school in Burgundian Gothic. It has only one radiating chapel—that in the axis—because it followed the ground plan of the Romanesque crypt, its foundation. The charming Champagne disposition of planting columns between chapel and ambulatory was made use of; perhaps the pillars and stilted arches of Auxerre are rather too frail in their proportions. The same feature was used in the abbey church of St. Germain, and when the church of St. Eusèbe[300] rebuilt its chevet, in the XV century, pillars were again placed to divide the curving aisle and the radiating chapels.
For its bold and delicate construction, Auxerre’s choir stands out, establishing a school of Burgundian Gothic style. It has only one radiating chapel—the one in the center—because it followed the layout of the Romanesque crypt that serves as its foundation. The delightful Champagne style of placing columns between the chapel and the ambulatory was utilized; however, the pillars and stilted arches of Auxerre may be a bit too slender in their proportions. This same feature was also used in the abbey church of St. Germain, and when the church of St. Eusèbe[300] rebuilt its chevet in the 15th century, pillars were again used to separate the curved aisle from the radiating chapels.
Auxerre Cathedral showed another trait of the Champagne school of Gothic—an interior passageway beneath the aisle windows. The plain wall below it is relieved by a kind of arched corbel course not very satisfactory; the arches and the capitals upon which they rest are present, but there is no shaft to support the capitals, from above each of which reaches out a well-sculptured head. One of these busts represents the Erythræan priestess referred to in the Dies iræ:
Auxerre Cathedral displayed another characteristic of the Champagne Gothic style—an interior walkway beneath the aisle windows. The plain wall below it is enhanced by a sort of arched corbel course that isn’t very appealing; the arches and the capitals they rest on are there, but there’s no shaft to support the capitals, from which a well-sculpted head extends. One of these busts depicts the Erythræan priestess mentioned in the Dies iræ:
The XIII century distinguished only that one sibyl whom St. Augustine’s City of God had popularized as the prophetess of the Last Judgment, but later in the Middle Ages all ten of them were represented, and certain Renaissance windows represented as many as twelve pagan prophetesses.
The 13th century highlighted only that one sibyl whom St. Augustine’s City of God had made famous as the prophetess of the Last Judgment, but later in the Middle Ages, all ten of them were depicted, and certain Renaissance windows showed as many as twelve pagan prophetesses.
The placing of sculptured heads in the spandrels of arches was not infrequent in Burgundy, though occasionally merely one salient crocket was used. The cathedral of Nevers,[301] south of Auxerre, went a step farther and chiseled a small figurine in the spandrels of its triforium, like the angels of Lincoln’s choir. Moreover, the colonettes of Nevers’ triforium are borne on the backs of small crouching caryatides—a Lombard echo. In France, Nevers’ cathedral of St. Cyr was exceptional in having an apse at both east and west ends, like a Rhenish church. One is forced to relegate the beautiful little capital of the Nivermois to a footnote, which is what France herself seems to be doing to the well-set town on the Loire which in England or beyond the Rhine would be made into a small residence city. Its palace, parks, cathedral, and numerous churches, its faïence industry and fortifications give it the air of a little capital.
The placement of sculpted heads in the spaces above arches was fairly common in Burgundy, although sometimes just one prominent crocket was used. The cathedral of Nevers,[301] south of Auxerre, took it a step further by carving a small figurine in the spandrels of its triforium, similar to the angels found in Lincoln’s choir. Additionally, the columns of Nevers’ triforium rest on the backs of small crouching caryatids—a nod to Lombard design. In France, Nevers’ St. Cyr cathedral is unique for having an apse at both the east and west ends, much like some Rhenish churches. Unfortunately, the charming little capital of the Nivermois has been pushed to the sidelines, much like how France seems to be overlooking the well-planned town on the Loire that would be considered a small capital city in England or across the Rhine. Its palace, parks, cathedral, numerous churches, faïence industry, and fortifications give it the feel of a small capital.
Auxerre is another Mecca of stained glass in France. Its choir possesses almost forty windows (1220-30) of the school of Chartres, half of them being in the ambulatory and Lady chapel. Unfortunately, the lower panels were wrecked in 1567, and the east window of the axis chapel was destroyed in the Franco-Prussian war; the grisaille design throughout is mastery. The opaline loveliness of the choir’s clearstory grisaille has drawn from M. Viollet-le-Duc one of his most eloquent pages.[302][302] Each bay is filled with twin lancets surmounted by a rose; each lancet has a large figure set in uncolored glass—one of the first attempts made to give more light to an interior. Those crusading generations visioned their Heavenly Jerusalem in sculpture at Vézelay, in color at Auxerre:
Auxerre is another hotspot for stained glass in France. Its choir features nearly forty windows (1220-30) from the Chartres style, with half of them located in the ambulatory and the Lady chapel. Unfortunately, the lower panels were damaged in 1567, and the east window of the axis chapel was destroyed during the Franco-Prussian war; the grisaille design throughout is a masterpiece. The opaline beauty of the choir’s clearstory grisaille has inspired M. Viollet-le-Duc to write some of his most expressive pages.[302][302] Each bay is filled with twin lancets topped by a rose; each lancet contains a large figure made of uncolored glass—one of the first efforts to bring more light into an interior. Those generations of crusaders envisioned their Heavenly Jerusalem in sculpture at Vézelay and in color at Auxerre:
Your streets shine with emeralds,
The sardius and the topaz Unite in you their rays:
Your timeless walls are bonded With amethyst unpriced; The saints strengthen its structure,
And the cornerstone is Christ.
And bright with many angels,
And all the martyr group:
The Prince is always within them;
Their daylight is calm,
The fields of the blessed Are adorned in glorious sheen.
And there, free from worry,
The song of those who win,
The shout of those who feast; And they who are with their leader,
Have triumphed in the fight,
Forever and ever Are dressed in white robes.[303]
In the roses of the two bays neighboring the central lancets are the Liberal Arts and virtues contrasted with vices. The choir aisle has a Creation window, and lancets of the popular St. James, St. Nicolas, and St. Eustace. The transept’s south rose is Rayonnant. Its north one is Flamboyant, and with the eight golden lights below it was given by Bishop François de Dinteville, the younger (1530-52), who donated also the Gloria in Excelsis west rose. But no sooner were all these precious things installed when came the bitter civil wars of the XVI century. No place in France suffered more than Auxerre. An eyewitness of the 1567 sacking wrote: “All the woes of Jerusalem when it fell to the infidel are heaped on our city.” Many a citizen died of grief at the town’s desolation, and so devastated was every single church that for months no services were held.
In the rose windows of the two bays next to the central lancets, you can see the Liberal Arts and virtues contrasted with vices. The choir aisle features a Creation window, along with lancets of the well-known St. James, St. Nicolas, and St. Eustace. The south rose in the transept is Rayonnant, while the north one is Flamboyant, and with the eight golden lights below it, it was donated by Bishop François de Dinteville, the younger (1530-52), who also contributed the Gloria in Excelsis rose in the west. But as soon as all these precious items were installed, the harsh civil wars of the 16th century broke out. No place in France suffered more than Auxerre. An eyewitness of the 1567 sacking wrote: “All the woes of Jerusalem when it fell to the infidel are heaped on our city.” Many citizens died from grief over the town’s devastation, and every single church was so damaged that no services were held for months.
A restoration was accomplished by Bishop Jacques Amyot (1571-93), the noted Hellenist, who first brought flexibility and amenity into French prose.[304] His translation of Plutarch—a French classic—molded the ideals of French youth for generations. Unfortunately, because imported foreign taste had won the victory over the national art, this enlightened Renaissance prelate removed some of the ancient windows to light his high altar. His marble bust adorns a pier of the choir of Auxerre Cathedral.
A restoration was achieved by Bishop Jacques Amyot (1571-93), the well-known Hellenist, who first brought flexibility and friendliness into French prose.[304] His translation of Plutarch—a French classic—shaped the ideals of French youth for generations. Unfortunately, because outside foreign tastes had triumphed over national art, this enlightened Renaissance bishop removed some of the ancient windows to illuminate his high altar. His marble bust decorates a pier of the choir at Auxerre Cathedral.
I dare not breathe, and my soul is silent. Admire the height of your glorious name.
What should I say? Damaged by this deep sea,
As your light endlessly floods us, Can we just open our weak eyes? Understood! Please provide the text you'd like me to modernize. Cessez: what do you expect from your uncertainties,
Empty thoughts, pointless efforts, useless studies? It's enough that He said, "I am Who I am." He is everything, yet he is nothing of what I think; With these profound words, I love its essence
And without reasoning it through, believing, I continue!
—Bossuet, Tibi silentium laus (1627-1704; born in Dijon).
Notre Dame at Dijon (1220-1245). Burgundian Gothic
Notre Dame in Dijon (1220-1245). Burgundian Gothic
And finally we come to the capital of Burgundy, to a city of prime importance in the art history of France, although it can claim no one supreme monument. Dijon’s leadership was from 1364 to 1477, under the four art-loving Valois princes, Philippe le Hardi (1364-1404), Jean sans Peur (1404-19), Philippe le Bon (1419-67), and Charles le Téméraire (1467-77). “Never,” says Brantôme, “were there four greater princes one after the other than the great dukes of Burgundy.” Each in turn on his formal entry into Dijon came to the abbey church of St. Bénigne to take oath to defend the special privileges of his capital. Tradition says that St. Benignus was sent to Christianize Gaul by St. Polycarp, who had known John the Evangelist. The hypothesis is possible, since it is historically certain that Polycarp provided Lyons with its first two bishops. Many a son of Dijon has borne the revered name of Bénigne, none with greater honor for his native city than Bossuet, descended from ancient parliamentary stock. The neo-classic taste of the great preacher’s day might prevent his knowing Gothic architecture rightly, but without the centuries that built mediæval cathedrals he had not been what he was.[306]
And finally, we arrive at the capital of Burgundy, a city of major significance in the art history of France, even though it doesn't have a single dominant monument. Dijon was prosperous from 1364 to 1477, under the four art-loving Valois princes: Philippe the Bold (1364-1404), John the Fearless (1404-19), Philippe the Good (1419-67), and Charles the Bold (1467-77). “Never,” says Brantôme, “were there four greater princes one after the other than the great dukes of Burgundy.” Each of them, upon his official arrival in Dijon, would visit the abbey church of St. Bénigne to take an oath to protect the unique privileges of his capital. Tradition holds that St. Benignus was sent to Christianize Gaul by St. Polycarp, who had met John the Evangelist. This scenario is plausible, as it is historically certain that Polycarp provided Lyons with its first two bishops. Many sons of Dijon have carried the esteemed name of Bénigne, but none have honored their city more than Bossuet, who came from an ancient line of parliamentarians. The neo-classical tastes of the great preacher's era might have hindered his understanding of Gothic architecture, but without the centuries that crafted medieval cathedrals, he would not have become who he was.[306]
Dijon became the capital of Burgundy under the first line of Capetian dukes who governed the province from 1032 to 1361 and who gave the city its franchise and privileges. A duke of Burgundy led the right wing at Bouvines, another fought under St. Louis at Mansourah. From Burgundy’s reigning line came Pope Calixtus II (1119-24), whose brother went crusading in Spain, where he founded the house from which descended Queen Isabella; Burgundian Capetians also reigned in Portugal. Cluny and Cîteaux were favored by the first line of Burgundy’s dukes, to which belonged, by ties of blood, the two greatest abbots of their respective Orders, St. Hugues and St. Bernard. In 1361 the last duke died childless and the duchy returned to the French crown.
Dijon became the capital of Burgundy under the first line of Capetian dukes who ruled the province from 1032 to 1361 and granted the city its rights and privileges. A duke of Burgundy led the right wing at Bouvines, and another fought alongside St. Louis at Mansourah. From Burgundy’s ruling line came Pope Calixtus II (1119-24), whose brother went on a crusade in Spain, where he established the house that eventually produced Queen Isabella; the Burgundian Capetians also ruled in Portugal. Cluny and Cîteaux were supported by the first line of Burgundy’s dukes, which included, by blood ties, the two most important abbots of their respective Orders, St. Hugues and St. Bernard. In 1361, the last duke died without heirs, and the duchy returned to the French crown.
Three years later the Valois Capetian king, Jean le Bon, gave Burgundy to his youngest and favorite son, Philippe le Hardi, who won his surname of valiant when fifteen years of age through his defense of his father at the battle of Poitiers. When Philippe, by the generous aid of his brother, King Charles V, wedded the richest heiress in Europe, the very plain Marguerite of Flanders, there resulted the political union of Burgundy with the Netherlands that was of important influence on French art. It led to the formation at Dijon of a French-Flemish school of sculpture. The robust middle region of France impressed its own character on the masters from the Lowlands who flocked to the semi-royal court of the dukes, and equally it assimilated the artists who came from Lyons and neighboring regions. The Flemish-Burgundian style controlled the first half of the XV century. Its fusion of national and local art traditions with Flemish realism renewed the vigor of French sculpture, and a truly French Renaissance had already set in before the advent of the Italian spirit. In Dijon took place the evolution that changed the sculpture of the Middle Ages to that of modern times.
Three years later, King Jean le Bon of the Valois Capetian dynasty gave Burgundy to his youngest and favorite son, Philippe le Hardi, who earned his nickname "the Brave" at just fifteen years old for defending his father during the battle of Poitiers. When Philippe married the wealthiest heiress in Europe, the quite plain Marguerite of Flanders, with the generous support of his brother, King Charles V, it created a political union between Burgundy and the Netherlands that significantly influenced French art. This led to the establishment of a French-Flemish school of sculpture in Dijon. The strong central region of France imparted its character to the masters from the Lowlands who flocked to the semi-royal court of the dukes, while also integrating artists from Lyons and nearby areas. The Flemish-Burgundian style dominated the first half of the 15th century. Its blend of national and local artistic traditions with Flemish realism revitalized French sculpture, and a genuine French Renaissance had already begun before the arrival of the Italian influence. The evolution that transformed medieval sculpture into that of modern times occurred in Dijon.
The artists who had gathered around Charles V in Paris, were scattered by that king’s premature death and the subsequent disorders in the royal domain, and they flocked to the Burgundian court of his brother. Among them were André and Guy de Dammartin, who erected outside the gates of Dijon the Chartreuse of Champmol (1388-96) as a burial place for the Valois line of dukes. The work of the Dammartin family—with whom Flamboyant Gothic became a heritage passing from father to son—can be found at Bourges, Poitiers, Tours, Le Mans, and Nantes.
The artists who had gathered around Charles V in Paris were scattered after the king's early death and the resulting chaos in the royal territory, and they moved to the Burgundian court of his brother. Among them were André and Guy de Dammartin, who built the Chartreuse of Champmol (1388-96) outside the gates of Dijon as a burial place for the Valois dukes. The work of the Dammartin family—with Flamboyant Gothic becoming a tradition passed down from father to son—can be seen in Bourges, Poitiers, Tours, Le Mans, and Nantes.
What parts of the Chartreuse monastery now remain constitute an asylum. The sculptured portal of the church shows kneeling images of Philippe le Hardi and his duchess Marguerite, and in the cloister is the noted Well of the Prophets, conceived, and in part executed, by Claus Sluter in 1395, and finished by his nephew, Claus de Werve, in 1403. The Puits de Moïse was so called because the statue of Moses, alone of the six prophets, shows religious analogy with the biblical character it stands for. The others are realistic studies of tradesman, rich citizen, or Jew, in eccentric costumes that probably were copied from those in the mystery plays of the day. With these prophet images of Claus Sluter, modern sculpture took birth.
What remains of the Chartreuse monastery now serves as a sanctuary. The carved entrance of the church features kneeling figures of Philippe le Hardi and his duchess Marguerite, and in the cloister is the famous Well of the Prophets, designed and partly completed by Claus Sluter in 1395, and finished by his nephew, Claus de Werve, in 1403. The Puits de Moïse was named because the statue of Moses, unlike the other six prophets, has a religious connection with the biblical character it represents. The others are realistic portrayals of tradespeople, wealthy citizens, or Jews, dressed in distinctive costumes that were probably inspired by those seen in the contemporary mystery plays. With these prophet figures by Claus Sluter, modern sculpture was born.
The two most regal tombs of the Middle Ages, those of Philippe le Hardi and his son Jean sans Peur, were originally in the Chartreuse church, but were broken up by the Revolution. They were reset, for a time, in St. Bénigne’s church, and now are installed in the XV-century guard hall of the ducal palace, a part of Dijon’s Art Museum, raising that collection to first-class rank. Near them are placed the elaborately carved and painted altarpieces brought from Termonde by the dukes. The pomp and pageantry of the knighthood described by Froissart and Commines breathes in the two grandiose tombs of Dijon, and the progeny of sumptuous funereal monuments they inspired. Cowled figures called pleureurs are set in niches around each sarcophagus. They seem like symbols of the lesser people’s sufferings in the dire Hundred Years’ War, when France became a field of carnage. Foreign invasion, the Great Schism of the West, pest, massacres, misrule, lawlessness—such was the accumulation of miseries that only the heaven-sent Jehanne la Pucelle, from the far borders of the land, could right the immeasurable pitié there was in the kingdom of France.
The two most impressive tombs of the Middle Ages, those of Philippe le Hardi and his son Jean sans Peur, were originally located in the Chartreuse church but were dismantled during the Revolution. They were temporarily moved to St. Bénigne’s church and are now housed in the 15th-century guard hall of the ducal palace, part of Dijon’s Art Museum, elevating that collection to a top-tier status. Nearby, you'll find the intricately carved and painted altarpieces brought from Termonde by the dukes. The grandeur and spectacle of knighthood described by Froissart and Commines resonate in the two magnificent tombs of Dijon and the lavish funerary monuments they inspired. Figures called pleureurs are placed in niches around each sarcophagus. They appear to symbolize the suffering of the common people during the devastating Hundred Years’ War, when France became a battlefield. Foreign invasions, the Great Schism of the West, plagues, massacres, misrule, and lawlessness—such was the accumulation of hardships that only the divinely chosen Jehanne la Pucelle, from the far reaches of the land, could mend the immense pitié present in the kingdom of France.
Though Burgundy suffered less than the royal domain, the lesser people had to pay heavily for the prodigal largess of their dukes. At times the lavish giving of Philippe le Hardi bordered upon folly; while on visits of state he was forced to put his jewels in pawn to obtain sufficient funds for his home journey. When he died, in 1404, it took six weeks for his funeral cortège to journey from Brussels to Dijon, and those of his household who accompanied the body were provided with Capuchin capes of black cloth. That is the procession represented by the statuettes around his sarcophagus, though, unfortunately, the original order of their march has been lost. Among the eighty pleurants of the two ducal tombs are only eight restorations.
Though Burgundy faced fewer hardships than the royal territory, the common people had to pay a steep price for the extravagant generosity of their dukes. At times, Philippe le Hardi’s lavish spending bordered on absurdity; during state visits, he was forced to pawn his jewels just to have enough money for the return trip home. When he died in 1404, it took six weeks for his funeral procession to travel from Brussels to Dijon, and those of his household who accompanied the body were given black cloth Capuchin capes. The statuettes around his sarcophagus represent that procession, although, sadly, the original order of their march has been lost. Among the eighty mourners at the two ducal tombs, only eight are restorations.
Jean de Marville, a Lorraine master, designed Duke Philippe’s monument, whose imagery is in greater part from the hand of Claus Sluter and Claus de Werve, Netherlanders (1384-1411). De Werve made most of Duke Jean’s monument, a replica of his father’s tomb; it was finished by an Aragonese sculptor, Juan de Heurta, and Antoine le Moiturier from Avignon. The latter was nephew of Jacques Morel of Lyons, trained in the Dijon studios, who made for the daughter of John the Fearless, the Duchess of Bourbon, a tomb in Souvigny’s abbatial near Moulins, which M. Enlart has called the most masterly work in sculpture of the XV century.
Jean de Marville, a master from Lorraine, designed Duke Philippe’s monument, which largely features imagery created by Claus Sluter and Claus de Werve, artists from the Netherlands (1384-1411). De Werve was responsible for most of Duke Jean’s monument, a replica of his father's tomb; it was completed by an Aragonese sculptor, Juan de Heurta, and Antoine le Moiturier from Avignon. Moiturier was the nephew of Jacques Morel from Lyons, who trained in the Dijon studios and created a tomb for John the Fearless's daughter, the Duchess of Bourbon, located in Souvigny’s abbatial near Moulins, which M. Enlart has referred to as the most masterful sculpture work of the 15th century.
Dijon built no XIII-century cathedral. What to-day is its cathedral was originally the abbey church of St. Bénigne, not of architectural pre-eminence, but rich in historic memories. Abbot Hugues d’Arcy began it in 1280, in the hour of hope and energy that followed on the Council of Lyons, where Greek and Latin churches fraternally united. In 1286 the choir was dedicated and the relics of St. Benignus transferred from the crypt to the new sanctuary.
Dijon didn't build a 13th-century cathedral. What is now its cathedral was originally the abbey church of St. Bénigne, which isn’t architecturally exceptional but is full of historical significance. Abbot Hugues d’Arcy started it in 1280, during a time of hope and vigor that came after the Council of Lyons, where the Greek and Latin churches united in brotherhood. In 1286, the choir was dedicated, and the relics of St. Benignus were moved from the crypt to the new sanctuary.
St. Bénigne of Dijon is a secondary church compared with its neighbors, the cathedrals of Bourges and Lyons. The profiles are emasculated, the clearstory windows lack sufficient height, the wall surface above the triforium is monotonous, the denuded triforium of the nave lacks capitals, and despite the warm brown color of the stone, the general aspect of the interior is glacial. The Gothic effect has been marred further by the numerous busts and statues brought here from other churches after the Revolution.
St. Bénigne of Dijon is a lesser church compared to its neighbors, the cathedrals of Bourges and Lyons. The outlines are weak, the clerestory windows aren’t tall enough, the wall space above the triforium is dull, the bare triforium of the nave is missing capitals, and even with the warm brown color of the stone, the overall feel of the interior is cold. The Gothic vibe has been further ruined by the many busts and statues that were moved here from other churches after the Revolution.
Far surpassing in interest the somewhat pinchbeck Gothic upper church of St. Bénigne is its crypt, the oldest Romanesque monument in Burgundy. It lies beyond the actual apse. For eight hundred years it was the foundation of a rotunda church of the same type as the round church at Cambridge, England, the prototypes for both being certain Roman mausoleums. Originally the Dijon crypt opened westward on a crypt now lost—the basement for a Latin cross church—and where that juncture occurred are vestiges of buildings that antedate the actual crypt. The round church beyond the apse of St. Bénigne’s Gothic abbatial was destroyed during the Revolution, and its crypt filled in and forgotten. In 1858, while digging foundations for a new sacristy beyond the choir, the circular chamber was unearthed, in which was found a tombstone, apparently the ancient one of St. Benignus. Once again the venerable subterranean shrine became a pilgrimage for Burgundy.
Far exceeding the somewhat fake Gothic upper church of St. Bénigne is its crypt, the oldest Romanesque monument in Burgundy. It lies beyond the actual apse. For eight hundred years, it served as the foundation of a round church similar to the one in Cambridge, England, both based on certain Roman mausoleums. Originally, the Dijon crypt opened westward to a crypt that is now lost—the basement for a Latin cross church—where that connection occurred are remnants of buildings that predate the actual crypt. The round church beyond the apse of St. Bénigne’s Gothic abbey was destroyed during the Revolution, and its crypt was filled in and forgotten. In 1858, while digging foundations for a new sacristy beyond the choir, the circular chamber was discovered, which contained a tombstone, seemingly the ancient one of St. Benignus. Once again, the revered underground shrine became a pilgrimage site for Burgundy.
St. Bénigne’s crypt has double circular aisles. Its sculpture is rude, even amorphous, and testifies to the extinction of the art during the Barbarians’ immigrations. These rough designs on the capitals of St. Bénigne are, as it were, the first stutterings of the national pæans in praise of God and country that are the imaged portals of Gothic cathedrals.
St. Bénigne’s crypt has double circular aisles. Its sculpture is rough, even shapeless, and shows the decline of art during the time of the Barbarian invasions. These crude designs on the capitals of St. Bénigne are like the first tentative expressions of national praises for God and country that later appear in the sculpted entrances of Gothic cathedrals.
Abbot William of Volpiano, who made St. Bénigne’s Romanesque rotunda and its adjacent basilica, came from Cluny to reform the spiritual life of the Dijon monastery and rebuild its church. Born on an island in the lake of Orta, he had crossed the Alps with Abbot Majolus of Cluny. For over thirty years he exercised his double function of administrative reformer and architect in Burgundy[307] and in Normandy, introducing certain Lombard features such as alternating piers, arched corbel courses, and superimposed arcades for decorative effect, this latter being a Ravennate motive adopted by Lombardy. He began his two connecting churches at Dijon in 1001, and completed them in 1018, when there was a solemn dedication at which St. William preached most movingly. St. Bénigne is, therefore, the first-recorded monument built after the terrors of the year 1000, described by Raoul Glaber, who lived in this monastery.
Abbot William of Volpiano, who created St. Bénigne’s Romanesque rotunda and its nearby basilica, came from Cluny to transform the spiritual life of the Dijon monastery and rebuild its church. He was born on an island in Lake Orta and had crossed the Alps with Abbot Majolus of Cluny. For over thirty years, he served as both an administrative reformer and an architect in Burgundy[307] and Normandy, introducing various Lombard features such as alternating piers, arched corbel courses, and stacked arcades for decorative purposes, the latter being a design element from Ravenna that Lombardy adopted. He started building the two connected churches in Dijon in 1001 and completed them in 1018, when a solemn dedication took place, at which St. William preached very movingly. Therefore, St. Bénigne is the first recorded monument erected after the fears of the year 1000, which were described by Raoul Glaber, a resident of this monastery.
William of Volpiano founded schools, taught the plain chant to children, revised Gregorian music, and established centers for craftsmen. In manner he was authoritative, but one on intimate terms with him wrote: “No one can tell to what degree in him rose mercy and compassion. In famine time, he sold the gold plate of the church to feed the people.” To this day a gateway of Dijon bears his name, the Porte Guillaume.
William of Volpiano started schools, taught plain chant to kids, updated Gregorian music, and set up workshops for craftsmen. He was very authoritative, but someone close to him said: “No one can truly know how much mercy and compassion he had. During times of famine, he sold the church's gold plate to feed the people.” Even today, a gate in Dijon is named after him, the Porte Guillaume.
A century later Abbot Jarenton of St. Bénigne invited monks from Cluny to reanimate the spiritual life of his monastery. Paschal II blessed the Dijon abbatial, repaired after the fall of a tower in 1096. When in 1107 Aleth de Montbard, mother of St. Bernard, died in her castle two miles from Dijon, Abbot Jarenton hastened out to Fontaine-lès-Dijon to claim the body of the saintly woman for his hallowed crypt of St. Bénigne, and an enthusiastic procession carried the Blessed Aleth to the city. St. Bernard was an unknown lad at the time.
A century later, Abbot Jarenton of St. Bénigne invited monks from Cluny to revive the spiritual life of his monastery. Paschal II blessed the Dijon abbey, which was repaired after a tower collapsed in 1096. When Aleth de Montbard, the mother of St. Bernard, passed away in her castle two miles from Dijon in 1107, Abbot Jarenton quickly went to Fontaine-lès-Dijon to bring the body of the holy woman to his revered crypt of St. Bénigne, and a joyful procession carried Blessed Aleth to the city. St. Bernard was just an unknown young man at the time.
In 1131, Pope Eugene III blessed the Dijon abbatial subsequent to still other restorations. Finally, in 1271, the easternmost church of William of Volpiano was wiped out by fire (though his rotunda church was to stand till 1792), and the present St. Bénigne was begun immediately on the site of the destroyed Latin cross basilica.
In 1131, Pope Eugene III blessed the abbey in Dijon after more restorations were completed. Then, in 1271, the easternmost church designed by William of Volpiano was destroyed by fire (though his rotunda church would remain standing until 1792), and the current St. Bénigne was started right on the site of the ruined Latin cross basilica.
If the ex-abbatial which is now Dijon’s cathedral is secondary in size and character, the parish church of Notre Dame is a veritable gem of Gothic architecture, faultless in construction and of singular purity and unity. Its influence on the Gothic art of the province was widespread. After a fire in 1137, which consumed half the city, a Romanesque Notre Dame had risen. It was cited, in 1178, as the first of the town, its bells sounding the opening and the shutting of the city gates and alarms for fire.
If the former abbey that is now Dijon’s cathedral is smaller and less impressive, the parish church of Notre Dame is a true masterpiece of Gothic architecture, perfectly built and exceptionally pure and cohesive. Its impact on Gothic art in the region was significant. After a fire in 1137 that destroyed half the city, a Romanesque Notre Dame was constructed. In 1178, it was recognized as the main church of the town, with its bells marking the opening and closing of the city gates and sounding fire alarms.
The present church of Notre Dame was begun about 1220; a record referred to it as in use in 1245. The architect had to contend with difficulties. His funds were so small that a minimum of building material was necessary. Three sides of his edifice were bounded by public thoroughfares; hence it was impossible to spread out the piles required by flying buttresses; at the same time the limited plot of ground made it imperative not to encumber the small interior by clumsy piers. How to construct a secure edifice without big piers, thick walls, or flying buttresses was the problem.
The current church of Notre Dame began construction around 1220, with records indicating it was in use by 1245. The architect faced several challenges. His budget was so tight that he had to use a minimal amount of building materials. Three sides of the building were bordered by busy streets, making it impossible to extend the supports needed for flying buttresses. Additionally, the limited space meant he couldn't clutter the small interior with bulky piers. The challenge was to build a stable structure without large piers, thick walls, or flying buttresses.
The builder showed his genius when he used the inclosure wall to counterbut the vault thrust and yet dared open these walls by generous Gothic windows. For ten feet above the ground the walls are heavy; then they become a mere shell, skillfully doubled by the use of colonnettes of durable stone, each slender shaft being so weighted that it stands with the security of iron.
The builder showcased his brilliance by using the enclosing wall to counteract the pressure from the vault while also daring to open these walls with large Gothic windows. For the first ten feet above the ground, the walls are thick; then they become just a shell, cleverly reinforced with durable stone colonnettes, each slim column being so well-constructed that it stands as securely as iron.
The interior of Notre Dame appears charmingly spacious and airy. The XVII century added circular windows to the triforium of the apse, in character with the church, however. The exterior of the apse is plain and neat and, with the central lantern tower, composes an architectural group of simple elegance. The eastern buttresses fulfill a triple function as piers, as walls, and as counterbutting members. Technical subtlety is to be found throughout Notre Dame. The vaults of the side aisles were constructed to brace the principal span. The piers are uniform monoliths, but a sexpartite vault was built, though for a generation that system had been discarded in the north. The coping stones over the capitals of each alternate pier were enlarged to catch there the heavier weight.
The inside of Notre Dame feels charmingly spacious and airy. The 17th century added round windows to the triforium of the apse, fitting with the church's style. The outside of the apse is plain and tidy, and together with the central lantern tower, it creates a simple yet elegant architectural group. The eastern buttresses serve three purposes: as piers, as walls, and as counter-butting members. Technical subtlety can be found throughout Notre Dame. The vaults of the side aisles were built to support the main span. The piers are uniform monoliths, but a sexpartite vault was constructed, although that design had been out of use in the north for a generation. The coping stones above the capitals of every other pier were enlarged to better distribute the heavier weight.
There are so many points of resemblance between Notre Dame of Dijon and the choir of Auxerre Cathedral, begun in 1215, that M. Charles Porée has thought that the same architect designed both. Their profiles are alike, their capitals have similar salient crockets, and their colonnettes were cut from the quarry according to the rock’s horizontal strata, and not by the usual method of vertical cutting.
There are so many similarities between Notre Dame of Dijon and the choir of Auxerre Cathedral, which started in 1215, that M. Charles Porée believes both were designed by the same architect. Their outlines are similar, their capitals have comparable prominent crockets, and their colonnettes were shaped from the quarry based on the rock's horizontal layers, rather than the usual vertical cutting method.
In boldness of technique the small Dijon church is a masterpiece to which many an eloquent page has been devoted.[308] Beneath an apparent simplicity is unsurpassed scientific construction. The great engineer Vauban praised it, as did Soufflot, the XVIII-century architect of the Panthéon at Paris. The balanced equilibrium of the national art can be carried no farther, and only the use of hard Tonnerre stone permitted this successful audacity. Were a modern student to present such a plan to any commission, said M. Lassus, he would be dismissed as mad.
In terms of bold design, the small church in Dijon is a true masterpiece that has inspired many eloquent pages. Beneath its seemingly simple exterior lies unmatched scientific construction. The great engineer Vauban praised it, as did Soufflot, the 18th-century architect of the Panthéon in Paris. The perfect balance of national art can’t be taken any further, and only the use of durable Tonnerre stone made this remarkable boldness possible. If a modern student were to present such a design to any committee, M. Lassus said, they would be dismissed as crazy.
While the nave was building a narthex was added before the western entrance, consisting of a fifty-foot-deep porch. Notre Dame’s west façade rides astride two rows of pillars set close together before the narthex, again a case of strength being attained by the able use of double walls. The façade’s superimposed arcades, used merely as decoration, as at Pisa, prevented the employment of strong buttress ridges, and give to the western front of the church a most un-Gothic aspect. It cannot be said that the lamp of truth is upheld, since the frontispiece makes no pretense to express the three-aisled interior, but rises above the roof like an abstract screen. The gargoyles that alternate with some ancient superbly cut panels of foliage across the west front, date only from 1881, and, as usual with restorations, the grotesque element has been overemphasized. A manuscript of the XIII century relates that the original gargoyles were removed when a bridegroom (a money-lender) about to enter the church was killed by the fall of a protruding image that represented a man gripping a money bag.
While the nave was being built, a narthex was added at the western entrance, featuring a porch that is fifty feet deep. Notre Dame’s west façade is supported by two rows of closely spaced pillars in front of the narthex, showcasing strength through the effective use of double walls. The superimposed arcades on the façade, which serve purely as decoration, similar to those at Pisa, hindered the use of strong buttress ridges, giving the church's western front a distinctly non-Gothic appearance. It cannot be said that the light of truth is upheld, since the front doesn't even try to reflect the three-aisled interior but instead rises above the roof like an abstract screen. The gargoyles, which alternate with some beautifully carved ancient foliage panels across the west front, date back only to 1881, and as is typical with restorations, the grotesque elements have been exaggerated. A 13th-century manuscript notes that the original gargoyles were taken down when a bridegroom (a moneylender) was killed by the fall of a protruding figure that depicted a man holding a money bag just before he entered the church.
The imagery of Notre Dame’s portal has been entirely obliterated. When the Revolution voted to destroy “all signs of fanaticism,” an apothecary of Dijon mounted a ladder each morning and leveled with his hammer all the stonecutters’ work. The present image at the trumeau is a fragment saved from the late-Gothic Chartreuse of the Valois dukes. To Notre Dame Philippe le Hardi gave the Jacquemart[309] clock, one of his spoils from the sacking of Courtrai in 1382, whereat he had been assisted by the Dijon citizens par loyauté et parfait amour.
The imagery of Notre Dame’s entrance has been completely destroyed. When the Revolution decided to eliminate “all signs of fanaticism,” a pharmacist from Dijon climbed a ladder every morning and smashed all the stonecutters' work with his hammer. The current image on the trumeau is a piece salvaged from the late-Gothic Chartreuse of the Valois dukes. Philippe le Hardi gifted Notre Dame the Jacquemart[309] clock, one of his trophies from the plundering of Courtrai in 1382, where he was aided by the citizens of Dijon par loyauté et parfait amour.
SAINT BERNARD, AND CISTERCIAN INFLUENCE IN GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE[310]
SAINT BERNARD, AND CISTERCIAN INFLUENCE IN GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE[310]
What is genius? It is a mind in which imagination, intelligence, and feeling exist in an elevated proportion and in an exact equation. It is a mind which has a penetrating view of ideas, which incarnates them powerfully in marble, in brass, in language, and in that dust which we call writing, which also communicates to ideas an impulse from the heart to precipitate them, living, into the hearts of others. Genius is, with conscience, the most beautiful endowment of humanity.... Genius is the greatest power created by God for grasping truth. It is a sudden and vast intuition of the connections which bind beings together.... It is the faculty of rendering ideas visible to those who would not have discovered them by themselves, of incarnating them in speaking images, of casting them into the soul, enlightening it, subjecting it, thrilling it.—Lacordaire (1802-61; born in Burgundy).
What is genius? It's a mind where imagination, intelligence, and feeling coexist in a higher degree and perfect balance. It's a mind that has a sharp understanding of ideas, bringing them to life powerfully in marble, brass, language, and the written word, which also gives ideas a push from the heart to bring them, alive, into the hearts of others. Genius is, along with conscience, the most beautiful gift humanity has. Genius is the greatest force created by God for understanding truth. It's a sudden and expansive insight into the connections that link beings together. It's the ability to make ideas visible to those who wouldn’t have discovered them on their own, to express them in vivid images, to infuse them into the soul, enlightening it, captivating it, exciting it.—Lacordaire (1802-61; born in Burgundy).
Although modern Dijon may momentarily blot out much in its past history by renaming the square before Notre Dame Place Ernest Renan, auteur de “La vie de Jésus” (which work depicts the Saviour as an unconscious charlatan), and christening the square before the cathedral Place Blanqui, grand Révolutionnaire (Blanqui being the Communist who founded the journal Ni Dieu ni Maître), although it may mark one street sign Rue Babeuf, écrivain politique, démocrate très ardente (the socialist, Babeuf, was executed under the Directory), and another with an equal pedantry that is most un-French, Rue Diderot, auteur principale de l’Encyclopédie (the encyclopedia which railed at the Christian religion), none the less will the greatest honor of the ancient capital of Burgundy be the monk in whom western monasticism culminated, Bernard of Clairvaux, who led Dante to the Supreme Vision in Paradise, “who spoke to kings as a prophet, to the people as their leader, and transported Christendom by his eloquence,” the greatest of Cistercians, the greatest of Burgundians, and the last great Doctor of the Church.
Although modern Dijon may try to overshadow much of its past by renaming the square in front of Notre Dame Place Ernest Renan, author of “La vie de Jésus” (which portrays the Savior as an unconscious fraud), and naming the square in front of the cathedral Place Blanqui, great Revolutionary (Blanqui being the Communist who founded the journal Ni Dieu ni Maître), and although it may label one street Rue Babeuf, political writer, very passionate democrat (the socialist Babeuf was executed under the Directory), and another with a similar pretentiousness that feels very un-French, Rue Diderot, main author of the Encyclopédie (the encyclopedia that criticized the Christian faith), the greatest honor of the ancient capital of Burgundy will still be the monk who symbolizes the peak of western monasticism, Bernard of Clairvaux, who guided Dante to the Supreme Vision in Paradise, “who spoke to kings as a prophet, to the people as their leader, and moved Christendom with his eloquence,” the greatest of Cistercians, the greatest of Burgundians, and the last great Doctor of the Church.
As the XI century drew to a close, certain pious Benedictines, who regretted the laxity of rule in their own convent, retired to the marshy woods near Beaune, to Cîteaux, some twelve miles south of Dijon. There was started a new Order which languished during fifteen years, fever decimating the postulants, till the third abbot, St. Stephen Harding, stormed heaven with petitions to spare his dwindling flock. And efficacious prayers they appeared to be, for one spring day in 1113 there came to the abbey gates (Cîteaux’ name signifies Sistite hic, Halt here!) a group of thirty young nobles, whose conversion was to set all Burgundy talking.
As the 11th century was coming to an end, some devout Benedictines, unhappy with the relaxed rules in their own convent, retreated to the marshy woods near Beaune, specifically to Cîteaux, about twelve miles south of Dijon. They established a new Order, which struggled for fifteen years, with illness taking a toll on the new members, until the third abbot, St. Stephen Harding, fervently prayed for help to save his dwindling community. And it seemed those prayers were effective, because one spring day in 1113, a group of thirty young nobles arrived at the abbey gates (Cîteaux means Sistite hic, Halt here!), and their conversion would become a hot topic throughout Burgundy.
Their leader was Bernard of Fontaine-lès-Dijon,[311] then in his twenty-fourth year. When he experienced the call to a monastic life, he drew after him brothers, cousins, uncle, and friends. His mother, the Blessed Aleth, had impressed ineffaceably on his soul her own ardent love of God. As Peter the Venerable said in that same generation: “With us the virgin, the wife, the mother, expand the soul of the country by the breath of their piety.”
Their leader was Bernard of Fontaine-lès-Dijon,[311] who was then 24 years old. When he felt the call to a monastic life, he brought along brothers, cousins, an uncle, and friends. His mother, the Blessed Aleth, had deeply instilled in him her passionate love for God. As Peter the Venerable said in that same generation: “With us, the virgin, the wife, the mother, enrich the spirit of the country through their devotion.”
When the small band of enthusiasts were quitting the château of Bernard’s father, the elder brother and heir, Guy, told Nivard, the youngest of the six sons of Aleth, that now he alone remained to inherit the estate. “Ah,” cried the lad, “you would leave me the earthly reward while you gain the eternal? The exchange is not fair.” And in time he, too, sought his brothers in the cloister as did his father, who died in a Cistercian robe.
When the small group of enthusiasts was leaving Bernard’s father’s château, the elder brother and heir, Guy, told Nivard, the youngest of Aleth’s six sons, that he was the only one left to inherit the estate. “Ah,” the boy cried, “you would leave me the earthly reward while you gain the eternal? That’s not a fair trade.” Eventually, he, too, sought out his brothers in the cloister, just like his father, who died in a Cistercian robe.
All the nations of Europe were meeting then in the internationalism of monastic institutions. St. Stephen Harding, who was practically the founder of the Cistercian Order, who drew up its charter and began its centralized system of chapters-general, was an Englishman, educated in Sherborne abbey in Dorset, and later at Paris University. Feeling the desire to visit Rome in pilgrimage, he went there afoot, reciting each day, as he walked, the entire Psaltery. It is said that benignant joy shone in his face. To-day a Bible he translated is treasured in Dijon; he used to consult the learned rabbis of his acquaintance whenever in doubt concerning the Hebraic text. It was an hour of internationalism. A frequenter of St. Bernard’s own Clairvaux was St. Malachy O’Morgair, archbishop of Armagh, who died in Bernard’s arms in 1147. The Burgundian saint loved Malachy for his gentleness, his holiness, his delicacy of soul, and his noble majestic presence, and for him trained young Irish monks to serve in the reform needed then in the Celtic church, thus paying back to Ireland the debt incurred by the mission of Columbanus.
All the nations of Europe were coming together in the shared ideals of monastic institutions. St. Stephen Harding, who was essentially the founder of the Cistercian Order, wrote its charter and established its centralized system of general chapters, was an Englishman who studied at Sherborne Abbey in Dorset and later at the University of Paris. Wanting to make a pilgrimage to Rome, he walked there, reciting the entire Psalms each day as he went. It’s said that a kind joy radiated from his face. Today, a Bible he translated is cherished in Dijon; he would consult the learned rabbis he knew whenever he had questions about the Hebrew text. It was a time of internationalism. A regular at St. Bernard’s own Clairvaux was St. Malachy O’Morgair, archbishop of Armagh, who died in Bernard’s arms in 1147. The Burgundian saint admired Malachy for his gentleness, holiness, sensitivity, and noble presence, and trained young Irish monks to assist in the reforms needed in the Celtic church, thus repaying Ireland for the mission of Columbanus.
With such souls as Bernard and his kinsmen, the new Order governed by Abbot Stephen Harding took on fresh vigor. Pontigny was founded a year later, and in 1115 Bernard and twelve companions were sent to establish Clairvaux[312] in a former robber haunt given by the Count of Champagne, a valley of wormwood which they turned into a valley of light. By the middle of the XIII century there were five hundred Cistercian houses in Europe. In England, from 1125 to 1200, rose a hundred monasteries of the white monks, Fountains, Furness, Tintern, Kirkstall, “God’s castles,” wrote a contemporary, “where the servants of the true anointed King do keep watch, and the young soldiers are exercised in warfare against spiritual evil.” Many a Cistercian house was in Scotland and Ireland—Melrose, Mellifont, Boyle; in Germany and the north—Maulbronn, Arnsberg, Warnhem, and Sorö; in Spain—Poblet and Santa-Creus; in Portugal—Alcobaça. St. Bernard himself founded Chiaravalle near Milan, and on the spot of the Roman Campagna where St. Paul was beheaded flourished the Cistercian house of Tre Fontane, whose first abbot, trained under Bernard at Clairvaux, mounted Peter’s Chair as Eugene III.
With people like Bernard and his relatives, the new Order led by Abbot Stephen Harding gained new strength. Pontigny was established a year later, and in 1115, Bernard and twelve companions were sent to set up Clairvaux[312] in a former hideout for bandits that was given by the Count of Champagne, a valley of wormwood that they transformed into a valley of light. By the middle of the 13th century, there were five hundred Cistercian houses in Europe. In England, from 1125 to 1200, a hundred monasteries of the white monks emerged, including Fountains, Furness, Tintern, and Kirkstall. A contemporary wrote, “God’s castles, where the servants of the true anointed King keep watch, and the young soldiers train in the battle against spiritual evil.” Many Cistercian houses were also found in Scotland and Ireland—Melrose, Mellifont, Boyle; in Germany and the north—Maulbronn, Arnsberg, Warnhem, and Sorö; in Spain—Poblet and Santa-Creus; in Portugal—Alcobaça. St. Bernard himself founded Chiaravalle near Milan, and at the site on the Roman Campagna where St. Paul was beheaded, the Cistercian house of Tre Fontane thrived, with its first abbot, trained under Bernard at Clairvaux, eventually becoming Pope Eugene III.
Wherever the Cistercians went they promulgated the new Gothic building lore of France. Their churches with square east end, square chapels opening on transept arms, and neither tower, triforium nor clearstory, were built exactly alike whether it was in the far north as at Alvastra in Sweden, or in the far south as at Girgenti in Sicily. Burgundy’s abbatial at Fontenay is the type at its purest.
Wherever the Cistercians went, they spread the new Gothic architectural style from France. Their churches featured a square east end, square chapels opening onto the transept arms, and had no towers, triforia, or clerestories. They were built in the same way whether in the far north, like at Alvastra in Sweden, or in the far south, like at Girgenti in Sicily. The abbey in Fontenay, Burgundy, is the purest example of this style.
M. Camille Enlart was first to draw attention to the active rôle played by Cistercian monks in the dissemination of Gothic architecture in Europe.[313] All Cistercian churches were dedicated to the Mother of God, and the use of the gracious term Notre Dame spread from their abbatials to the cathedrals. Dante opens the final canto of the Paradiso by a eulogy of the Queen of Heaven, put into the mouth of St. Bernard, who never flagged in her praise, culling from Scripture every mystic and lovely name for her. Io sono il suo fedel Bernardo, the Burgundian proudly boasts in Paradise. Though Bernard’s devotion to his Dame souveraine was poles apart from Puritanism, his rules for ecclesiastic plainness were as rigid as those of the Puritans. His severe ideas concerning art restrained the earlier Cistercian churches, though his apostolate quickened the spiritual forces that soon were to rear the cathedrals.
M. Camille Enlart was the first to highlight the active role of Cistercian monks in spreading Gothic architecture across Europe. All Cistercian churches were dedicated to the Mother of God, and the lovely term Notre Dame spread from their abbeys to the cathedrals. Dante begins the final canto of the Paradiso with an ode to the Queen of Heaven, spoken by St. Bernard, who never ceased to praise her, using every mystical and beautiful name from Scripture. Io sono il suo fedel Bernardo, the Burgundian proudly boasts in Paradise. Although Bernard’s devotion to his Dame souveraine was completely different from Puritanism, his rules for ecclesiastical simplicity were as strict as those of the Puritans. His severe views on art limited the earlier Cistercian churches, but his mission energized the spiritual forces that would soon raise the cathedrals.
It has been said that to relate St. Bernard’s life is to resume the history of the XII century during half its course. He ended the schism of an anti-pope; he went up and down Europe preaching unity and peace and reconciling enemies; he journeyed into Languedoc to combat, by word, the Catharist heresy; fearlessly he rebuked scandal in high places. He drew up the Rule for the Military Order of Templars. His Book of Considerations, written for Eugene III, became a manual of behavior for the papacy. His treatise on Grace and Free Will defined so perfectly the Church doctrine of Justification that almost textually it was repeated by the Council of Trent. No man ever received more overwhelming ovations than Bernard; at Toulouse they crowded to kiss his hand till his frail arms were swollen past all movement; at Albi a jeering crowd was subjugated by one sermon; in northern Italy, such was the reverence for the maker of peace between the rival cities, that Genoa chose him as a patron, and Milan placed herself under his protection. As he crossed the Alps, word passed among the mountaineers, and his way became a triumphal procession. He was worn to a shadow in the service of Christendom when Eugene III commissioned him to preach the Second Crusade, and when the expedition proved a lamentable failure, Heaven sent this strong man, who had passed unscathed through the intoxication of human glory, the severer test of human disgrace.
It’s been said that telling the story of St. Bernard is like summarizing the history of the 12th century for half of its duration. He ended the schism caused by an anti-pope; he traveled across Europe preaching unity and peace and reconciling enemies; he went to Languedoc to fight the Catharist heresy with his words; and he boldly condemned scandals among the powerful. He created the Rule for the Military Order of Templars. His Book of Considerations, written for Eugene III, became a guide for behavior within the papacy. His treatise on Grace and Free Will defined the Church’s doctrine of Justification so clearly that it was nearly quoted verbatim by the Council of Trent. No one ever received more enthusiastic applause than Bernard; in Toulouse, people rushed to kiss his hand until his frail arms were too swollen to move; in Albi, a mocking crowd was silenced by just one sermon; in northern Italy, the reverence for the peacemaker between rival cities was so great that Genoa chose him as a patron, while Milan put itself under his protection. As he crossed the Alps, word spread among the mountain people, and his journey turned into a triumphant procession. He was drained from his service to Christendom when Eugene III sent him to preach the Second Crusade, and when that expedition ended in disaster, Heaven presented this strong man, who had remained unscathed by the intoxication of human glory, with the harsher challenge of human disgrace.
The figure of the greatest proselytizer since St. Paul is no vague one in history. Bernard was tall and slender, with chiseled features like polished ivory; his hair was red-blond; in his blue eyes was a flame of celestial purity. Many have testified to the serenity of his visage, the modesty of his attitude, and the almost superhuman influence he exerted on those who saw him. They say that the very sight of him preached. Apart from the numerous descriptions of him by his contemporaries, there are over four hundred of his own letters extant, letters straightforward, abrupt, ironic here and there, fearless, and warm-hearted. He swayed emperors and kings, yet retained always his personal humility. Reluctantly he tore himself from the peace of Clairvaux to direct the affairs of Europe, and eagerly he returned to the life of prayer and brotherly love. A preacher, he said, must be a man of prayer if he would convert men. He must be a reservoir kept full and overflowing, not merely a canal that can run dry.
The figure of the greatest proselytizer since St. Paul is well-defined in history. Bernard was tall and slim, with chiseled features like polished ivory; his hair was red-blond, and in his blue eyes was a spark of celestial purity. Many have mentioned the calmness of his face, the modesty of his demeanor, and the almost superhuman influence he had on those who saw him. They say that just looking at him felt like a sermon. Besides the many descriptions of him by his contemporaries, over four hundred of his own letters still exist, letters that are straightforward, abrupt, occasionally ironic, fearless, and warm-hearted. He influenced emperors and kings, yet always maintained his personal humility. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from the peace of Clairvaux to manage the affairs of Europe, and eagerly returned to a life of prayer and brotherly love. He believed that a preacher must be a person of prayer in order to convert others. He must be a reservoir that is full and overflowing, not just a canal that can run dry.
Some to whom the spiritual life is a dead letter have called the abbot of Clairvaux unsympathetic and superhuman. Others, while admiring him, regret his brusqueness and hardy invectives. It was not a day when controversialists handled their adversaries with gloves; witness Abélard’s onslaughts on those who disagreed with him on the most abstract theological points. No doubt, in some cases, Bernard’s zeal exceeded propriety; perhaps his father had touched exactly on the defect of his qualities when he advised him to keep measure in all things. But who that appreciates this great man would tone down his splendid vehemence? His love for morality and pure doctrine was a glorious passion. He struck at the sin, not the sinner. Such censures are the anger of love.
Some people who find the spiritual life meaningless have labeled the abbot of Clairvaux as cold and superhuman. Others, even while admiring him, regret his bluntness and harsh criticisms. It wasn’t a time when debaters were gentle with their opponents; just look at Abélard’s attacks on those who disagreed with him on the most abstract theological issues. It’s true that sometimes Bernard’s passion went too far; perhaps his father was right to advise him to maintain balance in all things. But who can appreciate this great man and downplay his remarkable intensity? His devotion to morality and pure doctrine was a powerful passion. He targeted the sin, not the sinner. Such criticisms come from a place of love.
And remark how the men whom Bernard rebuked accepted the humiliation of his public censures. When he asked the archbishop of Sens—the feudal lord, Henri le Sanglier, who began that cathedral—if he thought justice had disappeared from the rest of the world as it had from his own heart, the proud churchman set about curbing his autocratic tendencies, and died an honored pastor. No disputants ever more soundly berated each other than Abélard and Bernard, yet their reconciliation, brought about by kindly, large-minded Peter of Cluny, was frank and complete. And we have seen how Abbot Suger changed his worldly ways of life, how he reformed his monastery, and how the revenues hitherto wasted on a retinue of sixty horsemen were devoted to building the first Gothic monument in France.
And notice how the men who Bernard criticized accepted the humiliation of his public reprimands. When he asked the Archbishop of Sens—the feudal lord, Henri le Sanglier, who started that cathedral—if he thought justice had vanished from the rest of the world as it had from his own heart, the proud churchman began to check his autocratic ways and died as an honored pastor. No two debaters ever harshly criticized each other more than Abélard and Bernard, yet their reconciliation, facilitated by the kind and open-minded Peter of Cluny, was genuine and complete. And we’ve seen how Abbot Suger changed his worldly lifestyle, how he reformed his monastery, and how the funds that were previously wasted on a retinue of sixty horsemen were redirected to build the first Gothic monument in France.
St. Bernard was, without question, the most eloquent preacher of the Middle Ages, but the conversions he wrought were due as much to the purity, charity, and humility of his own life as to his unparalleled powers of persuasion. The ideal of that harsh age, despite its shortcomings, was saintliness, and when men found it incarnate in this Burgundian, they accepted him as their leader. Bernard held that it was false principles that led to social corruption, and to punish the evil act while the mental crime which led to it went unchastened, was illogical. So whenever the purity of Christian doctrine was threatened, this champion of the Cross emerged from his seclusion full armed for its defense. His vigilance was not bigotry. When a fanatical German monk preached a persecution of the Jews, the abbot of Clairvaux came to their defense: “The Just,” an old rabbi called him, “without whom not one among our people had saved his life. Honor to him who came to our succor in our hour of mortal anguish.”
St. Bernard was undoubtedly the most eloquent preacher of the Middle Ages, but the conversions he achieved were as much a result of the purity, compassion, and humility in his own life as they were of his unmatched persuasive skills. The ideal during that tough era, despite its flaws, was holiness, and when people saw this embodied in the Burgundian, they accepted him as their leader. Bernard believed that it was false principles that led to social corruption, and punishing the evil act while ignoring the mental wrongdoing that caused it was illogical. So whenever the integrity of Christian doctrine was at risk, this champion of the Cross emerged from his solitude fully prepared to defend it. His vigilance was not intolerance. When a fanatical German monk advocated for the persecution of Jews, the abbot of Clairvaux defended them: “The Just,” an old rabbi called him, “without whom not one among our people had saved his life. Honor to him who came to our aid in our hour of dire distress.”
In all Bernard’s writings is not one word of disloyalty to what he thought was right, not a trace of the hypocrite. If he thundered against ambition, cupidity, and that hypocrisy which moves about in dim corners, perambulante in tenebris, he knew that scandals there have been and will ever be, since even among the chosen twelve Judas betrayed, Peter denied, and Thomas doubted. He might flagellate ecclesiastic disorders as openly as Luther himself, but the pope called him the pillar of the Church and its guide. Towering above his fellow men morally, he took up his Master’s cord whips to drive the traffickers from the temple, but he left an altar in the sanctuary and a high priest at the altar, and his own life was blameless.
In all of Bernard’s writings, there’s not a single word of disloyalty to what he believed was right, nor a hint of hypocrisy. When he criticized ambition, greed, and the hypocrisy that lurks in the shadows, perambulante in tenebris, he understood that scandals have existed and will always exist, since even among the chosen twelve, Judas betrayed, Peter denied, and Thomas doubted. He could criticize the problems within the Church as openly as Luther did, but the pope called him the pillar of the Church and its guide. Morally towering over his peers, he took up his Master’s whips to drive the merchants out of the temple, but he left an altar in the sanctuary and a high priest at the altar, and he lived a blameless life.
The choicest spirits of the age sought Bernard’s friendship. He was loved by St. Norbert, whose new Order of Prémontré spread over Europe with the same rapidity as that of Cîteaux. He had links with the mystics in St. Victor’s abbey at Paris; Hugues de St. Victor submitted cases of conscience to him; Richard de St. Victor asked of him criticism on his book on the Trinity; and the Latin hymns of Adam de St. Victor breathe the selfsame spirit as that of the Burgundian mystic. Geoffrey de Lèves, who built the tower at Chartres, traveled with him in Italy and Languedoc. Pierre de Celle, who built the choir of St. Remi, at Rheims, wrote of Bernard: “His life, his fame, his works, his writings, his miracles, his faith, his hope, his charity, his chastity, his abstinence, his words, his visage, his gestures, the attitude of his body, all, in a word, rendered homage to his sanctity. He was the well-beloved disciple of the Lord, in whose honor he built, not only one basilica, but all the basilicas of the Order of Cîteaux. If, then, thou wouldst touch the pupil of Our Lady’s eye, write against Bernard.” And the bishop of Paris, who worked on the façade of Notre Dame, the schoolman, Guillaume d’Auvergne, testified that Bernard “lived in the highest perfection,” that his “wisdom proceeded not from human instruction, but from divine inspiration.” The first great master of scholasticism, Guillaume de Champeaux, the progenitor of Paris University, was bound to Bernard in loving friendship till his death, and asked to be buried in the abbey church at Clairvaux.
The most esteemed minds of the time sought Bernard’s friendship. He was cherished by St. Norbert, whose new Order of Prémontré spread across Europe just as quickly as that of Cîteaux. He had connections with the mystics at St. Victor’s abbey in Paris; Hugues de St. Victor presented ethical dilemmas to him; Richard de St. Victor sought his feedback on his book about the Trinity; and the Latin hymns of Adam de St. Victor resonate with the same spirit as that of the Burgundian mystic. Geoffrey de Lèves, who constructed the tower at Chartres, traveled with him through Italy and Languedoc. Pierre de Celle, who built the choir of St. Remi in Rheims, wrote of Bernard: “His life, his fame, his works, his writings, his miracles, his faith, his hope, his charity, his chastity, his abstinence, his words, his appearance, his gestures, the posture of his body, all, in summary, paid tribute to his holiness. He was the cherished disciple of the Lord, for whom he built not only one basilica but all the basilicas of the Order of Cîteaux. So, if you want to provoke the ire of Our Lady, speak against Bernard.” The bishop of Paris, who worked on the façade of Notre Dame, the scholar Guillaume d’Auvergne, affirmed that Bernard “lived in the highest perfection,” and that his “wisdom came not from human teaching, but from divine inspiration.” The first great master of scholasticism, Guillaume de Champeaux, the founder of Paris University, was devoted to Bernard in loving friendship until his death and requested to be buried in the abbey church at Clairvaux.
Detachment from the things of the world never weakened this saint’s human affections. What cry from a stricken heart is more moving than Bernard’s lament for his brother Gerard? That elder brother was following a knight’s career when Bernard won him for God’s service in the cloister. There for twenty-five years they lived side by side. They had just returned together from Italy when Gerard suddenly died. Dry-eyed, Bernard attended the burial, and dry-eyed he went about his daily tasks. He mounted the pulpit to continue an exposition of the Canticle of Canticles which he was conducting, and all at once his grief broke forth irresistibly in one of the sublime elegies of literature, recorded by a monk of Clairvaux who heard it: “What is there in common between this Canticle of joy and me who am in bitter anguish!... I have done violence to my heart.... Grief shut in but wounds with deeper sting. It has vanquished me. What I suffer must have its way. I must pour out my trouble before you, my sons, who knew the faithful comrade I have lost and the justice of my sorrow. You knew his vigilance, his sweetness; you knew my need of him. When I was weak in body, he strengthened me; when I hesitated he spurred me on; when I grew negligent he cautioned me. My Gerard! why have you left me to stumble alone on the road we two trod together, my brother by blood but still more by religion! Ah! I would know if you still think of one whom you loved, if, in God’s presence, you can lean toward our distress? You have shed your mortal weaknesses, but surely not your human tendernesses, for charity endures, says the apostle. No! my Gerard does not forget me in eternity! It was our joy to be together, inextricably were our spirits interlinked, the same thoughts, the same emotions, the same will; one only heart, one only soul between us; with one blow, the sword has pierced my heart and his.... That I might have tranquillity he took on his own shoulders the material cares of the convent. It was his heart bore my troubles. His eyes led my steps. Now, when a need rises I turn to where I think to find him, and he is not there!... I am deprived of the best part of myself and I must not weep. My heart is torn from my bosom, and I must not suffer.... But my courage is not of stone.... I suffer, I weep, and my grief is ever before me....”
Detachment from worldly things never diminished this saint’s human feelings. What cry from a broken heart is more touching than Bernard’s mourning for his brother Gerard? That older brother was pursuing a knight’s path when Bernard convinced him to serve God in the monastery. There they lived side by side for twenty-five years. They had just returned together from Italy when Gerard suddenly died. Bernard attended the burial without shedding a tear, and he carried on with his daily tasks dry-eyed. He took to the pulpit to continue explaining the Canticle of Canticles he had been discussing, and suddenly his sorrow surged forth uncontrollably in one of the most beautiful elegies in literature, recorded by a monk of Clairvaux who heard it: “What do joy and this Canticle have in common with my bitterness!... I’ve done violence to my heart... Grief kept inside stings even more. It has overcome me. I must express my suffering before you, my children, who knew the faithful companion I have lost and the reason for my sorrow. You knew his watchfulness, his kindness; you knew how much I needed him. When my strength faltered, he supported me; when I hesitated, he pushed me forward; when I became careless, he warned me. My Gerard! why have you left me to wander alone on the path we walked together, my brother by blood but even more in faith! Ah! I want to know if you still think of the one you loved, if, in God’s presence, you can feel our pain? You have shed your human weaknesses, but surely not your compassion, for love endures, says the apostle. No! my Gerard does not forget me in eternity! It was our joy to be together, our spirits were intertwined, sharing the same thoughts, the same feelings, the same purpose; one heart, one soul between us; with one blow, the sword has pierced both my heart and his... To give me peace, he took on himself the practical burdens of the convent. It was his heart that carried my troubles. His eyes guided my steps. Now, when a need arises, I turn to where I expect to find him, and he isn’t there!... I’m deprived of the best part of myself, and I mustn’t cry. My heart is ripped from my chest, and I mustn’t feel pain... But my courage isn’t made of stone... I suffer, I weep, and my sorrow is always before me...”
And so on it runs, this lamentation with its Hebraic note of sorrow’s passion. Impregnated through and through was Bernard with the Bible, and his speech fell naturally into its cadences. To mark the biblical references in his works would be, says the student, to fill half the pages with annotations.
And so this expression of sorrow keeps going, infused with a strong sense of grief. Bernard was deeply embedded in the Bible, and his speech flowed easily with its rhythms. The student says that highlighting the biblical references in his works would mean filling half the pages with notes.
There is a book of interior consolation, precious to humanity, which has preserved for us intact the spiritual teachings of this Cistercian abbot who led the XII century. Scholars say that the Imitation of Christ bears the direct impress of St. Bernard’s spirit, that it reproduced and analyzed his writings. Whoever its author, his prayer Da mihi nesciri has been answered.
There is a book of inner peace, valuable to humanity, which has kept intact the spiritual teachings of this Cistercian abbot from the 12th century. Scholars say that the Imitation of Christ reflects St. Bernard’s spirit directly and that it reproduces and analyzes his writings. No matter who its author is, his prayer Da mihi nesciri has been answered.
Those who have been comforted by the book which, next to the Bible, has been chief solace for the stricken heart, have leaned unaware on the purpose, the faith, and the purity of the greatest saint of the Middle Ages, the man who made Burgundy as illustrious by its Cistercian reformers and missionary builders as it had been by its Benedictines when Cluny was a world power.
Those who have found comfort in the book that, next to the Bible, has been the main source of solace for the troubled heart, have unknowingly leaned on the purpose, faith, and purity of the greatest saint of the Middle Ages, the man who made Burgundy as renowned for its Cistercian reformers and missionary leaders as it had been for its Benedictines when Cluny was a major power.
CHAPTER X
Gothic Art in Normandy[314]
The cathedral was perfected slowly and passionately. The Romans brought to it their force, their logic, their serenity. The Barbarians brought to it their naïve grace, their love of life, their dreamful imaginations. From this unpremeditated collaboration sprang a work modelled by times and places. It is the French genius and its image. It did not progress by fits and starts; it was not the servant of pride. It mounted in the course of centuries to complete expression. And that expression, one throughout the country, varies with each province, with each fraction of a province, just enough to make interesting the chain that joins all the pearls of this monumental necklace of France.
The cathedral was built slowly and with great passion. The Romans contributed their strength, logic, and calmness. The Barbarians added their innocent charm, zest for life, and imaginative dreams. This spontaneous collaboration produced a work shaped by different eras and locations. It's the essence of French creativity and its reflection. It didn’t develop in fits and starts; it wasn’t driven by arrogance. Over centuries, it reached a complete expression. And that expression, consistent throughout the country, varies in each region, even within each part of a region, just enough to make the connection among all the elements of this monumental necklace of France intriguing.
—Rodin, Les cathédrales de France.[315]
—Rodin, Cathedrals of France.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
IRTUALLY the land conquered by the vikings received its civilization
from monasteries. Like Burgundy, Normandy was a very Egypt, a Thebaid,
for the number of its religious houses. Each baron sought to have one on
his domain. In the capital of the duchy was St. Ouen, whose abbot owned
half the city; on the same Seine lay Jumièges, a center of letters and
arts, and farther down the river was St. Wandrille, “nursery for
saints”—three noted houses that inherited directly the apostolate of
Celtic Columbanus. From St. Wandrille went monks to establish Fécamp,
favorite of the Norman dukes, with an early-Gothic church equal to a
cathedral. Other monks from Fontenelle reorganized the most romantic
pile of monastic buildings in the world, Mont-Saint-Michel, guarded by
the patron of the kingdom of France, Sanctus Michael in periculo
maris.
VIRTUALLY the land conquered by the Vikings got its civilization from monasteries. Like Burgundy, Normandy was like a mini Egypt, or a Thebaid, due to the number of its religious houses. Each baron wanted to have one on his land. In the duchy's capital was St. Ouen, whose abbot owned half the city; along the same Seine River was Jumièges, a hub for letters and the arts, and further down the river was St. Wandrille, “nursery for saints”—three renowned houses that directly traced their legacy to the apostolate of Celtic Columbanus. From St. Wandrille, monks established Fécamp, favored by the Norman dukes, featuring an early-Gothic church as grand as a cathedral. Other monks from Fontenelle restructured one of the most romantic collections of monastic buildings in the world, Mont-Saint-Michel, protected by the patron of the kingdom of France, Sanctus Michael in periculo maris.
When that man of genius, William of Volpiano, abbot of St. Bénigne, at Dijon, came to Normandy to reform its houses, he himself rebuilt the abbatial church at Bernay which architecturally is an ancestress for such Romanesque work as Cerisy-la-Forêt, Lessay, the Caen abbatials, and St. Georges de Boscherville. At Mortain, at St. Sauveur-le-Vicomte, at St. Évroult, were monastery churches, and the picturesque ruins of Hambye cause one to mourn that Primary Gothic abbatial wrecked by the Revolution. St. Pierre-sur-Dives and the collegiate at Eu are later monastic works of the province. For its influence as a world power—what we may call the Cluny of Normandy—was Bec abbey that became, under Lanfranc the Lombard, and St. Anselm the Piedmontese, the intellectual leader of the West. Its mammoth church has gone the way of Cluny’s—scarcely stone left on stone.
When the brilliant William of Volpiano, abbot of St. Bénigne in Dijon, came to Normandy to reform the monasteries, he rebuilt the abbey church at Bernay, which is an architectural precursor to Romanesque works like Cerisy-la-Forêt, Lessay, the Caen abbeys, and St. Georges de Boscherville. In Mortain, St. Sauveur-le-Vicomte, and St. Évroult, there were monastery churches, and the striking ruins of Hambye make one lament the loss of that early Gothic abbey destroyed during the Revolution. St. Pierre-sur-Dives and the college at Eu are later monasteries in the region. Bec Abbey, often considered Normandy's equivalent to Cluny, became the intellectual leader of the West under Lanfranc the Lombard and St. Anselm the Piedmontese. Its massive church, like that of Cluny, has mostly disappeared, with hardly any stones left standing.
—(Inscription on a Benedictine monastery in France.)
In Bec, theology for the first time spoke the language of philosophy. Herlouin, an unlettered knight, who learned to write only at forty, founded, in 1034, an abbey on his lands on the banks of a beck in the valley of Brionne. With the monks who gathered round him, he was engaged in building with his own hands his convent when, one day in 1042, Lanfranc of Pavia arrived in their midst, the learned one needed by those simple, good men. Lanfranc had been teaching at Avranches, and was journeying to Rouen when brigands seized him in a forest near Bec, stripped and tied him to a tree to perish. Before aid came to him, as he faced death during long hours—learning that despite his scholarship he was incapable of reciting one single psalm to support his soul—a new comprehension of life dawned on him, and he vowed himself to the triumph of religion.
In Bec, theology for the first time used the language of philosophy. Herlouin, an uneducated knight who learned to write only at the age of forty, founded an abbey in 1034 on his lands by a small stream in the Brionne valley. While building the convent with the monks who gathered around him, one day in 1042, Lanfranc of Pavia arrived among them, the learned man needed by those simple, good people. Lanfranc had been teaching in Avranches and was traveling to Rouen when bandits captured him in a forest near Bec, stripped him, and tied him to a tree to die. Before help reached him, as he faced death for several hours—realizing that despite his education he couldn't recite a single psalm to comfort his soul—a new understanding of life came to him, and he dedicated himself to the success of religion.
The school which he opened in Bec abbey soon drew students from all parts of Europe. From northern Italy came young Anselm, destined twice to succeed his master, in Bec as prior, in Canterbury as archbishop. Lanfranc, practiced in the affairs of the world, a born statesman, was better fitted to be primate of England than was Anselm with his childlike, tender nature, and his subtle, speculative brain. Bec gave still a third archbishop to the see of Canterbury, Theobald, the patron of St. Thomas Becket; Martin, whilom abbot of Bec, built Peterborough Cathedral.
The school he opened in Bec Abbey quickly attracted students from all over Europe. From northern Italy came young Anselm, who would eventually succeed his mentor twice: first as prior in Bec, then as archbishop in Canterbury. Lanfranc, experienced in worldly matters and a natural leader, was more suited to be primate of England than Anselm, who had a gentle, childlike nature and a deep, analytical mind. Bec also produced a third archbishop for the see of Canterbury, Theobald, who was the patron of St. Thomas Becket; Martin, formerly the abbot of Bec, built Peterborough Cathedral.
For thirty-three years St. Anselm wrote and taught in Bec abbey, student first, then monk, then prior, and in 1078 abbot. There at night, while all the house slept, he wrote the books which have won for him the title of founder of the Christian philosophy of the Middle Ages. A forerunner of scholasticism, he was among the first to set forth the conformity of Christian doctrine with human reason. Dante places him in Paradise among the great contemplatives. The union of the mystic and the rational in theology, in the Norman abbey ruled by Anselm, started impulses which were to pass down through the centuries. An immediate result was the quickening of the mental life of the XII century. Among St. Anselm’s pupils at Bec was Anselm de Laon, whose classes, with those of Guillaume de Champeaux, are regarded as the nucleus of the University of Paris.
For thirty-three years, St. Anselm wrote and taught at Bec Abbey, starting as a student, then becoming a monk, later a prior, and in 1078, an abbot. There, at night, while everyone else slept, he wrote the books that earned him the title of founder of medieval Christian philosophy. A forerunner of scholasticism, he was one of the first to articulate how Christian doctrine aligns with human reason. Dante places him in Paradise among the great contemplatives. The combination of the mystical and the rational in theology, cultivated in the Norman abbey under Anselm's leadership, sparked influences that would resonate through the ages. One immediate outcome was the revitalization of intellectual life in the 12th century. Among St. Anselm's students at Bec was Anselm de Laon, whose classes, along with those of Guillaume de Champeaux, are considered the foundation of the University of Paris.
What is of interest to us here is that, from the hour of the opening of men’s minds to scholastic learning, rose the architecture of France, that the giant energy which built cathedrals had its source in a faith that believed in order that it might understand, which is St. Anselm’s own proposition, Credo ut intelligam, as well as it is the apogee flight reached by Plato, what the Greek philosopher called the wings of the soul. And Plato’s peer, XIII-century Aquinas, voiced the Greek’s vision, and repeated Anselm’s thought, in a hymn whose subtle stanzas are sung daily over Christendom: “Præstat fides supplementum sensuum defectui” (“Faith for all defects supplying where the feeble senses fail”). Anselm, with his “face of an angel,” naïvely enthusiastic over his metaphysical proof of God, writing alone in Bec, in the silence of the night, was digging unaware the foundations for Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, and those other visions of the Beyond to which man gave tangible shape in the scholastic-trained centuries because, believing, he understood.
What interests us here is that, from the moment people opened their minds to academic learning, the architecture of France emerged. The immense energy that built cathedrals came from a faith that believed in order to understand, which is St. Anselm’s own idea, Credo ut intelligam, as well as the high point reached by Plato, which the Greek philosopher called the wings of the soul. And Plato’s contemporary, Aquinas from the 13th century, expressed the Greek’s vision and echoed Anselm’s thought in a hymn whose delicate verses are sung daily across Christendom: “Præstat fides supplementum sensuum defectui” (“Faith supplies for all deficiencies where the weak senses fail”). Anselm, with his “angelic face,” naively enthusiastic about his metaphysical proof of God, writing alone in Bec, in the quiet of night, was unknowingly laying the foundations for Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, and those other visions of the Beyond that humanity gave tangible form in the academically trained centuries because, believing, he understood.
Sorely against his will St. Anselm left the peace of Bec to take up the duties of England’s primacy in an hour when the eternal lay-ecclesiastical controversy was embittered. The wanton and despotic William Rufus was the opponent who overwhelmed him. His sole friends were the little people for whom, at that time, any churchman who maintained independence against layman tyranny was a champion of civic liberties. The scholar of Bec was the only prelate of the many crossing from Normandy to England who displayed loving kindness for the downtrodden Saxons. Homesick in England, St. Anselm used pathetically to sign his letters to his intimates, “Brother Anselm by the heart, Archbishop of Canterbury by coercion.”
Sorely against his will, St. Anselm left the peace of Bec to take on the responsibilities of England’s primacy at a time when the ongoing church-state conflict was particularly intense. He was faced with the overbearing and tyrannical William Rufus. His only allies were the common people, who at that time viewed any church official who stood up against the tyranny of the nobles as a defender of their civil rights. The scholar from Bec was the only bishop among those crossing from Normandy to England who showed genuine compassion for the oppressed Saxons. Homesick in England, St. Anselm would sadly sign his letters to close friends as “Brother Anselm by the heart, Archbishop of Canterbury by coercion.”
At Le Bec-Hellouin to-day little remains of the abbatial whose choir once soared on twenty immense piers. Again and again the church was reconstructed. In 1077 Archbishop Lanfranc crossed the Channel for a dedication. Early in the XIII century the master-of-works at Rouen, Enguerrand, proceeded to Bec to superintend a new Gothic edifice. A fire in 1263 caused another renewal of the choir. In the Rayonnant day the nave was rebuilt on the same lines as St. Ouen’s abbatial. The religious wars of the XVI century damaged the church, whose demolition was continued as late as 1814. What now remains are a portion of the transept, a chapter house of the XII century, and the isolated tower of St. Nicholas (1467-80), another memorial of Normandy’s rejoicing to be free of foreign rule. Eight large statues adorn its upper walls.
At Le Bec-Hellouin today, there’s not much left of the abbey whose choir once rose high on twenty massive pillars. The church was rebuilt multiple times. In 1077, Archbishop Lanfranc came across the Channel for a dedication. In the early 13th century, the master builder from Rouen, Enguerrand, came to Bec to oversee a new Gothic structure. A fire in 1263 led to another renovation of the choir. During the Rayonnant period, the nave was reconstructed following the same design as St. Ouen’s abbey. The religious wars of the 16th century damaged the church, and its demolition continued as late as 1814. What remains now are part of the transept, a chapter house from the 12th century, and the standalone tower of St. Nicholas (1467-80), which is another testament to Normandy’s celebration of independence from foreign control. Eight large statues decorate its upper walls.
Bec had been pillaged by Henry V’s troops before Jeanne d’Arc’s advent, and the abbot then appointed by the invaders was one of the sixty university professors and ecclesiastics who condemned the Maid to death in Rouen, 1431. Ten abbots of Normandy thus tarnished their great names, but it is well to bear in mind that in each case the delinquent monastery had recently been sacked because of its patriotic stand against the foreigners, and that it was governed by a tool of the victors. Fifty Norman abbeys honored themselves by their absence from the torture of a young girl who had all England against her, half of France, as well as the perverted learning of Paris University.
Bec had been looted by Henry V’s troops before Jeanne d’Arc arrived, and the abbot appointed by the invaders was one of the sixty university professors and clergy who sentenced the Maid to death in Rouen, 1431. Ten abbots of Normandy stained their reputations, but it’s important to remember that in each case, the monastery had recently been attacked for standing up against the foreigners, and it was being led by a puppet of the victors. Fifty Norman abbeys distinguished themselves by not participating in the torture of a young girl who had all of England against her, half of France, and the twisted knowledge of Paris University.
NORMANDY’S ROMANESQUE SCHOOL[317]
NORMANDY’S ROMANESQUE SCHOOL__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
The Christian world made no mistake when, in calm confidence, it sought, under the wing of the Benedictine abbeys, that strong education of the Western races which made possible all the marvels of faith, courage, fervor, and humility with which Europe was illuminated from the XI to the XV century, from Gregory VII to Jeanne d’Arc.
The Christian world knew exactly what it was doing when it confidently pursued, under the guidance of the Benedictine abbeys, the strong education of Western cultures that led to all the wonders of faith, courage, passion, and humility that illuminated Europe from the 11th to the 15th centuries, from Gregory VII to Joan of Arc.
—Charles de Montalembert, The Monks of the West.
—Charles de Montalembert, The Monks of the West.
Normandy’s hardy personality showed at its best in her Romanesque monastic churches. Their design is decisive and vast, their construction solid—the Norman excelled in masoncraft—and as art they have never been surpassed for grave impressiveness. In the Norman minsters is a primeval energy admirably restrained, a massive grace, a something of reasoned simplicity lost in the Gothic cathedrals of the region. One who fell under the spell of Normandy’s Romanesque architecture has told how its repose “appeals to men and women who have lived long and are tired, who want rest, who have done with aspiration and ambitions, whose life has been a broken arch.... The quiet strength of these lines, the solid support of the moderate lights, the absence of display, of effort, of self-consciousness, satisfy them as no other art does. They come back to it to rest after a long cycle of pilgrimage—the cradle of rest from which their ancestors started.”[318]
Normandy’s strong character is best seen in its Romanesque monastic churches. Their design is bold and expansive, their construction sturdy—the Normans were master builders—and as art, they've never been surpassed in their serious impressiveness. The Norman churches hold a primal energy perfectly controlled, a substantial grace, and a simplicity of design that is lost in the region’s Gothic cathedrals. One person who was enchanted by Normandy’s Romanesque architecture described its calm as “appealing to people who have lived long and are weary, who seek rest, who have moved past dreams and ambitions, whose lives have been a broken arch.... The quiet strength of these lines, the solid support of the soft lights, the absence of showiness, of strain, of self-awareness, fulfill them like no other art can. They return to it for solace after many journeys—the cradle of rest from which their ancestors began.”[318]
No church earlier than the year 1000 has survived in Normandy. The Norseman, while still an unbaptized buccaneer, laid low every Merovingian and Carolingian edifice. All was in ruin. “From Blois to Senlis,” says the old record, “not an acre is plowed, for none dare work in the fields.” Then, Rollo, chief of the marauders, baptized in Rouen, settled down in the duchy granted him in fief by the harassed king of France. In an incredibly short time the erstwhile pagans became the most indefatigable of church builders. For Normandy, the date 911 is as important a landmark as is 910 for Burgundy, the year of Cluny’s foundation.[319]
No church older than the year 1000 has survived in Normandy. The Norsemen, while still unbaptized raiders, destroyed every Merovingian and Carolingian building. Everything was in ruins. “From Blois to Senlis,” says the old record, “not an acre is plowed, for none dare work in the fields.” Then Rollo, the leader of the marauders, baptized in Rouen, settled in the duchy that was granted to him as a fief by the troubled king of France. In an incredibly short time, these former pagans became the most dedicated church builders. For Normandy, the year 911 is as significant a milestone as 910 is for Burgundy, the year of Cluny’s foundation.[319]
The Norman Romanesque school made general use of the roll molding at window and portal, of griffes at the base of piers, blind arcading, intercrossing wall arches (that became monotonous in the Anglo-Norman school), and very frequently it contrived an interior passage at the clearstory level, whose effect was heightened by the use of arches of different designs in its outer and inner walls.
The Norman Romanesque style commonly featured roll molding around windows and doorways, brackets at the base of supports, decorative blind arches, and intersecting wall arches (which became repetitive in the Anglo-Norman style). Additionally, it often created an interior passage at the clerestory level, made more impressive by using arches with different designs on the outer and inner walls.
Certain archæologists contend that the predominant influences in the development of Norman Romanesque were Lombard, and that in this it differed from other French schools which in main part derived from local Carolingian work. As the Norman’s creative genius was not on a par with his constructive abilities, it seems reasonable to look for foreign influence when finding its school precociously formed by the middle of the XI century. The Lombards used, before the Normans, the alternate system of ground supports, cubic capitals, transverse arches, compound piers, crypts, and raised choirs, and their most striking feature of exterior decoration was the arched corbel table that made a continuous cornice. Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter says that diagonals were used in Lombardy early in the XI century as an expedient to economize wood, groin vaults being molded on a temporary wooden substructure, but as the Lombard never counterbutted his intersecting ribs, such vaults proved unsatisfactory and were given up after 1120. If the Norman had an early knowledge of diagonals through the Lombard, like the Lombard he failed to derive from them their constructive consequences. That fact of creative genius no one can deny to the Ile-de-France. Even if the controversy as to who first used Gothic ribs should be decided in favor of the Anglo-Norman school, and behind their use of it, traced to Lombardy’s Romanesque builders, none of them saw in it what Abbot Suger did—the radical member of a new system of building.
Certain archaeologists argue that the main influences on the development of Norman Romanesque architecture were Lombard, which set it apart from other French styles that largely came from local Carolingian work. Since the Norman’s creative abilities weren’t as strong as their construction skills, it makes sense to look for foreign influence when noting that their architectural style started forming by the middle of the 11th century. Before the Normans, the Lombards used an alternating system of ground supports, cubic capitals, transverse arches, compound piers, crypts, and raised choirs. One of their most notable features in exterior decoration was the arched corbel table that created a continuous cornice. Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter points out that diagonals were used in Lombardy early in the 11th century as a way to save wood, with groin vaults built on temporary wooden supports, but since the Lombard builders didn’t reinforce their intersecting ribs, these vaults turned out to be unsatisfactory and were abandoned after 1120. If the Normans learned about diagonals early from the Lombards, they also didn’t take full advantage of their structural implications. The creative genius of the Ile-de-France is undeniable. Even if the debate over who first used Gothic ribs ends up favoring the Anglo-Norman school, with their use traced back to the Romanesque builders of Lombardy, none of them recognized it as Abbot Suger did—a groundbreaking component of a new building system.
William of Volpiano, a Lombard, and an architect as well as a reformer, spent many active years in Normandy, where he died in 1031. At Fécamp he is said to have trained a group of masons. A decade after his death, Lanfranc, born in northern Italy, became a leader in the duchy, and under him was built the present nave of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes at Caen. It seems very natural to suppose that such men, alert as they were to architectural progress, should have exerted influence on the Norman school. However, M. Lefèvre-Pontalis thinks it wiser not to exaggerate the immediate influence from beyond the Alps. He holds that the Romanesque school of Normandy proceeded in main part from the same element as the other pre-Gothic schools of France, elements derived somewhat from Barbarian sources, but chiefly from Rome’s occupation of Gaul. In the case of Normandy the Barbarian influences would be largely Scandinavian, and there has been considerable speculation over the Norseman’s wooden structure and the Norman’s partiality for the pleated capital.
William of Volpiano, a Lombard, was both an architect and a reformer who spent many active years in Normandy, where he died in 1031. At Fécamp, he is said to have trained a group of masons. A decade after his death, Lanfranc, who was born in northern Italy, became a prominent figure in the duchy, and under his leadership, the current nave of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes in Caen was built. It seems quite natural to assume that such men, as they were to architectural advancements, would have influenced the Norman school. However, M. Lefèvre-Pontalis believes it's better not to overstate the immediate influence from beyond the Alps. He argues that the Romanesque school of Normandy largely came from the same roots as other pre-Gothic schools in France, drawing elements somewhat from Barbarian sources but primarily from Rome’s occupation of Gaul. In Normandy's case, the Barbarian influences would mainly be Scandinavian, and there has been much speculation about the Norsemen’s wooden structures and the Normans’ preference for the pleated capital.
Mr. John Bilson is unsympathetic to Mr. Kingsley Porter’s ideas of Lombard influence in Normandy, and he considers the early dates ascribed to Lombard diagonals most improbable. Why, he asks, if the solution was reached in Lombardy about 1025, did it take three quarters of a century for the Normans, directly in contact with the builders of Italy, to arrive after long experimenting at the same intersecting ribs? He claims that the Ile-de-France was indebted to Normandy for diagonals, which were not in use in the royal domain before 1130, but that, once that school came into possession of intersecting pointed arches and flying buttresses, it developed from them a new system of construction, clothing it with a new expression, which we call Gothic. The controversy is by no means closed.
Mr. John Bilson is not convinced by Mr. Kingsley Porter’s ideas about Lombard influence in Normandy, and he finds the early dates attributed to Lombard diagonals very unlikely. Why, he asks, if the solution was figured out in Lombardy around 1025, did it take the Normans, who were directly in touch with the builders in Italy, three-quarters of a century to arrive at the same intersecting ribs after a long period of experimentation? He argues that the Ile-de-France owed its diagonals to Normandy, which hadn't adopted them in the royal domain before 1130. However, once that region gained access to intersecting pointed arches and flying buttresses, it developed a new construction system with a fresh expression, which we refer to as Gothic. The debate is definitely not over.
Normandy’s Romanesque school spread far afield.[320] It passed into Picardy and penetrated as far south as Chartres. It crossed the Channel with the adventurers who descended on England, and with other free lances who carved out distant kingdoms for themselves, its characteristics appeared in southern Italy and Sicily.
Normandy’s Romanesque style spread widely.[320] It reached Picardy and extended all the way to Chartres. It crossed the Channel with the adventurers who invaded England, and along with other mercenaries who established their own kingdoms, its features were evident in southern Italy and Sicily.
The ornamentation of the Norman school came in part from Oriental or Byzantine sources already in use in the Carolingian era, and in part from Scandinavian. Unlike Burgundy, this province, despite its good stone, never won distinction in sculpture either in the Romanesque or the Gothic day. Never was Norman decoration equal to Norman construction, otherwise this school would be without a peer. Its ornamentation lacks variety and imagination. Geometric designs were endlessly repeated. Both in England and in Normandy the traveler grows weary of the zigzag or chevron motive, taken from Merovingian interlacings, or Carolingian triangular outlines, and very weary, too, of its variants, the dog-tooth or star ornament, and the fret or meander which reproduced a classical motive. The Carolingian billet molding was also overused. Such monotony of decoration was probably the defect of a good quality—caution and thoroughness. The Norman seldom attempted what he could not put through, hence his churches were usually completed, even to having their towers crowned by stone spires. The builders of the Ile-de-France were less cautious, but more sublime.
The ornamentation of the Norman school partly came from Eastern or Byzantine influences that were already being used in the Carolingian era, and partly from Scandinavian sources. Unlike Burgundy, this region, despite having quality stone, never became notable for its sculpture in either the Romanesque or Gothic periods. The Norman decoration could never match the brilliance of Norman architecture; otherwise, this school would have been unrivaled. Its ornamentation is lacking in variety and creativity. Geometric designs were repeatedly used without variation. Travelers in both England and Normandy grow tired of the zigzag or chevron pattern, derived from Merovingian weavings, or Carolingian triangular shapes, and they also grow weary of variations like the dog-tooth or star motifs, as well as the fret or meander that echo classical designs. The Carolingian billet molding was also overdone. This monotony in decoration likely stemmed from a positive trait—caution and thoroughness. Normans rarely attempted anything they couldn’t execute, which is why their churches were usually completed, even featuring stone spires atop their towers. The builders of the Ile-de-France were less cautious but more awe-inspiring.
Aucun pays n’avait fourni au moyen âge plus de missionnaires chrétiens qu’Irlande, ni d’hommes empressés de répandre chez les nations étrangères les études de leur patrie.—A. Thierry.
Aucun pays n’avait fourni au moyen âge plus de missionnaires chrétiens qu’Irlande, ni d’hommes empressés de répandre chez les nations étrangères les études de leur patrie.—A. Thierry.
The first Romanesque church of Normandy with architectural pretensions, the first to present the regional school fully formed, was the abbatial of Jumièges, begun about 1040. That virile, rugged “château de Dieu” stands on a semi-island of the Seine where the river makes a gracious twenty-mile meander, or rather, there stand the “incredible masses of masonry” which are the ruins of Jumièges, a wall of the big central lantern, a roofless nave, and two gaunt façade towers, the only Norman towers entirely of the XI century. In all France is no more austere, stark, and grandiose a ruin.
The first Romanesque church in Normandy with significant architectural ambition, the first to showcase the fully developed regional style, was the abbey of Jumièges, which started construction around 1040. That strong, rugged “château de Dieu” sits on a small peninsula of the Seine where the river gracefully curves in a twenty-mile bend. Here lie the “incredible masses of masonry” that make up the ruins of Jumièges: a wall of the large central lantern, a roofless nave, and two towering façade structures, the only Norman towers from the 11th century. There is no more austere, stark, and grand ruin in all of France.
How from such a predecessor as Bernay’s abbatial the Norman could immediately evolve an architectural feat as tremendous as Jumièges seems explicable only by some strong exterior impetus. Here is the Lombard alternance of ground supports over whose origin in Normandy much printer’s ink has been spilled. As the Lombard groin vault embraced two bays, a strong pier was needed only for the transverse arch separating the large square vault sections; or if a timber roof was used, a reinforced pier was required only for the bigger tiebeams. Now, at Jumièges, the lower structure proves (say certain archæologists) that never was a masonry roof planned for, so it is probable that the open timber roof required heavy tiebeams only at every other bay, hence an alternance of substantial and slight piers to correspond to the alternance of big beams and little beams. Jumièges also used the Lombard engaged shaft. Its uniform hautes colonnes, without capitals, rise from soil to roof, serving as interior buttresses, and some say as supports for the tiebeams, since they rose too high to be intended for a masonry roof. They bind together the three stories, and æsthetically their rhythm breaks the monotony of the plain walls. Mr. John Bilson thinks that the wall shafts of Jumièges can have had no other motive than to support a vault over the principal span, and cannot have been the supports of mere tiebeams. They may have been planned, suggests Prof. Baldwin Brown, to carry an undergirding arch such as occurs beneath some wooden roofs.
How the Norman could immediately create such an impressive architectural achievement as Jumièges from a predecessor like Bernay’s abbey seems to be explained only by a significant external influence. Here we see the Lombard style of alternating ground supports, the origins of which in Normandy have been extensively debated. In the Lombard groin vault, two bays required just a strong pier for the transverse arch that separates the large square vault sections; or if a timber roof was used, only a reinforced pier was necessary for the larger tiebeams. However, at Jumièges, the lower structure indicates (according to some archaeologists) that a masonry roof was never intended, so it’s likely that the open timber roof needed heavy tiebeams only at every other bay, resulting in a mix of strong and light piers to match the pattern of large and small beams. Jumièges also incorporated the Lombard engaged shaft. Its uniform hautes colonnes, lacking capitals, rise from the ground to the roof, acting as interior buttresses, and some believe they also support the tiebeams since they extend too high to be meant for a masonry roof. They connect the three stories, and aesthetically, their rhythm enhances the blandness of the plain walls. Mr. John Bilson argues that the wall shafts of Jumièges must have had the sole purpose of supporting a vault over the main span, rather than simply supporting tiebeams. Prof. Baldwin Brown suggests they may have been designed to carry an undergirding arch similar to those found beneath some wooden roofs.
Normandy’s invention of the sexpartite vault came about, thinks M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, through her predilection for multiple lines. With such Gothic vaults—each section of which embraced two bays—she proceeded to reroof various of her Romanesque abbatials, whose already existent alternated piers were thus made logical. Almost it would seem as if the presence of ground supports, substantial and slight, had called into being the new type of masonry roof. St. Denis used a sexpartite vault in 1140, and M. Lefèvre-Pontalis suggested, at one time, that Normandy derived the idea from the Ile-de-France. In the royal domain, however, no steps are to be found leading up to it, whereas in Normandy can be seen sexpartite vaults of primitive design, such as those covering the Abbaye-aux-Dames, which consist merely of two diagonals with a transverse rib crossing their apex. In the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, where the timber roof of the nave was replaced by a Gothic vault as early, perhaps, as 1135, the vault web is warped to the intermediate transverse rib. It has been suggested that the sexpartite vault originated from the employment of the diaphragm arch.
Normandy’s creation of the sexpartite vault, according to M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, stemmed from her preference for multiple lines. With these Gothic vaults—each section covering two bays—she went on to reroof several of her Romanesque abbeys, making sense of the alternating piers that were already there. It almost seems like the presence of both sturdy and slender ground supports inspired this new style of masonry roof. St. Denis used a sexpartite vault in 1140, and at one point, M. Lefèvre-Pontalis suggested that Normandy got the idea from the Ile-de-France. However, in the royal region, there are no examples leading up to it, whereas in Normandy, you can find primitive designs of sexpartite vaults, like the ones at Abbaye-aux-Dames, which consist only of two diagonal ribs with a transverse rib crossing at the top. In the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, where the timber roof of the nave was replaced by a Gothic vault as early as 1135, the vault web is warped toward the intermediate transverse rib. It has been proposed that the sexpartite vault came from using the diaphragm arch.
Jumièges abbey church was dedicated “with great spiritual joy,” so an old chronicle relates, by saintly Archbishop Maurille of Rouen, in the presence of William the Conqueror and Matilda. Maurille had been trained at Fécamp under the great William of Volpiano. A Gothic choir, added to the abbatial later, was blown up after the Revolution by a contractor who acquired the monastery in order to sell its stones as building material. Under the flank of the now roofless nave nestles a ruined little church of the XIV century, St. Peter its tutelary. Two of its bays incorporate parts from a Carolingian church built by Rollo’s son, William Longsword (928-943). They are of archæological interest in being the oldest examples extant of twin arches beneath a common arch for the tribune-opening on the middle vessel. The arrangement became popular in the Romanesque churches of Normandy and England, and can be seen at Mont-Saint-Michel, Rochester, Ely, Gloucester, Peterborough, and Winchester.
Jumièges Abbey Church was dedicated “with great spiritual joy,” as an old chronicle mentions, by the holy Archbishop Maurille of Rouen, in the presence of William the Conqueror and Matilda. Maurille had been trained at Fécamp under the renowned William of Volpiano. A Gothic choir, added to the abbey later, was destroyed after the Revolution by a contractor who bought the monastery to sell its stones as building material. Beneath the now roofless nave lies a ruined little church from the 14th century, dedicated to St. Peter. Two of its bays incorporate sections from a Carolingian church built by Rollo’s son, William Longsword (928-943). These are of archaeological interest as they are the oldest surviving examples of twin arches beneath a common arch for the tribune-opening in the center aisle. This design became popular in the Romanesque churches of Normandy and England, and can be seen at Mont-Saint-Michel, Rochester, Ely, Gloucester, Peterborough, and Winchester.
Jumièges was an ancient foundation of Clovis II and Queen Bathilde. They granted forests on the Seine to St. Philibert (d. 684), who had been an intimate at the Merovingian court, of St. Ouen and St. Wandrille. To obtain the Celtic rule of Columbanus at its source, Philibert visited Luxeuil and Bobbio, and he dedicated a chapel of his abbatial at Jumièges to the Irish missionary. His own cult was to crop out at Tournus and Dijon when the Norse piratical inroads drove the inmates of wrecked monastic houses into Burgundy.
Jumièges was an ancient establishment founded by Clovis II and Queen Bathilde. They gave forests along the Seine to St. Philibert (d. 684), who had been close to the Merovingian court, along with St. Ouen and St. Wandrille. To connect with the Celtic teachings of Columbanus, Philibert traveled to Luxeuil and Bobbio, where he dedicated a chapel in his abbey at Jumièges to the Irish missionary. His own following was later to emerge in Tournus and Dijon when Norse raids forced the residents of ruined monasteries to flee to Burgundy.
Jumièges was a scene of pillage and massacre during the last acts of the Capet-Plantagenet duel, when Henry V, the victor of Agincourt, overran Normandy. The abbot, then appointed, sat in judgment on St. Jeanne in 1431, and fell down dead three months later. After Charles VII had entered Rouen as conqueror, in 1449, he retired to Jumièges. During the feasts of rejoicing la dame de beaulté, Agnes Sorel, died in a manor close by, and her memorial stone in Jumièges abbatial recorded her “pitiful loving kindness to all men and especially the poor and children.” Days of decline came for Jumièges under her commendatory abbots. A XVII-century revival of learning was led by the reformers of the Congregation of St. Maur, but the famous establishment went under completely during the Revolution. The sequence is the same for most French abbeys.
Jumièges was a scene of looting and massacre during the final acts of the Capet-Plantagenet conflict, when Henry V, the victor of Agincourt, invaded Normandy. The appointed abbot presided over the trial of St. Jeanne in 1431 and died just three months later. After Charles VII triumphantly entered Rouen in 1449, he withdrew to Jumièges. During the celebration festivities, la dame de beaulté, Agnes Sorel, passed away in a nearby manor, and her memorial stone in Jumièges abbey noted her “compassionate kindness to all, especially the poor and children.” Jumièges experienced a decline under its commendatory abbots. A 17th-century revival of learning was led by the reformers of the Congregation of St. Maur, but the renowned establishment was completely destroyed during the Revolution. The pattern was similar for most French abbeys.
Farther down the Seine, at what once was Fontenelle, stand the less imposing ruins of St. Wandrille’s abbatial, consisting of a transept of the XIII century and a Flamboyant Gothic cloister, whose lave-mains is a gem of Renaissance delicacy. The house was founded in 649 by St. Wandrille, of Merovingian blood. Like his friend, Philibert of Jumièges, he sought the rule of St. Columbanus at its fountainhead, though the more equable rule of St. Benedict was to prevail in French religious establishments before the VII century closed. St. Wandrille trained many of the saints who planted monasteries over northern France, and in later centuries the Duke of Normandy chose monks from St. Wandrille’s abbey to institute a Benedictine house of prayer on the rock of St. Michael-in-peril-of-the-sea.
Farther down the Seine, where Fontenelle used to be, are the less impressive ruins of St. Wandrille’s abbey, which features a transept from the 13th century and a Flamboyant Gothic cloister, with its lave-mains being a delicate gem of the Renaissance. The abbey was established in 649 by St. Wandrille, who came from Merovingian lineage. Like his friend Philibert of Jumièges, he aimed to follow the rule of St. Columbanus right from its source, although the more balanced rule of St. Benedict would become dominant in French religious institutions before the 7th century ended. St. Wandrille trained many saints who went on to create monasteries across northern France, and in later centuries, the Duke of Normandy selected monks from St. Wandrille’s abbey to set up a Benedictine house of prayer on the rock of St. Michael-in-peril-of-the-sea.
Clochers of France,
By what allure of pious impulse Carry yourself away so quickly and so high into the skies. Our regards and our hope?...
Long and similar to these sharp spears
That the giants were poking at the ground,
You ascended in one go to challenge the flight. Desperate swallows. —Georges Lafenestre, “Church Towers of France.”[323]
Caen played a prominent part in the builder’s story of Normandy. It has been called the Romanesque Mecca. Its church of St. Nicolas (c. 1180-93), one of the most interesting Romanesque edifices of the duchy, is dismantled, but the Abbaye-aux-Hommes or St. Étienne, and the Abbaye-aux-Dames, or Ste. Trinité, are in good repair. All the world knows how William the Conqueror and his good and gentle Matilda of Flanders each founded an abbey in Caen, “that God might be served by both sexes and thus pardon their transgression.” Their marriage disobeyed Church regulations concerning consanguinity and a canonical atonement was required. Matilda’s tomb rests in the middle of the choir she built. Her epitaph was inscribed in letters of gold: “Consoler of the needy, lover of piety, a woman who, having lavished her treasures in good works, was poor to herself, but rich to the unfortunate. Thus she sought the fellowship of eternal life on the second of November, 1083.”
Caen played a significant role in the builder’s narrative of Normandy. It has been referred to as the Romanesque Mecca. Its church of St. Nicolas (c. 1180-93), one of the most notable Romanesque buildings in the duchy, is in ruins, but the Abbaye-aux-Hommes or St. Étienne, and the Abbaye-aux-Dames, or Ste. Trinité, are well-preserved. Everyone knows how William the Conqueror and his kind and gentle Matilda of Flanders each established an abbey in Caen, “so that God might be served by both men and women and thus forgive their transgressions.” Their marriage went against Church rules concerning blood relations, and a canonical atonement was necessary. Matilda’s tomb sits in the center of the choir she constructed. Her epitaph was written in gold letters: “Consoler of the needy, lover of piety, a woman who, having poured her wealth into good deeds, was poor to herself, but rich to the unfortunate. Thus she sought the fellowship of eternal life on the second of November, 1083.”
The Crypt of the Abbaye-aux-Dames at Caen (1059-1066)
The Crypt of the Abbaye-aux-Dames in Caen (1059-1066)
The Abbaye-aux-Dames, begun about 1059, was dedicated in 1066 by the same Archbishop Maurille who blessed the new church at Jumièges. A few weeks after the ceremony, William descended on England, which his knights and villeins conquered to the chant of the Chanson de Roland, written by some unknown poet who, like themselves, looked to the Archangel of the Peril for inspiration. Yet a few decades more and Roland’s war song was sung by the first crusaders before Jerusalem. Architecture, crusades, language, literature—many were the vital movements then coming to birth.
The Abbaye-aux-Dames, started around 1059, was dedicated in 1066 by the same Archbishop Maurille who blessed the new church at Jumièges. A few weeks after the ceremony, William invaded England, which his knights and peasants conquered to the tune of the Chanson de Roland, written by an unknown poet who, like them, sought inspiration from the Archangel of Danger. Just a few decades later, Roland’s war song was sung by the first crusaders outside Jerusalem. Architecture, crusades, language, literature—there were many significant movements emerging at that time.
On the day of the blessing of Matilda’s convent of the Holy Trinity, her little daughter, Cécile, was laid on the altar and dedicated to God’s service. For almost fifty years her aunt, Matilda, daughter of Richard II and the fair Judith of Brittany, ruled the Abbaye-aux-Dames, and then Cécile succeeded as second abbess; Dame de la ville de Caen, her brother Henry I of England called her. Cécile was one of the learned ladies of her day, having studied philosophy and belles-lettres under the patriarch of Jerusalem. One recalls that it was a contemporary abbess—at St. Odile in Alsace—who made the first attempt to compile an encyclopedia. Several English princesses were nuns of the Trinité, among them the daughters of Henry III and Edward I. In a later century Charlotte Corday was a pupil of the convent.
On the day of the blessing of Matilda’s convent of the Holy Trinity, her little daughter, Cécile, was placed on the altar and dedicated to God’s service. For almost fifty years, her aunt Matilda, the daughter of Richard II and the beautiful Judith of Brittany, led the Abbaye-aux-Dames, and then Cécile took over as the second abbess; Dame de la ville de Caen, her brother Henry I of England called her. Cécile was one of the educated women of her time, having studied philosophy and literature under the patriarch of Jerusalem. It's worth noting that a contemporary abbess at St. Odile in Alsace made the first attempt to compile an encyclopedia. Several English princesses were nuns at the Trinité, including the daughters of Henry III and Edward I. In a later century, Charlotte Corday was a student at the convent.
It has been thought that Gundulf, a monk of Bec, called to Caen by Lanfranc, was architect of the Abbaye-aux-Dames, where his mother had retired as a nun. This learned and pious man had entered Bec in the same year as St. Anselm, and when he had become the bishop of Rochester he remained faithful to Anselm, then the primate of England, facing bitter troubles with the king. The saint came to attend the good bishop on his deathbed. Gundulf rebuilt Rochester Cathedral, whose crypt and western bays are of his time (1076-1108); Rochester Tower, too, he raised, and the chapel of St. John in London Tower. It was said of him that he was the most skilled of all men in masoncraft.
It is believed that Gundulf, a monk from Bec, was called to Caen by Lanfranc and was the architect of the Abbaye-aux-Dames, where his mother had become a nun. This knowledgeable and devout man entered Bec in the same year as St. Anselm, and when he became the bishop of Rochester, he stayed loyal to Anselm, who was then the primate of England, despite facing severe challenges with the king. The saint came to be with the good bishop on his deathbed. Gundulf rebuilt Rochester Cathedral, and its crypt and western bays date back to his time (1076-1108); he also constructed Rochester Tower and the chapel of St. John in London Tower. People said he was the most skilled mason of all.
The apse of the Trinité is considered one of the best things in Caen. It stands over a crypt whose sixteen piers are in four rows. When the choir was renovated, after 1100, some of its sculptures were modeled on certain Byzantine ivories that had been brought as gifts to Abbess Cécile by her crusading brother. The abbatial’s triforium is a blind arcade behind whose wall was essayed some very primitive flying buttresses. The present sexpartite vault was an early trial of that Norman form of the Gothic masonry roof, and is really a quadripartite vault divided by a transverse rib, the web being unwarped to that intermediate member. Though the XII century replaced the original timber roof of the Trinité by this sexpartite one, exactly when it was done is not known. But those interested in claiming priority for Normandy in the use of diagonal ribs place it before the sexpartite vaulting of St. Denis. The XIII century added a handsome Gothic chapel to the transept of Matilda’s convent church.
The apse of the Trinité is regarded as one of the highlights of Caen. It sits over a crypt supported by sixteen piers arranged in four rows. After 1100, when the choir was renovated, some of its sculptures were modeled after certain Byzantine ivories that Abbess Cécile received as gifts from her crusading brother. The abbatial's triforium is a blind arcade, and behind its wall, some very basic flying buttresses were attempted. The current sexpartite vault was an early attempt at that Norman style of Gothic masonry roofing, and it's actually a quadripartite vault divided by a transverse rib, with the web not warped to that intermediate member. Although the 12th century replaced the original timber roof of the Trinité with this sexpartite vault, the exact timing of the change is unknown. However, those who want to argue for Normandy's early use of diagonal ribs claim it happened before the sexpartite vaulting of St. Denis. The 13th century added a beautiful Gothic chapel to the transept of Matilda’s convent church.
As the expiatory abbatial erected by the Conqueror was on a far larger scale than the Abbaye-aux-Dames, it took longer to build; perhaps the same Gundulf of Bec and Rochester was its architect. Over the aisles are deep tribunes, some of whose bays have retained their primitive vaults of the same type as those at Tournus in Burgundy—half barrels placed side by side on lintels at right angles to the axis of the church. The original roof of the principal span was replaced by the actual sexpartite vault (whose web is warped to the six branches) about 1130, said M. Régnier; other archæologists have placed it a generation later. By the addition of a sexpartite vaulting the much-discussed Lombard alternate piers were no longer inconsequent. The height to which the wall shafts of the nave are carried indicates that the cowled architect had not purposed originally to cover his main span with a stone roof. When the Gothic vaulting was added the clearstory was changed in the interior of the church, but the exterior was left as first built.
As the abbatial built for atonement by the Conqueror was on a much larger scale than the Abbaye-aux-Dames, it took longer to complete; perhaps Gundulf of Bec and Rochester was its architect. Above the aisles are deep tribunes, some of which have kept their original vaults similar to those in Tournus, Burgundy—half barrels lined up side by side on beams at right angles to the church’s main axis. The original roof of the main span was replaced by the current sexpartite vault (which is warped to create six branches) around 1130, according to M. Régnier; other archaeologists have suggested it was done a generation later. With the addition of sexpartite vaulting, the much-debated Lombard alternate piers became more relevant. The height of the wall shafts in the nave shows that the architect had not initially intended to cover the main span with a stone roof. When the Gothic vaulting was added, the clerestory was altered inside the church, but the exterior remained as it was originally built.
William and Matilda made Caen their chief residence in Normandy, and Lanfranc was brought from Bec in 1063 to be prior of the duke’s new monastery. He opened a school in Caen to which his pupil, Pope Alexander II, sent his relatives as scholars. In the peaceful cloister of St. Étienne the able Italian composed a treatise—to counteract Berengar’s heresy on the Eucharist—which is considered a small masterpiece of Christian controversy. Lanfranc was dialectician, administrator, builder, subtle lawyer, and statesman. His genius reached its highest development in the organization of a Norman hierarchy for England. He rebuilt his own church at Canterbury, and two former monks of St. Étienne, Caen, rebuilt the cathedral of Winchester and St. Alban’s abbey. Other memorials of Lanfranc’s primacy in England are the crypt and eastern end of Gloucester Cathedral, the work of a monk of Mont-Saint-Michel, the crypt at Worcester, choir chapels and ambulatory at Norwich, and the western transept of Ely Cathedral, erected by a monk from St. Ouen, Rouen. It is said that during the century and a half from the Conqueror to John Lackland the Norman prelates in England erected over four hundred churches as expiatory offerings for the grievous wrong perpetrated in the Norman conquest.
William and Matilda made Caen their main residence in Normandy, and in 1063, Lanfranc was brought over from Bec to become the prior of the duke’s new monastery. He started a school in Caen where his student, Pope Alexander II, sent his relatives to study. In the peaceful cloister of St. Étienne, the skilled Italian wrote a treatise to counter Berengar’s heresy regarding the Eucharist, which is now regarded as a small masterpiece of Christian controversy. Lanfranc was a dialectician, an administrator, a builder, a clever lawyer, and a statesman. His genius reached its peak in organizing a Norman hierarchy for England. He rebuilt his own church at Canterbury, and two former monks from St. Étienne in Caen rebuilt the cathedral of Winchester and St. Albans Abbey. Other notable works from Lanfranc’s time as primate in England include the crypt and eastern end of Gloucester Cathedral, crafted by a monk from Mont-Saint-Michel, the crypt at Worcester, the choir chapels and ambulatory at Norwich, and the western transept of Ely Cathedral, built by a monk from St. Ouen in Rouen. It is said that during the century and a half from the Conqueror to John Lackland, the Norman bishops in England built over four hundred churches as acts of penance for the serious wrongs committed during the Norman conquest.
In Caen, Lanfranc built the nave of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, a monument of magnificent proportions, compact, tranquil, and sincere. When archbishop of Canterbury he returned to Caen in 1077 for the dedication of his abbey church. Another ten years and in St. Étienne’s choir took place the sinister burial of William the Conqueror. In the town was raging a fierce conflagration which was to wipe out half the place. As they lowered into the tomb the proud and wrathful overman whose strength had been so pitiless, whose will so inflexible, a poor townsman stepped forth to forbid the burial, claiming he had been robbed of that special parcel of land. In the disorders that ensued the corpulent body of the dead king was injured, and though incense was burned to purify the infected air, the people deserted the church in horror. Sic pulvis es.
In Caen, Lanfranc built the nave of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, a monument of impressive size, solid, peaceful, and genuine. When he became archbishop of Canterbury, he returned to Caen in 1077 for the dedication of his abbey church. Another ten years later, the dark burial of William the Conqueror took place in St. Étienne’s choir. A fierce fire was raging in the town, set to destroy half of it. As they lowered the proud and angry overlord, whose strength had been so ruthless and whose will so unyielding, into the tomb, a townsman stepped forward to prevent the burial, claiming he had been cheated out of a specific piece of land. In the chaos that followed, the hefty body of the dead king was damaged, and although incense was burned to cleanse the tainted air, the people fled the church in fear. Sic pulvis es.
In 1210 the Romanesque choir of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes was replaced by the present Gothic one. Normandy apparently used annulets about the clustered shafts at a much later date than the Ile-de-France, and it continued to employ its pre-Gothic zigzag decoration. The chapels round the choir were made to open one on the other above low dividing walls; Bayeux and Coutances repeated this, as they did the turrets at the birth of the apse. The exterior aspect of the edifice was enhanced by a row of small rose windows each of which lighted a bay of the choir’s tribune. A generation later the same arrangement was employed in the collegiate church at Mantes.
In 1210, the Romanesque choir of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes was replaced by the current Gothic one. Normandy seemed to use annulets around the clustered shafts much later than the Ile-de-France and continued to use its pre-Gothic zigzag decoration. The chapels around the choir were designed to open into each other above low dividing walls; Bayeux and Coutances replicated this, as well as the turrets at the apse's entrance. The building's exterior was enhanced by a row of small rose windows, each illuminating a bay of the choir’s tribune. A generation later, the same layout was used in the collegiate church at Mantes.
The new Gothic choir of St. Étienne at Caen was joined with skill to Lanfranc’s grave Romanesque nave. Maître Guillaume is cited as architect of the new works, and he probably crowned the two western towers that so grandly dominate the city. Few architectural views in France surpass the stark majesty of the fortresslike church built by the Conqueror, as it appears from across the town, from the rue des Chanoines, when one stands near the convent church of Queen Matilda. St. Étienne’s towers were the prototypes for the other notable ones at Caen.
The new Gothic choir of St. Étienne in Caen was expertly connected to Lanfranc’s solid Romanesque nave. Maître Guillaume is mentioned as the architect of the new additions, and he likely added the two western towers that dramatically overlook the city. Few architectural views in France surpass the impressive strength of the fortress-like church built by the Conqueror, especially from across town, along the rue des Chanoines, when standing near the convent church of Queen Matilda. St. Étienne’s towers also set the standard for other significant towers in Caen.
During the XVI-century religious wars the Abbaye-aux-Hommes was twice pillaged and the Calvinists scattered the Conqueror’s ashes. They stripped the roofing of its lead, which soon caused the collapse of the central lantern and the choir vaults. During two generations the great church lay unused save as a stone quarry. Then the prior, Jean de Baillehache, in 1609, undertook a restoration, carried through so judiciously that were it not for the monastery’s official record, and a slight poverty in the sculpture, it would be impossible to detect the new parts from the old.
During the 16th-century religious wars, the Abbaye-aux-Hommes was looted twice, and the Calvinists scattered the Conqueror’s ashes. They removed the lead from the roof, which eventually caused the central lantern and the choir vaults to collapse. For two generations, the grand church stood unused, serving mainly as a stone quarry. Then, in 1609, Prior Jean de Baillehache took on a restoration project that was so well done that, without the monastery's official records and a slight lack of detail in the sculptures, it would be impossible to tell the new parts from the old.
For the making of towers Caen is a queen city. In descending the rue des Chanoines one passes the church of St. Pierre, whose much-admired Renaissance apse (1518-45) was the work of a regional master, Hector Sohier. But it is the tower of St. Pierre which is its glory and the boast of Normandy. It served as model for belfries throughout the duchy and in Brittany. Built from 1308 to 1317, it stands as proof that the tradition of Apogee Gothic continued till the opening of the Hundred Years’ War. Apart from the natural rise and fall of things human various causes contributed to the decline of Gothic art after the XIII century. A soulless mechanical dexterity that crystallized the principles of Gothic architecture succeeded to the creative genius that had made glorious the reigns of Philippe-Auguste and Louis IX. Symbolism and true mysticism gave place to doubt, and—when internal dissensions and foreign invasion rent the land—to superstition. With the blurring of spiritual vision passed the vigor of construction.
For the building of towers, Caen is a queen city. As you walk down rue des Chanoines, you pass the church of St. Pierre, whose highly praised Renaissance apse (1518-45) was created by a local master, Hector Sohier. But the real pride of St. Pierre is its tower, which is a landmark of Normandy. It served as a model for bell towers throughout the duchy and in Brittany. Built between 1308 and 1317, it stands as evidence that the tradition of Apogee Gothic continued until the start of the Hundred Years’ War. Apart from the natural ups and downs of human affairs, various factors led to the decline of Gothic art after the 13th century. A lifeless mechanical skill that rigidly applied the principles of Gothic architecture replaced the creative brilliance that had made the reigns of Philippe-Auguste and Louis IX so glorious. Symbolism and genuine mysticism were replaced by doubt, and when internal conflicts and foreign invasions tore the land apart, superstition took hold. As spiritual vision faded, so did the strength of construction.
The XIV century in France opened under a king who debased the coinage, overtaxed the clergy, persecuted the Jews, and who, by the outrage of Anagni, struck a fatal blow at the prestige of the papacy. Soon followed the Black Death, when a third of Europe’s population perished. Radical deterioration of the national art set in after France “went to pieces at the Battle of Crécy” (1346). The royal domain was a field of brigandage: “From the Loire to the Seine, and from the Seine to the Somme, the peasants being killed, all the fields lay uncultivated, and this during many years,” wrote Bishop Bérenger of Le Mans. In Paris Cathedral a foreigner was crowned king of France.
The 14th century in France began under a king who devalued the currency, heavily taxed the clergy, persecuted the Jews, and, through the outrage of Anagni, dealt a serious blow to the prestige of the papacy. Soon after, the Black Death struck, wiping out a third of Europe's population. A significant decline in national art began after France "fell apart at the Battle of Crécy" (1346). The royal domain became a lawless area: “From the Loire to the Seine, and from the Seine to the Somme, peasants were being killed, all the fields lay uncultivated, and this persisted for many years,” wrote Bishop Bérenger of Le Mans. In Paris Cathedral, a foreigner was crowned king of France.
What horrors reigned in Normandy, many an old record relates. More than a thousand patriot leaders perished when English gold was given for each decapitated corpse. “Houses are without occupants, fields without workers,” wrote a XV-century bishop of Lisieux. Bedford’s troops pillaged and massacred. Near Falaise twelve thousand civilians were butchered in one day. “The land of Normandy was grievously oppressed and le pauvre peuple détruit,” wrote Monstrelet. “Men and women fled for their lives, by land and by sea, as if in peril of fire. Nobles gave up their fiefs, clerks their benefices, burghers their patrimony, rather than take oath to the invader.”[324] Normannia nutrix lay almost uninhabited.
What horrors unfolded in Normandy, many old records tell. More than a thousand patriotic leaders died when English gold was offered for each beheaded body. “Houses stood empty, fields were without workers,” wrote a 15th-century bishop of Lisieux. Bedford’s troops looted and massacred. Near Falaise, twelve thousand civilians were slaughtered in one day. “The land of Normandy was severely oppressed and le pauvre peuple détruit,” wrote Monstrelet. “Men and women fled for their lives, by land and by sea, as if escaping from fire. Nobles abandoned their lands, clerks gave up their benefits, burghers lost their wealth, rather than pledge allegiance to the invader.”[324] Normannia nutrix lay nearly uninhabited.
Such is the French version. Naturally the English outlook was different. “The false Frenchman,” sings Drayton in his Agincourt ballad. Freeman falls into a vein of self-congratulation. “Go from France proper into Normandy,” he writes, “and you at once feel that everything is palpably better; men, women, horses, cows, all are on a grander, better scale. The good seed planted by the old Saxon and Danish colonists, and watered in aftertimes by Henry V and John, Duke of Bedford, is still there. It is not altogether choked by the tares of Paris.”
Such is the French version. Naturally, the English perspective was different. “The fake Frenchman,” sings Drayton in his Agincourt ballad. Freeman gets into a tone of self-congratulation. “Go from mainland France into Normandy,” he writes, “and you immediately feel that everything is clearly better; men, women, horses, cows, all are on a larger, better scale. The good seeds planted by the old Saxon and Danish settlers, and nurtured later by Henry V and John, Duke of Bedford, are still there. They are not completely choked by the weeds from Paris.”
Gothic art deteriorated, but so persistently lingered the simplicity, the spiritual poignancy of the XIII century that in the late-Gothic day it was still possible to produce the mystic loveliness of Riom’s Madonna of the Bird, and the humble prayerfulness of Solesmes’ Magdalene.
Gothic art declined, but the simplicity and spiritual depth of the 13th century lingered on so strongly that even in the late Gothic period, it was still possible to create the mystical beauty of Riom's Madonna of the Bird and the humble prayerfulness of Solesmes' Magdalene.
In the unspoiled years of the XIV century was built the tower of St. Pierre, at Caen. Its shaft rises in a virile, unbroken ascent from soil to spire tip. On the busiest street corner of the city it stands like a perpetual call to recollection and joy. The Norman will boast with legitimate pride that it is the most beautiful tower in France, excelling those of Chartres and Senlis, whose shafts, he will tell you, are either too high or too short, whereas his loved tower of St. Pierre has spire and shaft in perfect accord. When Caen added this stately monument to its wealth of churches it was as rich a metropolis as Rouen, and it had contributed more than London toward the ransom of Richard Cœur-de-Lion from Teuton captivity. Just before the defeat of Crécy, this, the intellectual capital of Normandy, was besieged by English troops, and all its wealth pillaged, and its streets strewn with dead. Amid havoc wrought, the towers of the Abbaye-aux-Dames were destroyed.
In the untouched years of the 14th century, the tower of St. Pierre was built in Caen. Its shaft rises boldly and smoothly from the ground to the tip of the spire. On the busiest street corner of the city, it serves as a constant reminder of reflection and joy. The people of Normandy will proudly claim that it is the most beautiful tower in France, surpassing those in Chartres and Senlis, which they’ll say are either too tall or too short, while their beloved tower of St. Pierre has spire and shaft in perfect harmony. When Caen added this impressive monument to its collection of churches, it was as wealthy a city as Rouen and had contributed more than London to the ransom of Richard the Lionheart from German captivity. Just before the defeat at Crécy, this intellectual center of Normandy was besieged by English troops, who looted its riches and left the streets littered with the dead. Amid the destruction, the towers of the Abbaye-aux-Dames were destroyed.
Belfry of St. Pierre at Caen (1308-1317).
Prototype for
the Gothic Towers of Normandy and Brittany
Belfry of St. Pierre in Caen (1308-1317).
Inspiration for the Gothic Towers of Normandy and Brittany
All over the department of Calvados are towers.[325] A Romanesque one crowns the church of Vaucelles, a suburb of Caen. At Ifs, and near Bayeux, at St. Loup (c. 1180), are others. The monk’s church of Norrey, a dependency of St. Ouen, at Rouen, noted for the lavishness of its foliate ornamentation, has a tower of the XIII century, and near it, also ten miles from Caen, is Secqueville’s Gothic beacon. There are belfries at Bernières-sur-mer (c. 1150), at Langrune, Thaon, Tour, and Basly.
All over the Calvados region, there are towers.[325] A Romanesque tower tops the church in Vaucelles, a suburb of Caen. In Ifs and near Bayeux, at St. Loup (around 1180), there are more towers. The monk's church in Norrey, affiliated with St. Ouen in Rouen, is known for its intricate leaf designs and has a tower from the 13th century. Nearby, about ten miles from Caen, is the Gothic tower at Secqueville. Belfries can be found in Bernières-sur-mer (around 1150), as well as in Langrune, Thaon, Tour, and Basly.
Three of the most beautiful towers in Calvados crown the abbatial of St. Pierre-sur-Dives, an edifice, too much a patchwork of five centuries to be altogether pleasing, but linked with a memorable hour of the Gothic story, 1145. Popular enthusiasm then aided Abbot Haimon to reconstruct his church, as he wrote, in a much-quoted letter to the English monks at Tutbury. The same wave of fervor was raising the Primary Gothic towers of Chartres and Rouen. The western towers of St. Pierre-sur-Dives are of Haimon’s day only in their lower stories; that to the south has a XIII-century top, and that to the north was finished in the XIV century.[326]
Three of the most stunning towers in Calvados top the abbey of St. Pierre-sur-Dives, a building that is too much of a mix from five centuries to be completely pleasing, but it’s tied to a memorable moment in Gothic history from 1145. At that time, public enthusiasm helped Abbot Haimon to rebuild his church, as he mentioned in a well-known letter to the English monks at Tutbury. The same wave of passion was raising the early Gothic towers of Chartres and Rouen. The western towers of St. Pierre-sur-Dives date back to Haimon’s time only in their lower sections; the southern tower has a 13th-century top, while the northern one was completed in the 14th century.[326]
Throughout the final phase of Gothic, Normandy continued to excel in towers. Witness Rouen’s Flamboyant beacons. In quiet country places and lesser towns rise belfries as stately as those of cathedrals: at Carville is the “Giant of the Valley” (1512-14), at Harfleur is a most beautiful tower, and still another at Verneuil (1506-30), built by a son of the town, Arthur Fillon, curé of St. Maclou, Rouen, and vicar-general of that lover of noble structures, Cardinal Georges d’Amboise; when he became bishop of Senlis, he helped to finish the Flamboyant Gothic transept of that cathedral.
Throughout the final phase of Gothic architecture, Normandy continued to excel in towers. Just take a look at Rouen’s Flamboyant beacons. In quiet rural areas and smaller towns, belfries stand as grand as those of cathedrals: at Carville is the “Giant of the Valley” (1512-14), at Harfleur is a stunning tower, and yet another at Verneuil (1506-30), built by a local, Arthur Fillon, who was the priest of St. Maclou, Rouen, and vicar-general to Cardinal Georges d’Amboise, a lover of magnificent structures; when he became bishop of Senlis, he helped finish the Flamboyant Gothic transept of that cathedral.
THE ROMANESQUE ABBATIAL OF ST. GEORGES DE BOSCHERVILLE[327]
THE ROMANESQUE ABBATIAL OF ST. GEORGES DE BOSCHERVILLE[327]
I have borne for forty-two years with happiness the sweet yoke of the Lord.—Ordericus Vitalis (xii century).
I have happily endured the gentle burden of the Lord for forty-two years. —Ordericus Vitalis (12th century).
From Rouen a pleasant six-mile walk through the forest of Roumare leads to the abbatial of St. Georges de Boscherville, an example of the best Anglo-Norman Romanesque. Some have thought it belongs to the first decade of the XII century, but M. Besnard places it a generation earlier. Mr. John Bilson claims that, like its contemporary, the cathedral at Durham, the piers show that from the start the design was to construct ribbed groin vaults over the wide span, and he thinks that the same is true for the now disused Romanesque abbatial of St. Nicolas, at Caen (1083-93), building twenty years before Durham’s choir. He has cited the diagonals of Lessay’s choir and those of the transept of Montvilliers as the primitive Gothic of Normandy, vaults which M. de Lasteyrie considered to be contemporary with Suger’s St. Denis. The German archæologists, Dehio and von Bezold, give priority to Normandy.
From Rouen, a pleasant six-mile walk through the forest of Roumare takes you to the abbey of St. Georges de Boscherville, an excellent example of the finest Anglo-Norman Romanesque architecture. Some believe it was built in the early years of the 12th century, but M. Besnard thinks it was created a generation earlier. Mr. John Bilson argues that, like its contemporary, the cathedral at Durham, the piers indicate that the intention was to construct ribbed groin vaults over the wide span from the beginning, and he believes the same applies to the now disused Romanesque abbey of St. Nicolas in Caen (1083-93), which was built twenty years before Durham’s choir. He pointed out the diagonals of Lessay’s choir and those of the transept of Montvilliers as examples of the early Gothic style in Normandy, vaults that M. de Lasteyrie deemed to be contemporary with Suger’s St. Denis. The German archaeologists, Dehio and von Bezold, prioritize Normandy.
The actual intersecting ribs at St. Georges de Boscherville are a XIII-century reconstruction. So solid were the church walls made that no flying buttresses have been needed. The tribune at the end of each arm of the transept is supported by an isolated pillar, apsidal chapels project from the eastern wall of the transept, and the central lantern is one of the best in Normandy. The entire church, save its west façade flanked by slender turrets, was the work of some six or seven years only. About 1157, under Abbot Victor, was erected the chapter house that nestles beneath the transept’s northern arm. The French students who did not know, or who have not accepted, Mr. John Bilson’s theory of Anglo-Norman priority in the use of the essential organ of Gothic architecture, have claimed that the diagonals of St. Georges’ chapter house are among the earliest extant of the province, of the same decade as the vaulting of the lower hall of St. Romain’s tower at Rouen. Mr. John Bilson’s championship of Anglo-Norman pioneer work, and Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter’s theory of Lombard priority, have both found supporters among leading French archæologists; the English scholar is patriotically disgruntled at the American’s advocacy of the Italian claims.
The actual intersecting ribs at St. Georges de Boscherville are a 13th-century reconstruction. The church walls were built so solidly that no flying buttresses were needed. The tribune at the end of each arm of the transept is supported by a standalone pillar, apsidal chapels extend from the eastern wall of the transept, and the central lantern is one of the finest in Normandy. The entire church, except for its west façade flanked by slender turrets, took only about six or seven years to complete. Around 1157, under Abbot Victor, the chapter house was built underneath the northern arm of the transept. French students who either don’t know or disagree with Mr. John Bilson’s theory about Anglo-Norman priority in using the essential features of Gothic architecture argue that the diagonals of St. Georges’ chapter house are among the earliest still existing in the province, dating to the same decade as the vaulting of the lower hall of St. Romain’s tower in Rouen. Mr. John Bilson’s support for Anglo-Norman pioneering work and Mr. Arthur Kingsley Porter’s theory of Lombard priority have both gained backing from prominent French archaeologists; the English scholar is patriotically annoyed by the American's support for the Italian claims.
It would seem that during the XI century the Normans, like the Lombards, used what Mr. Bilson calls ribbed groined vaults, occasionally, for one reason or another. The Norman developed tentatively the ribbed vault, always associating it with the semicircular arch, and without comprehending the wonderful results that were to be derived from concentrating the weight of a masonry roof at fixed points. The possibility of those results was perceived first in the Ile-de-France, and from there, when Gothic architecture had taken on its special characteristics, it entered Normandy by way of the Seine at Rouen and Boscherville, then at Fécamp and Lisieux. The first Gothic cathedrals of Normandy show purely French influence and only gradually were regional ogival traits developed. In the controversy as to who first used diagonals, one can take whichever side one prefers; the question remains open. Light will be thrown on it, doubtless, by a forthcoming paper by Mr. Bilson in the Archeological Journal, tracing the evolution of the diagonal rib in Normandy.
It seems that during the 11th century, the Normans, like the Lombards, occasionally used what Mr. Bilson refers to as ribbed groined vaults for various reasons. The Normans tentatively developed the ribbed vault, always linking it with the semicircular arch, without fully understanding the amazing outcomes that could come from concentrating the weight of a masonry roof at specific points. The potential for these outcomes was first noticed in the Ile-de-France, and from there, as Gothic architecture began to take on its unique characteristics, it spread to Normandy via the Seine at Rouen and Boscherville, and then to Fécamp and Lisieux. The first Gothic cathedrals in Normandy display a distinctly French influence, and only gradually did regional ogival features emerge. In the debate about who first used diagonals, you can choose either side; the question is still up for discussion. More clarity on this topic will likely come from an upcoming paper by Mr. Bilson in the Archeological Journal, which will outline the evolution of the diagonal rib in Normandy.
The abbey at Boscherville was founded by the lord of Tankerville, high chamberlain of the Conqueror and Henry I. In its abbatial, when his grandson, hereditary constable of Normandy, was knighted, he laid his sword on the altar, and to redeem it presented property to the monastery. If we would comprehend the society that built these churches, we must understand that such donations were voluntary and a matter of civic pride. “If I cannot myself attend to the works of God,” runs an ancient deed of gift, “at least I can assure a home for those with whom God loves to dwell. It is only natural to enrich our Holy Mother the Church, and thus to take a hand in caring for Christ’s poor.”
The abbey at Boscherville was established by the lord of Tankerville, who was the high chamberlain for the Conqueror and Henry I. During its abbey ceremony, when his grandson, the hereditary constable of Normandy, was knighted, he placed his sword on the altar and, to redeem it, donated property to the monastery. To understand the society that built these churches, we need to recognize that such donations were voluntary and reflected civic pride. “If I cannot personally attend to the works of God,” says an ancient deed of gift, “at least I can provide a home for those whom God loves to dwell among. It’s only natural to enrich our Holy Mother the Church and thus help care for Christ’s poor.”
It is a usage bequeathed to us from our ancestors, never to let anyone depart from our abbey without a gift.
It’s a tradition passed down from our ancestors, that we never let anyone leave our abbey without a gift.
—(From an old Latin chronicle of Fécamp.)
—(From an old Latin chronicle of Fécamp.)
If one would enjoy, without critical comparison, the Gothic of Normandy, her churches should be visited before the taste has become sensitized by loiterings in the Ile-de-France. In that classic region of the national art is found a simplicity, a purity, a restraint, a something of imaginative genius that makes of its work the touchstone by which all other manifestations of Gothic are judged. Of the Norman churches, the Trinité, at Fécamp, is most closely related to the Primary Gothic work of the royal domain. Its architect must certainly have come from the Ile-de-France. Monks trained in the Celtic rule by St. Wandrille founded Fécamp, which was wrecked by Norse pirates in 876. William Longsword, the first duke’s son, built his palace here, and his son, Richard I the Fearless (d. 996), began a new monastery. In his will Richard ordered: “Bury not my body within the church, but deposit it on the outside, immediately under the eaves, that the dripping of the rain from the holy roof may wash my bones as I lie and may cleanse them of the spots of impurity contracted during a negligent and neglected life.” He desired that on every Friday a sarcophagus be filled with wheat and grain for the poor. His son, Richard II the Good (d. 1020), finished Fécamp abbatial, and was laid to rest beside his father. The dukes of Rollo’s line especially favored Fécamp, which held a front rank among Normandy’s institutions, and was the richest of her monasteries down to the Revolution. Henry Plantagenet presented Fécamp town to the monastery.
If you want to truly appreciate the Gothic architecture of Normandy without making comparisons, you should visit her churches before your taste becomes refined from spending time in the Ile-de-France. In , that classic region of national art, you’ll find a simplicity, purity, restraint, and a spark of imaginative genius that serve as the standard by which all other Gothic works are measured. Among the Norman churches, the Trinité in Fécamp is the closest to the Primary Gothic style of the royal domain. Its architect likely came from the Ile-de-France. Monks trained in the Celtic tradition by St. Wandrille established Fécamp, which was destroyed by Norse pirates in 876. William Longsword, the son of the first duke, built his palace here, and his son, Richard I the Fearless (d. 996), started a new monastery. In his will, Richard instructed, “Do not bury my body inside the church, but place it outside, right under the eaves, so that the rain from the holy roof can wash my bones while I lie there and cleanse them of the impurities gained during a careless and neglected life.” He asked that every Friday, a sarcophagus be filled with wheat and grain for the poor. His son, Richard II the Good (d. 1020), completed the abbey at Fécamp and was buried next to his father. The dukes from Rollo’s line particularly favored Fécamp, which was a leading institution in Normandy and was the wealthiest of her monasteries until the Revolution. Henry Plantagenet gifted the town of Fécamp to the monastery.
After Duke Richard the Good had brought that man of administrative genius, William of Volpiano, into his duchy to reorganize its spiritual life, architectural activities took on new vigor. William himself directed the construction of Bernay’s[329] church; the abbatial of Mont-Saint-Michel rose when he reformed that house; and the church of Jumièges followed immediately after his reformation there. The Blessed William, in his thirst for souls, used to loiter at the crossroads to gather in the stricken of body or spirit. He passed away in Fécamp in 1031, and his ashes are still preserved in a chapel of the present Gothic abbatial. In 1034, in the Romanesque Trinité, Robert the Magnificent gathered the chief men of Normandy to have them swear allegiance to his sturdy little bastard son of seven, who was to be known in history as William the Conqueror, after which Duke Robert started on his pilgrimage to the East, from which he was never to return. The abbey church of Fécamp long consisted of the nave begun by Richard I, and a choir built by Abbot Guillaume de Ros (1082-1108), under whose rule the Trinité won the admiration of Europe. He is said to have introduced into Normandy the ambulatory and its radiating chapels. Two of the radial chapels which he constructed at Fécamp have survived. While they were building, there lived in the Trinité convent, as prior, Herbert de Lozinga, who, obtaining the bishopric of Norwich, erected on the Norfolk downs a stately Norman cathedral (1096-1119). Abbot Guillaume de Ros carried out the instructions of Richard I to give a loaf of bread to every beggar asking it, and when Fécamp was dissolved at the Revolution its abbot was distributing daily some twelve thousand free loaves of bread.
After Duke Richard the Good brought the skilled administrator William of Volpiano into his duchy to reorganize its spiritual life, architectural projects gained new energy. William himself oversaw the construction of the church in Bernay; the abbey at Mont-Saint-Michel was built while he reformed that establishment; and the church of Jumièges quickly followed his reforms there. The Blessed William, driven by his desire to help souls, would often linger at the crossroads to gather those who were suffering physically or spiritually. He died in Fécamp in 1031, and his remains are still kept in a chapel of the current Gothic abbey. In 1034, at the Romanesque Trinité, Robert the Magnificent gathered the leading men of Normandy to pledge loyalty to his resilient seven-year-old illegitimate son, who would later be known in history as William the Conqueror. After this, Duke Robert embarked on a pilgrimage to the East, from which he never returned. The abbey church of Fécamp long consisted of the nave initiated by Richard I, and a choir constructed by Abbot Guillaume de Ros (1082-1108), under whose leadership the Trinité gained European admiration. He is believed to have introduced the ambulatory and its radiating chapels to Normandy. Two of the radial chapels he built at Fécamp still exist. While they were being constructed, Herbert de Lozinga served as prior at the Trinité convent and later became the bishop of Norwich, where he built a grand Norman cathedral on the Norfolk downs (1096-1119). Abbot Guillaume de Ros fulfilled Richard I's directive to give a loaf of bread to every beggar who asked for one, and when Fécamp was dissolved during the Revolution, its abbot was distributing about twelve thousand free loaves of bread daily.
In 1169 fire wrecked the Romanesque Trinité, whereupon the present Gothic edifice was begun immediately, and in it two of the groin-vaulted chapels from the choir of Guillaume de Ros were incorporated. Abbot Henri de Soullay (1139-87) built the Primary Gothic choir, transept, and half of the nave. After the fifth bay of the nave a new architect took up the work, as is shown by differences in the pier profiles, but the cessation of activities must have been of short duration, as the church is homogeneous. The nave was finished under Abbot Raoul d’Argence (1190-1220), who organized Normandy’s first literary academy—a confraternity of jongleurs. Its character was more Norman than the choir, though regional traits had early appeared in the turrets at the birth of the apse and the square central lantern.
In 1169, a fire destroyed the Romanesque Trinité, leading to the immediate construction of the current Gothic building, which incorporated two of the groin-vaulted chapels from the choir of Guillaume de Ros. Abbot Henri de Soullay (1139-87) built the main Gothic choir, transept, and half of the nave. After the fifth bay of the nave, a new architect took over the project, indicated by differences in the pier designs, but the pause in work must have been brief since the church looks uniform. The nave was completed under Abbot Raoul d’Argence (1190-1220), who set up Normandy’s first literary academy—a group of jongleurs. Its style was more Norman than the choir’s, although regional features had already begun to appear in the turrets when the apse was created, along with the square central lantern.
To increase the impression of length in the nave its side walls were marked by double the number of arcades that divide the middle church from the aisles. This was accomplished by introducing a fifth rib into each vault section of those side corridors, which rib fell on a shaft engaged in the side walls. Like the minsters of England, Fécamp is more remarkable in its length than in its height.
To make the nave appear longer, the side walls were designed with twice as many arcades that separate the main church from the aisles. This was done by adding a fifth rib to each vault section of those side corridors, which rested on a column attached to the side walls. Similar to the cathedrals in England, Fécamp stands out more for its length than its height.
Abbot Thomas de Saint-Benoît (1297-1307) decided to suppress the deep gallery over the choir’s ambulatory, making the chapels that open on the curving aisle of exceptional height. He changed the southern aisle, giving it a coldly elegant Rayonnant aspect, but happily not that to the north, or we would have lost the two interesting Romanesque chapels of Abbot Guillaume de Ros. Some of Fécamp’s later abbots were Clement VI, builder of the palace of the popes at Avignon and of the Chaise Dieu in the mountains of Auvergne, and an abbot of the patriotic Estouteville family, who was driven out by the English when Fécamp was besieged in 1415. The tool who succeeded him sat in judgment on Jeanne d’Arc.
Abbot Thomas de Saint-Benoît (1297-1307) decided to remove the deep gallery over the choir’s ambulatory, which made the chapels opening onto the curving aisle exceptionally tall. He redesigned the southern aisle, giving it a cool, elegant Rayonnant style, but thankfully didn’t do the same to the north, or we would have lost the two interesting Romanesque chapels of Abbot Guillaume de Ros. Some of Fécamp’s later abbots included Clement VI, who built the palace of the popes in Avignon and the Chaise Dieu in the Auvergne mountains, and an abbot from the patriotic Estouteville family, who was ousted by the English when Fécamp was besieged in 1415. The person who succeeded him judged Jeanne d’Arc.
The abbot of Fécamp during the transitional Flamboyant Renaissance day was Cardinal Antoine Boyer (1492-1519), a Mæcenas who adorned his beautiful church with Italian marbles. He had sculptured, in the same studio at Genoa that provided Louis XII with the Orléans tombs for St. Denis, an Entombment more spectacular in character than the famous one at Solesmes. Girolamo Viscardo made for him a tabernacle (for the choir’s procession path), after the style of Mino da Fiesole. The lovely marble screens that close the side chapels are due to this generous prelate. For him Jacques Le Roux, the noted architect of Rouen, lengthened the Lady chapel. The only later change of importance in the Trinité was the erection of its neo-classic façade.
The abbot of Fécamp during the transitional Flamboyant Renaissance was Cardinal Antoine Boyer (1492-1519), a patron who decorated his beautiful church with Italian marbles. He had a dramatic Entombment sculpture created in the same studio in Genoa that made the Orléans tombs for St. Denis for Louis XII, which was even more impressive than the famous one at Solesmes. Girolamo Viscardo designed a tabernacle for him (used in the choir’s procession), inspired by Mino da Fiesole. The stunning marble screens that enclose the side chapels were thanks to this generous prelate. Jacques Le Roux, the well-known architect from Rouen, extended the Lady chapel for him. The only significant later change to the Trinité was the addition of its neo-classical façade.
La Nature a bien des manières de sourire. La Normandie est le plus beau sourire de la nature temperée.—O. Reclus.
Nature has many ways of smiling. Normandy is the most beautiful smile of temperate nature.—O. Reclus.
The tutelary of Eu is St. Laurence O’Toole, archbishop of Dublin, son of a prince in Leinster, an active continuer of the reforms begun by St. Malachy of Armagh, who died in St. Bernard’s arms at Clairvaux. St. Laurence had crossed the Channel to plead with Henry Plantagenet for certain of his flock in disgrace (1180). Arriving at Eu’s convent, then belonging to the congregation of St. Victor, he felt a premonition of his approaching death, and exclaimed, as he crossed the threshold, “Here is my abode of rest forever.” He was worn out in the struggle to uphold the weak against the strong in those difficult years of the Anglo-Norman seizure of the eastern coast of Ireland. As his end drew near a monk suggested that he make his testament. “I thank God that I have nothing to bequeath,” he said.
The patron saint of Eu is St. Laurence O’Toole, the archbishop of Dublin, who was the son of a prince in Leinster and actively continued the reforms started by St. Malachy of Armagh, who passed away in St. Bernard’s arms at Clairvaux. St. Laurence crossed the Channel to ask Henry Plantagenet for help regarding some of his followers who had fallen from grace (1180). When he arrived at the convent in Eu, which was part of the congregation of St. Victor, he sensed that his death was near and exclaimed, as he stepped through the door, “Here is my home of rest forever.” He was exhausted from fighting to protect the weak against the strong during those tough times of the Anglo-Norman takeover of the eastern coast of Ireland. As his end approached, a monk suggested he write his will. “I thank God that I have nothing to leave behind,” he replied.
So impressive was the death of Archbishop Laurence in Eu monastery that the little people of the Lord soon began to pray beside his tomb. When the monks reconstructed their church they placed the saintly man’s relics in the new crypt. From 1186 to 1226 the choir, transept, and one bay of the nave were built without interruption, in a Gothic more of the Ile-de-France than regional, though the placing of towers between transept and choir and the central lantern followed the Norman tradition.
So remarkable was the death of Archbishop Laurence at Eu monastery that the faithful quickly started to pray by his tomb. When the monks rebuilt their church, they put the saint's relics in the new crypt. From 1186 to 1226, the choir, transept, and one section of the nave were built continuously, in a Gothic style more akin to the Ile-de-France than the local style, though the positioning of towers between the transept and choir and the central lantern adhered to the Norman tradition.
Archbishop Laurence O’Toole was canonized in 1225, and to the joyous ceremony when his relics were set above the high altar came the archbishop of Rouen—then building his cathedral, and Bishop Geoffrey, the “shining man of Eu by whom the throne of Amiens rose into immensity.” For eight days the throng pressed to pray near the relics of the canonized Irish prelate, and with the gifts that poured in the monks were able to finish their nave by 1230. It is a gem of Norman Gothic, sober, elegant, of perfect unity. The first plan called for tribunes over the aisles, as in the choir. Before they were constructed, however, the idea was given up, but it was decided to keep the arches by which the tribunes would have opened on the middle church. The same effect of false tribunes had been used earlier in the nave of Rouen Cathedral.
Archbishop Laurence O’Toole was canonized in 1225, and to the joyful ceremony when his relics were placed above the high altar came the archbishop of Rouen—who was then in the process of building his cathedral—and Bishop Geoffrey, the “shining man of Eu by whom the throne of Amiens rose into immensity.” For eight days, the crowds gathered to pray near the relics of the canonized Irish prelate, and with the gifts that came pouring in, the monks were able to complete their nave by 1230. It’s a gem of Norman Gothic architecture: sober, elegant, and perfectly unified. The initial plan included tribunes over the aisles, similar to those in the choir. However, before they were built, this idea was abandoned, but it was decided to keep the arches through which the tribunes would have connected to the central church. The same effect of false tribunes had been used earlier in the nave of Rouen Cathedral.
In 1426 lightning caused the collapse of the central tower, and in the reconstruction of the transept and choir, undertaken after the invaders were driven from Normandy, Flamboyant work was set side by side with Primary Gothic. From 1511 to 1534 rose the transept’s florid south façade. After the Revolution the church of St. Laurent was restored by the Orléans family, who own the château and park at Eu.
In 1426, lightning struck and caused the central tower to collapse. During the reconstruction of the transept and choir, which took place after the invaders were driven out of Normandy, Flamboyant style was mixed with Early Gothic. From 1511 to 1534, the elaborate south façade of the transept was built. After the Revolution, the church of St. Laurent was restored by the Orléans family, who own the château and park at Eu.
Chaque peuple a son ange, disait Daniel le prophète. Le nôtre ne peut pas, même indignes nous délaisser.... Plus encore que Saint Jacques était le patron des espagnols, Saint Michel voulut être le Baron de France. Il mit les trois lys dans ses armes et fit passer sur le royaume l’éclair de son glaive. Avoir suscité Jeanne d’Arc et par elle libéré la France.... Voilà bien le plus beau miracle dû à l’archange. Il constitue pour le pays une promesse de perennité.—Joseph Lotte (born in Normandy, 1875; killed in the World War, 1914).
Every people has its angel, said the prophet Daniel. Ours cannot abandon us, even if we are unworthy... More than Saint James was the patron of the Spaniards, Saint Michael wanted to be the Baron of France. He placed the three lilies in his coat of arms and brought the flash of his sword down upon the kingdom. By raising Joan of Arc and through her, liberating France... This is truly the greatest miracle attributed to the archangel. It represents a promise of lastingness for the country.—Joseph Lotte (born in Normandy, 1875; killed in the World War, 1914).
Surpassing all the abbeys of Normandy is the outpost of the archangel that lies offshore, at the junction of Normandy and Brittany, a conicle mass of “rock on rock, keep on keep, century on century,” sand-locked one hour, and the next rising from the Atlantic. Tremor immensi oceani is the motto of the Mount. Before the days of crusaders it was one of Europe’s chief points of departure for the Eastern pilgrimage. Like Jerusalem, it has been one of the sites of the earth that has impressed itself with historic signification on the imagination of mankind.
Surpassing all the abbeys in Normandy is the outpost of the archangel located offshore, at the boundary of Normandy and Brittany, a conical mass of “rock on rock, keep on keep, century on century,” surrounded by sand one hour, and the next rising from the Atlantic. Tremor immensi oceani is the motto of the Mount. Before the days of crusaders, it was one of Europe’s main points of departure for Eastern pilgrimages. Like Jerusalem, it has been one of those places that have left a significant mark on the imagination of humanity.
Many have felt the kindred spirit of the Chanson de Roland and the granite, military monastery. They are both of the same high lineage. To the paladin Roland, dying at Roncevaux, as he held up his right glove to God, his suzerain, there came, to fetch his soul to Paradise, the very special St. Michael of the Mount that stood in peril of the sea, in periculo maris.[332] Scholars think that the most virile, the most heroic of the chansons de geste, wherein already was la douce France loved beyond the regional cradle, was composed by a Norman who lived in the marches within the cult of the Angel of the Peril.[333]
Many have sensed the shared spirit of the Chanson de Roland and the solid, military monastery. They both come from the same noble heritage. To the paladin Roland, dying at Roncevaux, as he raised his right glove to God, his lord, the special St. Michael of the Mount, who faced the danger of the sea, came to take his soul to Paradise, in periculo maris.[332] Scholars believe that the most powerful, the most heroic of the chansons de geste, in which la douce France was cherished beyond its local roots, was written by a Norman who lived in the borderlands within the following of the Angel of the Peril.[333]
The Hall of the Knights at Mont-Saint-Michel
(1203-1228).
Second Story of the Merveille
The Hall of the Knights at Mont-Saint-Michel (1203-1228).
Second Floor of the Marvel
Alas, in our day Mont-Saint-Michel-au-péril-de-la-Mer is in very deadly peril of the land, for it looks as if the covetousness of financiers was to defraud France of this rock of glory “qui s’émeut et s’achève en prière.” Dikes and dams, to reclaim coast lands, will before long cause the historic crag to rise from green woods as it did some geological periods ago.
Unfortunately, today Mont-Saint-Michel-au-péril-de-la-Mer is in serious danger from the land, as it seems the greed of investors is threatening to rob France of this rock of glory “that stirs and ends in prayer.” Dikes and dams, built to reclaim coastal land, will soon cause the historic rock to emerge from green woods just like it did in some geological era long ago.
Citadel, palace, cloister, church, and town, the Mount is a thing of romance that not all the vulgarity of daily tourist crowds can tarnish. Charlemagne himself chose its tutelary archangel for the national patron saint, and the cowled guardians here were in truth through long centuries what the great emperor called monks: “Knights of the Church, of the willing vassalage and chivalry of Christ.”
Citadel, palace, cloister, church, and town, the Mount is an enchanting place that not even the everyday crowds of tourists can diminish. Charlemagne himself designated its protective archangel as the national patron saint, and the hooded guardians here were truly, over many centuries, what the great emperor referred to as monks: “Knights of the Church, devoted to the service and chivalry of Christ.”
The Northmen destroyed the ancient shrine. Then Richard the Fearless, grandson of the pirate Rollo, placed on the rock the sons of St. Benedict, trained at St. Wandrille. Richard II, in 1017, came to the Mount to ask a blessing on his union with Judith of Brittany, whose beauty was such that the old chronicle exclaimed corpore et moribus usque ad miraculum elegantem. The duke’s marriage gift enabled the monks to supplant their Carolingian church by a bigger one. The discarded X-century chapel was discovered in 1909 by M. Paul Gout, the Mount’s latest historian. Until 1780 it had been used as Notre Dame-sous-Terre, but during the building of the foundations for the ugly west façade of the upper church it was walled up.
The Northmen destroyed the ancient shrine. Then Richard the Fearless, grandson of the pirate Rollo, brought the sons of St. Benedict, trained at St. Wandrille, to the rock. In 1017, Richard II came to the Mount to seek a blessing for his marriage to Judith of Brittany, whose beauty was so remarkable that the old chronicle exclaimed corpore et moribus usque ad miraculum elegantem. The duke’s wedding gift allowed the monks to replace their Carolingian church with a larger one. The abandoned 10th-century chapel was discovered in 1909 by M. Paul Gout, the most recent historian of the Mount. Until 1780, it had been used as Notre Dame-sous-Terre, but during the construction of the unattractive west façade of the upper church, it was sealed off.
With Richard the Good’s donation, Abbot Hildebert II erected his new church on the very summit of the rock, but as there was not sufficient level space, he built out from the hillcrest a platform of masonry to support the nave. From William of Volpiano’s school at Fécamp came skilled journeymen. The church at Mont-Saint-Michel was begun in 1020, and still building in 1057. Abbot Roger I, formerly chaplain to William the Conqueror, erected the nave. William prayed at the Mount before undertaking the conquest of England, and the abbot fitted out for him an entire fleet.
With Richard the Good’s donation, Abbot Hildebert II built his new church at the very top of the rock. However, there wasn’t enough flat space, so he constructed a masonry platform extending from the hillcrest to support the nave. Skilled craftsmen from William of Volpiano’s school at Fécamp contributed to the project. The church at Mont-Saint-Michel started in 1020 and was still being built in 1057. Abbot Roger I, who had been chaplain to William the Conqueror, built the nave. William prayed at the Mount before launching his conquest of England, and the abbot provided him with an entire fleet.
In 1103 the northern wall of the Romanesque nave collapsed one night as the monks were chanting matins in the choir. It was restored immediately in the same style, and Abbot Roger II took the opportunity to reconstruct the monks’ quarters. Above the crypt called Aquilon (c. 1112) he built a cloister, which later was vaulted with diagonals, and over that promenoir was made a dormitory on the same level as the church. During the years that followed the Mount was governed by a man of genius, Robert de Torigni (1153-80), whose chronicle is the most important history of France for that epoch. In the promenoir he entertained, at a banquet in 1158, his sovereign, Henry II, and Aliénor of Aquitaine. They chose him as godfather for their daughter, who, later, as queen of Castile, built the convent church of Las Huelgas by Burgos. Abbot Robert was a pupil of Bec, whose higher standards of intellectual life he brought to the Mount, where he formed a library, built monks’ quarters, and added western belfries to his abbatial, though the façade of his day no longer exists.
In 1103, the northern wall of the Romanesque nave collapsed one night while the monks were chanting matins in the choir. It was quickly restored in the same style, and Abbot Roger II took the chance to rebuild the monks’ quarters. Above the crypt called Aquilon (c. 1112), he constructed a cloister, which was later vaulted with diagonal supports, and above that, a promenade was built as a dormitory on the same level as the church. In the years that followed, the Mount was led by a brilliant man, Robert de Torigni (1153-80), whose chronicle is the most significant history of France from that period. In the promenade, he hosted a banquet in 1158 for his sovereign, Henry II, and Aliénor of Aquitaine. They chose him as the godfather for their daughter, who later, as queen of Castile, built the convent church of Las Huelgas near Burgos. Abbot Robert was a student of Bec, whose higher standards of intellectual life he brought to the Mount, where he created a library, built monks’ quarters, and added western belfries to his abbey, although the façade from his time no longer exists.
As the XIII century opened, Normandy became once more a part of the royal domain, after being three centuries under dukes of its own. When Rollo’s strong breed ended in the debased John Lackland, the northern province gladly accepted Philippe-Auguste as ruler. How whole-heartedly, how unreservedly French it became it was to prove by its heroic resistance to the English invaders during the Hundred Years’ War.[334]
As the 13th century began, Normandy became part of the royal domain again, after being ruled by its own dukes for three centuries. When Rollo’s strong lineage came to an end with the weak John Lackland, the northern province welcomed Philippe-Auguste as its ruler. The extent of its loyalty and how fully it embraced French identity was shown by its courageous resistance to the English invaders during the Hundred Years’ War.[334]
In the frays of 1203, fire had spread from the town that hugged the rock’s edge, to the monastic buildings on the summit. Philippe-Auguste, always wisely conciliatory toward new subjects, contributed toward the restorations. With the gift from the king under whom most of the Gothic cathedrals of France were begun, Abbot Jourdan (1191-1212) built the supreme architectural work of the citadel, what is called the Merveille, and a marvel indeed are its three stories that rise, one above the other, hall over hall, two hundred feet in height above the sea, ridged heavily outside by stout buttresses and graced within by pillars, arches, and a sky-gazing cloister.
In 1203, a fire spread from the town that clung to the edge of the rock to the monastic buildings at the top. Philippe-Auguste, always wisely diplomatic with new subjects, helped with the restorations. With a gift from the king under whom most of France's Gothic cathedrals were started, Abbot Jourdan (1191-1212) constructed the impressive architectural work of the citadel, known as the Merveille. It truly is a marvel with its three stories that rise one above the other, standing two hundred feet above the sea, heavily supported outside by sturdy buttresses and beautifully designed inside with pillars, arches, and a cloister that reaches for the sky.
From the brain of some unknown cowled genius sprang this mâle and splendid conception, built in the very prime of Gothic. Who else but one enamored of meditation would have set his cloister atop of his monastery under the open sky, or have opened on that courtyard of peace a monks’ refectory, where, in a flooded stillness of light, the brethren could sit pondering as they listened to one of their number reading from the stone lectern the book which is the spirit of Bernard of Clairvaux incarnate: “Give all for all; seek nothing; call for nothing back. Thou shalt be free in heart and the darkness shall not overwhelm thee.” And around them there spread the wide horizon of the sea one hour, of the white ashes of sand the next.
From the mind of some unknown brilliant creator came this mâle and magnificent idea, crafted in the height of Gothic architecture. Who but someone deeply in love with contemplation would have placed their cloister on top of their monastery beneath the open sky, or opened a peaceful courtyard to a monks’ dining hall, where, in a tranquil flood of light, the brothers could sit reflecting as they listened to one of their own reading from the stone lectern the book that embodies the spirit of Bernard of Clairvaux: “Give all for all; seek nothing; ask for nothing in return. You shall be free at heart, and darkness shall not overcome you.” And around them was the vast horizon of the sea one moment, and the white sands the next.
Pacing the lovely skyward cloister one has time to brood on life and death, on God and one’s own soul; it refutes a hundred calumnies against monastic life just by being what it is. Serious men enamored of voluntary seclusion carved it unstintingly and set its columns quaintly in triangular order. Love and science contrived the diffused, soothing luminousness of the brothers’ dining hall. The present gable windows there are innovations. Originally when one entered one could discern no window, and yet light was everywhere. The side walls, that from the door appear to be blind arcades, are in reality a succession of narrow panel windows—thirty to a side—deeply recessed in stone embrasures that are triangular in shape, because they serve the purpose of buttresses. To have carried the exterior buttress ridges to such a height as is this refectory, set audaciously up in the sky on the Merveille’s third story, would have been an awkward procedure; so the nameless monk-architect, because he was a XIII-century man, let his genius lead him, and, “master of the living stone” that he was, contrived a supreme beauty of decoration out of a structural necessity.
Walking through the beautiful skyward cloister gives you a chance to reflect on life and death, on God and your own soul; it disproves hundreds of insults against monastic life simply by being what it is. Dedicated men who loved voluntary solitude created it generously and arranged its columns in a charming triangular layout. Love and science worked together to create the soft, soothing light in the brothers’ dining hall. The current gable windows are a new addition. Originally, when you entered, you could see no windows, yet light filled the space. The side walls, which from the doorway look like solid arcades, actually feature a series of narrow panel windows—thirty on each side—deeply set in stone frames that are triangular because they also provide support. Bringing the exterior buttress ridges to this height for the refectory, which boldly stands in the sky on the third story of the Merveille, would have been difficult; so the unknown monk-architect, being a 13th-century man, followed his creative vision, and as a “master of the living stone,” he transformed a structural necessity into a stunning work of art.
The Merveille was erected under a succession of abbots, in one consecutive radiant effort, from 1203 to 1228—a Titan’s work. Each of its three stories is divided into two halls; on the ground floor are the almonry, where the pilgrims fed, and a groin-vaulted cellery or storehouse; the top story, as we have seen, consists of open cloister and monks’ refectory; and between the upper and lower stories are two of the most vigorous halls ever built; that over the almonry called the Salle des Hôtes because in it were entertained the guests of the monastery, and that to the west, over the cellery, acquiring the name Salle des Chevaliers, from the Order of the Knights of St. Michael, whose members met here. The latter is divided by rows of stout pillars, and served as the common room of the community, where the tireless scholar-scribes illuminated missals and copied manuscripts.
The Merveille was built under a series of abbots, in one continuous impressive effort, from 1203 to 1228—a monumental achievement. Each of its three levels is separated into two halls; on the ground floor are the almonry, where pilgrims were fed, and a groin-vaulted storeroom; the top level, as we have seen, includes an open cloister and the monks' dining hall; and between the upper and lower levels are two of the most impressive halls ever constructed; the one above the almonry is called the Salle des Hôtes because it hosted the monastery’s guests, and the one to the west, above the storeroom, is named Salle des Chevaliers, after the Order of the Knights of St. Michael, whose members gathered here. The latter is divided by rows of sturdy pillars and served as the community's gathering space, where diligent scholar-scribes illuminated missals and copied manuscripts.
The charter for the military Order of the Archangel, founded in 1469 by Louis XI, welded the name of St. Michael, whom every good Frenchman knew kept a specially friendly eye on France, with that of Jeanne the Maid, who had quitted Domrémy-on-the-Meuse because the voice of her dear archangel rang insistent in her ear: Fille Dè, va! Je serai à ton ayde. Va! It was St. Michael who first roused her to the sense of the great misery there was in the kingdom of France, and in her hour of victory after Orléans she spoke of going to the rescue of the besieged Mount in Normandy. At her trial in Rouen she dwelt on the comfort he had given her.[335] He appeared to her, she said, in the guise of “un très vrai prud’homme”—the term loved of St. Louis, who once told Joinville that to be prud’homme meant to be knight in heart, as well as outward bearing. “I believe the words of St. Michael who appeared to me,” said Jeanne, at her trial, “as firmly as I believe that Our Lord Jesus Christ suffered death and passion for us. And what leads me so to believe is the good counsel, comfort, and good doctrine St. Michael gave me.”
The charter for the military Order of the Archangel, established in 1469 by Louis XI, combined the name of St. Michael, whom every good Frenchman believed watched over France, with that of Jeanne the Maid, who left Domrémy-on-the-Meuse because the voice of her beloved archangel was persistently calling her: Fille Dè, va! Je serai à ton ayde. Va! It was St. Michael who first awakened her to the deep suffering in the kingdom of France, and after her victory at Orléans, she mentioned her wish to help the besieged Mount in Normandy. During her trial in Rouen, she spoke about the comfort he had provided her.[335] She said he appeared to her as “un très vrai prud’homme”—a term favored by St. Louis, who once told Joinville that being prud’homme meant being a knight in both heart and appearance. “I believe the words of St. Michael who appeared to me,” Jeanne said at her trial, “as firmly as I believe that Our Lord Jesus Christ suffered death and passion for us. What gives me such belief is the good advice, comfort, and sound teachings St. Michael provided me.”
On the completion of the Merveille, the monks continued building. They had finished the officiality hall by the entrance gate of the monastery before the visit of St. Louis to the Mount in 1254, when he came to return thanks for his safety during his late crusade. The XIV century added more defenses till the rock became the most forceful example of mediæval military architecture. Strong walls were needed during its siege by the English who invaded Normandy under Henry V. The Mount’s abbot, Robert Jollivet, whose name figures among the well-paid judges at Rouen in 1431, allied himself with the victorious foreigners who had quickly overrun the province. His monks repudiated him, led by their prior, Jean Gonault. Defended by the gallant knight Louis d’Estouteville, they endured the longest siege recorded in history, 1415 to 1450, when, as Jeanne had proclaimed, the invaders were “boutés tous hors de France.”[336]
Upon completing the Merveille, the monks kept building. They had finished the official hall by the entrance gate of the monastery before St. Louis visited the Mount in 1254 to give thanks for his safety during his recent crusade. The 14th century saw more defenses added until the rock became the strongest example of medieval military architecture. Strong walls were necessary during its siege by the English who invaded Normandy under Henry V. The Mount's abbot, Robert Jollivet, whose name appears among the well-paid judges in Rouen in 1431, allied himself with the victorious foreigners who quickly took over the province. His monks rejected him, led by their prior, Jean Gonault. Defended by the brave knight Louis d'Estouteville, they endured the longest siege in recorded history, from 1415 to 1450, when, as Jeanne had proclaimed, the invaders were “boutés tous hors de France.”
In 1429, during the memorable siege, the Romanesque choir of Mont-Saint-Michel’s abbey church collapsed. It was impossible then to rebuild it; they had even to sell their altar vessels to carry on the defense. When Normandy was again a part of France the erection of a new choir was undertaken by the abbot of the Mount, who was none other than the distinguished Cardinal Guillaume d’Estouteville, the chief agent in the vindication of Jeanne d’Arc’s memory. His layman brother had directed the defense of the Mount during many years. In 1450 were laid down the crypt’s nineteen mammoth piers, among the most powerful ever planted. The upper church reached its triforium story by 1469, the year when Louis XI came to the rock to establish his new Order of knighthood, and about 1513 the choir was completed. Many hold it to be superior to all other late-Gothic works in France. There are no capitals, the moldings die away in the shafts, the triforium is glazed. It belongs to the fleeting splendor of Flamboyant art, but without capriciousness. There is no overexuberance, no virtuosity in this vigorous, glad memorial of the nation’s reconquered freedom:
In 1429, during the notable siege, the Romanesque choir of Mont-Saint-Michel’s abbey church fell apart. It was impossible to rebuild it at that time; they even had to sell their altar vessels to continue the defense. When Normandy was once again part of France, a new choir was built by the abbot of the Mount, who was the notable Cardinal Guillaume d’Estouteville, the main advocate for Jeanne d’Arc’s legacy. His layman brother had led the defense of the Mount for many years. In 1450, the crypt’s nineteen massive piers were established, some of the strongest ever erected. The upper church reached its triforium level by 1469, the year Louis XI visited the rock to set up his new Order of knighthood, and around 1513, the choir was finished. Many consider it superior to all other late-Gothic works in France. There are no capitals, the moldings fade into the shafts, and the triforium is glazed. It represents the fleeting splendor of Flamboyant art, but without unnecessary ornamentation. There is no excessive flair, no showiness in this strong, joyous memorial of the nation’s regained freedom:
And oh! what did she find there?
The courageous seed of her spreading In fruit everywhere.
And where her strong and gentle heart Was broken in the fire,
She discovered the very heart of France. Had bloomed to her name.[337]
Building activities at the embattled abbey ceased after the erection of its beautiful florid choir. The evil consequences of commendatory abbots—those named by royal whim—bore bitter fruit from end to end of France in the relaxed spiritual life of the monasteries. The XVII-century reformers of the Congregation of St. Maur found the Mount’s abbot to be a princeling of Lorraine, five years of age. Those scholarly Benedictines carried on excellent research work in local history, but to their neo-classic generation Gothic art was a sealed book.
Building activities at the troubled abbey stopped after the beautiful ornate choir was built. The negative effects of commendatory abbots—those appointed by royal favor—had a detrimental impact throughout France on the weakened spiritual life of the monasteries. The 17th-century reformers of the Congregation of St. Maur discovered that the abbey's abbot was a 5-year-old prince from Lorraine. These educated Benedictines did outstanding research in local history, but to their neo-classical generation, Gothic art was a complete mystery.
Deplorable changes went on during three hundred years: an apsidal chapel of the church was made into a staircase, irregular windows were opened in the halls of the Merveille, the cloister was planted as a garden, to the deterioration of the lower structures, and when, in 1776, fire weakened the abbatial, its three westernmost bays were demolished and the present ugly façade put up. After the Revolution pillaged the monastery it became a state prison called Mont Libre, and so continued until 1863. The church was floored midway to serve as a convicts’ hat factory. The modern restoration of Mont-Saint-Michel has been, like that which saved the palace of the popes at Avignon, a truly national benefit.
Deplorable changes took place over three hundred years: an apsidal chapel of the church was turned into a staircase, irregular windows were added in the halls of the Merveille, the cloister was turned into a garden, damaging the lower structures, and when, in 1776, a fire weakened the abbatial, its three westernmost bays were torn down and the current unattractive façade was put up. After the Revolution looted the monastery, it became a state prison called Mont Libre, which lasted until 1863. The church was partially floored to be used as a convict hat factory. The modern restoration of Mont-Saint-Michel has been, like the restoration that saved the palace of the popes in Avignon, a true national benefit.
THE CATHEDRAL OF ROUEN[338]
THE CATHEDRAL OF ROUEN__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
One can say that nothing great ever was accomplished in the Church without women bearing a part. A host of them stood among the martyrs in the amphitheater; they disputed with the anchorites the possession of the desert. Constantine set up the Labarum on the Capitol, and St. Helena raised the True Cross on the walls of Jerusalem. Clovis, at Tolbiac, invoked the God of Clotilda. Monica’s tears won the conversion of Augustine. Jerome dedicated the Vulgate to the piety of two Roman ladies, Paula and Eustochium. The first lawmakers of monkish life, Basil and Benedict, were seconded by their sisters, Macrina and Scholastica. The Countess Matilda held up the tottering throne of Gregory VII. The wise judgment of Queen Blanche dominated the reign of St. Louis. France was saved by Jeanne d’Arc. Isabella of Castile led in the discovery of the New World. And in times closer to our own we see St. Teresa mixing with bishops, doctors, and the founders of Orders by which the reform in Catholic ranks was operated. We see St. Francis de Sales cultivating like a rare flower the soul of Madame de Chantal, and St. Vincent de Paul passing over to Louise Marillac the most admirable of his designs, the establishment of the Sisters of Charity.—Frédéric Ozanam.
One can say that nothing significant was ever achieved in the Church without women playing a role. Many of them were among the martyrs in the arena; they contested for the desert with the hermits. Constantine raised the Labarum on the Capitol, and St. Helena brought the True Cross to the walls of Jerusalem. Clovis, at Tolbiac, called on the God of Clotilda. Monica's tears led to Augustine's conversion. Jerome dedicated the Vulgate to the devotion of two Roman women, Paula and Eustochium. The first lawmakers of monastic life, Basil and Benedict, were supported by their sisters, Macrina and Scholastica. Countess Matilda upheld the unstable throne of Gregory VII. The wise judgment of Queen Blanche influenced the reign of St. Louis. France was saved by Jeanne d'Arc. Isabella of Castile played a key role in the discovery of the New World. And in more recent times, we see St. Teresa engaging with bishops, theologians, and the founders of Orders that brought about reform within the Catholic Church. We see St. Francis de Sales nurturing the soul of Madame de Chantal like a rare flower, and St. Vincent de Paul entrusting his most admirable plan, the establishment of the Sisters of Charity, to Louise Marillac.—Frédéric Ozanam.
So much for the abbey churches of Normandy. Many another might be described, but with six Gothic cathedrals to consider, one must refrain. Of the six—Rouen, Lisieux, Évreux, Séez, Bayeux, and Coutances—that of Rouen shows the earliest Gothic work and its character is more French than Norman, as if the river, flowing down from Paris, carried with its waters the characteristics of the art life astir on the banks of the Seine, Oise, Aisne, and Marne.
So that’s it for the abbey churches of Normandy. Many others could be mentioned, but with six Gothic cathedrals to look at, we should hold off. Of the six—Rouen, Lisieux, Évreux, Séez, Bayeux, and Coutances—Rouen has the oldest Gothic design, and its style is more French than Norman, as if the river, flowing down from Paris, brought along the artistic vibes from the banks of the Seine, Oise, Aisne, and Marne.
The least local of Normandy’s cathedrals, Our Lady’s church at Rouen, has a magnetism distinctly its own—from its florid romantic west front, the most lavish screen ever set up, to the imposing sentry columns that guard its sanctuary. The northwest tower is Normandy’s best Primary Gothic, the southwest tower the supremest belfry that sprang up to commemorate the freeing of France from foreign yoke. The façades of the transept and the Lady chapel (whose tombs mark dates in the art history of France) rank with perfect Rayonnant work. Its storied windows are among the richest ever dight by mediæval guildsmen.
The least local of Normandy’s cathedrals, Our Lady’s church in Rouen, has a unique charm all its own—from its ornate romantic west front, the most extravagant screen ever created, to the impressive columns that guard its sanctuary. The northwest tower is the finest example of Primary Gothic in Normandy, while the southwest tower is the ultimate belfry built to celebrate France’s liberation from foreign rule. The façades of the transept and the Lady chapel (whose tombs represent important dates in the art history of France) are considered perfect examples of Rayonnant style. Its beautiful stained glass windows are among the most lavish ever crafted by medieval artisans.
Not but that a dozen flaws might be picked in the metropolitan church at Rouen. Were it to be strictly ranked among French cathedrals, it could not be placed among the foremost. But it has gone on embellishing itself century after century with a self-respect so sincere that few care to dispute its claim to stand in the front rank.
Not that there aren’t a dozen flaws that could be pointed out in the metropolitan church at Rouen. If it were to be strictly ranked among French cathedrals, it wouldn't be at the top. But it has continued to beautify itself century after century with such genuine self-respect that few are willing to challenge its place in the front rank.
On a first visit to Rouen many an amateur prefers the regularity of St. Ouen’s abbatial, which in size equals Westminster Abbey.[339] St. Ouen, the classic of Rayonnant design, geometric in tracery, accentuating the ascending line, coldly perfect in construction, possessed still the true sursum corda of Gothic, though the art was fast crystallizing into formulas. The capitals were lessened, and the glazed triforium united to the clearstory in a single composition. Made of fine-textured gray stone St. Ouen is a stately vessel, but, add the critics, “its uniform excellence is average.” Gothic lore has not degenerated, but has simply gone too far in the development of its principles, says the mechanical artistry of the last built of the great monastic churches of France, planned before the tragedies of the Hundred Years’ War had petrified the national genius.[340]
On a first visit to Rouen, many enthusiasts prefer the regularity of St. Ouen’s abbey, which is about the same size as Westminster Abbey. St. Ouen, a classic example of Rayonnant design, features geometric tracery that emphasizes upward lines, and while it is constructively flawless, it still has the true spirit of Gothic architecture, even though the art was quickly becoming formulaic. The capitals are smaller, and the glazed triforium merges with the clearstory into a single design. Built from fine-textured gray stone, St. Ouen is an impressive structure, but critics argue that its consistent quality is merely average. Gothic knowledge hasn’t declined; instead, it has evolved too far in developing its principles, say the mechanical craftsmanship seen in the last of the great monastic churches in France, planned before the tragedies of the Hundred Years’ War stifled the national creativity.
The cathedral of Normandy’s capital is not uniform, but its excellence surpasses the average. It is not homogeneous, its proportions are not absolutely harmonious, but it has profundity, personal character, and flashes of genius. The better it is known the deeper grows affection for it, which is not the case with St. Ouen. In the latter one feels that the cult is the main concern; in the cathedral there is piety of heart.
The cathedral in Normandy’s capital isn’t uniform, but its quality is above average. It’s not homogeneous, and its proportions aren’t perfectly balanced, but it has depth, a unique character, and moments of brilliance. The more you get to know it, the stronger your affection for it grows, which isn’t true for St. Ouen. In the latter, it feels like the worship is the main focus; in the cathedral, there’s a genuine heartfelt devotion.
The early history of Sainte-Marie at Rouen follows the usual course. Norse marauders wrecked the ancient cathedral. Rollo, the first duke, endowed another which was radically reconstructed under an XI-century archbishop, a son of Duke Richard II. In 1063, that Romanesque church was dedicated by Archbishop Maurille (whose tomb is in the present ambulatory) in the presence of William the Conqueror and his good Matilda. Vestiges of the Romanesque edifice are in the first bay of the choir aisle. In it were interred the prodigious Rollo, the Norwegian sea-robber, who sacked half Normandy, sailed up the Seine to terrorize Paris, and up the Loire to overrun Auvergne and Burgundy, and yet, no sooner was he granted the duchy of northern France than the buccaneer gave way to a ruler whose laws were so respected that golden bracelets were left exposed and remained unstolen for years in the forest of Roumare. Rollo was baptized a Christian in Rouen, in 912, and there he wedded a Carolingian princess. When his son, William Longsword, died in 945, he was wearing a gold key that opened a casket containing a monk’s robe for his burial; the new rulers were swift to comprehend that monasteries were the chief civilizers in that formative age.
The early history of Sainte-Marie at Rouen follows the usual pattern. Norse raiders destroyed the ancient cathedral. Rollo, the first duke, funded another one, which was completely rebuilt under an 11th-century archbishop, a son of Duke Richard II. In 1063, that Romanesque church was dedicated by Archbishop Maurille (whose tomb is in the current ambulatory) in front of William the Conqueror and his wife Matilda. Remnants of the Romanesque structure can be found in the first bay of the choir aisle. In it were buried the remarkable Rollo, the Norwegian pirate who plundered half of Normandy, sailed up the Seine to strike fear into Paris, and navigated up the Loire to invade Auvergne and Burgundy. However, as soon as he was granted the duchy of northern France, the pirate transformed into a ruler whose laws were so respected that gold bracelets were left out in the open and remained untouched for years in the forest of Roumare. Rollo was baptized as a Christian in Rouen in 912, and there he married a Carolingian princess. When his son, William Longsword, died in 945, he was wearing a gold key that opened a box containing a monk’s robe for his burial; the new rulers quickly realized that monasteries were the main civilizers during that developing era.
Near Rouen, in 1087, died the Conqueror, sixth in descent from Rollo. “Pirate jostled statesman” in him, too. Mortally wounded at Mantes, he was brought to the priory of St. Gervase—beneath which suburban church still exists intact a V-century crypt—and as he heard the bells of Rouen Cathedral ringing, there rose to haunt him the curses, not loud but deep, of the oppressed Anglo-Saxons, and most piteously he petitioned the Queen of Heaven to draw Her Son’s attention to all the religious houses he had built for the people’s good on both sides of the Channel. No sooner was he dead than his retainers stripped and robbed him, and through private charity he was carried to his horror-inspiring burial at Caen.
Near Rouen, in 1087, the Conqueror, a descendant of Rollo, passed away. He was a mix of “pirate and statesman.” Mortally wounded at Mantes, he was taken to the priory of St. Gervase—under which still stands a well-preserved 5th-century crypt—and as he listened to the bells of Rouen Cathedral ringing, he was haunted by the quiet but profound curses of the oppressed Anglo-Saxons. Most pitifully, he begged the Queen of Heaven to ask Her Son to remember all the religious houses he had built for the good of the people on both sides of the Channel. As soon as he died, his retainers stripped and robbed him, and through private charity, he was taken to his horrifying burial at Caen.
To Rouen, because of its generosity to him in his captivity, Richard Cœur-de-Lion bequeathed his heart. In 1203 the last duke of Normandy, John Lackland, fled from Rouen after the murder of his nephew, Arthur of Brittany, of which the popular voice accused him. Philippe-Auguste entered the city in triumph in 1204, and the building of the new Gothic cathedral started apace.
To Rouen, because of its kindness to him during his captivity, Richard the Lionheart left his heart. In 1203, the last duke of Normandy, John Lackland, escaped from Rouen after the murder of his nephew, Arthur of Brittany, for which he was publicly blamed. Philippe-Auguste entered the city triumphantly in 1204, and the construction of the new Gothic cathedral began quickly.
Notre Dame at Rouen is associated closely with the return of Normandy under French rule. On Easter night, 1200, fire ravaged the city and its chief church. Whether the cathedral then wrecked was that blessed in 1063 by Bishop Robert de Maurille is uncertain. Some think that it was a Romanesque choir and transept which were burned, and a recently built Primary Gothic nave. It may have been an entirely new Gothic church which was destroyed. At any rate, the northwest tower, named after the VII-century bishop, Romanus, and the side doors of the main façade escaped the fire. The preservation of the tower was due, probably, to its position beyond the side aisle. The doors, built about 1180, are ornamented with Oriental incrustations such as are to be seen in the cathedral at Genoa, with which seaport Rouen had trade links.
Notre Dame in Rouen is closely linked to the return of Normandy under French rule. On Easter night in 1200, a fire devastated the city and its main church. It's unclear whether the cathedral that was destroyed was the one consecrated in 1063 by Bishop Robert de Maurille. Some believe that it was a Romanesque choir and transept that were burned, along with a recently constructed Early Gothic nave. It's possible that an entirely new Gothic church was destroyed. In any case, the northwest tower, named after the 7th-century bishop Romanus, and the side doors of the main façade survived the fire. The tower likely survived because it was located beyond the side aisle. The doors, built around 1180, are decorated with Eastern inlays similar to those found in the cathedral in Genoa, which had trade connections with Rouen.
The Tour Saint-Romain, whose prototypes were the towers at Étampes, Vendôme, and Chartres, was long counted as the oldest Primary Gothic work extant in Normandy, with the chapter house at St. Georges de Boscherville and the chapel of St. Julien, Petit-Quevilly.[341] But as many archæologists now say that the Gothic vault of St. Étienne’s nave at Caen may be 1130 just as well as 1160, and that there are still earlier diagonals in the duchy, it remains an open question where the oldest extant ogival work of Normandy is. Mr. John Bilson claims that the diagonals of Lessay’s choir pre-date any in the Ile-de-France. However the controversy over the priority of diagonals may be decided, the tower of St. Romain is the first Norman monument that shows the incontestable influence of Gothic of the Ile-de-France type.
The Tour Saint-Romain, inspired by the towers at Étampes, Vendôme, and Chartres, was long considered the oldest surviving example of Primary Gothic architecture in Normandy, alongside the chapter house at St. Georges de Boscherville and the chapel of St. Julien, Petit-Quevilly.[341] However, many archaeologists now suggest that the Gothic vault of St. Étienne’s nave at Caen might date to 1130 instead of 1160, and that there are even earlier examples of diagonals in the duchy. Thus, it remains uncertain where the oldest surviving pointed arch work in Normandy can be found. Mr. John Bilson argues that the diagonals in the choir of Lessay are older than any found in the Ile-de-France. Regardless of how the debate over the priority of diagonals is resolved, the tower of St. Romain is the first Norman structure that clearly reflects the undeniable influence of Gothic architecture from the Ile-de-France.
The spirit of religious ardor that expressed itself in the northwest tower of Rouen Cathedral was described by Bishop Hugues d’Amiens in a letter, in 1145, to a brother prelate. He tells how volunteers were quitting Normandy to aid in the making of the new tower at Chartres: “In like manner, a large number of the faithful of this, our diocese, and of neighboring regions, put themselves to work on the cathedral church, their mother, forming associations to which no one is admitted unless he has confessed his sins, fulfilled his penances, laid down at the foot of the altar every enmity and revenge, and become reconciled with his enemies in a true peace. Under the lead of one in the band, who is chosen as chief, the people drag heavy wagons in humility and silence.” The writer of this famous letter had been a monk of Cluny, and while ruling the see of Rouen he taught school there; he had inherited the traditions of Bec’s scholarship through Anselm of Laon. The lower hall of the cathedral tower then begun is considered faultless. Before the close of the century the upper hall was completed, but the belfry story was not added till the late-Gothic day.
The spirit of religious fervor that showed itself in the northwest tower of Rouen Cathedral was described by Bishop Hugues d’Amiens in a letter to a fellow bishop in 1145. He explains how volunteers were leaving Normandy to help build the new tower at Chartres: “Similarly, a large number of the faithful from our diocese and neighboring areas came together to work on the cathedral church, their mother. They formed groups that only admit those who have confessed their sins, completed their penances, left behind all enmity and revenge, and have truly reconciled with their enemies in peace. Led by one chosen as their leader, the people humbly and quietly drag heavy carts.” The author of this famous letter had been a monk at Cluny, and while overseeing the see of Rouen, he also taught school there; he had inherited the academic traditions of Bec through Anselm of Laon. The lower hall of the tower that was just begun is regarded as flawless. Before the century ended, the upper hall was finished, but the belfry wasn’t added until the late Gothic period.
After the fire of 1200 work on the new cathedral was pushed on with energy. A master called Jean d’Andely is cited as the architect, a native, probably, of Les Andelys farther up the Seine, where there are two churches so closely resembling the cathedral of Rouen that they are doubtless from the same hand.[342] Another architect, named Enguerrand, is mentioned as quitting work on the cathedral of the capital in 1214, to undertake the abbatial at Bec. A keystone of Notre Dame, of the date 1233, is inscribed by one Durand, mason. He is thought to have been the son-in-law of the original architect, Jean d’Andely.
After the fire of 1200, work on the new cathedral was pushed forward with determination. A master named Jean d’Andely is mentioned as the architect, likely from Les Andelys further up the Seine, where there are two churches that closely resemble the cathedral of Rouen, indicating they were probably designed by the same hand.[342] Another architect, named Enguerrand, is noted for leaving the work on the capital's cathedral in 1214 to take on the abbatial at Bec. A keystone of Notre Dame, dated 1233, is inscribed by a mason named Durand. He is believed to be the son-in-law of the original architect, Jean d’Andely.
The first plan of Rouen Cathedral called for tribunes over the aisles, but the idea was given up in order to have the side aisles twice as high as originally designed. The arches by which the tribunes would have opened on the central vessel were retained, however, as was done later with the false tribunes of the abbey church at Eu. In the side aisles, resting on the capitals of the nave’s piers, are ringed colonnettes that rise to the ledge above—a ledge constructed to catch the tribune’s diagonals (which never were built). By this graceful expedient they cloaked architectural members prepared but not used. The passageway carried from pier to pier above the main arcade of the nave is exceptional. An apsidal chapel projects from each arm of the transept, as in the Romanesque edifices of the region.
The initial design for Rouen Cathedral included tribunes over the aisles, but that idea was abandoned to make the side aisles twice as high as originally planned. However, the arches that would have connected the tribunes to the central nave were kept, just like the false tribunes in the abbey church at Eu. In the side aisles, resting on the capitals of the nave’s piers, are ringed colonnettes that rise to the ledge above—a ledge created to accommodate the diagonals of the tribunes (which were never built). This elegant solution cleverly concealed architectural elements that were prepared but not used. The passageway stretching from pier to pier above the main arcade of the nave is remarkable. An apsidal chapel extends from each arm of the transept, similar to the Romanesque buildings in the area.
The archbishop under whom Notre Dame of Rouen was begun was Walter of Coutance, Gautier-le-magnifique (1184-1207), who willed his fortune to the cathedral, since it was he, devoted public servant of the Plantagenets, and long the chief justice of England, who had urged the chapter to sell its treasure to help ransom Cœur-de-Lion from captivity after the Third Crusade. He himself went as hostage into Germany in order that Richard might be released before his full ransom was raised. Learned, liberal, and affable, Bishop Walter was a man of whom all spoke well.
The archbishop who started the Notre Dame of Rouen was Walter of Coutance, Gautier-le-magnifique (1184-1207), who left his wealth to the cathedral. He was a dedicated public servant of the Plantagenets and had been the chief justice of England for a long time. He encouraged the chapter to sell its treasure to help free Cœur-de-Lion from captivity after the Third Crusade. He even went as a hostage to Germany so that Richard could be released before his full ransom was collected. Educated, generous, and friendly, Bishop Walter was a man everyone spoke highly of.
The choir of Rouen Cathedral showed more the regional characteristics; the arches were more acute and the moldings multiple. The circular piers about the sanctuary have Norman round capitals. We know that in 1235 a bishop was buried in the choir, which must have been entirely finished when, in 1255, St. Louis spent Easter in Rouen as the guest of his friend and counselor, Archbishop Eudes Rigaud (1247-74), a Franciscan, who was to accompany the king on his fatal crusade. The choir’s upper windows were reconstructed during the XV century.
The choir of Rouen Cathedral displayed more regional features; the arches were sharper and the moldings were varied. The circular pillars around the sanctuary have Norman round capitals. We know that in 1235, a bishop was buried in the choir, which must have been completely finished by 1255 when St. Louis spent Easter in Rouen as the guest of his friend and advisor, Archbishop Eudes Rigaud (1247-74), a Franciscan, who was set to join the king on his doomed crusade. The upper windows of the choir were rebuilt during the 15th century.
About 1280, architect Jean Davy began the south façade of the transept, the Portail de la Calende, so called because there was carved there a mythical animal of that name, considered in ancient times as a symbol of the Saviour, since the superstition was that the sight of a Calende cured illness. The transept façades of Rouen are among the best works of the Rayonnant phase. Their sculpture, says M. Enlart, has not yet the fluid indecision of XIV-century draperies. A pronounced feature of that period are the openwork gables, which, though they may be superbly decorative, are none the less a step away from constructive sincerity, since drip stones made of lacework masonry fail to fulfill their practical function.
About 1280, architect Jean Davy started working on the south façade of the transept, known as the Portail de la Calende, named after a mythical creature carved there, which was seen in ancient times as a symbol of the Savior because it was believed that seeing a Calende could cure illness. The transept façades of Rouen are among the finest examples of the Rayonnant style. According to M. Enlart, their sculpture doesn’t yet exhibit the fluid uncertainty of 14th-century draperies. A notable characteristic of that era is the openwork gables, which, while beautifully decorative, move away from structural honesty, as the lacework masonry drip stones do not serve their practical purpose.
The northern door of the transept was named from the canon’s library beside it. It, too, like the earlier Calende portal, was paneled with medallions over which many a pharisee has shaken his head. The Middle Ages were neither pharisaic nor prudish. Rouen’s little sculptured groups are merely fantastic and popular. They embody no satire against the clergy, as some would intimate; nor are they obscene. To place a centaur or an acrobat in proximity to a scriptural group seemed then no more profane than to illuminate the margins of missals with meaningless frolics. Leeway was allowed the artistic imagination, which here ran largely to grotesques. The medallions of the Calende door were in better sequence and of more vigorous character than those of the Portail des Libraires. Beside this latter entrance is the courtroom of the archepiscopal palace adorned with statues representing Solomon’s judgment, in souvenir of the old usage of rendering justice before church doors.
The northern door of the transept was named after the canon’s library next to it. Like the earlier Calende portal, it was adorned with medallions that many a Pharisee has disapproved of. The Middle Ages were neither hypocritical nor uptight. Rouen’s little sculpted groups are simply whimsical and popular. They don’t contain satire against the clergy, as some might suggest, nor are they inappropriate. Putting a centaur or an acrobat next to a biblical scene didn’t seem any more blasphemous then than illuminating the margins of missals with silly antics. There was room for artistic creativity, which often leaned towards the grotesque. The medallions of the Calende door were more cohesive and had a more dynamic quality than those of the Portail des Libraires. Next to this entrance is the courtroom of the archbishop’s palace, decorated with statues depicting Solomon’s judgment, as a nod to the old practice of administering justice in front of church doors.
From 1302 to 1320 rose the Rayonnant Gothic Lady chapel of impeccable mechanical skill but not inspired. Long centuries later, during the Revolution, its tomb of the cardinals d’Amboise,[343] in which Gothic sculpture culminated, escaped destruction because the axis chapel served as a granary. Clement V, the builder of Bordeaux’ Rayonnant choir, arranged that his nephew, who was archbishop of Rouen and had got into difficulties with the Norman nobles, should exchange his see with Gilles Aycelin, the prelate who was erecting Narbonne Cathedral, brother of the bishop-builder of Clermont’s nave. A little later another archbishop of Rouen became the Avignon pontiff who built the audience hall and the chief chapel of the palace on the Rhone. Other XIV-century additions to Rouen Cathedral are the side chapels; every guild and corporation craved thus to honor its own particular patron.
From 1302 to 1320, the Rayonnant Gothic Lady chapel was built with impressive mechanical skill but lacked inspiration. Many centuries later, during the Revolution, the tomb of the cardinals d’Amboise,[343] which represented the peak of Gothic sculpture, was saved from destruction because the chapel was used as a granary. Clement V, who built Bordeaux's Rayonnant choir, arranged for his nephew, the archbishop of Rouen who had fallen into trouble with the Norman nobles, to swap positions with Gilles Aycelin, the prelate constructing Narbonne Cathedral and brother of the bishop-builder of Clermont’s nave. Soon after, another archbishop of Rouen became the Avignon pope who built the audience hall and the main chapel of the palace on the Rhône. Additions to Rouen Cathedral in the 14th century included side chapels; every guild and corporation wanted to honor their own specific patron.
Those contemporary works, Rouen’s Lady chapel, the choirs of Bordeaux and Narbonne, Avignon’s halls, belong to the phase of the national genius which we call Rayonnant because of its geometric window tracery, a phase aptly designated as metallic by M. Gonse. Artists were fast losing their exquisite feeling for the silhouette; the vertical line was over-accentuated; triforium and clearstory had become one composition. Pitiless logic was drying up the spring of inspiration. When the cathedral of Rouen remade three bays of the nave’s triforium, the model taken was the geometric design of that masterpiece of Rayonnant Gothic, the abbatial of St. Ouen. Before the XIV century closed the façade of the cathedral was redressed with arcatures and statues like the west frontispieces of Wells, Salisbury, and Litchfield.
Those contemporary works, Rouen’s Lady chapel, the choirs of Bordeaux and Narbonne, and Avignon’s halls, belong to the phase of national genius that we call Rayonnant due to its geometric window tracery, a phase aptly termed metallic by M. Gonse. Artists were rapidly losing their exquisite appreciation for silhouette; the vertical line was overly emphasized; the triforium and clearstory had become a single composition. Harsh logic was stifling the flow of inspiration. When the cathedral of Rouen revamped three bays of the nave’s triforium, the model used was the geometric design of that masterpiece of Rayonnant Gothic, the abbey of St. Ouen. Before the 14th century ended, the façade of the cathedral was redone with arcatures and statues similar to the west frontispieces of Wells, Salisbury, and Litchfield.
The XV century carried through the chief supplementary works of Sainte-Marie of Rouen in a style frankly florid. Normandy, Artois, and Picardy reveled in the last development of the national art, regions all of them having close links with England. For if much of Flamboyant Gothic was indigenous, as M. Anthyme Saint-Paul contends, if it enveloped and absorbed Rayonnant Gothic, it seems fairly well proved that its two most pronounced traits, the flamelike window tracery and arches of double curvature, came from England. M. Enlart says that ramified vaults were built at Ely, Lincoln, and Litchfield, during the XIII century. By 1304 accolade arches were used; at Merton College, Oxford, is a flame-tracery window of 1310, features not to be found in France before 1375.[344] In the Rayonnant phase lines break; in the Flamboyant they undulate. Rayonnant capitals were diminished; capitals disappeared altogether in the later period, and molds melted into the piers.
The 15th century saw the main additional works of Sainte-Marie of Rouen created in a distinctly elaborate style. Normandy, Artois, and Picardy thrived on the latest developments of national art, all these regions having strong connections to England. While much of the Flamboyant Gothic was homegrown, as M. Anthyme Saint-Paul argues, and it enveloped and absorbed Rayonnant Gothic, it’s quite well established that its two most noticeable features, the flame-like window tracery and double-curved arches, originated from England. M. Enlart notes that ramified vaults were constructed at Ely, Lincoln, and Litchfield during the 13th century. By 1304, accolade arches were being used; at Merton College, Oxford, there is a flame-tracery window from 1310, features that didn’t appear in France until 1375.[344] In the Rayonnant phase, lines break; in the Flamboyant phase, they flow. Rayonnant capitals were smaller; capitals disappeared entirely in the later period, and molds merged into the piers.
Normandy expressed her renewed national dignity with enthusiasm in the flowery, happy architecture we call Flamboyant:
Normandy proudly showcased her renewed national pride through the vibrant, cheerful architecture known as Flamboyant:
So sang Charles, Duke of Orléans, come back from twenty years in English prisons to witness the expulsion of the invader from Normandy:
So sang Charles, Duke of Orléans, back from twenty years in English prisons to see the invader driven out of Normandy:
Let no one sing or shout in their own jargon; Le Temps has shed its coat
The wind, the cold, and the rain.[345]
How they built in Rouen! With what vim and emancipated energy! St. Ouen carried forward its nave and raised a central tower. From 1437 to 1480 was built the gallant little church of St. Maclou with a central tower that is one of the best in Normandy, and whose curving front of five arcades is profusely elegant. Similarly large, ornate portals became the vogue in late-Gothic Norman construction. St. Maclou is to the Gothic art of the XIII century what the reel is to the minuet, said an English architect.[346]
How they built in Rouen! With such energy and liberating spirit! St. Ouen moved ahead with its nave and raised a central tower. From 1437 to 1480, the bold little church of St. Maclou was built, featuring a central tower that is one of the finest in Normandy, with a beautifully curved front of five arcades that is incredibly elegant. Similarly, large, ornate entrances became the trend in late-Gothic Norman architecture. St. Maclou is to Gothic art of the 13th century what the reel is to the minuet, said an English architect.[346]
In the cathedral of Rouen one noted master succeeded another. Guillaume Pontifs put the belfry on St. Romain’s tower (1463-77); built the canon’s library, to which he made a staircase from the cathedral’s transept; and made the decorated portico leading from the rue St. Romain to the court before the Portail des Libraires. No approach to a church possesses more entirely the atmosphere of the Middle Ages than that. Pontifs began a masterpiece of Flamboyant architecture, the Tour de Beurre (1485-1509), that, as it rises, grows more and more sumptuous, though it never loses its architectural lines. Unfortunately the stone used was of poor quality, which necessitated a coarse sculpture. The transition from square to octagon was gracefully achieved by the one constructive arrangement which originated during the final stage of the national art: to unify the design, flying buttresses were sprung from the corner turrets and the face-shafts to the octagon.[347]
In the Rouen cathedral, one skilled master followed another. Guillaume Pontifs added the belfry to St. Romain’s tower (1463-77); built the canon’s library, which included a staircase from the cathedral’s transept; and created the decorative portico leading from rue St. Romain to the courtyard in front of the Portail des Libraires. No entrance to a church captures the spirit of the Middle Ages quite like that one. Pontifs started an impressive example of Flamboyant architecture, the Tour de Beurre (1485-1509), which becomes more and more lavish as it rises, yet maintains its architectural lines. Unfortunately, the stone used was of poor quality, leading to rough sculpture. The transition from square to octagon was gracefully executed by the innovative design that emerged during the final phase of national art: to unify the structure, flying buttresses were constructed from the corner turrets and the face-shafts to the octagon.
From 1497 to 1507 the master-of-works at Rouen Cathedral was Jacques Le Roux, who continued the Tour de Beurre, finished by his nephew, Rouland Le Roux (1507-20), an artist of the first order. He redressed the upper part of the main frontispiece in order to put it into character with the Tour de Beurre and St. Romain’s belfry. After completing the middle portal of the façade he reconstructed the central tower, whose platform he raised a story higher. When Rouen’s lantern tower was burned in 1822 the present iron skeleton was contrived, a structure too mechanical to be architecture, but of good effect in the distant views of the city.
From 1497 to 1507, the lead architect at Rouen Cathedral was Jacques Le Roux, who worked on the Tour de Beurre until it was completed by his nephew, Rouland Le Roux (1507-20), a top-tier artist. He redesigned the upper part of the main front to match the style of the Tour de Beurre and St. Romain’s belfry. After finishing the middle portal of the façade, he rebuilt the central tower, raising its platform by one story. When Rouen’s lantern tower was destroyed by fire in 1822, the current iron skeleton was created—a structure too mechanical to be considered true architecture, but it looks good in the city’s distant views.
The oft repeated renewals of the famous frontispiece of Rouen Cathedral account for its failure to express the interior church structurally, but though merely a screen, it is deservedly popular, “one of the dreams of the Middle Ages,” M. Émile Lambin has called it. By moonlight its effect is romantic, almost spectacular. Most popular, too, is another work of Rouland Le Roux, the Palais de Justice which he built with Roger Ango, from 1493 to 1507, for the parliament of Normandy. A pomp and a pageantry carried almost to folly distinguished the generations that raised monuments such as these. In 1520, when Francis I met Henry VIII, not far from Rouen, at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, many a lord, says the chronicler, carried on his back his mills and his forests and his meadows. One of the most curious houses in France, Rouen’s Hôtel du Bourgtherould, now a bank near the Old Market, is decorated exteriorly by reliefs of the Field of the Cloth of Gold.[348] M. Léon Palustre discovered that the sculpture on its tower, originally polychrome, was a copy of a Flemish tapestry in the possession of that prince of pageantry, Philippe le Hardi of Burgundy.
The frequently recreated front page of Rouen Cathedral explains why it doesn't structurally reflect the interior of the church. However, even though it's just a facade, it’s rightfully admired; M. Émile Lambin refers to it as “one of the dreams of the Middle Ages.” Its appearance by moonlight is romantic, almost dramatic. Another popular creation is the Palais de Justice, built by Rouland Le Roux and Roger Ango from 1493 to 1507 for the parliament of Normandy. The era that constructed monuments like these was marked by extravagance and spectacle almost to the point of absurdity. In 1520, when Francis I met Henry VIII not far from Rouen at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, many lords, as chroniclers recorded, carried their mills, forests, and meadows on their backs. One of the most interesting houses in France, Rouen’s Hôtel du Bourgtherould, which now serves as a bank near the Old Market, is adorned outside with reliefs from the Field of the Cloth of Gold.[348] M. Léon Palustre found that the sculpture on its tower, originally in color, was a replica of a Flemish tapestry owned by the grand showman, Philippe le Hardi of Burgundy.
The archbishop of Rouen from 1493 to 1510 was none other than the Mæcenas of his age, Cardinal George I d’Amboise, chief minister of Louis XII. All over France we have traced the work of that art-loving family—at Paris, Cluny, Clermont, Chaumont, Albi. A nephew of the same name held the see here until 1545, and saw to the erection of his uncle’s tomb, designed by Rouland Le Roux, with sculpture by artists of the Michel Colombe tradition as well as those of the Italian Renaissance.
The archbishop of Rouen from 1493 to 1510 was none other than the patron of his time, Cardinal George I d’Amboise, who served as the chief minister to Louis XII. We can see the influence of that art-loving family all over France—in Paris, Cluny, Clermont, Chaumont, and Albi. A nephew with the same name held the position until 1545 and oversaw the construction of his uncle’s tomb, designed by Rouland Le Roux, featuring sculptures by artists in the Michel Colombe style as well as those from the Italian Renaissance.
Rouen was so active a center for glassmaking that, in 1317, Exeter obtained windows here, as did Gloucester and Merton College, Oxford. Next to Troyes, Rouen contained the richest collection of colored glass in France. Until the Revolution her eighty lesser churches were filled with it. The best windows left are six lancets in the ambulatory of the cathedral. They belong to the XIII-century school of Chartres and are exceptional in being the only signed windows; “Clement of Chartres” was their maker. The first, given by a company of boatmen, relates the legend of St. Julian Hospitator, who ferried strangers day and night over the river, a story recounted by Gustave Flaubert, a son of Rouen.[349] The other five lancets are of the Biblia pauperum type, teaching dogma to the people. The cold, limpid hues of the XIV century appear in the Lady chapel, and in the chapel of St. Jeanne d’Arc is an interesting Pentecost window of that century; contemporary are the apse lights in the upper choir, where the unsuccessful experiment was tried of continuing the subject from one panel to another—here the arms of the Crucified Lord extend into the lateral lights. The cathedral’s west rose is of the XV century; in the transept is a XVI-century window devoted to the ancient bishop Romanus. The abbatial of St. Ouen has, with the choir of Évreux, the best array extant of XIV-century canopy glass figures. So loath were the vitrine artists to give up an architectural design in glass that when the XV century composed scenes instead of single figures for each panel, even those small groups were set in grisaille frames.
Rouen was such a vibrant center for glassmaking that, in 1317, Exeter sourced windows from there, along with Gloucester and Merton College, Oxford. After Troyes, Rouen had the richest collection of colored glass in France. Until the Revolution, its eighty smaller churches were filled with it. The best surviving windows are six lancets in the cathedral's ambulatory. They are from the 13th-century Chartres school and are notable for being the only signed windows; “Clement of Chartres” was their maker. The first, donated by a group of boatmen, depicts the legend of St. Julian Hospitator, who ferried strangers across the river day and night, a story told by Gustave Flaubert, a native of Rouen.[349] The other five lancets are of the Biblia pauperum type, educating people on dogma. The cool, clear colors of the 14th century can be seen in the Lady chapel, and in the chapel of St. Jeanne d’Arc, there's an intriguing Pentecost window from that century; the apse lights in the upper choir are also contemporary, where an unsuccessful attempt was made to continue the theme from one panel to another—here, the arms of the Crucified Lord stretch into the side lights. The cathedral’s west rose dates to the 15th century; in the transept, there’s a 16th-century window honoring the ancient bishop Romanus. The abbatial of St. Ouen, along with the choir of Évreux, displays the finest collection of 14th-century canopy glass figures. The glass artists were so reluctant to abandon an architectural style in glass that when the 15th century moved to scenes instead of single figures for each panel, even those small groups were framed in grisaille.
The iconoclastic 1562 worked havoc in Rouen. For twenty-four hours a Huguenot mob wrecked tombs, altars, and windows in the cathedral, to such an extent that it lay unused during half a year. One mourns the loss of the cenotaph of good Charles V, made in 1369 by the same Jean de Marville who designed the famous Dijon tomb of the king’s brother. Ten years later, in 1572, the Rouen Catholics retaliated by massacring some eight hundred Calvinists in the city on St. Bartholomew’s Day.
The iconoclastic events of 1562 caused chaos in Rouen. For twenty-four hours, a Huguenot mob destroyed tombs, altars, and windows in the cathedral, leaving it unused for six months. We lament the loss of the cenotaph of good Charles V, created in 1369 by the same Jean de Marville who designed the well-known tomb of the king’s brother in Dijon. Ten years later, in 1572, the Catholics of Rouen struck back by killing around eight hundred Calvinists in the city on St. Bartholomew’s Day.
In the World War Rouen became almost an English city again. This time, however, England, the ancient combatant of France, came not as a detested invader, but as her ally in dire years of distress. It is pleasant to learn that devotion to the Maid of Orleans was not infrequent among the English troops of 1914-18.
De ma part, je répute son histoire un vrai miracle le Dieu. La pudicité que je vois l’avoir accompagnée jusques à sa mort, même au milieu des troupes; la juste querelle qu’elle prit; la prouesse qu’elle y apporta; les heureux succès de ses affaires; la sage simplicité que je recueille de ses réponses au interrogatoires qui lui furent faits par les juges du tout voués à sa ruine; ses prédictions qui, depuis, sortirent effet; la mort cruelle qu’elle choisit dont elle se pouvoit garantir s’il y eût de la feintise en son fait; tout cela dis-je, me fait croire (joint les voyes du ciel quelle oyoit) que toute sa vie et histoire fut un vrai martyre de Dieu.—Testimony of Étienne Pasquier (1529-1615).
From my perspective, I consider her story a true miracle from God. The modesty I saw in her all the way to her death, even in the midst of the troops; the legitimate cause she stood up for; the bravery she showed; the fortunate outcomes of her actions; the wise simplicity reflected in her answers during the interrogations conducted by the judges who were completely bent on her downfall; her predictions that later came true; the cruel death she chose, from which she could have escaped if there had been any deceit in her actions; all of this makes me believe (along with the heavenly signs she heard) that her entire life and story was a true martyrdom for God.—Testimony of Étienne Pasquier (1529-1615).
So swiftly followed the fruitage of the sacrifice offered up in the Vieux-Marché on May 21, 1431, that in every part of the ancient city of Rouen sprang up exuberant, vigorous, Flamboyant monuments. The most momentous and the saddest happening in the history of Normandy’s capital was the burning at the stake of Jeanne la Pucelle whose relief of Orléans, only two short years before, had saved the nation in its last gasp.
So quickly came the aftermath of the sacrifice made in Vieux-Marché on May 21, 1431, that all over the ancient city of Rouen, vibrant, striking monuments sprang up. The most significant and tragic event in the history of Normandy’s capital was the burning at the stake of Jeanne la Pucelle, whose relief of Orléans, just two years prior, had saved the nation in its final moments.
From the church of St. Saviour on the market place they brought her the cross for which she begged on that tragic morning, that the pillory on which her Lord had hung might be held up before her eyes, to strengthen her in her last hour. Long afterward, in 1450, Massieu, the priest-sheriff of her trial, a weak man but less unsympathetic than many in that grim gathering of rascals, testified: “The English feared her more than the whole army of the king of France.... It was they who held the trial and paid its costs. She was taken to the Viel-Marché, having beside her Brother Martin and me, and accompanied by more than eight hundred men at arms, with spears and swords. On the way she made pious lamentation so touchingly that my companion and I could not keep back our tears. She recommended her soul to God and the saints with such devotion that those who heard her wept. All distressed, she exclaimed, ‘Rouen, Rouen, must I die here!’”
From the church of St. Saviour in the marketplace, they brought her the cross she had asked for on that tragic morning, so that the pillory where her Lord had hung could be held up before her eyes, to give her strength in her final moments. Much later, in 1450, Massieu, the priest-sheriff at her trial, a weak man but less unsympathetic than many in that grim group of rascals, testified: “The English feared her more than the entire army of the king of France.... They were the ones who held the trial and covered its costs. She was taken to the Viel-Marché, with Brother Martin and me beside her, and accompanied by more than eight hundred armed men, with spears and swords. On the way, she expressed her pious sorrow so movingly that my companion and I couldn’t hold back our tears. She committed her soul to God and the saints with such devotion that those who listened were moved to tears. Distressed, she cried out, ‘Rouen, Rouen, must I die here!’”
When the Old Market was reached Jeanne heard herself sermonized as a limb of Satan, a blasphemer guilty of diabolical malice, of pernicious crimes, and infected with the leprosy of heresy. Her sentence read, she fell on her knees and addressed to God prayers so ardent that even the foreign masters of Rouen were moved. Her dear St. Michael she petitioned, too. “As soon as the flames reached her,” relates an eyewitness, “she cried out more than six times, ‘Jhésus!’ and then a final time, in a loud voice, with her last breath, ‘Jhésus!’ And her cry was heard from end to end of the market place, and almost everyone was weeping.... A shiver passed over the assembly.... The people pointed at her judges and said that Jeanne was the victim of a great injustice.... They murmured that such an evil deed should have taken place in their city.... That evening the executioner went to the Dominican convent and confessed in fear, ‘I have burned a saint!’... The secretary of the English king turned away from the lamentable spectacle, muttering: ‘We are lost. We have burned a saint!” Surrounded by her brutal jailers, at dawn that May morning, Jeanne had said, with confidence, “With God’s aid, I shall be this night in His Kingdom of Paradise.” As her final cry to her Redeemer rang out, a canon of Rouen Cathedral prayed aloud, “Would to God my soul were where I believe is the soul of this Maid.”
When they reached the Old Market, Jeanne heard herself condemned as a servant of Satan, a blasphemer guilty of evil deeds, with a dangerous mindset, and infected with the disease of heresy. After hearing her sentence, she dropped to her knees and offered prayers to God that were so passionate they even moved the foreign rulers of Rouen. She also prayed to her beloved St. Michael. “As soon as the flames reached her,” an eyewitness reported, “she cried out more than six times, ‘Jhésus!’ and then one last time, loudly, with her final breath, ‘Jhésus!’ Her cry echoed throughout the marketplace, and almost everyone was in tears.... A chill ran through the crowd.... The people pointed at her judges and said that Jeanne was the victim of a terrible injustice.... They whispered that such a wicked act should not have happened in their city.... That evening, the executioner went to the Dominican convent and confessed in fear, ‘I have burned a saint!’... The secretary of the English king turned away from the tragic scene, muttering: ‘We are doomed. We have burned a saint!’ Surrounded by her cruel captors, at dawn that May morning, Jeanne had said confidently, “With God’s help, I will be in His Kingdom of Paradise tonight.” As her final plea to her Redeemer echoed out, a canon of Rouen Cathedral prayed aloud, “Would to God my soul were where I believe is the soul of this Maid.”
The young priest-secretary, the clerk of the court, Manchon, who took down her trial (and let his irresistible admiration for her run over in marginal notes, “Superba responsio!”), testified later: “Never did I weep so much over any grief that has come to me, and for a month I could not be appeased. I bought a little missal with the money that came to me from the trial, that I might have cause to remember her in my prayers.” The verdict of all impartial men in Rouen, that somber May morning of 1431, was that the whole business from beginning to end had been violence and injustice.[351]
The young priest-secretary, the court clerk, Manchon, who recorded her trial (and let his undeniable admiration for her show in marginal notes, “Superba responsio!”), later testified: “I have never wept so much over any sorrow that has come my way, and for a month I couldn’t find any peace. I bought a little missal with the money I received from the trial, so I would have a reason to remember her in my prayers.” The consensus among all the impartial people in Rouen on that gloomy May morning in 1431 was that the entire affair had been an act of violence and injustice.[351]
A packed jury had judged her. The president of the tribunal, the renegade selected to prove a saint a sorceress, was Bishop Pierre Cauchon, driven from his see of Beauvais by loyal Frenchmen, as the enemy of his own country. Because the see of Rouen was unoccupied, the English preferred to hold Jeanne’s trial there rather than at Paris, where the bishop was not their creature. How abject a tool Cauchon was is to-day shown by old receipts which prove that he was the recipient, on each day of the trial, of a hundred sols tournois. For the same ignoble reason many a learned professor “charged his soul.”
A packed jury had judged her. The head of the tribunal, the renegade chosen to prove a saint was a sorceress, was Bishop Pierre Cauchon, who had been ousted from his position in Beauvais by loyal Frenchmen, as an enemy of his own country. Since the seat in Rouen was vacant, the English preferred to hold Jeanne's trial there instead of in Paris, where the bishop wasn't under their control. How much of a puppet Cauchon was is shown today by old receipts that prove he received a hundred sols tournois every day of the trial. For the same disgraceful reason, many learned professors "charged his soul."
There was not the faintest shadow of fair play in the process. After Maître Jean Lohier had said to Cauchon that the proceedings were not valid because Jeanne was allowed no counsel, nor were the hearings in public court, and those present had not freedom to express their true opinion, that honest Norman lawyer saw that his only safety lay in quitting the city. “It is an affair of hate,” he said to young Secretary Manchon one day as they stood together in Rouen Cathedral. “Deliberately they try to trap her. If only she would not say in regard to her apparitions, ‘I know for certain,’ but, ‘It seems to me,’ I do not see how she could be condemned.”
There was no hint of fairness in the process. After Maître Jean Lohier told Cauchon that the proceedings were invalid because Jeanne was denied counsel, the hearings weren't in a public court, and those present couldn't freely express their true opinions, that honest Norman lawyer realized his only option for safety was to leave the city. “This is an affair of hate,” he said to young Secretary Manchon one day as they stood together in Rouen Cathedral. “They are deliberately trying to trap her. If only she would say about her visions, ‘I know for certain,’ instead of, ‘It seems to me,’ I don’t see how she could be condemned.”
Some canons of the cathedral who criticized the trial were thrown into prison, and the English locked up a citizen who remarked that since Jeanne had been judged innocent by the doctors at Poitiers, in a court presided over by the archbishop of Rheims, a second trial was illegal. Three of the younger judges who at first dared to give their true opinion were berated by Cauchon, who bade them quit their ecclesiastical quibbling and let the jurists decide the matter. The testimony of the aged bishop of Avranches, then a resident of Rouen, was set aside because he advised that in matters doubtful touching the faith the case should be referred to a council or to the pope. Because Massieu, the humble court usher, said to a townsman, “I can see nothing but goodness and honor in her,” he was threatened with a prison cell where never again would he see sun or moon. The secretaries, Manchon and Boisguillaume, were beaten by the English. A man on the street who spoke well of Jeanne was chased by Lord Warwick with a drawn sword and almost killed. Passions ran high. Lord Stafford drew his dagger on Jeanne in her cell one day because she said that the English would be driven out of France. Even after her execution, when a Dominican in the city spoke kindly of her, he was flung into prison for a year.
Some canons of the cathedral who criticized the trial were imprisoned, and the English locked up a citizen who pointed out that since Jeanne had been found innocent by the doctors at Poitiers, in a court overseen by the archbishop of Rheims, a second trial was illegal. Three of the younger judges who initially dared to express their true opinions were scolded by Cauchon, who told them to stop their church-related debates and let the legal experts decide the issue. The testimony of the elderly bishop of Avranches, who was then living in Rouen, was dismissed because he suggested that in cases of doubt regarding faith, the matter should be referred to a council or the pope. Massieu, the humble court usher, told a townsman, “I can see nothing but goodness and honor in her,” and was threatened with imprisonment where he would never again see the sun or moon. The secretaries, Manchon and Boisguillaume, were beaten by the English. A man on the street who spoke positively about Jeanne was chased by Lord Warwick with a drawn sword and nearly killed. Tempers flared. Lord Stafford pulled his dagger on Jeanne in her cell one day because she claimed that the English would be driven out of France. Even after her execution, when a Dominican in the city spoke kindly of her, he was thrown into prison for a year.
Her judges sought to tire Jeanne out by long hours of interrogation; the lawyers themselves came away exhausted from the sessions. Virulent against her was Beaupère, rector of Paris University, who, when routed by the young girl’s replies, called her sly. When Cauchon wished to have it appear that she refused to submit to the Church, he made the scribes omit her statement that gladly she appealed to a general council or to the pope. “Ah,” cried Jeanne, “you write all that is against me, but you do not write anything for me.” The lawyers’ subtle questions rained on her thick and fast till she would call them to order with admirable courtesy, “Beaux seigneurs, faites l’un après l’autre.” Whenever she wished to make no reply to a question came her concise, “Passez outre.” Secretary Manchon testified before an inquest, twenty years later, “Never could Jeanne have defended herself as she did in so difficult a cause, against so many and such learned doctors, if she had not been inspired.”
Her judges tried to wear Jeanne out with long hours of questioning; even the lawyers left the sessions feeling drained. Beaupère, the rector of Paris University, was particularly harsh on her, and when he was outsmarted by the young girl’s answers, he called her cunning. When Cauchon wanted to make it seem like she refused to submit to the Church, he instructed the scribes to leave out her statement that she willingly appealed to a general council or the pope. “Ah,” Jeanne exclaimed, “you write everything that goes against me, but you don’t write anything in my favor.” The lawyers’ clever questions came at her thick and fast until she would politely bring them to order, saying, “Beaux seigneurs, faites l’un après l’autre.” Whenever she didn’t want to answer a question, she simply said, “Passez outre.” Secretary Manchon testified in an inquiry twenty years later, “Jeanne could never have defended herself so well in such a challenging case, against so many knowledgeable doctors, if she hadn’t been inspired.”
Sublime to tears are some of the answers made by this young country girl not yet twenty, who could barely read and write, who knew only Pater and Ave. When sheeringly asked were she in a state of grace, she replied: “A serious question to answer. If I am, may God keep me so; if I am not, may God put me in his grace. I would rather die than not have God’s love.” Awe fell on the assemblage and for that day the session broke up.[352]
Sublime to tears are some of the answers given by this young country girl, not yet twenty, who could barely read and write, who knew only Pater and Ave. When asked whether she was in a state of grace, she replied: “That’s a serious question to answer. If I am, may God keep me that way; if I’m not, may God put me in his grace. I would rather die than be without God’s love.” Awe fell over the gathering, and for that day, the session ended.[352]
Yet Jeanne was very human at her trial, too. It was just the well-brought-up country maid, the Jeannette they all loved in Domrémy, who boasted before those callous men: “For sewing and for spinning, I fear no woman in Rouen.” Those housewives of Rouen, the “little people of the Lord,” to whom Jeanne’s thoughts turned in homely fashion, dared only murmur beneath their breath that her process was “a crying injustice,” and shame it was that so evil a cause célèbre should take place in their good town. Rouen was terrorized into silence by her foreign master.
Yet Jeanne was very relatable during her trial, too. It was just the well-mannered country girl, the Jeannette everyone loved in Domrémy, who proudly declared in front of those unemotional men: “When it comes to sewing and spinning, I'm not intimidated by any woman in Rouen.” Those housewives of Rouen, the “little people of the Lord,” to whom Jeanne’s thoughts affectionately turned, could only quietly express that her trial was “a heartbreaking injustice,” and it was shameful that such an evil cause célèbre was happening in their good town. Rouen was silenced by her foreign oppressor.
Jeanne’s five months’ imprisonment and final execution at Rouen was a political crime covered with the cloak of religious zeal by a very genius of hypocrisy. John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford, together with the boy king’s great-uncle, the cardinal of Winchester, were the movers behind the scenes. Jeanne never quitted her prison in the castle built by Philippe-Auguste—only a tower of which is extant to-day. From that stronghold the English governed Normandy. Since the opening of the World War an erroneous inscription, placed by partisan politicians in the wall of the episcopal palace of Rouen, has been changed, for it sought to convey the idea that from the prelate’s court of justice Jeanne was led forth to her death. Never did she set foot in that officiality building; she was held from the first day to the last in an English prison. From a dark cell in the tower fortress she was conducted through corridors of the same castle to the hall where sat her judges. Massieu, the usher, used to let her slip into the castle chapel for an Ave as she passed its open door, but even that solace was stopped by Estivet. That venomous agent of Cauchon accused Jeanne of ironic replies ill suited to a woman.[353]
Jeanne spent five months in prison before her execution in Rouen, a political crime disguised as religious fervor by a master of deceit. John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford, along with the boy king's great-uncle, the Cardinal of Winchester, were the ones pulling the strings behind the scenes. Jeanne never left her prison in the castle built by Philippe-Auguste—only a tower of it remains today. From that stronghold, the English ruled Normandy. Since the start of World War I, a misleading inscription placed by partisan politicians on the wall of the episcopal palace in Rouen has been changed, as it suggested that Jeanne was taken from the prelate’s court of justice to her execution. She never entered that official building; from the very first day until the last, she was held in an English prison. From a dark cell in the fortress tower, she was taken through corridors of the same castle to the hall where her judges sat. Massieu, the usher, used to let her slip into the castle chapel for a quick Ave when she passed its open door, but even that small comfort was stopped by Estivet. That vicious agent of Cauchon accused Jeanne of sarcastic responses that were inappropriate for a woman.[353]
Cauchon tried to coerce the young priest-secretaries of the trial, Manchon and Boisguillaume, to falsify their notes, but they proved incorruptible. And twenty years later they, with Massieu, became the chief vindicators of the Maid when the inquests for her rehabilitation were started. Jeanne had felt their unspoken sympathy. Once with pleasant humor she told them not to ask her the same question twice or she would pull their ears. We know from contemporaries that Jeanne’s way of intercourse was natural and friendly, enjouée, that her attitude was modesty itself, that her voice had a feminine note of sweetness, that she was strong and comely and well shaped, that her hair was dark.
Cauchon tried to pressure the young priest-secretaries of the trial, Manchon and Boisguillaume, into falsifying their notes, but they remained incorruptible. Twenty years later, they, along with Massieu, became the main advocates for Jeanne when the investigations for her rehabilitation began. Jeanne had sensed their unspoken support. Once, jokingly, she told them not to ask her the same question twice or she would pull their ears. We know from people of that time that Jeanne interacted in a natural and friendly way, was playful, showed complete modesty, had a sweet feminine tone in her voice, was strong, attractive, and well-proportioned, and had dark hair.
Born in 1412, by the Meuse, in Domrémy, on the old Roman road from Langres to Verdun, in French territory, on the borders of Champagne and Lorraine, she was not yet eighteen when she crossed the ravaged land in the winter of 1429 to rouse Charles VII, then in Chinon Castle. In March of that year she raised the siege of Orléans; in July she witnessed the coronation of her “gentil dauphin” at Rheims; in September occurred the assault on Paris, from which siege Charles VII, counseled by traitors, retired, and all winter Jeanne was kept in semiactivity, though chafing to free the land from the foreign yoke. Especially she longed to go to the aid of the besieged Mont-Saint-Michel, and to liberate from his English prison the poet-duke of Orléans, even, she said, if it meant going to London Tower itself. In May, 1430, she was captured by her enemies, the Burgundians. Jeanne’s active mission covered only a year. “Several times in my presence,” testified the Duke d’Alençon,[354] her companion in arms, “Jeanne told the king she would last but a year, and to look well that he made right use of her.” But Charles VII failed her.
Born in 1412, near the Meuse River in Domrémy, along the old Roman road from Langres to Verdun, in what is now France, on the borders of Champagne and Lorraine, she was not yet eighteen when she traveled through the devastated land in the winter of 1429 to rally Charles VII, who was then at Chinon Castle. In March of that year, she lifted the siege of Orléans; in July, she attended the coronation of her “gentil dauphin” at Rheims; in September, there was the attack on Paris, from which siege Charles VII, advised by traitors, retreated. All winter, Jeanne was kept in semi-activity, though she longed to free the land from foreign control. She especially wanted to assist the besieged Mont-Saint-Michel and to liberate the poet-duke of Orléans from his English prison, even, she said, if it meant going to the Tower of London itself. In May 1430, she was captured by her enemies, the Burgundians. Jeanne’s active mission lasted just a year. “Several times in my presence,” testified the Duke d’Alençon,[354] her companion in arms, “Jeanne told the king she would last but a year, and to make sure he used her wisely.” But Charles VII let her down.
After her capture Jeanne spent some months in prisons in northern France, and finally she was sold to the English for a king’s ransom. Never in their minds was there any mistake as to who had turned the tide against them. “They had for her a mortal hate,” said, in later years, Pierre Minier, one of the judges cowed by the Duke of Bedford; “they thirsted to bring about her death, no matter by what means.”
After her capture, Jeanne spent several months in prisons in northern France, and eventually, she was sold to the English for a king’s ransom. They were never in any doubt about who had turned the tide against them. “They had a deadly hatred for her,” said Pierre Minier, one of the judges intimidated by the Duke of Bedford, years later; “they were eager to bring about her death, no matter how.”
From December, 1430, to May, 1431, Jeanne’s martyrdom at Rouen endured. “An iron cage was made for her, and at night she was chained up,” declared Secretary Boisguillaume, at the inquest of 1450. “She was incarcerated in Rouen Castle; her guardians were English soldiery of the lowest type; day and night they kept watch ... they made her the object of their mockeries; often she reproached them for it. Her feet were held in irons which were attached to a post.” There were scenes in that dark cell, vouched for by witnesses, which are too painful to transcribe.[355] Only when she fell ill was the severity with which she was treated relaxed, lest by a natural death she escape public burning. One day Estivet so vilified her that she had a relapse of fever. Every detail is set down in the process for her rehabilitation, for which the Dominican Bréhal traveled from end to end of France, gathering testimony from those who had known Jeanne. But the chief instrument of her vindication is the word-for-word record of her trial at Rouen in 1431. Not in all history is there a more personal and appealing document. One can hear Jeanne’s very accent in her valiant replies to her tormentors. “Répondes hardiment,” her voices admonished her.
From December 1430 to May 1431, Jeanne’s suffering in Rouen continued. “An iron cage was made for her, and at night she was chained up,” said Secretary Boisguillaume, during the 1450 inquiry. “She was imprisoned in Rouen Castle; her guards were the lowest type of English soldiers; they watched over her day and night ... they mocked her; she often scolded them for it. Her feet were shackled to a post.” There were events in that dark cell, confirmed by witnesses, that are too painful to describe.[355] Only when she became ill did the harshness of her treatment ease, so she wouldn’t die naturally and escape public execution. One day Estivet insulted her so badly that she had a relapse of fever. Every detail is documented in the process for her rehabilitation, for which the Dominican Bréhal traveled all over France, collecting testimonies from those who had known Jeanne. But the main source of her vindication is the verbatim account of her trial in Rouen in 1431. There’s no other document in history that’s as personal and compelling. You can hear Jeanne’s own voice in her brave responses to her tormentors. “Répondes hardiment,” her voices urged her.
Why did Charles VII, who, before Jeanne appeared, was about to pass into foreign exile, strike no blow to rescue her who had given him back his kingdom? A difficult question to answer. Charles was no hero, though his quality of perseverance was ultimately to make him the instrument that ended the centuries-old Capet-Plantagenet duel. Charles was surrounded by counselors who were jealous of Jeanne’s leadership, who represented her captivity as the result of her headstrong character.
Why did Charles VII, who was about to go into exile before Jeanne showed up, take no action to save the woman who had restored his kingdom? It's a tough question to answer. Charles wasn't a hero, but his determination ultimately made him the key figure in ending the long-standing rivalry between the Capetians and the Plantagenets. He was surrounded by advisors who were jealous of Jeanne’s leadership and portrayed her capture as a consequence of her stubbornness.
In 1449 Charles, le bien servi, but not the duly grateful, entered Rouen “in triumph and magnificence as never king in city.” Bells rang out and children cried, “Noël!” in welcome. In the cathedral the festal throng gathered. Beside the king stood Jacques Cœur, the merchant-prince, who had provided the funds for the reconquest of Normandy, and whose splendor of apparel on this triumphal entry was so to excite the barons’ envy that within four years their machinations had him impeached, despoiled, and banished. He who was building at Bourges the finest bourgeois mansion in France, must have observed with interest the host of Flamboyant monuments then arising in Rouen. With Charles VII came, too, his commander in chief, the great Dunois, who had fought with Jeanne, the half brother of the Duke of Orléans, who that day was singing:
In 1449, Charles, le bien servi, but not especially grateful, entered Rouen “in triumph and magnificence like no king before.” Bells rang out and children shouted, “Noël!” in greeting. In the cathedral, the festive crowd gathered. Next to the king stood Jacques Cœur, the merchant prince who had funded the reconquest of Normandy, and whose lavish clothing during this triumphant entry stirred the barons’ jealousy so much that within four years their plots led to his impeachment, loss of wealth, and exile. He, who was building the finest bourgeois mansion in France in Bourges, must have watched with interest the array of Flamboyant monuments rising in Rouen. Along with Charles VII came his commander in chief, the great Dunois, who had fought alongside Jeanne, the half-brother of the Duke of Orléans, who that day was singing:
When Normandy was again French, not many years were to pass before Rouen exonerated herself of the crime of Jeanne’s execution. The chief mover of the rehabilitation was the archbishop of the city, the Norman, Guillaume d’Estouteville, son of the hero who in 1415 held Harfleur against the entire army of Henry V, brother of the knight who led the defense of Mont-Saint-Michel, and nephew of Archbishop d’Harcourt, who gave up his see of Rouen to live in exile, rather than swear fealty to a non-French master. Cardinal d’Estouteville saw the propriety of clearing not only Normandy but France and the Church of what had been the political crime of foreigners. Through his efforts Pope Calixtus III, in 1456, revoked the legal decision of 1431, as “iniquitous, malicious, calumnious, and fraudulent.” The unworthy Cauchon was excommunicated. A formal reading of the sentence of rehabilitation took place in the big hall of Rouen’s episcopal palace: “Considering the quality of the judges and of those who directed the trial, considering that her abjuration was extorted by fraud and violence, in presence of the executioner and under threat of fire, without the accused understanding its full content and terms, considering finally that the crimes charged against her are not proven whatsoever by the process”—thus runs the decree declaring Jeanne’s two sentences of condemnation in 1431 to be the work of iniquity. It was ordered that the rehabilitation be read publicly, not alone in Rouen, but in all the chief towns of France.
When Normandy was back in French hands, it wasn't long before Rouen cleared itself of the shame of Jeanne’s execution. The main person behind this was the city's archbishop, the Norman, Guillaume d’Estouteville. He was the son of the hero who, in 1415, defended Harfleur against Henry V’s entire army, the brother of the knight who defended Mont-Saint-Michel, and the nephew of Archbishop d’Harcourt, who gave up his position in Rouen to live in exile rather than pledge loyalty to a non-French ruler. Cardinal d’Estouteville recognized the importance of clearing not just Normandy but all of France and the Church from what had been a political crime committed by outsiders. Thanks to his efforts, Pope Calixtus III revoked the legal decision made in 1431, calling it “iniquitous, malicious, calumnious, and fraudulent.” The disgraceful Cauchon was excommunicated. A formal announcement of the rehabilitation was made in the large hall of Rouen’s episcopal palace: “Considering the quality of the judges and those who ran the trial, considering that her abjuration was obtained through fraud and violence, in the presence of the executioner and under threat of fire, without the accused fully understanding its content and terms, and finally considering that the crimes charged against her are not proven at all by the process”—thus states the decree declaring Jeanne’s two sentences of condemnation in 1431 to be the result of wrongdoing. It was ordered that the rehabilitation be read publicly, not just in Rouen, but in all the major cities of France.
Rouen celebrated with gladness the justice rendered to the Maid who had saved France in her darkest hour. A solemn procession, in which marched Jeanne’s brothers, who had been ennobled by the king, proceeded to the graveyard beside St. Ouen’s abbatial, where, twenty-five years earlier, Jeanne had sat alone on a platform above the crowd, just a week before her execution. They had there read to her the twelve accusations—dubbing her witch and wanton—which a doctor of Paris University had drawn up, and then a preacher thundered in vituperation. Jeanne listened gently till she heard Charles VII abused, whereupon she, who had the mystic cult of royalty, lifted up her head bravely: “By my faith, sire,” she cried, “my king is a noble Christian. Say what you will of me, but leave my king alone.” “Hush her up!” angrily cried Cauchon.
Rouen celebrated joyfully the justice served for the Maid who had saved France in its darkest hour. A solemn procession, including Jeanne’s brothers, who had been honored by the king, made its way to the cemetery next to St. Ouen’s abbey, where, twenty-five years earlier, Jeanne had sat alone on a platform above the crowd, just a week before her execution. They had read to her the twelve accusations—labeling her a witch and a promiscuous woman—which a doctor from Paris University had drafted, and then a preacher shouted insults. Jeanne listened quietly until she heard Charles VII disparaged, at which point she, devoted to the mystique of royalty, raised her head proudly: “By my faith, sire,” she exclaimed, “my king is a noble Christian. Say what you will about me, but leave my king out of it.” “Shut her up!” Cauchon shouted angrily.
In that cemetery of St. Ouen occurred what now is called proper self-defense on Jeanne’s part. She could write her name, but with a smile she signed with a circle, emblem of mockery, and a cross, meaning negation. She hoped to be transferred to the prisons of the Church, where she clamored to be placed. Jeanne signed a paper consisting of seven lines, and afterward they produced an abjuration of fifty lines. Her judge might be a bishop, but never once did she confuse the Church she revered and the unworthy clerics who sat in judgment on her. During the ceremonies of the rehabilitation at Rouen, a great procession marched to the Old Market where had stood Jeanne’s funeral pyre, and with solemnity the twelve accusations against her were torn into shreds and burned. Rouen felt happier after rendering that justice, and her renewed self-respect found natural expression in her Flamboyant Gothic monuments.
In the St. Ouen cemetery, what we now recognize as proper self-defense took place on Jeanne’s part. She could write her name, but with a smile, she signed with a circle, a symbol of mockery, and a cross, which meant negation. She hoped to be moved to the Church's prisons, where she insisted she should be placed. Jeanne signed a document consisting of seven lines, and afterward, they created an abjuration of fifty lines. Her judge might have been a bishop, but she never once confused the Church she respected with the unworthy clerics who judged her. During the rehabilitation ceremonies in Rouen, a grand procession marched to the Old Market, where Jeanne's funeral pyre had stood, and with great solemnity, the twelve accusations against her were ripped to shreds and burned. Rouen felt happier after achieving that justice, and her renewed self-respect found a natural expression in its Flamboyant Gothic monuments.
However, many a long year was to go by before France fully comprehended the martyr of Rouen. Voltaire libeled Jeanne as vilely as the XV-century savants of Paris University. The rationalists of a later day have patronized her as self-hallucinated. But the tide has mounted. “The day that all the bells of the world ring in honor of Jeanne d’Arc, they will sound abroad the glory of France,” said Leo XIII, in 1896. The Maid of Domrémy-on-the-Meuse was declared Venerable in 1904, Blessed in 1909, and canonized a saint in 1920. St. Jeanne d’Arc, ora pro nobis!
However, many long years would pass before France fully understood the martyr from Rouen. Voltaire slandered Jeanne as harshly as the 15th-century scholars of Paris University. Later rationalists looked down on her as someone who was self-deluded. But opinions have changed. "The day all the bells of the world ring in honor of Jeanne d’Arc, they will proclaim the glory of France," said Leo XIII in 1896. The Maid of Domrémy-on-the-Meuse was declared Venerable in 1904, Blessed in 1909, and canonized a saint in 1920. St. Jeanne d’Arc, ora pro nobis!
One must live as one thinks, or else, sooner or later, one finishes by thinking as one lives.—Paul Bourget.
One should live in accordance with their thoughts, or eventually, they end up thinking in line with how they live.—Paul Bourget.
Lisieux Cathedral is, with that of Rouen, the least Norman in the province. It claims to be the first built of the Gothic cathedrals of Normandy and the most vigorous. The preceding Romanesque cathedral was grievously damaged by fire in 1136. Arnoul, a prelate who had gone through the disillusioning experience of the Second Crusade, began the present church. Similarities between it and Laon Cathedral, and various other indications, prove that it was building from 1160 to 1190.
Lisieux Cathedral, along with Rouen Cathedral, is the least Norman in the region. It claims to be the first of the Gothic cathedrals in Normandy and the most impressive. The earlier Romanesque cathedral was severely damaged by fire in 1136. Arnoul, a prelate who had gone through the disappointing experience of the Second Crusade, started work on the current church. Similarities with Laon Cathedral and various other clues show that it was built from 1160 to 1190.
Bishop Arnoul, of a line of shrewd Norman diplomatists, profited materially by his ability to keep on good terms with both husbands of Aliénor of Aquitaine, Henry of England, and Louis of France. In Lisieux Cathedral he married Aliénor to Henry II, which act was to take three hundred years of war and Jeanne’s sacrifice to undo. Arnoul was the English king’s chief adviser before Becket’s ascendancy. It is said that he counseled Henry, after his first quarrel with Becket, to detach one by one the English bishops from their primate, which policy of divide et impera came only too easily to an Angevin-Anglo-Norman. Four times did Bishop Arnoul journey to Sens to negotiate for Henry with the pope, during the Becket controversy. Some of the leading men of his day admired the prelate of Lisieux; but soundly honest men such as Abbot Robert de Torigny of the Mount, and the bishop of Chartres, John of Salisbury, distrusted him entirely—the latter remarked on his political sense in bestowing benefits when he wished to convince a man of his point of view.
Bishop Arnoul, from a lineage of clever Norman diplomats, gained materially by maintaining good relations with both of Aliénor of Aquitaine's husbands, Henry of England and Louis of France. In Lisieux Cathedral, he married Aliénor to Henry II, an act that would take three hundred years of war and Jeanne’s sacrifice to reverse. Arnoul was the English king’s top adviser before Becket rose to prominence. It’s said that he advised Henry, after their first dispute with Becket, to gradually separate the English bishops from their primate, a strategy of divide et impera that came naturally to an Angevin-Anglo-Norman. Bishop Arnoul made four trips to Sens to negotiate for Henry with the pope during the Becket controversy. While many prominent figures of his time admired the prelate of Lisieux, honorable men like Abbot Robert de Torigny of the Mount and Bishop John of Salisbury of Chartres completely distrusted him—the latter noted his political acumen in granting favors to persuade someone to agree with him.
Under Bishop Arnoul the nave of Lisieux rose in one campaign, a monument severe and pure, fog-colored like the wintry sky over it, say the townsmen. A note of force is imparted by the sturdy cylindrical piers. There is a narthex bay at the western end—a Germanic influence. No trace of vaulting shows in the deep gallery over the aisles, though the triforium arches that open on the central vessel are better suited for a tribune than a blind arcade. Behind that arcade now stands a poorly constructed wall opened here and there by doors, reminding us that once it was the custom for crusaders to store their valuables in the upper galleries of cathedrals.
Under Bishop Arnoul, the nave of Lisieux was built in one effort, a monument that is stark and pure, fog-colored like the winter sky above it, according to the locals. The sturdy cylindrical piers add a sense of strength. There's a narthex bay at the western end, reflecting a Germanic influence. No sign of vaulting appears in the deep gallery above the aisles, although the triforium arches that connect to the central space are more fitting for a balcony than a blind arcade. Behind that arcade now stands a poorly constructed wall with doors scattered throughout, reminding us that it was once common for crusaders to store their valuables in the upper galleries of cathedrals.
Some have suggested that Guillaume de Sens was the architect of Lisieux, whose resemblances with his known works at Sens and Canterbury are discernible. Lisieux adhered to the Romanesque tradition of salient transept arms; that to the north lacks a portal; that to the south is an excellent example of plainest Primary Gothic. The transept has an eastern aisle, an arrangement found at Durham, Lincoln, Salisbury, and Peterborough. The first two bays of the choir were built, like the nave, in the XII century; the birth of the apse is marked by a staircase, as at Caen, Boscherville, Fécamp, and Eu.
Some people believe that Guillaume de Sens was the architect of Lisieux, as you can see similarities with his known works in Sens and Canterbury. Lisieux follows the Romanesque style with prominent transept arms; the northern one doesn’t have a portal, while the southern one is a great example of simple Early Gothic. The transept has an eastern aisle, a layout also found in Durham, Lincoln, Salisbury, and Peterborough. The first two bays of the choir were constructed in the 12th century, just like the nave; the beginning of the apse is indicated by a staircase, similar to those at Caen, Boscherville, Fécamp, and Eu.
The ample central tower of Lisieux, not in the first plan, was erected as the choir was gradually extended. In the later-constructed straight bays of the choir, and at the apse, finished under Bishop Jourdain du Hommet, no annulets broke the ascending line of the clustered shafts, quatrefoils were cut in the spandrels, and more and more the structure took on regional characteristics. Arches were set under arches, some of them being acutely pointed, because the Norman preferred to use the same opening of the compass for all his arches, wide or narrow. It gave his eye pleasure to multiply molds, and his sense of exactitude craved a support for every roll molding. Lisieux’ choir, however, avoided what was to become an excessive complication of parts in the Anglo-Norman school. The cathedral is essentially vigorous and severe.
The large central tower of Lisieux, which wasn't part of the original design, was built as the choir was gradually expanded. In the later-built straight sections of the choir and at the apse, completed under Bishop Jourdain du Hommet, no annulets interrupted the upward line of the clustered columns, and quatrefoils were carved into the spandrels, making the structure increasingly reflect regional styles. Arches were placed beneath arches, some of them sharply pointed, as the Normans preferred to use the same arch shape for all their openings, whether wide or narrow. They enjoyed creating a variety of shapes and their desire for precision demanded a support for every rolled molding. However, the choir of Lisieux avoided what would become an overly complicated design in the Anglo-Norman style. The cathedral is fundamentally powerful and straightforward.
In 1226 a fire necessitated repairs, and Bishop Guillaume de Pont-de-l’Arche took the opportunity to make three ambulatory chapels. He built the façade towers whose lower walls retained Romanesque parts of the XI century. When the southwest tower fell in 1553 it was replaced by one of pre-Gothic design. The northwest belfry had as prototype the famous one of St. Pierre at Caen. The axis chapel—longer than the XIII-century one it replaced—is a gem of Flamboyant art. On its walls are some small funereal bas-reliefs erected by the cathedral canons.
In 1226, a fire required repairs, and Bishop Guillaume de Pont-de-l’Arche took the chance to create three ambulatory chapels. He built the façade towers, with their lower walls still displaying Romanesque elements from the 11th century. When the southwest tower collapsed in 1553, it was replaced by one designed in a pre-Gothic style. The northwest belfry was modeled after the famous one at St. Pierre in Caen. The axis chapel—longer than the 13th-century one it replaced—is a masterpiece of Flamboyant art. On its walls are some small funeral bas-reliefs put up by the cathedral canons.
The builder of Lisieux’ Lady chapel was Pierre Cauchon, president of the tribunal that sentenced Jeanne d’Arc to death. He did not erect his chapel, as some intimate, in expiation of his conduct at Rouen in 1431, for he remained to the end the creature of his country’s invaders. His detestation of Jeanne, moreover, was a personal affair, since it had been her triumph at Orléans, creating a national hope, that put heart into the citizens of Beauvais to expel their pro-English bishop. The English sent him to buy Jeanne from her captors. After the happenings in St. Ouen’s cemetery, by law Jeanne should have been passed into the control of the Church, but Cauchon ordered her back to her English prison, and when she again donned male attire, and again asserted that she had heard her voices, her unscrupulous enemies were enabled to accuse her of being a relapsed heretic and wanton, to start a new trial, and condemn her to death. Cauchon himself hastened to the fortress to witness Jeanne’s “relapse,” and with Lord Warwick he is said to have chuckled over it—“This time she’s well caught!” The morning that Jeanne was led to her execution she faced Cauchon fearlessly: “Bishop, I die by your hand. Had I been placed in the prisons of the Church, this would never have happened. You have left me in the clutches of my enemies. I call you before God, the great judge, to answer for the wrong you have done me.” Even as she so spoke a spirited statue now represents Jeanne in Cauchon’s Norman cathedral, while her judge is a condemned felon before the bar of history.
The builder of Lisieux's Lady chapel was Pierre Cauchon, the president of the tribunal that sentenced Jeanne d’Arc to death. He didn’t build his chapel, as some suggest, to atone for his actions in Rouen in 1431, because he always remained loyal to his country’s invaders. His hatred for Jeanne was also personal, as her victory at Orléans inspired the citizens of Beauvais to oust their pro-English bishop. The English sent him to negotiate for Jeanne's release from her captors. After the events in St. Ouen’s cemetery, by law Jeanne should have been handed over to the Church, but Cauchon ordered her returned to her English prison. When she put on male clothing again and claimed she heard her voices, her unscrupulous enemies accused her of being a relapsed heretic and wanton, which led to a new trial and her death sentence. Cauchon himself rushed to the fortress to witness Jeanne’s "relapse," and he reportedly chuckled with Lord Warwick about it—“This time she’s well caught!” On the morning of her execution, Jeanne faced Cauchon bravely: “Bishop, I die by your hand. If I had been placed in the Church’s custody, this would never have happened. You have left me at the mercy of my enemies. I call you before God, the ultimate judge, to answer for the wrong you have done me.” Even as she spoke, a spirited statue now represents Jeanne in Cauchon’s Norman cathedral, while her judge is viewed as a condemned felon in the court of history.
Like Arnoul, builder of Lisieux’ nave, Cauchon knew how to act a better part. As rector of Paris University he had been esteemed for his learning. But, coming to the parting of the ways, he chose the broad and easy path, and the rest followed. His influence encouraged the University of Paris in its pernicious betrayal of France after Henry V’s invasion. Cauchon won the see of Beauvais by defending Jean Sans Peur of Burgundy, in 1407, when the latter had murdered his cousin, the Duke of Orléans,[357] in the streets of Paris. And in the same hour that he thus truckled for advancement, Jean Gerson, the chancellor of Paris University, denounced the ducal crime—destined to be for France of incalculable consequence—and had his house sacked by Burgundians.
Like Arnoul, the builder of Lisieux’s nave, Cauchon knew how to play a better role. As the rector of Paris University, he was respected for his knowledge. But when faced with a crucial decision, he chose the easy way out, and others followed his lead. His influence encouraged the University of Paris in its harmful betrayal of France after Henry V’s invasion. Cauchon secured the position of bishop of Beauvais by supporting Jean Sans Peur of Burgundy in 1407, when he had murdered his cousin, the Duke of Orléans,[357] in the streets of Paris. And at the same time that he was currying favor for his own advancement, Jean Gerson, the chancellor of Paris University, condemned the duke's crime—an act that would have enormous consequences for France—and had his home ransacked by Burgundians.
Ten years later, at the Council of Constances, in Switzerland Cauchon upheld the murderer, and Gerson rebuked the crime, whereupon he felt it to be wiser to quit Constances in disguise and to pass his latter life in retirement. Cauchon became the butcher of Jeanne d’Arc, his name forever an infamy; Gerson, dying in poverty and defeat at Lyons, was thought worthy, during two centuries, to be called the author of the Imitation of Christ, and before he passed away in July, 1429, it was given to him to learn that the Maid had triumphed at Orléans, and to testify that her mission was of God: Gratia Dei estensa est in hac puella; a Domino factum est istud.
Ten years later, at the Council of Constance in Switzerland, Cauchon supported the murderer, while Gerson condemned the crime. Realizing it was wiser to leave Constance in disguise, he chose to spend the rest of his life in seclusion. Cauchon became the executioner of Jeanne d’Arc, his name forever associated with infamy; Gerson, dying in poverty and failure in Lyon, was thought worthy, for two centuries, to be called the author of the Imitation of Christ. Before he passed away in July 1429, he learned that the Maid had triumphed at Orléans and confirmed that her mission was of God: Gratia Dei estensa est in hac puella; a Domino factum est istud.
Cauchon, ex-bishop of Beauvais, having placed his learning and energies at the service of his country’s invaders, ambitiously hoped to obtain Rouen as his thirty pieces of silver, but the Duke of Bedford compromised matters by bestowing on him the lesser see of Lisieux, in 1432. As the national cause prospered the traitor was more and more detested by the populace. When the Burgundian partisans of the English were expelled from Paris, the properties of the bishop of Lisieux in the capital were seized and he himself was mobbed. In 1442 he fell dead suddenly one day while his barber was shaving him. A few years later, when Jeanne was rehabilitated and her judge excommunicated, the populace broke open Cauchon’s tomb in the cathedral and flung his bones into the mire. His successor at Lisieux, Bishop Pasquier de Vaux, also one of Jeanne’s faithless judges, died alone, deserted, on the day that the French army entered his city as victors, in 1449. The after history of Lisieux Cathedral followed the same course as others in France; 1562 and 1793 wrecked its monuments and smashed its stained glass. In the Flamboyant Gothic church of St. Jacques—where not a capital breaks the ascending line—are some XVI-century windows, making it the first church with such remaining.
Cauchon, the former bishop of Beauvais, dedicated his knowledge and efforts to the invaders of his country, hoping to secure Rouen as his thirty pieces of silver. Instead, the Duke of Bedford settled for giving him the lesser see of Lisieux in 1432. As the national cause gained strength, the traitor became increasingly hated by the people. When the Burgundian supporters of the English were driven out of Paris, the properties of the bishop of Lisieux in the city were confiscated, and he was attacked by a mob. In 1442, he suddenly died one day while his barber was shaving him. A few years later, after Jeanne was rehabilitated and her judge was excommunicated, the public broke open Cauchon’s tomb in the cathedral and threw his bones into the mud. His successor at Lisieux, Bishop Pasquier de Vaux, another of Jeanne’s disloyal judges, died alone and abandoned on the day the French army triumphantly entered his city in 1449. The subsequent history of Lisieux Cathedral mirrored that of others in France; in 1562 and 1793, its monuments were destroyed, and its stained glass was shattered. In the Flamboyant Gothic church of St. Jacques—where no capital interrupts the upward line—there are some 16th-century windows, making it the first church with such remnants.
Lisieux can boast of no bishop canonized by the Church, but her citizens are doing all in their power to let Christendom know of the gentle Norman girl, Thérèse Martin, the “Little Flower,” who died in the odor of sanctity (1897) in the Carmelite convent of the town, before she had reached her twenty-fifth year. Her extraordinary cult, especially among soldiers during the World War, proves that the thirst for sainthood is as strong as ever in the peoples who went crusading and flung themselves toward heaven in cathedrals. Art springs from emotions such as that felt by Frenchmen for the “Little Flower.” To ignore such manifestations, as do the rationalists who still are insisting, as dogmatically as before 1914, that France, at root, is the land of Voltaire, is a willful shutting of the eyes to the basic forces that make history.
Lisieux doesn't have any bishops canonized by the Church, but its residents are doing everything they can to let the world know about the gentle Norman girl, Thérèse Martin, the “Little Flower,” who passed away in the fragrance of holiness (1897) at the Carmelite convent in the town, before she even turned twenty-five. Her remarkable devotion, especially among soldiers during World War, shows that the desire for sainthood is still very much alive in people who once went on crusades and reached for the heavens in cathedrals. Art comes from feelings like those that the French have for the “Little Flower.” Ignoring such expressions, as rationalists do—who still insist dogmatically, just like before 1914, that France, at its core, is the land of Voltaire—is a deliberate blindness to the fundamental forces that shape history.
Those good people of Lisieux who are mystic-minded, who believe in order that they may understand, as Anselm taught at Bec near by, as Plato taught in Greece, feel subconsciously that their “Little Flower,” who said that only after her death would begin her real mission, is atoning for Pierre Cauchon.[358]
Those good people of Lisieux who are spiritually inclined, who believe so that they can understand, like Anselm taught at Bec nearby and Plato taught in Greece, sense without realizing it that their “Little Flower,” who said her true mission would only begin after her death, is making amends for Pierre Cauchon.[358]
Il en coûte cher pour devenir la France. Nous nous plaignons, et non sans droit, de nos épreuves et de nos mécomptes. Nos pères n’ont pas vécu plus doucement que nous, ni recueilli plus tôt et à meilleur marché les fruits de leurs travaux. Il y a dans le spectacle de leurs destinées de quoi s’attrister et se fortifier à la fois. L’histoire abat les prétentions impatientes et soutient les longues espérances.—Guizot.
It costs a lot to become France. We complain, and not without reason, about our trials and disappointments. Our parents didn’t live any more comfortably than we do, nor did they harvest the fruits of their labor any sooner or at a better price. There is something in the sight of their destinies that can make you feel both sad and strengthened at the same time. History brings down impatient ambitions and upholds long hopes.—Guizot.
The cathedral of Évreux is not homogeneous like that of Lisieux, but, gathering of different styles though it is, Romanesque, Gothic, early and late, neo-classic, it possesses its own distinct personality. A church of whose choir it has been said by one so competent to compare the cathedrals of his native land as M. Louis Gonse, that it is “one of the fairest bits of Gothic architecture in France,” surely can hold its own among more brilliant companions.
The Évreux cathedral isn't uniform like the one in Lisieux, but despite its mix of styles—Romanesque, Gothic, early and late, neo-classical—it has its own unique character. A church whose choir has been described by an expert in comparing cathedrals of his homeland, M. Louis Gonse, as “one of the prettiest examples of Gothic architecture in France,” can definitely stand alongside more prominent peers.
Two Romanesque edifices stood in succession on the site, not to speak of the Merovingian and Carolingian cathedrals here. Évreux is the Evora of Gallo-Roman times when it was ranked with Rouen and Tours. St. Patrick came hither in 432 for his consecration as bishop before his apostolate to Ireland. The first of the Romanesque cathedrals was dedicated in 1072 by Archbishop Lanfranc of Canterbury, but in 1119, when Henry I of England was besieging the city, it was destroyed for strategic purposes, by consent of its bishop, who was in the king’s camp. Henry and all his barons gave generous compensation, we are told by Ordericus Vitalis, the English monk who spent most of his life in the Norman monastery of St. Évroult, “delighting in obedience and poverty,” writing a history which is the chief XII-century record of the duchy.
Two Romanesque buildings stood one after the other on this site, not to mention the Merovingian and Carolingian cathedrals that were here. Évreux is the Evora from Gallo-Roman times when it was on par with Rouen and Tours. St. Patrick came here in 432 for his consecration as bishop before beginning his mission to Ireland. The first of the Romanesque cathedrals was dedicated in 1072 by Archbishop Lanfranc of Canterbury, but in 1119, when Henry I of England was besieging the city, it was destroyed for strategic reasons, with the agreement of its bishop, who was in the king’s camp. Henry and all his nobles offered generous compensation, as noted by Ordericus Vitalis, the English monk who spent most of his life in the Norman monastery of St. Évroult, “delighting in obedience and poverty,” writing a history that is the main 12th-century account of the duchy.
The second Romanesque cathedral was begun in 1126. To it belonged the pier arcade of the present nave and the entire westernmost bay, as well as portions of the façade towers. At one time it was thought that the arches adjacent to the transept were part of the earlier church blessed by Lanfranc, inasmuch as they differ from the profiles of the other pier arches. Further study has demonstrated, however, that the entire arcade belongs to the XII century, since it was not the usage, before 1120, to flank a pier’s four faces by columns, as was done here throughout.
The second Romanesque cathedral started construction in 1126. It included the pier arcade of the current nave and the entire far western bay, along with parts of the façade towers. At one point, it was believed that the arches next to the transept were from the earlier church blessed by Lanfranc because they have a different profile than the other pier arches. However, further research has shown that the entire arcade is from the 12th century, as it wasn't common before 1120 to surround a pier’s four sides with columns, which is how it’s done here.
The second Romanesque cathedral of Évreux was also destined to be of short duration. In 1194, Philippe-Auguste laid the city in ashes as chastisement for John Lackland’s black deed. John had allowed a French garrison into Évreux during his intrigues with the French king, while Richard the Lion-hearted was on his crusade. When word came that his brother was returning to his possessions, John, hoping to placate him for his own treachery, invited the French garrison of three hundred to a feast and, it is said, foully murdered them all. The bishop of Évreux had accompanied Richard Cœur-de-Lion to the East and in Cyprus had crowned his bride, Berengaria of Navarre. In the course of time the counts of Évreux became kings of Navarre, through the marriage of Berengaria’s sister to the Count of Champagne.[360] The niece of Richard and John, Blanche of Castile, brought in her dowry Évreux to the French Crown, when she married (1200) the son of that wily augmenter, Philippe-Auguste.
The second Romanesque cathedral of Évreux was also meant to be short-lived. In 1194, Philippe-Auguste burned the city to the ground as punishment for John Lackland’s wicked act. John had let a French garrison into Évreux during his schemes with the French king while Richard the Lionhearted was off on his crusade. When news arrived that his brother was coming back to reclaim his territory, John, trying to make amends for his betrayal, invited the three hundred French soldiers to a feast and, it is said, brutally murdered them all. The bishop of Évreux had accompanied Richard Cœur-de-Lion to the East and crowned his bride, Berengaria of Navarre, in Cyprus. Over time, the counts of Évreux became kings of Navarre through the marriage of Berengaria’s sister to the Count of Champagne.[360] The niece of Richard and John, Blanche of Castile, brought Évreux as her dowry to the French Crown when she married (1200) the son of that crafty augmenter, Philippe-Auguste.
The renewal of the cathedral as Gothic proceeded slowly. By 1230 the nave had merely reached the triforium level. A horizontal sculptured band, such as surmounts it, was not used after that date. The clearstory of the nave is contemporary with the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, and when Louis IX came to his mother’s dower city, in 1259, for the consecration of its bishop, who was his personal friend, he and the group of building-prelates with him, from Rheims, Rouen, Coutances, and Séez, must have discussed the new works at Évreux with interest. The choir of the cathedral was not undertaken till the close of the century. From 1298 to 1310 it was built in a Rayonnant style fully as advanced as the later abbatial of St. Ouen, at Rouen, with glazed triforium, capitals that are slight bands of foliage, and precocious prismatic profiles. The only distinctly Norman trait is the balustrade of the triforium. As the choir was made fifteen feet wider than the nave, its westernmost bay was canted to join the transept, but the effect is not displeasing.
The renovation of the cathedral into Gothic style happened gradually. By 1230, the nave had only reached the triforium level. After that point, a horizontal sculpted band, like the one above it, was no longer used. The clearstory of the nave is from the same era as the Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, and when Louis IX visited his mother's dower city in 1259 for the consecration of its bishop, who was a personal friend, he and the group of building officials accompanying him from Rheims, Rouen, Coutances, and Séez must have talked about the new work at Évreux with interest. The choir of the cathedral wasn't started until the end of the century. From 1298 to 1310, it was constructed in a Rayonnant style that was as advanced as the later abbey of St. Ouen in Rouen, featuring a glazed triforium, capitals with delicate bands of foliage, and early prismatic profiles. The only distinctly Norman feature is the balustrade of the triforium. Since the choir was made fifteen feet wider than the nave, its westernmost bay was angled to connect with the transept, but the overall look is still pleasing.
The Hundred Years’ War caused a cessation of works at Évreux. Dire years were they for the city ruled by Charles le Mauvais, a “demon of France,” “perfidy in person.” He plotted ceaselessly against the national party, not because he leaned to the English side, but that he was obsessed by his own superior claims to the French crown, being by both father and mother directly of St. Louis’ line. His high abilities—and he was learned, eloquent, and handsome—were wasted in mischief making. In 1365 he gave up his city of Évreux to the flames. Charles the Wicked is pictured in the cathedral’s clearstory windows, in the fourth on the north side of the choir, and across the sanctuary from him, in another light, is his wife, a Valois, sister of the French king, Charles V, and his art-loving brothers at Dijon, Angers, and Bourges. She possessed Mantes by her dower right, and added to its collegiate church the Rayonnant chapel of Navarre, in which are portrait statuettes representing her daughters. Her four brothers, says M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, were the paramount influences in the formation of French Flamboyant Gothic, from 1365 to 1415.
The Hundred Years' War brought a halt to activities in Évreux. These were tough times for the city ruled by Charles le Mauvais, a “demon of France,” known for his “treachery.” He schemed endlessly against the national party, not because he supported the English, but because he was fixated on his own claims to the French throne, being a direct descendant of St. Louis through both his mother and father. His considerable talents—he was educated, articulate, and good-looking—were squandered on causing trouble. In 1365, he allowed his city of Évreux to be engulfed in flames. Charles the Wicked is depicted in the cathedral’s clearstory windows, in the fourth window on the north side of the choir, while across the sanctuary from him, in another light, is his wife, a Valois, sister of the French king, Charles V, along with his art-loving brothers from Dijon, Angers, and Bourges. She held Mantes through her marriage settlement and contributed to its collegiate church with the Rayonnant chapel of Navarre, which features portrait statuettes of her daughters. Her four brothers, says M. Anthyme Saint-Paul, played a key role in shaping French Flamboyant Gothic from 1365 to 1415.
The best array of XIV-century glass[361] in France is that of the choir of Évreux. The windows are not forceful, like XIII-century medallion-mosaics, any more than the Rayonnant stonework framing them resembles hardy Apogee Gothic. The hues, while limpid and pleasing, show none of the lovely half-tones which the Flamboyant-Renaissance day was to achieve. Large plates of glass were employed in order that fewer leads might darken the window. White was overused, as well as the recently discovered yellow, called silver-stain, obtained by fusing the surface of white glass with a solution of silver. Pot-metal glass—that colored in the mass—had hitherto been used exclusively. Effective backgrounds were obtained by damasked patterns. In each panel was a single figure in an architectural setting of grisaille and silver-stain, which frames grew so elaborate, by the middle of the century, that perspective was represented.
The best collection of 14th-century glass in France is found in the choir of Évreux. The windows aren't striking like the 13th-century medallion-mosaics, nor do the Rayonnant stonework surrounding them resemble the robust Apogee Gothic style. The colors, while clear and pleasing, lack the beautiful half-tones that the Flamboyant-Renaissance period would later achieve. Large sheets of glass were used to minimize the amount of lead that would darken the window. White was overused, along with a new yellow known as silver stain, created by fusing the surface of white glass with a silver solution. Previously, only pot-metal glass, which is colored throughout, had been used. Effective backgrounds were created with damasked patterns. Each panel featured a single figure in an architectural setting of grisaille and silver stain, which became so intricate by the middle of the century that perspective began to be represented.
The earliest example of a canopy type of window is in Évreux’ upper choir—the third light on the north side. It was the gift of the grand queux, or cook, of France, Guillaume d’Harcourt, who died in 1327. The two windows presented by the bishop of Évreux, Bernard Cariti (1376-83), show progress in architectural backgrounds, and the donor is drawn from life. In the canted bay of the choir (north) is a XV-century window of the Saintes Maries, whose alleged relics were given to the bishop here by good King René of Anjou. The window commemorates Normandy’s newly acquired freedom, hence its portraits of Charles VII, his son, the future Louis XI, and the seneschal of Normandy, Pierre de Brézé. It is also a memorial of the Great Schism of the West, ended by the Council of Constance, at which the bishop of Évreux was present. Foliate designs cover the grisaille lights of the triforium. The quarries (white, parallel pieces of glass framed together in a lead pattern) are enlivened by strips of colored glass and heraldic ornament.
The earliest example of a canopy-style window is in the upper choir of Évreux—the third light on the north side. It was a gift from Guillaume d’Harcourt, the grand cook of France, who passed away in 1327. The two windows donated by the bishop of Évreux, Bernard Cariti (1376-83), show advancements in architectural backgrounds, and the donor is depicted from life. In the canted bay of the choir (north) is a 15th-century window of the Saintes Maries, whose supposed relics were given to the bishop by good King René of Anjou. This window commemorates Normandy’s newly gained freedom, which is why it features portraits of Charles VII, his son, the future Louis XI, and the seneschal of Normandy, Pierre de Brézé. It also serves as a memorial for the Great Schism of the West, which ended with the Council of Constance, where the bishop of Évreux was present. Leafy designs cover the grisaille lights of the triforium. The quarries (white, parallel pieces of glass framed together in a lead pattern) are brightened by strips of colored glass and heraldic decoration.
Louis XI built the Lady chapel of Évreux, in whose windows he depicted his coronation. In the lily-petals formed by the Flamboyant tracery of the mullions are pictured the barons who attended the king’s investing. Instead of the single figures in each panel, hitherto popular, small groups were now set under the vitrine canopies, and subjects heretofore unknown in western iconography appeared, such as the Transfiguration, the Woman of Samaria, the Marriage at Cana. They were pictured just as the mystery plays of the day presented them on the stage. In the Tree of Jesse, at the end of the chapel, the new process of abrasion was employed, by which the color of flashed glass was ground away in places, and on the white surfaces thus exposed were enameled new colors, so that one piece of glass could exhibit a variety of hues. These windows of Évreux’ Lady chapel belong to the transition hour between the earlier tradition that treated a window as an adjunct of the architecture, and the later tradition that composed a window as an independent painted picture.[362]
Louis XI built the Lady Chapel of Évreux, where his coronation is depicted in the windows. The lily petals formed by the Flamboyant tracery of the mullions show the barons who were present at the king’s investiture. Instead of the single figures commonly used in each panel before, small groups were placed under the vitrine canopies, and new subjects previously unseen in western iconography appeared, such as the Transfiguration, the Woman of Samaria, and the Marriage at Cana. They were illustrated just as the mystery plays of that time presented them on stage. At the end of the chapel, in the Tree of Jesse, a new technique was used where the color of flashed glass was ground away in certain areas, and on the exposed white surfaces, new colors were applied, allowing one piece of glass to show a variety of hues. The windows of Évreux’s Lady Chapel represent a transitional period between the earlier tradition that viewed a window as part of the architecture and the later tradition that treated a window as an independent painted artwork.[362]
When, in 1441, Évreux opened its gates joyously to the national troops, new works were begun in the cathedral. The actual Flamboyant transept was substituted for a decrepit Romanesque structure, whose ground plan it followed, hence it is too narrow for its height; seen from the interior of the church, the octagonal lantern appears cramped. The lacework stone spire of the crossing was one of the first in the region. For sixty years during the XVI century two prelates of the prominent Tillières family held the see; to Ambrose le Veneur is due the superlatively ornate Flamboyant north front of the transept, an unanswerable proof that if Gothic art was soon to end it was not of inanition it expired. To put the northern flank of his church in accord with the façade’s festival of lace stone he re-dressed the chapels along nave and choir. His nephew, Bishop Gabriel le Veneur, undertook to remake the west frontispiece in a style so neo-classic that M. Léon Palustre, the historian of the Renaissance, exclaimed, “Pour cette fois le moyen âge est bien fini!” And yet only thirty years separated the façades of uncle and nephew. The southwest tower has been left uncrowned; that to the northwest is an imposing heavy mass in which is the sonorous bell of Évreux, called Gros-Pierre.
When, in 1441, Évreux joyfully opened its gates to the national troops, new work began on the cathedral. The current Flamboyant transept replaced an old Romanesque structure, following its ground plan, which makes it too narrow for its height; from inside the church, the octagonal lantern looks cramped. The lacework stone spire of the crossing was one of the first in the region. For sixty years during the 16th century, two prelates from the prominent Tillières family held the see; Ambrose le Veneur is credited with the extraordinarily ornate Flamboyant north front of the transept, a clear indication that while Gothic art was nearing its end, it was not fading away from lack of creativity. To align the northern side of his church with the façade's decorative stonework, he redesigned the chapels along the nave and choir. His nephew, Bishop Gabriel le Veneur, took on the task of renovating the west front in a style so neoclassical that M. Léon Palustre, the historian of the Renaissance, exclaimed, “Pour cette fois le moyen âge est bien fini!” And yet, only thirty years separated the façades of uncle and nephew. The southwest tower remains unadorned; the northwest tower is an imposing, heavy structure housing the famous bell of Évreux, known as Gros-Pierre.
THE CATHEDRAL OF SÉEZ[363]
THE CATHEDRAL OF SÉEZ__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Il y a plus d’une sorte de chevalerie, et les grands coups de lance ne sont pas de rigueur. À défaut d’épée, nous avons la plume; à défaut de plume, la parole; à défaut de parole, l’honneur de notre vie.—Léon Gautier, La Chevalerie.
There’s more than one kind of chivalry, and swinging a lance isn’t always required. If we don’t have a sword, we have a pen; if we don’t have a pen, we have our words; if we don’t have words, we have the honor of our lives.—Léon Gautier, La Chevalerie.
“Prudent, modest, and gracious,” reads the epitaph of Bishop Jean de Bernières, who, having in large part built the choir of Séez Cathedral, impressing on it his personal qualities, departed this life on Holy Thursday of 1292. Séez has been called a little sister of Chartres. It is well set, but of unpretentious dimensions. Its twin spire-crowned western towers will be improved when the masses of masonry now propping them are removed. The interior is white and clean, almost to prudery, which may be due to the renewal of choir and transept in modern times.
“Prudent, modest, and gracious,” reads the epitaph of Bishop Jean de Bernières, who, having largely built the choir of Séez Cathedral, left his personal mark on it and passed away on Holy Thursday of 1292. Séez is often referred to as a little sister of Chartres. It’s well-placed but has modest dimensions. Its twin spire-topped western towers will look better once the heavy masonry currently supporting them is taken down. The interior is very white and clean, almost to the point of being overly so, which may be due to the recent work done on the choir and transept.
Never from its inception have restorations ceased in this church. Not that Séez overstepped the possibilities of Gothic equilibrium, but it made incautious use of the calcined foundations of the Romanesque cathedral to which it succeeded. That earlier church had been erected by Bishop Yves de Bellême after two cathedrals had been wiped out by the Norse invasions. Brigands had nested beside his church, and in seeking to dislodge them he had set fire to his own sanctuary, for which act he was rebuked by Leo IX at the Council of Rheims in 1049. He took as his penance the replacing of the cathedral at his own expense, and since he was connected with the rich Norman princes of Italy funds soon poured in. The edifice he erected was destroyed in the unceasing petty wars waged against each other by the husbands of Aliéner of Aquitaine.
Restorations in this church have never stopped since it was built. It’s not that Séez pushed the limits of Gothic balance, but it took careless advantage of the burned foundations of the Romanesque cathedral that came before it. That earlier church was built by Bishop Yves de Bellême after two cathedrals were destroyed by the Norse invasions. Bandits took up residence near his church, and in trying to get rid of them, he accidentally set fire to his own sanctuary, for which he was reprimanded by Leo IX at the Council of Rheims in 1049. He took on the penance of rebuilding the cathedral at his own cost, and since he was connected to the wealthy Norman princes of Italy, funds quickly came in. The building he constructed was destroyed in the endless small wars fought among the husbands of Aliéner of Aquitaine.
The nave of the actual cathedral, the part first undertaken, rose from 1220 to 1240 under Bishop Gervais, a member of the Order of Prémontré. After the pause of a generation, its upper vaulting was constructed. All the traits loved by the Norman are here; friezes below triforium and clearstory, balustrades, sharp twin lancets under equilateral arches, multiple ridges and multiple supports, circular capitals and bases, interior passageways contrived skillfully. Subdivision and multiplication of parts reign supreme; merely for the pleasure it gave his eye the Norman increased the molds of his archivolts. There are diagonals here of so generous a profile that little vault-web shows. The Norman was partial to shadow decoration. He covered his walls with holes cut into foiled shapes which lent themselves to ever-changing contrasts of light and shade. In each spandrel of the main arcade is cut an elaborate rosette before which stands the shaft that mounts to the vault-springing. No Ile-de-France architect had thus obstructed his pierced ornament.
The nave of the actual cathedral, the part that was started first, was built from 1220 to 1240 under Bishop Gervais, a member of the Order of Prémontré. After a generation-long pause, the upper vaulting was completed. All the features favored by the Normans are present; friezes below the triforium and clearstory, balustrades, sharp twin lancets under equilateral arches, multiple ridges and supports, circular capitals and bases, and skillfully crafted interior passageways. The subdivision and multiplication of parts are prominent; simply for visual pleasure, the Norman expanded the molds of his archivolts. The diagonals here are so generously profiled that little of the vault-web is visible. The Norman had a preference for shadow decoration. He adorned his walls with holes cut into intricate shapes that created ever-changing contrasts of light and shade. In each spandrel of the main arcade, there’s an elaborate rosette before which stands the shaft that rises to the vault-springing. No Ile-de-France architect had so obstructed his pierced ornament.
The choir of Séez was begun soon after the nave, but about 1270 was entirely reconstructed as a Rayonnant vessel, designed audaciously to weigh as little as possible on defective foundations. The sanctuary was raised above the ambulatory, with no screen between. The capitals were slight. Here again appeared a trait of Norman redundancy—rain-guards or weather-drips over the main arches and the wall arcading; an Ile-de-France master had relegated such crocketed gables where they belong—to the exterior walls of a church.
The choir of Séez was started soon after the nave, but around 1270, it was completely rebuilt in the Rayonnant style, designed daringly to minimize weight on unstable foundations. The sanctuary was elevated above the ambulatory, without any screen in between. The capitals were delicate. Once again, a characteristic of Norman excess was evident—rain guards or weather drips over the main arches and the wall arcading; a master from Ile-de-France had properly placed such crocketed gables on the exterior walls of a church.
Like Évreux, Séez Cathedral possesses a uniform array of XIV-century glass. Above and below the canopied figures in the clearstory lights are panels of grisaille. The triforium was among the first to become one composition with the upper windows, by means of stone mullions; its quarry designs are bordered with strips of colored glass. The transept, built from 1290 to 1330, has in its side walls excellent images of the prophets. Its roses are linked by mullions with the row of windows below; the north rose traces a star with rays. In 1373 a fire damaged the edifice, and its reconstruction continued through the foreign wars. The Bishop of Séez, Robert de Rouvre, proved loyal to the national cause and quitted his city for the wandering court of Charles VII, rather than take oath to Henry V. This patriotic Norman prelate knew Jeanne d’Arc, not at her trial at Rouen, but in her triumphal hour of the coronation at Rheims.
Like Évreux, Séez Cathedral has a consistent collection of 14th-century glass. Above and below the canopied figures in the clearstory lights, there are panels of grisaille. The triforium was one of the first to integrate with the upper windows, thanks to stone mullions; its quarry designs are framed with strips of colored glass. The transept, built from 1290 to 1330, features remarkable images of the prophets in its side walls. Its rose windows are connected by mullions to the row of windows below; the north rose depicts a star with rays. In 1373, a fire damaged the building, and its reconstruction continued through the foreign wars. The Bishop of Séez, Robert de Rouvre, remained loyal to the national cause and left his city for the wandering court of Charles VII, instead of taking an oath to Henry V. This patriotic Norman bishop knew Jeanne d’Arc, not at her trial in Rouen, but during her triumphant moment at the coronation in Rheims.
The cathedral of Séez was twice pillaged during the religious wars. The Huguenots tore the lead from the roofs, and piled the art treasures in the aisles for bonfires. One doubly regrets the loss of the nave’s windows which would have completed the coherent scheme of color decoration that distinguishes the church. Séez was neglected for centuries, its decrepitude becoming such that the priests at its altars were inconvenienced by wind and rain, and not so inconsequent, after all, then seemed the interior weather-guards. The much criticized restoration of M. Ruprich-Robert was a necessity, even though it may have been too radical.
The cathedral of Séez was looted twice during the religious wars. The Huguenots stripped the lead from the roofs and stacked the valuable artworks in the aisles to burn. One truly regrets the loss of the nave’s windows, which would have completed the unified color scheme that makes the church unique. Séez was neglected for centuries, and its decline became so severe that the priests at its altars were bothered by wind and rain, making the interior weather guards seem necessary after all. The heavily criticized restoration by M. Ruprich-Robert was essential, even if it was a bit too extreme.
Of the six Norman cathedrals, that of Séez is the least known, yet it lies but a few miles beyond Falaise, visited by most travelers in Normandy. In the streets of the Conqueror’s birthplace they still sing, “Vive le fils d’Ariette, Normans, vive le fils d’Arlette!” A statue of William faces the Trinité in which parish he was baptized (1027). The XIII century built the Trinité’s transept, the XVI century its choir (beneath which passes a street), and the Renaissance appears in a porch of faultless taste.[364] The donjon of the castle belongs to the XII century, though the guides will point out a window whence Duke Robert the Magnificent first beheld the maid Arlette.
Of the six Norman cathedrals, Séez is the least known, but it's only a few miles from Falaise, a place most travelers in Normandy visit. In the streets of the Conqueror’s birthplace, they still sing, “Vive le fils d’Ariette, Normans, vive le fils d’Arlette!” A statue of William faces the Trinité, where he was baptized (1027). The Trinité’s transept was built in the 13th century, its choir in the 16th century (and a street runs beneath it), and the Renaissance style appears in an elegantly designed porch.[364] The keep of the castle dates back to the 12th century, though guides will point out a window from which Duke Robert the Magnificent first spotted the maid Arlette.
The land of clusters and streams,
The land of brooms, heather, and moor. —Charles Péguy.
In the cathedrals of Rouen, Lisieux, and Évreux, the Norman traits are subordinate to those of the Ile-de-France; at Séez all is Norman, and altogether Norman, too, are Bayeux and Coutances, the gems of the duchy’s Gothic school. The cathedral of Bayeux stands on the site of one burned in 1046. After that fire Bishop Hugues began a Romanesque cathedral which was continued by his successor, Odo de Conteville, a half brother of the Conqueror. The fair Arlette, the tanner’s daughter of Falaise, after the death of Duke Robert the Magnificent, was joined in lawful wedlock with a Norman baron. Her son, Odo, without the slightest vocation, was made a bishop at seventeen—precisely the feudal debasing of the priesthood which Gregory VII was combating. At the battle of Hastings, when he had blessed the troops, he sprang to his charger and led the cavalry. A XII-century canon of Bayeux, Robert Wace, in his rimed history of the Norman dukes, the Roman de Rou, tells how, at Hastings, the Norman minstrel, Taillefer, “famed for song, mounted on a charger strong, rode on before, awhile he sang of Roland and of Charlemagne, Oliver and the vassals all, who fell in fight at Roncevals.”
In the cathedrals of Rouen, Lisieux, and Évreux, the Norman features take a backseat to those of the Ile-de-France; at Séez, everything is distinctly Norman, and so are Bayeux and Coutances, the jewels of the duchy’s Gothic style. The Bayeux cathedral sits where one was destroyed by fire in 1046. After that fire, Bishop Hugues started constructing a Romanesque cathedral, which was carried on by his successor, Odo de Conteville, who was a half-brother of the Conqueror. The beautiful Arlette, the tanner’s daughter from Falaise, after Duke Robert the Magnificent died, married a Norman baron. Her son, Odo, lacking any real calling, was made a bishop at seventeen—exactly the kind of feudal degradation of the priesthood that Gregory VII was fighting against. At the Battle of Hastings, after blessing the troops, he mounted his horse and led the cavalry. A 12th-century canon of Bayeux, Robert Wace, in his rhymed history of the Norman dukes, the Roman de Rou, recounts how, at Hastings, the Norman minstrel Taillefer, known for his songs, rode ahead on a strong horse, singing for a while about Roland, Charlemagne, Oliver, and all the vassals who fell in battle at Roncevals.
As governor of Kent, Bishop Odo deepened, by his injustices, the hate of the dispossessed Anglo-Saxons for their new masters. On an excursion against Durham he so harried the countryside that it lay waste for a hundred years. When to his misgovernment was added the folly of grandeur—for this unbalanced feudal bully intrigued to wear the papal tiara, to succeed to the great-hearted champion against iniquity, Gregory VII—his brother, William, thought it best to shut him up. From 1047 to 1096 Odo held the see of Bayeux. The Romanesque cathedral which he completed was blessed in the presence of William the Conqueror and Matilda, in 1077, on which occasion the bishop presented to his church a candelabrum such as can be seen at Hildersheim. Bayeux’ crown of light hung from the high vaults until wrecked by the Calvinists in 1562.
As the governor of Kent, Bishop Odo fueled the resentment of the displaced Anglo-Saxons toward their new rulers through his unfair actions. During a military campaign against Durham, he devastated the countryside so severely that it remained barren for a hundred years. When his mismanagement was compounded by his foolish ambition—this unhinged feudal bully schemed to wear the papal crown, hoping to succeed the noble champion against injustice, Gregory VII—his brother, William, decided it was best to confine him. Odo held the position of bishop in Bayeux from 1047 to 1096. The Romanesque cathedral he completed was consecrated in the presence of William the Conqueror and Matilda in 1077, during which occasion the bishop gifted his church a candelabrum similar to one found in Hildersheim. The crown of light in Bayeux hung from the high ceilings until it was destroyed by the Calvinists in 1562.
Of the cathedral built by this anomalous prelate very little remains. The crypt is of his time, parts of the outer walls, and the body of the west towers in their lower halls; their upper stories were re-dressed later. The crypt was forgotten till 1412, when, in digging for a certain bishop’s tomb they unearthed it. Odo’s cathedral was in part destroyed in 1106 when Bayeux was besieged and burned by Henry I of England. Another fire in 1160 made rebuilding imperative, and even before the latter disaster Bishop Philippe d’Harcourt (1142-62) had begun a new Romanesque church. To it belonged the core of the actual transept-crossing’s piers and the lower part of the nave, which is considered the richest Romanesque[366] work extant. The flat wall above the pier arcade is covered with geometric designs, interlacings, and chevrons. The curious carved disks, in the spandrels of the arches, represent Oriental animals and the grotesques that are to be found in Celtic illuminations. Some have thought that the exotic sculptures of Bayeux derived directly from an ivory coffer, of the IV-century Hegira, brought home by crusaders for the treasury of their cathedral. Oriental Byzantium was their common origin.
Very little of the cathedral built by this unusual bishop remains. The crypt is from his time, along with parts of the outer walls and the lower levels of the west towers; the upper stories were remodeled later. The crypt was forgotten until 1412 when it was discovered while digging for a certain bishop's tomb. Odo's cathedral was partially destroyed in 1106 when Henry I of England besieged and burned Bayeux. Another fire in 1160 made rebuilding necessary, and even before that disaster, Bishop Philippe d’Harcourt (1142-62) had started work on a new Romanesque church. This included the core of the current transept-crossing piers and the lower part of the nave, which is considered the richest Romanesque work still in existence. The flat wall above the pier arcade is decorated with geometric designs, interlacements, and chevrons. The interesting carved discs in the spandrels of the arches depict Oriental animals and grotesques found in Celtic illuminations. Some believe that the exotic sculptures of Bayeux came directly from an ivory coffer from the 4th-century Hegira, brought home by crusaders for their cathedral’s treasury. Oriental Byzantium was their shared origin.
The Choir of Bayeaux Cathedral (1210-1260). Typical of
Normandy’s Elaborate Gothic.
The Choir of Bayeux Cathedral (1210-1260) is a great example of Normandy's intricate Gothic style.
The choir of Bayeux is a masterpiece of Norman Gothic erected by Robert des Ablêges (1206-31), who died a crusader, and by the two successive bishops. In the nave those prelates surmounted the Romanesque lower walls with Gothic windows and vaulting; a balustrade marks the division between the dissimilar parts. They reinforced the façade towers, and made five western doorways—although the church behind possessed only three aisles.
The Bayeux choir is a stunning example of Norman Gothic architecture built by Robert des Ablêges (1206-31), who died as a crusader, along with two successive bishops. In the nave, those bishops added Gothic windows and vaults on top of the Romanesque lower walls; a balustrade highlights the difference between the two styles. They enhanced the facade towers and created five western doorways, even though the church behind only had three aisles.
The student who would comprehend at a glance the difference between the æsthetic equipoise of the Ile-de-France and the sumptuous Gothic of Normandy can do nothing better than to place side by side the pictures of Bayeux’ choir and the curving transept end of Soissons. Those whose taste has been formed by English minsters may prefer Bayeux, those whose loiterings have made them familiar with the cradle-land of the national art of France will find their ideal in the classic restraint of Soissons. Scarcely a square foot of Bayeux’ choir is unadorned. Each spandrel is pierced by trefoils and quatrefoils, and at the apse the triforium spandrels are entirely covered with foliage. There are acutely pointed arches, and arches under arches. Mold has been added to mold, and each roll molding has its own colonnette. There are carved friezes at different levels, and the horizontal line is still further accentuated by balustrades. At the sanctuary curve double pillars stand one behind the other. Even the vault web is decorated with the portraits of bishops. As the choir surmounts Odo de Conteville’s crypt it is raised above the procession path. Some of its side chapels open, one on the other, above a dividing wall, as in the Gothic choir of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes at Caen, an arrangement repeated with beautiful effect at Coutances. At the birth of the apse are turrets; there are corner towerettes with staircases on each of the western belfries.
The student who can quickly grasp the difference between the balanced aesthetics of the Ile-de-France and the lavish Gothic style of Normandy should compare the images of Bayeux's choir and the curved transept end of Soissons. Those whose taste has been shaped by English churches might prefer Bayeux, while those who are familiar with the birthplace of French national art will find their ideal in the classic simplicity of Soissons. Almost every inch of Bayeux's choir is embellished. Each spandrel features trefoils and quatrefoils, and at the apse, the triforium spandrels are completely covered with foliage. There are sharp-pointed arches, and archways beneath archways. Layers of mold have been added to mold, and every rolled molding has its own small column. There are carved friezes at various heights, and the horizontal lines are emphasized further by balustrades. At the sanctuary curve, double pillars stand one behind the other. Even the vault web is adorned with portraits of bishops. As the choir sits above Odo de Conteville’s crypt, it is elevated above the procession path. Some of its side chapels open onto one another, above a dividing wall, similar to the Gothic choir of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes in Caen, a design beautifully echoed in Coutances. At the start of the apse, there are turrets; there are little corner towers with staircases on each of the western belfries.
The Norman façade, as a rule, is very plain, lacking rose window and galleries, and with undeveloped portals. Two marked stories usually divide it—that of the entranceway and the big window story over it. Often the towers are disengaged awkwardly from the massive, nor is the transition from shaft to pyramid accomplished with subtlety. Yet the Norman church has great compensations to offer. Few edifices in the classic region of the Oise, Seine, and Marne present a more complete exterior than this chief church of Bayeux that stands so proudly over the flat little city, unencumbered by houses, raised on a dignified platform where the ground slopes to the east.
The Norman front is generally pretty simple, without rose windows or galleries, and with basic doorways. It typically has two distinct levels: one for the entrance and a larger one for the big window above it. Often, the towers seem awkwardly detached from the solid structure, and the transition from the shaft to the pyramid isn't done gracefully. However, the Norman church has a lot to offer in return. Few buildings in the classic regions of the Oise, Seine, and Marne have a more impressive exterior than this main church of Bayeux, which stands proudly over the small, flat city, free from nearby buildings, and elevated on a dignified platform where the ground slopes to the east.
The cathedral’s transept is Rayonnant Gothic of the XIV century, in which day were added the various side chapels whose tracery is geometric. When Jeanne d’Arc had given France a new soul, Bayeux raised its lordly central tower “to praise God in the sky.” It was undertaken by a wealthy prelate, Louis d’Harcourt (d. 1479), of the same family as the bishop who had built the Romanesque wall of the nave. He planted his Flamboyant octagon on the square XIII-century lantern, but the actual top story of the transept-crossing tower is modern. Bayeux almost lost her notable beacon in the XIX century, when fissures appeared, and a zealous restorer thought to demolish it whereas all that was needed was consolidation. The ancient Romanesque piers at the four corners of the croisée were found incased in XIII-century masonry.
The cathedral’s transept is Rayonnant Gothic from the 14th century, during which various side chapels with geometric tracery were added. When Joan of Arc gave France a new spirit, Bayeux raised its grand central tower “to praise God in the sky.” This was initiated by a wealthy prelate, Louis d’Harcourt (d. 1479), who belonged to the same family as the bishop that built the Romanesque wall of the nave. He placed his Flamboyant octagon on the square 13th-century lantern, but the actual top part of the transept-crossing tower is modern. Bayeux nearly lost its impressive landmark in the 19th century when cracks appeared, and an overzealous restorer considered demolishing it, even though what was really needed was consolidation. The ancient Romanesque piers at the four corners of the croisée were found encased in 13th-century masonry.
Opposite the cathedral in the town library is an invaluable historical document, the Bayeux Tapestry,[367] the oldest extant large amount of the art of design in the mediæval centuries. Many a vicissitude it has had: lost from view till Montfaucon, the learned Benedictine of St. Maur’s reform, unearthed it in 1720, and again, during the Revolution’s disorders, used as covering for ammunition carts till an enlightened citizen redeemed it. Originally it comprised one seamless piece, just sufficient to encircle the nave of Bayeux Cathedral, for which, indubitably, it was made. Every summer solstice, on the dedication day of Odo’s church, it adorned the cathedral, “the toilet of St. John,” it was named, a very simple toilet, for, though called a tapestry, it is really a drab linen band twenty inches wide, two hundred and thirty feet long, with the design alone worked in worsted of eight colors.
Across from the cathedral in the town library is an invaluable historical document, the Bayeux Tapestry,[367] the oldest existing large example of medieval design art. It has faced many challenges: hidden from view until Montfaucon, the learned Benedictine from St. Maur’s reform, uncovered it in 1720, and later, during the chaos of the Revolution, it was used to cover ammunition carts until a thoughtful citizen rescued it. Originally, it was one continuous piece, just enough to wrap around the nave of Bayeux Cathedral, for which it was undoubtedly created. Every summer solstice, on the dedication day of Odo’s church, it adorned the cathedral, called “the toilet of St. John,” a very simple covering since, although it’s called a tapestry, it’s actually a plain linen band that’s twenty inches wide and two hundred and thirty feet long, with the design worked in worsted yarn of eight colors.
The scheme is the perjury of Harold and its punishment, hence its suitableness as an embroidery for a church. It begins with Harold and ends with his death at Hastings. His oath of allegiance to William, given at Bayeux, is pictured. Odo is shown saving the Normans from retreat at the battle of Hastings. Some have thought he would not have dared to glorify himself till after the death of his brother, William. The tapestry was made, probably, from 1067 to 1077, immediately following the successful conquest of England, and is a contemporary, therefore, of the Chanson de Roland, composed by a Norman anterior to the First Crusade. The embroidery was done before 1085, since the Conqueror’s seals of that date show armor similar to that pictured in the canvas; the sequence of the scenes indicates they are subsequent to Wace’s poem (c. 1160).
The tapestry depicts Harold's betrayal and its consequences, making it fitting as a decoration for a church. It starts with Harold and concludes with his death at Hastings. His oath of loyalty to William, taken at Bayeux, is illustrated. Odo is portrayed saving the Normans from retreat during the battle of Hastings. Some believe he wouldn’t have dared to glorify himself until after his brother William died. The tapestry was likely created between 1067 and 1077, right after the successful conquest of England, and it is a contemporary work of the Chanson de Roland, which was written by a Norman before the First Crusade. The embroidery was completed before 1085, as the Conqueror’s seals from that date show armor similar to what is depicted in the tapestry; the order of the scenes suggests they come after Wace’s poem (around 1160).
Critics have thought, from the inscriptions, that Anglo-Saxons made the tapestry. It is known that the textile art flourished in Kent, the province ruled by Odo; in Normandy, too, the industry was popular. M. Levé, in the most recent monograph of this precious legacy from the past, contends that a Norman who was favorable to William the Conqueror made it, and that the popular attribution to Queen Matilda is not unlikely. She may have had the work done as a gift for Bayeux Cathedral while Odo was still in royal favor. The war-like bishop died as a crusader journeying East, and lies buried in Palermo Cathedral. The people despised Odo, and would openly mock as he passed, “Fie on the bishop who married adulterous King Philip to adulterous Bertrada de Montfort.”
Critics believe that the inscriptions suggest the tapestry was created by the Anglo-Saxons. It's known that textile art thrived in Kent, the area ruled by Odo, and that the industry was also popular in Normandy. M. Levé, in the latest study of this valuable historical piece, argues that a Norman supporter of William the Conqueror made it, and that the common belief that it was commissioned by Queen Matilda is quite possible. She might have had it created as a gift for Bayeux Cathedral while Odo was still in high regard with the royal family. The warlike bishop died as a crusader traveling East and is buried in Palermo Cathedral. The people held Odo in contempt and would openly mock him as he passed by, saying, “Fie on the bishop who married adulterous King Philip to adulterous Bertrada de Montfort.”
A century after Harold’s oath to Duke William, in Bayeux, and in the same hunting-seat, at Bures, near the city, occurred a scene of passion whose consequences were momentous. Bishop Henri de Beaumont was at work on the cathedral’s transept and upper nave when Henry II came to Bayeux to spend the Christmas season of 1170. For seven years western Christendom had watched his feud with the exiled primate of Canterbury. The lesser people of France and England considered that the prelate defended their liberties by his defense of church liberty. For how, they asked, can a churchman rebuke lay injustices if he owes his position to the very culprits he should censure?
A hundred years after Harold swore loyalty to Duke William in Bayeux, a dramatic scene unfolded in the same hunting lodge at Bures, near the city, with far-reaching consequences. Bishop Henri de Beaumont was working on the cathedral's transept and upper nave when Henry II arrived in Bayeux to celebrate Christmas in 1170. For seven years, all of western Christendom had been following his conflict with the exiled archbishop of Canterbury. The common folks in France and England believed that the bishop was standing up for their rights by defending the independence of the church. They questioned how a church leader could call out secular injustices if his position depended on the very people he should be criticizing.
A pretense of reconciliation between Henry and his whilom intimate had recently been brought about. Becket felt its hollowness, since none knew better than he that the Angevin monarch’s besetting sin was duplicity and a merciless vindictiveness when his will was successfully crossed. As he parted with the king he had looked steadily at him, saying, with meaning: “I think I shall never see you again,” and Henry Plantagenet had cried, vehemently, “Do you take me for a traitor?” Soon after word was brought to the king that Becket, newly arrived in England, was again stirring up difficulties. Henry flew into one of his madman passions hereditary in his blood from Fulk Nerra, from the Conqueror, too; frenzied words broke from him, their purport being the upbraiding of his followers that he lacked a friend to rid him of this upstart priest. Immediately four of his courtiers started for England, and as December of 1170 closed, Canterbury Cathedral was the scene of a bloody assassination.
A façade of reconciliation between Henry and his former close friend had recently been created. Becket sensed its emptiness, since no one knew better than he that the Angevin king’s persistent flaw was deceit and a ruthless desire for revenge when he was challenged. As he said goodbye to the king, he looked directly at him and said meaningfully, “I think I’ll never see you again,” and Henry Plantagenet shouted back, “Do you think I’m a traitor?” Soon after, the king was informed that Becket, who had just returned to England, was causing trouble again. Henry erupted into one of his furious rages, a trait he had inherited from Fulk Nerra and the Conqueror; angry words spilled out, blaming his followers for not helping him deal with this rebellious priest. Immediately, four of his courtiers set off for England, and as December of 1170 came to an end, Canterbury Cathedral became the site of a gruesome assassination.
Becket dead was more formidable than Becket alive. Frightened by the indignation roused by the murder, Henry conceded what the primate had contended for. The Canterbury martyr became a frequent theme with the mediæval artist. At Coutances, Chartres, Angers, and Sens are medallion windows that relate his story. Twice he is honored in Bayeux Cathedral, in the sculpture of the southern portal and in a window of the transept. The popular voice of Europe canonized St. Thomas, and his grave at Canterbury became the loadstone of an international pilgrimage. The XIV-century poet has related how Merrie England rode down to Kent in the first spring days, when that Aprille with his shoures sweet hath pierced to the root the drought of Marche, and with the new-liveried year the wanderlust awakes:
Becket dead was more powerful than Becket alive. Frightened by the outrage caused by the murder, Henry gave in to what the archbishop had fought for. The Canterbury martyr became a common subject for medieval artists. In Coutances, Chartres, Angers, and Sens, there are medallion windows that tell his story. He is honored twice in Bayeux Cathedral, in the sculpture of the southern portal and in a window of the transept. The popular sentiment of Europe canonized St. Thomas, and his grave at Canterbury became a magnet for international pilgrims. The 14th-century poet described how Merry England traveled to Kent in the first days of spring, when April with its sweet showers has pierced the drought of March to the root, and with the newly revived year, the wanderlust awakens:
And especially, from every county's end Of England, to Canterbury they go,
The holy blessed martyr to seek That hem has helped when they were sick.[368]
THE CATHEDRAL OF COUTANCES[369]
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Art is the stammering of man driven from his terrestrial Paradise but not yet arrived at the heavenly Paradise. Ever has he recalled, ever will he recall, the lost beauty. He is fallen: beauty’s sanctuary is shut to him, but the exile traces a sketch of his original home in the strange land where he finds himself. Does not art fill in the intellectual life the same place that hope does in the moral? Art is man’s trial to embody his ideals, it is a presentiment and a souvenir.—Ernest Hello, Philosophie et Athéisme.
Art is the stumbling expression of humanity, expelled from its earthly Paradise but not yet reaching the heavenly one. We’ve always remembered, and we always will remember, that lost beauty. We have fallen: the sanctuary of beauty is closed to us, yet the exile sketches a picture of his original home in the unfamiliar land where he finds himself. Doesn’t art occupy the same role in intellectual life that hope does in moral life? Art is humanity’s attempt to express its ideals; it is both a premonition and a memento.—Hey Ernest, Philosophie et Athéisme.
If the exterior aspect of Bayeux is admirable, that of Coutances Cathedral is superb. The high hill of the town is its pedestal. Few architectural views in France are finer than the silhouette of Coutances against the sky. And when its crowning cathedral is seen rising from a mist, it appears to ride the clouds like a mighty ship—a vision of Norman energy as memorable as the Mount of the Archangel off this very coast, in the bay of St. Michael.
If the outside view of Bayeux is impressive, the Coutances Cathedral is stunning. The town’s tall hill serves as its pedestal. Few architectural sights in France are better than the outline of Coutances against the sky. And when its magnificent cathedral is seen emerging from the mist, it looks like it’s sailing through the clouds like a powerful ship—a sight of Norman strength as unforgettable as the Mount of the Archangel off this very coastline, in the bay of St. Michael.
As the archives of Coutances Cathedral were destroyed by the Huguenots, documentary proof of its date is lacking. Midway in the XIX century even serious students contended that this Apogee Gothic edifice was the church dedicated in 1056 by a hero of Hastings’ battle, Bishop Geoffrey de Mowbray. Like Odo of Bayeux, the sword, not the crozier, should have been his emblem. He was the holder of two hundred lordships. He it was who, in Westminster Abbey, in 1066, mounting a tribune, asked the cowed Anglo-Saxons if they would consent that Duke William of Normandy assume the title, king of England, and the next day an enormous tax was imposed on the conquered race as “joyous tribute” to their new rulers. Geoffrey gave up residence in his Norman see to be castillan of Bristol, but, taking part in Odo’s intrigues, he was driven from the country with the cry, “Gallows for the bishop!”
As the archives of Coutances Cathedral were destroyed by the Huguenots, there’s no documentary proof of its date. In the mid-19th century, even serious scholars argued that this Apogee Gothic building was the church dedicated in 1056 by a hero of the Battle of Hastings, Bishop Geoffrey de Mowbray. Like Odo of Bayeux, he should have been known for the sword, not the crozier. He held two hundred lordships. It was he who, in Westminster Abbey in 1066, stood on a platform and asked the fearful Anglo-Saxons if they would allow Duke William of Normandy to take the title of King of England, and the next day a huge tax was imposed on the conquered people as a “joyous tribute” to their new rulers. Geoffrey gave up his residence in his Norman see to become the castellan of Bristol, but participating in Odo’s schemes, he was driven from the country with the shout, “Gallows for the bishop!”
This ambitious baron-prelate obtained donations for his Romanesque cathedral when he journeyed in southern Italy and the East, where ruled his Norman kinsmen. When the archæologists Bouet, A. de Dion, and Abbé Pigéon found parts of Geoffrey’s church englobed in the present nave and façade of Coutances, the heated controversy over the date of the cathedral ceased. The core of each façade tower is Bishop Geoffrey’s, as are some of the piers in transept and nave, and the nave’s upper wall (re-dressed as Gothic about 1230). The tribune of the fighting bishop lies unused behind the present triforium, whose wall arcades plainly show a succession of transformations.
This ambitious baron-prelate secured donations for his Romanesque cathedral during his travels in southern Italy and the East, where his Norman relatives were in power. When archaeologists Bouet, A. de Dion, and Abbé Pigéon discovered parts of Geoffrey’s church embedded in the current nave and façade of Coutances, the intense debate about the cathedral's date came to an end. The main structure of each façade tower is Bishop Geoffrey’s, along with some of the supports in the transept and nave, and the upper wall of the nave (which was redone in Gothic style around 1230). The tribune of the fighting bishop remains unused behind the current triforium, whose wall arcades clearly demonstrate a series of changes.
The Romanesque cathedral was injured by fire in 1218. Bishop Bivien de Champagne planned a new church which his successor, Hugues de Morville (1208-38), started. That prelate, and his two successors, built the choir with its double aisles of different height, and the central tower carried on triumphal piers of multiple molds. “What inspired idiot dared fling those stones toward the sky!” exclaimed the great engineer, Vauban, before the lantern of Coutances. The transfused gentle light that falls from its windows tranquilizes the entire church. Even the laie-haunted Viollet-le-Duc likened it to St. Christopher bearing the Christ Child before an image of the Virgin, in her honor. Joinville would have called it prayer in action.
The Romanesque cathedral was damaged by fire in 1218. Bishop Bivien de Champagne planned a new church that his successor, Hugues de Morville (1208-38), began. That bishop, along with his two successors, built the choir with its double aisles of different heights, and the central tower supported by impressive piers of various shapes. “What inspired idiot dared to throw those stones up into the sky!” exclaimed the great engineer, Vauban, in front of the lantern of Coutances. The soft, gentle light that comes through its windows soothes the entire church. Even the haunted Viollet-le-Duc compared it to St. Christopher carrying the Christ Child before an image of the Virgin, in her honor. Joinville would have called it prayer in action.
The Deus absconditus impression conveyed by the mystical choir of Coutances is another of its ravishing qualities. As at Bourges and Le Mans, the inner aisle is so high that it possesses its own triforium and clearstory; however, it avoided the stunted aspect of Bourges’ main clearstory by omitting the triforium altogether in the central vessel. The choir of Coutances has retained more of the warmth of atmosphere that induces piety of soul than any other Norman cathedral, save that of Rouen. Not mere brilliant talent, but genius and faith, built it. It is almost triple-aisled, inasmuch as columns were planted in the outer aisle slightly before the walls that divide the radiating chapels. Throughout the church are these lesser arrangements that charm—such, the opening of the nave’s chapels, one on the other above the dividing walls. The ends of the transept have tribunes like many Romanesque churches of the duchy. There are the usual Norman characteristics of a double-walled clearstory with different tracery in each wall, friezes of sculptured foliage, balustrades, acutely pointed arches, pierced ornament, and a generous multiplication of molds, each with its own support.
The Deus absconditus vibe created by the mystical choir of Coutances is one of its stunning features. Like at Bourges and Le Mans, the inner aisle is so high that it has its own triforium and clearstory; however, it avoids the cramped look of Bourges’ main clearstory by leaving out the triforium entirely in the central area. The choir of Coutances has maintained more of the warm atmosphere that nurtures a sense of piety than any other Norman cathedral, except for Rouen. It was built not just with brilliant talent, but with genius and faith. It's almost triple-aisled because columns were placed in the outer aisle slightly ahead of the walls that separate the radiating chapels. Throughout the church are these smaller features that enchant—like the openings of the nave’s chapels, stacked above the dividing walls. The ends of the transept have tribunes like many Romanesque churches in the duchy. There are the typical Norman traits of a double-walled clearstory with different tracery on each wall, friezes of sculptured foliage, balustrades, sharply pointed arches, pierced ornamentation, and a generous variety of molds, each with its own support.
Two architects designed the church; one made the nave and the other—thought by M. Lefèvre-Pontalis to be the same Thomas Toustain who planned the apse of Le Mans Cathedral—constructed the choir, lantern, transept, and perhaps the spires of the western towers. Under Bishop Jean d’Essay (1251-74) the cathedral was finished. Louis IX was the guest of that prelate when he came to render thanks at the national shrine of St. Michael for his safe return from Palestine.
Two architects designed the church; one worked on the nave and the other—believed by M. Lefèvre-Pontalis to be the same Thomas Toustain who designed the apse of Le Mans Cathedral—constructed the choir, lantern, transept, and possibly the spires of the western towers. Under Bishop Jean d’Essay (1251-74), the cathedral was completed. Louis IX was the guest of that bishop when he came to give thanks at the national shrine of St. Michael for his safe return from Palestine.
The west façade of Coutances is very Norman: plain portals, no rose window, and a staircase on a corner of each belfry. The lines of the towers rise uncrossed by horizontal bar from ground to tapering point. “Ponder them well,” old Villard de Honnecourt would have said before the faithful sentinel towers of Coutances, that seem planted “like the spear of a man-at-arms.” This severe church front was not meant for romance like the façade of foreign-trading Rouen, or for royal pageants like that of wine-growing Rheims. The basic forces that lead to architectural character were different here. Northern men in an outpost of France facing the dangers of the sea, built the façade of Coutances, men who had won this province by the sword, who with the sword were seekers for new conquests to the north, to the south. Taken with the central tower, the belfries of Coutances compose an unequaled group. The apse exterior is equally admirable; the flying buttresses, as at Notre Dame, at Paris, clear both aisles of the choir by a single hardy leap.
The west façade of Coutances is very Norman: simple doorways, no rose window, and a staircase on a corner of each belfry. The lines of the towers rise straight up without horizontal bars from the ground to the pointed top. “Think carefully about them,” old Villard de Honnecourt would have said to the onlookers about the sentinel towers of Coutances, which seem planted “like the spear of a man-at-arms.” This austere church front wasn’t designed for romance like the façade of the trade-filled Rouen, or for royal ceremonies like that of wine-producing Rheims. The foundational influences shaping the architectural style were different here. Northerners, in a French outpost facing the threats of the sea, built the façade of Coutances—men who had claimed this region with the sword and who were also looking for new conquests to the north and south. Together with the central tower, the belfries of Coutances create an unmatched grouping. The exterior of the apse is equally impressive; the flying buttresses, like those at Notre Dame in Paris, clear both aisles of the choir with a single bold leap.
The adventurers of Normandy who made the brilliant, if ephemeral, kingdoms of Apulia, Sicily, and Antioch, were the sons and grandsons of a Norman knight called Tancred de Hauteville,[370] whose manor lay not far from Coutances. The people have chosen to call certain statues on their cathedral’s northern outer wall by the names of Roger and Robert de Hauteville, and their descendants of the next generation—Bohemund, who used the Holy Wars to push his own fortunes, and his cousin, Tancred, the idealist of the First Crusade. Probably the “Tancred” statues—which now are restorations—were intended by the XIII-century sculptors for Hebrew kings. In the southern kingdoms founded by the stalwart offshoots of a simple knight of Normandy, the local architectural traits predominated, but such Norman influences appear as the central lantern and intercrossing arches (at Monreale), acutely pointed arches, and lobed rosettes cut in the spandrels (in the hospital at Palermo), west towers with corner staircases in turrets, an aisle preceding the chapels that open on the east wall of the transept (the cathedral of Cefalu, c. 1145). There are Norman traits in the cathedrals of Bari and Barletta, the latter having false tribunes like those of Eu and Rouen.[371]
The adventurers from Normandy who established the remarkable but short-lived kingdoms of Apulia, Sicily, and Antioch were the sons and grandsons of a Norman knight named Tancred de Hauteville,[370] whose estate was located not far from Coutances. People have taken to naming certain statues on the northern exterior wall of their cathedral after Roger and Robert de Hauteville, as well as their descendants—Bohemund, who used the Holy Wars to advance his own interests, and his cousin, Tancred, the idealist of the First Crusade. It's likely the “Tancred” statues—which are now restorations—were originally meant by the 13th-century sculptors to represent Hebrew kings. In the southern kingdoms established by the strong descendants of a simple knight from Normandy, local architectural styles were prominent, yet Norman influences can be seen in the central lantern and intercrossing arches (at Monreale), sharply pointed arches, and lobed rosettes carved in the spandrels (in the hospital at Palermo), west towers with corner staircases in turrets, and an aisle leading to chapels that open on the east wall of the transept (the cathedral of Cefalu, c. 1145). There are also Norman features in the cathedrals of Bari and Barletta, the latter showcasing false tribunes similar to those in Eu and Rouen.[371]
At Coutances the XIV century added side chapels to the cathedral. During a siege in 1356, English stone bullets damaged the church; Charles V had it restored and fortified. Bishop Silvester de Cervelle (1371-86) built the Lady chapel, some lateral chapels, and added to the façade its only ornamentation—the colonnade connecting the towers. When Jeanne d’Arc’s good name was to be vindicated, a bishop of Coutances was named by Rome as one of the three judges in the process of rehabilitation. “Would to God,” exclaimed the pope, “that I had bishops of Coutances. The Church would be well governed.” Olivier de Longueil, vir gravis, vir bonus, vir mutis (like his own cathedral), was endowed with the ideal qualities for a judge—independence and firmness. His boyhood friends were the Estouteville brothers, one the defender of the Mount, and the other the most active agent in the clearing of the Maid’s name.
At Coutances, the 14th century saw the addition of side chapels to the cathedral. During a siege in 1356, English stone projectiles damaged the church; Charles V had it restored and fortified. Bishop Silvester de Cervelle (1371-86) built the Lady chapel, several side chapels, and added the only decoration to the façade—the colonnade linking the towers. When Jeanne d’Arc’s reputation needed to be restored, a bishop from Coutances was appointed by Rome as one of the three judges in the rehabilitation process. “I wish to God,” exclaimed the pope, “that I had bishops from Coutances. The Church would be well governed.” Olivier de Longueil, vir gravis, vir bonus, vir mutis (like his own cathedral), possessed the ideal qualities for a judge—independence and firmness. His childhood friends were the Estouteville brothers, one of whom defended the Mount, while the other was the most active in clearing the Maid’s name.
The cathedral of Coutances suffered much in the religious wars. So devastated was it in 1562, when from end to end of Normandy, as at a given signal, priests were slaughtered at the altar, tombs violated, church windows broken, and images shattered, that it lay long unused. The collapse of some vault sections made a thorough restoration necessary.
The cathedral of Coutances went through a lot during the religious wars. It was so badly damaged in 1562 that, throughout Normandy, at a given signal, priests were killed at the altar, tombs were desecrated, church windows were smashed, and statues were destroyed, leaving it in disuse for a long time. The collapse of some vault sections made a complete restoration necessary.
To the south of Coutances, at Avranches,[372] once stood another cathedral of Normandy, begun in 1109, dedicated in 1120, and later changed to Gothic. It was exceptional in having no transept. An inscription in the street marks the spot where, before its northern portal, Henry II of England did public penance in 1172, and received absolution from the papal legate for his guilt in the murder of St. Thomas Becket. Alas! like the cathedrals of Cambrai and Arras, the Revolution brought about the ruin of Avranches. “L’égalité s’était faite dans les ruines,” says one of its biographers. After the sacking of 1794 the historic church collapsed. Ruskin has nobly lamented its loss: “Did the cathedral of Avranches belong to the mob who destroyed it any more than it did to us who walk in sorrow to and fro over its foundations?”
To the south of Coutances, at Avranches,[372] once stood another cathedral of Normandy, started in 1109, dedicated in 1120, and later transformed to Gothic. It was unique for having no transept. An inscription in the street marks the location where, in front of its northern portal, Henry II of England publicly did penance in 1172 and received forgiveness from the papal legate for his role in the murder of St. Thomas Becket. Unfortunately, like the cathedrals of Cambrai and Arras, the Revolution led to the ruin of Avranches. “L’égalité s’était faite dans les ruines,” says one of its biographers. After the pillaging of 1794, the historic church fell apart. Ruskin has beautifully mourned its loss: “Did the cathedral of Avranches belong to the mob who destroyed it any more than it did to us who walk in sorrow to and fro over its foundations?”
THE GOTHIC ART OF BRITTANY[373]
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Chez les Bretons un double courant: l’esprit de liberté, l’esprit de tradition; et pour les concilier, les pousser tous deux vers un même but et vers un but supérieur, la flamme, la passion de l’idéal, si ardente chez nos bardes et nos saints, si vivante, si puissante toujours dans l’âme bretonne, et qui l’a jetée tout entière dans la religion de l’idéal par excellence: la foi du Christ. Liberté, tradition, idéal: voilà le triple facteur de la vie intime et de la vie publique, de la vie nationale des Bretons.—Léon Séché.
Chez les Bretons, il y a un double courant : l'esprit de liberté et l'esprit de tradition. Pour les concilier et les diriger tous les deux vers un même objectif, un objectif plus élevé, il y a la flamme, la passion de l'idéal, qui est si intense chez nos poètes et nos saints, si vivante et puissante dans l'âme bretonne, et qui l'a entièrement engagée dans la religion de l'idéal par excellence : la foi du Christ. Liberté, tradition, idéal : voilà le triple facteur de la vie personnelle et de la vie publique, de la vie nationale des Bretons.—Léon Séché.
Brittany was a late comer in the national art and much is it to be regretted, for had her building energies been aroused during the Romanesque epoch, her storm-worn granite rock would have then best expressed her regional character. Among the few Romanesque works of Brittany are the crypt of Nantes Cathedral; the nave of St. Aubin’s church within the corselet of stone at Guérande; a stalwart central tower over monastic Redon—cradle of Breton history-making, St. Gildas de Rhuys, which M. Lefèvre-Pontalis places in the first quarter of the XI century; the church of the Holy Cross, at Quimperlé, radically remade after the fall of its tower in 1862 (the Gothic-rib masonry roof beneath that tower dating before 1150); a Templar’s church at Loctudy; the Bréléverez church beside Lannion. Equally rare are Brittany’s Gothic monuments of the first part of the XIII century, Dol Cathedral being one of the few. As the era of Apogee Gothic drew to a close the cathedrals at Quimper, St. Pol-de-Léon, and Tréguier were rising. So was that rude mass of granite, the cathedral at St. Brieuc, and the churches of Rosporden and Guingamp.
Brittany arrived late on the national art scene, which is regrettable, because if her creative energies had been ignited during the Romanesque period, her weathered granite would have truly showcased her regional character. Among the few Romanesque works in Brittany are the crypt of Nantes Cathedral; the nave of St. Aubin’s church in the stone enclosure at Guérande; a sturdy central tower over the monastic site of Redon—birthplace of Breton history, St. Gildas de Rhuys, which M. Lefèvre-Pontalis dates to the early 11th century; the Holy Cross church in Quimperlé, which underwent major renovations after its tower collapsed in 1862 (the Gothic ribbed masonry roof beneath that tower dates back to before 1150); a Templar church in Loctudy; and the Bréléverez church near Lannion. Brittany’s Gothic monuments from the early 13th century are equally scarce, with Dol Cathedral being one of the few. As the peak of Gothic architecture neared its end, the cathedrals in Quimper, St. Pol-de-Léon, and Tréguier were being constructed. So too was the rough mass of granite that is the cathedral in St. Brieuc, along with the churches in Rosporden and Guingamp.
In the XIV century was built the Kreisker tower, parent of a generous progeny. Sea-going people are lovers of high towers, and Brittany is dotted with them. Over the flat, bleak land of Léon the clochers à jour are a glory. With passion the Breton admired his landmarks. As he sailed home from long months in the northern fisheries, they were the first signals of welcome. To express his affection, he sometimes inscribed the Canticle of Canticles on his tower: “Who is this that cometh up from the desert flowing with delights?” No village felt itself too humble to attempt an imitation of the Kreisker at St. Pol-de-Léon.
In the 14th century, the Kreisker tower was built, the parent of a proud lineage. People who travel by sea love tall towers, and Brittany is full of them. Over the flat, bare land of Léon, the clochers à jour are a source of pride. The Breton admired his landmarks with passion. As he returned home from long months in the northern fisheries, they were the first signs of welcome. To show his affection, he sometimes engraved the Song of Songs on his tower: “Who is this that comes up from the desert flowing with delights?” No village considered itself too humble to try and imitate the Kreisker in St. Pol-de-Léon.
By far the greater number of Breton churches belong to the Flamboyant Gothic day, and at that time the most energetic builder was Finistère, the far-western stronghold called Armorica before the Celts from Britain fled in the V and VI centuries from invading Saxons to the inviolate refuge of these other dwellers by the sea. St. Jean-du-Doigt was built from 1440 to 1513, and when almost completed, Anne, duchess of Brittany and twice queen of France, visited it to pray for a cure. Her daughter, Claude, also queen of France, was equally generous to the shrine. St. Jean’s Pardon of the Fire, in the latter days of June, is one of the five big Pardons of Brittany.
Most of the Breton churches we see today are from the Flamboyant Gothic period, and during that time, the most active builder was Finistère, the far-western region known as Armorica before the Celts from Britain sought refuge here in the 5th and 6th centuries from invading Saxons. St. Jean-du-Doigt was constructed from 1440 to 1513, and when it was nearly finished, Anne, Duchess of Brittany and twice Queen of France, visited to pray for healing. Her daughter, Claude, who was also Queen of France, was similarly generous to the shrine. St. Jean’s Pardon of the Fire, held in late June, is one of the five major Pardons in Brittany.
Anne of Brittany’s device, the ermine, is carved on many a façade of France. Both her husbands were notable art patrons. For her Charles VIII rebuilt the château at Amboise, and for her Louis XII began the château at Blois, and at Loches made an oratory that bears her name. The Book of Hours of Anne of Brittany has never been surpassed. It was for her a liberal education to live in contact with her second husband’s minister of state, Cardinal Georges I d’Amboise, who is said to have employed practically every Flamboyant and Renaissance architect and sculptor of the time on his château at Gaillon, and whose tomb in Rouen Cathedral retains much of the truly French spirit of Michel Colombe’s school. Brittany benefited artistically by the royal marriages of her last duchess: Anne gave the Breton Colombe the opportunity to make his chef-d’œuvre—the splendid ducal tomb in Nantes Cathedral.
Anne of Brittany’s emblem, the ermine, is carved on many facades across France. Both of her husbands were significant patrons of the arts. For her, Charles VIII rebuilt the château at Amboise, and Louis XII started the château at Blois and created an oratory at Loches that bears her name. The Book of Hours of Anne of Brittany has never been surpassed. Living alongside her second husband’s minister, Cardinal Georges I d’Amboise, was a great learning experience for her. He is known to have employed nearly every Flamboyant and Renaissance architect and sculptor of the time for his château at Gaillon, and his tomb in Rouen Cathedral reflects much of the distinctly French style of Michel Colombe’s school. Brittany gained artistically from the royal marriages of its last duchess: Anne provided the Breton Colombe the chance to create his chef-d’œuvre—the magnificent ducal tomb in Nantes Cathedral.
The ermine of Anne of Brittany adorns the lintel of Folgoët, to which she added a tower, after her visit in 1505. That stately late-Gothic collegiate church, standing in a little Breton village above Landerneau, possesses an apostle porch—a feature popular in Brittany—a richly sculptured jubé of three arcades, and altars of green Kersanton granite. On one of its altars the corporation of masons carved compass, rule, and hammer. And in like manner, as emblems of patriotic service, might be inscribed the names of the twelve villagers who, at personal sacrifice, when their church was to be demolished in 1808, bought it as a gift for their commune. On many a shrine can modern Finistère inscribe the names of those of her sons who fought for their country in the World War. Just as it was given Breton sailors of the XV century to raise the siege of Mont-Saint-Michel, so at Dixmude, in the autumn of 1914, they checked the drive toward Calais of other invaders of French soil. Brittany, with her profound cult of the dead, will consecrate one of her noblest Calvaries to the memory of Dixmude’s heroes:
The ermine of Anne of Brittany decorates the lintel of Folgoët, which she enhanced with a tower after her visit in 1505. This impressive late-Gothic collegiate church, located in a small Breton village above Landerneau, features an apostle porch—a common element in Brittany—a beautifully sculpted jubé with three arcades, and altars made of green Kersanton granite. On one of its altars, the local masons carved symbols of their trade: a compass, a rule, and a hammer. Similarly, as a mark of patriotic service, the names of the twelve villagers who, at great personal sacrifice, purchased the church to prevent its demolition in 1808 could be inscribed. In many shrines, modern Finistère can honor those sons who fought for their country in World War I. Just as Breton sailors in the 15th century lifted the siege of Mont-Saint-Michel, they also halted the advance toward Calais by other invaders of French territory at Dixmude in the fall of 1914. Brittany, with its deep reverence for the dead, will dedicate one of its finest Calvaries to the memory of the heroes of Dixmude:
Read them On the granite of the pillars ...
What, on the harsh rock From a Calvary,
Signed up alone,
Through the pastoral Vespers The name of the dead lets out a scream![374]
Other Flamboyant Gothic monuments of the ancient duchy are the choir of the cathedral of St. Pol-de-Léon; the cloister, porch, and central tower of Tréguier Cathedral; the chapel of Notre Dame-des-Portes at Châteauneuf-du-Faou; Notre Dame in the little city of Vitré, that claims to be, with Avignon, the most entirely mediæval walled town in France; St. Jean and Notre Dame at Lamballe, which latter XIII-century church, with foundations hewn out of the solid rock, was rebuilt and fitted with XVI-century windows; St. Mélaine, at Morlaix, rebuilt, 1482, and possessing a towering baptismal font of carved wood; and Notre Dame at Kernascleden, between Le Faouët and Guéméné, the work of two brothers named Bail.
Other flashy Gothic monuments from the old duchy include the choir of St. Pol-de-Léon Cathedral; the cloister, porch, and central tower of Tréguier Cathedral; the chapel of Notre Dame-des-Portes in Châteauneuf-du-Faou; Notre Dame in the small town of Vitré, which claims to be among the most fully preserved medieval walled towns in France alongside Avignon; St. Jean and Notre Dame in Lamballe, with the latter being a 13th-century church built on solid rock and later fitted with 16th-century windows; St. Mélaine in Morlaix, rebuilt in 1482 and featuring a tall baptismal font made of carved wood; and Notre Dame in Kernascleden, located between Le Faouët and Guéméné, created by two brothers named Bail.
The making of stained glass flourished in the later Middle Ages at Quimper, Tréguier, and Vannes. Good windows are to be found at Dol, Quimper, Guérande, Ploërmel (where the church has a rich Flamboyant façade pignon), at Kergoat, Moncontour, Les Iff (where the donors were the Laval-Montmorency family), at Plélan, Plogonnec, and at Penmarc’h, whose Pardon of the Rosary occurs on the first Sunday of October. Because the popular gatherings called pardons are among the basic forces that have helped to mold the architecture of the ancient duchy, they are important for the student of the builder’s art.
The production of stained glass thrived in the later Middle Ages in Quimper, Tréguier, and Vannes. You can find beautiful windows in Dol, Quimper, Guérande, Ploërmel (where the church features a stunning Flamboyant gable façade), Kergoat, Moncontour, Les Iff (where the donors were the Laval-Montmorency family), Plélan, Plogonnec, and Penmarc’h, which hosts the Pardon of the Rosary on the first Sunday of October. Since the popular gatherings known as pardons have played a significant role in shaping the architecture of the ancient duchy, they are essential for anyone studying the art of building.
The late-Gothic churches that cover Brittany are rich in ecclesiastical furniture, carved baptismal temples, and panels sculptured with the quaint usages of burial and marriage, or with agricultural scenes, such as those at St. Goueznon (1615), at Bannalec (1605), at La Roche-Maurice near Brest, and at Notre Dame-la-Grâce, near Guingamp, the latter two churches possessing some “storied windows richly dight.” At Kerdévot is a wooden reredos, at Roscoff a very beautiful alabaster one of the XV century; at Lambadec a jubé dated 1480; at St. Fiacre-du-Faouët (whose pardon comes on the first Sunday of July) a rood-loft of richly carved wood, unfortunately painted in crude colors; at Quimperlé, in the church of Ste. Croix, that is fashioned in memory of the sepulcher shrine at Jerusalem, is a jubé almost wholly of the Renaissance.
The late-Gothic churches scattered throughout Brittany are filled with religious furnishings, intricately carved baptismal altars, and panels depicting charming scenes of burial and marriage, as well as agricultural imagery, like those found at St. Goueznon (1615), Bannalec (1605), La Roche-Maurice near Brest, and Notre Dame-la-Grâce near Guingamp, with the last two churches boasting some “storied windows richly adorned.” At Kerdévot, there’s a wooden reredos; at Roscoff, a stunning alabaster one from the 15th century; at Lambadec, a jubé dated 1480; and at St. Fiacre-du-Faouët (whose pardon is celebrated on the first Sunday of July), a richly carved wooden rood-loft, unfortunately painted in bright, crude colors. At Quimperlé, in the church of Ste. Croix, designed to mirror the tomb shrine in Jerusalem, is a jubé mostly crafted in the Renaissance style.
Because of her pardons, Brittany’s religious ceremonies took place largely in the open air, even as each of her tribes, each plou, in prehistoric times had gathered around her solemn menhirs and dolmens. Hence the Breton made much of churchyards, placing in them his Calvaries, profound expressions of a people’s emotions carved primitively in the regional coarse granite. The Lord’s Passion had vivified the Celtic soul ever since Christianity took possession of it. As granite is unyielding to sculpture, many a Breton turned to wood to express his verve, carving his church beams like the prow ends of ships.
Because of her pardons, Brittany’s religious ceremonies mostly happened outdoors, just like each of her tribes, each plou, gathered around her solemn menhirs and dolmens in prehistoric times. So, the Bretons made a big deal out of churchyards, putting their Calvaries there—deep expressions of a community’s emotions carved simply in the local coarse granite. The Lord’s Passion had brought life to the Celtic spirit ever since Christianity took hold. Since granite is tough to shape, many Bretons turned to wood to express their creativity, carving their church beams like the bows of ships.
Morlaix[375] is a good center from which to visit many of the notable revered places. Close by, in the village of Plougonven, is the oldest Calvary extant (1554). A few miles away is that of St. Thégonnec (1610), a shrine invoked for the cure of beasts, where beneath a statue of Our Lady is inscribed: “We beg you, Madame Vièrge, to accept our first bull.” Near the church is one of the isolated chapels called ossuaries in which were gathered the bones of the past generations when they had had their turn in the churchyard’s consecrated ground. The chapel bears an inscription from Maccabees: “It is therefore a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins.” Bedrock in the Breton is his instinct to join his progenitors and his descendants in a permanence of spiritual emotion.[376] No other people of the earth risk life more freely than these frequenters of the deep-sea fisheries; nowhere is the cult of the dead more tenacious, because it is considered that they who have fallen asleep with Godliness have great grace laid up for them.
Morlaix[375] is a great base for visiting many of the well-known revered sites. Nearby, in the village of Plougonven, is the oldest Calvary still standing (1554). Just a few miles away is St. Thégonnec (1610), a shrine known for healing animals, where beneath a statue of Our Lady it says: “We ask you, Madame Vièrge, to accept our first bull.” Close to the church is one of the isolated chapels called ossuaries, where the bones of past generations were collected after they had their turn in the churchyard’s consecrated ground. The chapel has an inscription from Maccabees: “It is therefore a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins.” Deeply rooted in Breton culture is the instinct to connect with both ancestors and descendants in a lasting spiritual experience.[376] No other people on earth risk their lives more freely than those who frequent the deep-sea fisheries; nowhere is the belief in honoring the dead stronger, as it is thought that those who have passed away with piety have great grace waiting for them.
Near St. Thégonnec, at Guimiliau, is another Calvary (1581), and another ossuary and triumphal arch. The capacious church porch is lined with statues of the apostles. At Carhaix, Pleyben (1650), Cronan, and Penmarc’h, are Calvaries, and that at Lampaul is united in the same composition with the graveyard’s triumphal arch. Brittany’s most imposing Calvaire, and the most wonderful wayside shrine ever made, comprising over two hundred images in all, is at Plougastel-Daoulas, a memorial of the epidemic of 1598. The greenish Kersanton granite of which it is made is quarried close by in the harbor of Brest, and acquires with time the endurance and appearance of bronze. Breton peasants are represented playing on Breton pipes in the Entry-into-Jerusalem scene. Late comers these rough-hewn sculptures may be in the national art, but in so far as character goes they might easily belong to the XII or XIII century.
Near St. Thégonnec, in Guimiliau, there's another Calvary (1581), along with another ossuary and triumphal arch. The spacious church porch is lined with statues of the apostles. In Carhaix, Pleyben (1650), Cronan, and Penmarc’h, there are Calvaries, and the one at Lampaul is combined with the graveyard's triumphal arch. Brittany's most impressive Calvaire, and the most remarkable wayside shrine ever created, featuring over two hundred images in total, is in Plougastel-Daoulas, commemorating the epidemic of 1598. The greenish Kersanton granite from which it is made is quarried nearby in the harbor of Brest and, over time, gains the durability and look of bronze. Breton peasants are depicted playing on Breton pipes in the Entry-into-Jerusalem scene. While these rough-hewn sculptures may be latecomers in national art, in terms of character, they could easily belong to the 12th or 13th century.
The theorist may say that the racial exclusiveness of Brittany is one of the reasons why it has not excelled in architecture and the kindred arts. That may be so. The chief concern of the Celt has ever been to save his soul. The architectural purist is prone to carp at Breton Gothic, and some even dare say that the Kreisker itself errs, in that its shaft is not sufficiently welded with its spire. Without a doubt the absence of symmetry in many churches of the ancient province is at first disturbing, but soon one comprehends that one travels in Brittany not for its architecture, but for the unconquerable soul of a people who, while devoted to tradition, have ever stood up uncowed, unswerving in their antagonism to despotism. The sensitive traveler—that is, the man with kindly, plain loyalties—will let himself grow attached to the mediocre, irregular churches of this individual land.
The theorist might argue that Brittany's racial exclusiveness is one reason it hasn't excelled in architecture and related arts. That could be true. The main focus of the Celts has always been on saving their souls. Architectural purists tend to criticize Breton Gothic, and some even go so far as to say that the Kreisker itself is flawed because its shaft isn’t properly unified with its spire. While it’s jarring at first to notice the lack of symmetry in many churches in this ancient province, one soon realizes that people travel to Brittany not for its architecture, but for the indomitable spirit of its inhabitants who, while deeply committed to tradition, have always stood strong and unwavering against tyranny. The discerning traveler—someone with genuine, straightforward loyalties—will find a connection to the simple, uneven churches of this unique land.
Some of those irregularities are startling enough. The pilgrimage church of Guingamp has a curious two-storied triforium, and flying buttresses inside the choir over the aisles. Its nave is an amalgam, one wall Gothic and its vis-à-vis a fluted-pilastered Renaissance affair. The sculptor gave his initiative full scope in the apostle’s porch—a revered spot on the days of Guingamp’s famous pardon, that precedes the first Sunday of July. At Dinan, in the church of St. Sauveur—in whose transept is treasured the heart of Duguesclin, born not far away—a Romanesque wall faces a Flamboyant Gothic one. In the corsair stronghold of St. Malo,[377] breeder of strong men, the cathedral’s walls make no pretense to be parallel.
Some of those irregularities are pretty surprising. The pilgrimage church of Guingamp has a unique two-story triforium, and flying buttresses inside the choir above the aisles. Its nave is a mix, with one wall being Gothic and the opposite wall a fluted-pilastered Renaissance design. The sculptor really made the most of it in the apostle’s porch—a respected spot during Guingamp’s famous pardon, which happens before the first Sunday of July. At Dinan, in the church of St. Sauveur—which houses the heart of Duguesclin, born nearby—a Romanesque wall faces a Flamboyant Gothic one. In the corsair stronghold of St. Malo,[377] known for producing strong men, the cathedral’s walls don’t even try to be parallel.
The Breton has been too engrossed in keeping warm in his churches the spirit of devotion to bother about such details as symmetry. Eagerly he added chapel to chapel, aisle to aisle, regardless how difficult it might be for a stranger to orient himself on entering. The wise traveler will accept Brittany as she is, for if he does not, Brittany, like Spain, will exasperate him by her tranquil indifference to his criticisms. On a mediæval tower of the castle at St. Malo was inscribed:
The Breton has been so focused on keeping the spirit of devotion alive in his churches that he hasn't worried about things like symmetry. He eagerly added chapel to chapel, aisle to aisle, no matter how confusing it might be for a newcomer to find their way in. The wise traveler will accept Brittany as it is, because if he doesn't, Brittany, like Spain, will frustrate him with its calm indifference to his complaints. On a medieval tower of the castle at St. Malo, it was inscribed:
For God delights especially in simplicity;
It's like the mirror of a flowing spring,
Where the star of truth reflects. —Joseph Rousse, Breton Poems.
Brittany may be a land of shrines more than of churches; nevertheless, some five of its former nine bishoprics are of interest in the Gothic story—Dol, Nantes, Quimper, St. Pol-de-Léon, and Tréguier.
Brittany might be more known for its shrines than for its churches; however, five of its former nine bishoprics are significant in the Gothic narrative—Dol, Nantes, Quimper, St. Pol-de-Léon, and Tréguier.
The hardy outpost of Dol, in the north, has stood many a siege, fought many a battle, and its church walls are crenelated where they face the city ramparts. The tutelary of the ci-devant cathedral is St. Samson, whose name keeps alive the memory of the arrival of the harassed Celts of Britain who poured “like a torrent” into Armorica during the dark centuries of the Middle Ages when the migrations of the Barbarians had wiped out Rome’s civilization in England. In Dol’s great eastern window, St. Samson and some monk companions are shown crossing the Channel.
The resilient outpost of Dol in the north has withstood many sieges and fought numerous battles, with its church walls crenelated where they face the city ramparts. The guardian of the former cathedral is St. Samson, whose name keeps alive the memory of the struggling Celts from Britain who flowed “like a torrent” into Armorica during the dark centuries of the Middle Ages when Barbarian migrations had erased Rome’s civilization in England. In Dol’s grand eastern window, St. Samson and some monk companions are depicted crossing the Channel.
The cathedral of Dol—which Stendhal admired beyond others in France—is a melancholy severe granite edifice, though probably the best Gothic of the province. Characteristics both of Normandy and the Ile-de-France appear in it. Two of the wholly detached colonnettes of each pier are now clamped with metal bands, and the wide arches of the triforium would be better suited to open on a gallery than as they are at present—set close to a blank wall; a few doors in the wall give on the lean-to roof over the aisles. The structure of the church demonstrates that, as the works rose, extra supports were added for stability.
The cathedral of Dol—which Stendhal admired more than any other in France—is a stark and somber granite building, probably the finest example of Gothic architecture in the region. It features elements typical of both Normandy and the Ile-de-France. Two fully detached columns on each pier are now held together with metal bands, and the wide arches of the triforium would be better suited to lead out to a gallery rather than being set close to a blank wall; a few doors in the wall access the sloped roof over the aisles. The church's design shows that, as construction progressed, extra supports were added for stability.
The cathedral was begun by its nave soon after a conflagration of the town, in 1203, caused by the troops of John Lackland. Vestiges only of the wrecked church were retained. The façade’s southern tower is late work, despite its Romanesque character, and its fellow belfry to the north is in larger part of the XVI century. Out of the nave’s southern flank opens a graceful XIII-century porch. The choir, which ends in a flat eastern wall, was finished by 1265, when was installed its splendid big window of eight medallion panels that set forth the Last Judgment. In the XIV century was opened the arch leading to the Lady chapel of that same date, wherein were used various supplementary ribs, around windows and in corners, to obviate the difficulty of vaulting a square-ended edifice. To the XIV century, too, belong the side chapels of the choir, and the big porch of St. Magloire before the transept’s southern door.
The cathedral was started with its nave shortly after a fire in the town in 1203, which was caused by the troops of John Lackland. Only remnants of the destroyed church were preserved. The southern tower of the façade is a later addition, despite its Romanesque style, while its counterpart to the north mostly dates from the 16th century. A graceful 13th-century porch opens from the southern side of the nave. The choir, which ends at a flat eastern wall, was completed by 1265, when its magnificent large window featuring eight medallion panels depicting the Last Judgment was installed. In the 14th century, the arch leading to the Lady chapel, which dates from the same period, was opened, incorporating various additional ribs around the windows and in the corners to address the challenges of vaulting a square-ended structure. The side chapels of the choir and the large porch of St. Magloire, located before the southern door of the transept, also belong to the 14th century.
Against the blank wall that closes the north arm of the transept stands the much-discussed Renaissance tomb of Bishop Thomas James. It is an initial work of the Juste brothers of Tours, the ablest among the Italians who brought the new art standards across the Alps. The bishop’s recumbent image has disappeared. From 1482 to 1504 he held the see of Dol, though only in residence after 1486, as he lived in Rome, the papal guardian of the castle of St. Angelo. In his testament he requested a simple burial, but his nephews—whose profiles adorn the tomb—chose to erect this elaborate monument, whose cream-colored fine-grained stone, delicately arabesqued, contrasts happily with the dark granite walls. One of the nephews had known the Juste, or Betti brothers, in Florence, and through him those artists came to France. In his prime Jean Juste made the tomb of Louis XII and Anne of Brittany for the Royal Abbey at St. Denis.
Against the blank wall at the north end of the transept stands the much-talked-about Renaissance tomb of Bishop Thomas James. It's an early work by the Juste brothers from Tours, the most skilled among the Italians who brought new artistic standards across the Alps. The bishop’s reclining image is gone. He held the see of Dol from 1482 to 1504, but only lived there after 1486, as he resided in Rome, serving as the papal guardian of the castle of St. Angelo. In his will, he asked for a simple burial, but his nephews—whose profiles decorate the tomb—decided to build this elaborate monument, made of cream-colored, fine-grained stone, which contrasts beautifully with the dark granite walls. One of the nephews had known the Juste, or Betti brothers in Florence, and through him, those artists came to France. During his prime, Jean Juste created the tomb of Louis XII and Anne of Brittany for the Royal Abbey at St. Denis.
God has His arms open to embrace you,
Quick to forget your sinful life:
Please forgive me, it would really help you to assist. Nostre Dame, the very powerful princess,
Who is your cry and who do you hold as your mistress? The saints will also come to your aid,
Desquels les corps font en toi démourance.
Do not let your sin keep you asleep anymore. Very Christian, French kingdom of France!
—Charles d’Orléans (1391-1465).
The cathedral of St. Peter, at Nantes, the third on the site, is a late-Gothic structure, not overvirile, somewhat artificial, but ingenious and elegant, even as is the contemporary verse of Charles d’Orléans, who was taken prisoner at Agincourt and passed half a lifetime in exile. M. Gaston Paris has drawn attention to the similarity between XV-century architecture and XV-century poetry. Is not that bijou of artistry, the chapel of St. Hubert, which Anne of Brittany’s first husband set on the cliff edge at Amboise, of the same quality as a rondel of the poet-duke’s? Is not Villon’s ironic, tragically-true note reflected in the Dance of Death painted on church walls during those years of pest and internecine strife? Brittany has retained one of the only two surviving danses macabres, in the hamlet of Kermaria,[381] the house of Mary, that lies between the villages of Plehedel and Plouha. In Auvergne, at La Chaise Dieu, is the other.
The cathedral of St. Peter in Nantes, the third to be built on this site, is a late-Gothic building that isn't overly strong, somewhat artificial, yet clever and elegant, much like the contemporary poetry of Charles d’Orléans, who was captured at Agincourt and spent a significant part of his life in exile. M. Gaston Paris has pointed out the similarities between 15th-century architecture and 15th-century poetry. Isn't the exquisite chapel of St. Hubert, which the first husband of Anne of Brittany constructed on the cliff edge at Amboise, of the same caliber as a rondel from the poet-duke? Isn't Villon's ironic, tragically real tone reflected in the Dance of Death painted on church walls during those years of plague and internal conflict? Brittany has preserved one of the only two remaining danses macabres, in the hamlet of Kermaria,[381] the house of Mary, located between the villages of Plehedel and Plouha. The other one is in Auvergne, at La Chaise Dieu.
In 1431 Jean V, of the third ducal line of Brittany, the de Montforts, decided to remake the cathedral of the outpost city wherein stood his castle. Nantes never was Bretagne bretonnante, being differentiated from Finistère amid its rocky seacoast, by its position on the Loire of commerce and art. That wonderful river, in an eight-hundred-mile course from Languedoc to Brittany, passes some of the fairest monuments of France: Le Puy, Nevers, La Charité, St. Satur, St. Benoît, Orléans, Blois, Chaumont, Amboise, Tours, Langeais—where Anne of Brittany wedded Charles VIII—Saumur, St. Florent, Gennes, Cunault, and the castle and cathedral of Nantes.
In 1431, Jean V, from the third ducal line of Brittany, the de Montforts, decided to rebuild the cathedral in the city where his castle was located. Nantes was never truly Bretagne bretonnante, as it stood apart from Finistère along its rocky coastline, thanks to its position on the Loire, a river known for commerce and art. This beautiful river flows for eight hundred miles from Languedoc to Brittany, passing some of the most stunning monuments in France: Le Puy, Nevers, La Charité, St. Satur, St. Benoît, Orléans, Blois, Chaumont, Amboise, Tours, Langeais—where Anne of Brittany married Charles VIII—Saumur, St. Florent, Gennes, Cunault, and the castle and cathedral of Nantes.
Under ducal patronage the nave of Nantes Cathedral rose apace; the capitals of its north side have deeply undercut curly-tipped foliage, but on the nave’s south side the piers lack capitals altogether. The interior of the church is of glacial aspect; light floods it pitilessly. Its eastern end is modern. In 1886 was unearthed a Romanesque crypt which Abélard must have known, for he was born in a manor close by Nantes, and returned to live here in 1136.
Under the duke's patronage, the nave of Nantes Cathedral was built quickly. The capitals on its north side feature deeply carved, curly-tipped foliage, but the piers on the south side don’t have capitals at all. The inside of the church feels cold and uninviting; light pours in with no mercy. The eastern end is modern. In 1886, a Romanesque crypt was discovered that Abélard would have been familiar with, as he was born in a manor near Nantes and moved back here in 1136.
Guillaume Dammartin, of the notable family of Flamboyant Gothic architects, is mentioned as working on Nantes Cathedral, and M. Arthur de la Borderic, Brittany’s historian, has discovered that an artist of Tours, Mathelin Rodier, was master-of-works when the western portals were sculptured (1470-80), and while the stately inner-court façade of the duke’s château was rising. In that castle Anne of Brittany was born in 1477, became a reigning duchess at twelve years of age, and in its chapel was married, in 1499, to Louis XII. On her deathbed she willed her heart to her native city. She completed the castle of Nantes by what is called the Horseshoe Tower overlooking the river.
Guillaume Dammartin, from the prominent family of Flamboyant Gothic architects, is noted for his work on Nantes Cathedral. M. Arthur de la Borderic, a historian from Brittany, found that an artist from Tours, Mathelin Rodier, was the master builder when the western portals were sculpted (1470-80), and while the impressive inner-court façade of the duke’s château was being constructed. In that castle, Anne of Brittany was born in 1477, became a reigning duchess at the age of twelve, and was married in its chapel in 1499 to Louis XII. On her deathbed, she left her heart to her hometown. She also completed the castle of Nantes with what is known as the Horseshoe Tower, which overlooks the river.
Anne must have known the master, Mathelin Rodier, who made the portals of the cathedral, decorating them with the same undercut leaf foliation, the same lavish splayed ornaments as adorn the contemporary western doors of Tours Cathedral, a hundred and thirty miles to the east. The larger statues at Nantes’ entrances have been destroyed, but in the voussures are many small groups, sometimes with four or five personages in a scene, chiseled with natural attitudes and expressive faces. One of the portals commemorates St. Peter (observe the Quo Vadis episode), another, St. Paul, while the place of honor is given to the Saviour. Within the church, under the organ, are XV-century statues, one of which represents the duke patron who began the cathedral, the grandfather of Anne of Brittany.
Anne must have known the master, Mathelin Rodier, who created the portals of the cathedral, decorating them with the same undercut leaf designs and the same lavish splayed ornaments as those on the contemporary western doors of Tours Cathedral, a hundred and thirty miles to the east. The larger statues at the entrances of Nantes have been destroyed, but in the voussures are many small groups, sometimes with four or five figures in a scene, carved with natural postures and expressive faces. One of the portals honors St. Peter (check out the Quo Vadis episode), another St. Paul, while the top spot is given to the Savior. Inside the church, under the organ, there are 15th-century statues, one of which depicts the duke patron who initiated the cathedral, the grandfather of Anne of Brittany.
Through the filial piety of Anne, her birthplace possesses the canto cygni of Gothic sculpture, “the most unscathed monument of the Middle Ages,” intact because it was taken apart and buried during the Revolution. The tomb of Anne’s parents, Francis II, the last duke of Brittany, and his duchess, is the work of a Breton, for an authentic manuscript has proved that Michel Colombe was born in Finistère, within sight of the Kreisker. His genius was fortified by long years passed in the art atmosphere of Tours, and strengthened, too, by the Flemish realism which had come into France by way of the Dijon school that led the first half of the XV century, even as the school of Tours, whose chief master was Colombe, led its latter half. Nor did this Breton, fecundated by Touraine and sturdy Burgundy, ignore the incoming Italian culture, as is shown by his preference for ideal beauty over absolute realism: Celt, Teuton, and Latin—all were needed for the making of the last of the great Gothic masters, one who held loyally to the spiritual essence of the Middle Ages in a day when Renaissance pomp was fast rising to supremacy.
Through Anne's deep respect for her parents, her birthplace holds the canto cygni of Gothic sculpture, “the most preserved monument of the Middle Ages,” remaining intact because it was disassembled and buried during the Revolution. The tomb of Anne's parents, Francis II, the last duke of Brittany, and his duchess, is crafted by a Breton, as an authentic manuscript has confirmed that Michel Colombe was born in Finistère, near the Kreisker. His talent was enhanced by many years spent in the artistic environment of Tours, and also strengthened by the Flemish realism that came to France through the Dijon school leading the first half of the 15th century, just as the Tours school, whose main master was Colombe, led the latter half. This Breton artist, influenced by Touraine and sturdy Burgundy, also acknowledged the emerging Italian culture, evident in his preference for ideal beauty over strict realism: Celt, Teuton, and Latin—each was essential for the creation of the last of the great Gothic masters, who remained true to the spiritual essence of the Middle Ages at a time when Renaissance grandeur was quickly gaining dominance.
Michel Colombe was seventy years of age when Anne of Brittany, on a visit to Tours shortly after her second marriage, commissioned him to make a mausoleum for her parents, for which she had imported white marble from Genoa, and black from Liège. From 1502 to 1507 Colombe worked on the larger images, in his studio at Tours. His are the recumbent figures of the duke and duchess, and the entrancing little angels who support their headcushion, ministering with the same loving willingness as the XII-century angels of Senlis’ lintel. From Colombe’s master hand are the four allegorical figures at the corners of the tomb, robust and graceful women, of the local type to be seen in central France to-day. They typify qualities of the defunct, Fortitude, Temperance, Prudence, and Justice—this last image said to be a study from Duchess Anne herself.
Michel Colombe was seventy years old when Anne of Brittany, during a visit to Tours shortly after her second marriage, hired him to create a mausoleum for her parents. She had brought in white marble from Genoa and black marble from Liège. From 1502 to 1507, Colombe worked on the larger figures in his studio in Tours. He crafted the recumbent figures of the duke and duchess, along with the charming little angels who support their head cushion, serving with the same loving dedication as the 12th-century angels on Senlis’ lintel. The four allegorical figures at the corners of the tomb, robust and graceful women, reflect the local type still seen in central France today. They represent the qualities of the deceased: Fortitude, Temperance, Prudence, and Justice—this last figure said to be modeled after Duchess Anne herself.
Centuries later a similar arrangement of symbolic figures was used by Paul Dubois for his noble tomb of General de Lamoricière (a son of Nantes), which balances, in the north arm of the transept, the ducal tomb to the south. Valor, Faith, Charity, and History, are the four corner statues that commemorate the pioneer of civilization in French Africa, who was so loved by the natives that he went freely among them unarmed, a modern hero who proved himself a true Breton by assuming the leadership of a lost cause.
Centuries later, Paul Dubois created a similar arrangement of symbolic figures for the grand tomb of General de Lamoricière (a son of Nantes), which balances the ducal tomb to the south in the north arm of the transept. Valor, Faith, Charity, and History are the four corner statues that honor the pioneer of civilization in French Africa, who was so cherished by the locals that he moved among them unarmed. He was a modern hero who showed his true Breton spirit by taking on the leadership of a losing cause.
Lesser masters of the school of Tours worked on the noted ducal tomb of Nantes; Guillaume Regnault made the small images and Jerome of Fiesole the arabesques, the same two masters who composed the tomb of the children of Anne of Brittany and Charles VIII, now in the cathedral at Tours. And when Michel Colombe had finished his statues, Anne had the Lyons master, Jean Perréal, one of the most active agents in popularizing in France the new art standards of Italy, visit Nantes to supervise the erection of the mausoleum whose ordinance he had designed.
Lesser masters from the school of Tours worked on the famous ducal tomb in Nantes; Guillaume Regnault created the small figures and Jerome of Fiesole crafted the decorative patterns, the same two masters who designed the tomb of Anne of Brittany's children and Charles VIII, now located in the cathedral at Tours. Once Michel Colombe completed his statues, Anne brought in the Lyons master, Jean Perréal, who was instrumental in bringing the new art styles of Italy to France, to oversee the construction of the mausoleum that he had designed.
THE CATHEDRAL OF QUIMPER[382]
THE CATHEDRAL OF QUIMPER__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
It's your country heart beneath your city vibes.
—Anatole Le Braz.
Like the chief church at St. Pol-de-Léon, and that of Tréguier, St. Corentin at Quimper is “widowed of its bishop.” Admirably situated, it stands with all the dignity of a cathedral above the pleasant little “river city of gables and fables,” which etches itself on the memory. It is a well-cared-for shrine, full of warm Breton piety, seen at its richest during the pardon gatherings of August 15th.
Like the main church at St. Pol-de-Léon and the one in Tréguier, St. Corentin at Quimper is “without its bishop.” Beautifully situated, it stands proudly like a cathedral above the charming little “river city of gables and fables,” which sticks in your mind. It's a well-maintained shrine, filled with heartfelt Breton devotion, especially vibrant during the pardon celebrations on August 15th.
Bishop Rainaud laid the first stone of Quimper Cathedral in 1239. Its ambulatory copied a disposition first used in Soissons Cathedral, but repeated only here and at Bayonne, though across the Rhine it became popular. The vault ribs of each chapel meet in the same keystone as the ribs of that section of the procession path on which the chapel opens. About 1280 a little shrine, which had stood in the rear of the cathedral, separated from it by a lane, was joined to the ambulatory of the new Gothic choir by means of a canted bay. This improvised Lady chapel increased the irregular alignment of the church. The deviation of Quimper’s axis is extraordinary. Standing in its central aisle, at the rear of the nave, you cannot see the first of the three bays that usually are apparent at the apse curve, and such is the bend of the choir that its southern aisle possesses one more bay than does the aisle to the north. When the time came to replace the Romanesque nave by the actual one, that new Gothic edifice might have straightened somewhat the axial line by following the false orientation of the choir. But apparently the proximity of the episcopal quarters prevented this being done.
Bishop Rainaud laid the first stone of Quimper Cathedral in 1239. Its ambulatory was based on a design first used in Soissons Cathedral, but it only appeared here and at Bayonne, although it became popular across the Rhine. The vault ribs of each chapel meet in the same keystone as the ribs of that section of the processional path where the chapel opens. Around 1280, a small shrine that had been located at the back of the cathedral, separated from it by a lane, was connected to the ambulatory of the new Gothic choir through a canted bay. This makeshift Lady chapel increased the irregular alignment of the church. The deviation of Quimper’s axis is remarkable. Standing in its central aisle at the back of the nave, you can’t see the first of the three bays that usually appear at the apse curve, and the way the choir bends means its southern aisle has one more bay than the northern aisle. When it was time to replace the Romanesque nave with the current one, that new Gothic building could have somewhat straightened the axial line by following the false orientation of the choir. But it seems the closeness of the episcopal quarters prevented this from happening.
The choir of St. Corentin retains the canopy-image windows of Jamin Sohier (1417), and the nave, those of the Jamin Sohier of a second generation; a western window is dated 1496. The shield and helmet of one of Brittany’s dukes of the Montfort line, Anne’s immediate forebear, adorn the gable of the main façade. The cathedral works ceased during the first part of the Hundred Years’ War; the choir was not roofed in stone till the first quarter of the XV century. In 1424 the nave was begun and the foundations of the west towers laid. Quimper’s towers derive directly from the famous one of St. Pierre at Caen. There are the same deep, elongated twin-window recesses serving as buttresses. After another period of inactivity, the cathedral’s nave was vaulted. In the latter part of the XIX century the west towers received their crowning of crocketed spires, paid for by a popular collection called “the penny of St. Corentin.”
The choir of St. Corentin has the canopy-image windows by Jamin Sohier (1417), and the nave features those by a second generation of Jamin Sohier; a western window is dated 1496. The shield and helmet of one of Brittany’s dukes from the Montfort line, who is Anne’s direct ancestor, decorate the gable of the main façade. The construction of the cathedral stopped during the early part of the Hundred Years’ War; the choir wasn’t covered with stone until the early 15th century. In 1424, the nave was started, and the foundations for the west towers were laid. Quimper’s towers are directly inspired by the famous one at St. Pierre in Caen. They have the same deep, elongated twin-window recesses that act as buttresses. After another period of inactivity, the cathedral’s nave was vaulted. In the late 19th century, the west towers were topped with crocketed spires, funded by a community collection called “the penny of St. Corentin.”
How these dwellers by the sea love their obsolete local saints! How certain they are that to forget them is to lose infinitely precious links with the past. The solidarity of ancestors with descendants is no dead letter in Finistère, that lives not by bread alone. One knows that the white-coiffed women of Quimper—and their daily gathering in their mediæval church makes a brave showing—would not love this shrine of St. Corentin so well had it a name common to western Christendom. But St. Corentin, St. Tugdual, St. Huec, St. Iltud, St. Budoc, St. Jacut, St. Jubel, St. Gulstan, St. Comery—ah, those are the potent ones before the heavenly throne when a true Breton needs assistance!
How much these seaside locals love their old-school local saints! They’re so sure that forgetting them would mean losing incredibly valuable connections to the past. The bond between ancestors and descendants is very real in Finistère, where life is about more than just survival. It’s clear that the white-haired women of Quimper—and their daily gatherings in their medieval church really stand out—wouldn’t cherish this shrine of St. Corentin as much if it had a name that was common across the western Christian world. But St. Corentin, St. Tugdual, St. Huec, St. Iltud, St. Budoc, St. Jacut, St. Jubel, St. Gulstan, St. Comery—ah, those are the powerful names before the heavenly throne when a true Breton is in need!
On the coastal shores, and shepherds in the fields,
Under vile interests, our heads do not bow; Don't turn the Bretons into a nation of merchants.
I saw, tired and worn out by greed, As faithless, heartless, and hopeless barbarians,
And love inspired me, I sang about my country.
—A. Brizeux, The Elegy of Brittany.
The most complete Gothic monument of Brittany is the whilom cathedral of St. Pol-de-Léon, one of the few important churches of the Middle Ages to be entirely carried out, with spired towers, and porches for the different needs of soul and body, one for catechumens, another for lepers. Its choir and nave differ strikingly in color and quality of stone. The nave of yellow sandstone was built first, and is decidedly the most artistic portion of the edifice. The florid Gothic choir is of gray granite.
The most complete Gothic monument in Brittany is the former cathedral of St. Pol-de-Léon, one of the few significant churches from the Middle Ages that was fully constructed, with spired towers and porches for different spiritual and physical needs, one for catechumens and another for lepers. Its choir and nave stand out distinctly in color and stone quality. The nave, made of yellow sandstone, was built first and is definitely the most artistic part of the building. The ornate Gothic choir is made of gray granite.
As the XIII century closed the nave was begun, continuing building up to the dire times of the Hundred Years’ War. It has the Norman traits of sculptured bands of academic design below triforium and clearstory, trefoils cut in the spandrels of arches, multiple arch molds, each with its own support, and a circulation passage beneath the upper windows. The triforium was begun elaborately, with much foliate decoration, but economy soon forced the architect to adopt a simpler plan. The nave’s south aisle is double beyond the fourth bay where a porch opens, and the stones show that the outer aisle was originally a separate chamber, converted during the XV century into a passageway.
As the 13th century came to a close, work on the nave began and continued through the difficult times of the Hundred Years’ War. It features Norman characteristics like sculpted bands of intricate design below the triforium and clerestory, trefoils cut into the spandrels of arches, multiple arch molds, each with its own support, and a walkway beneath the upper windows. The triforium was initially designed with a lot of leafy decoration, but financial constraints soon led the architect to opt for a simpler design. The south aisle of the nave is doubled beyond the fourth bay where a porch opens, and the stones indicate that the outer aisle was originally a separate chamber, later converted into a passageway during the 15th century.
The Flamboyant Gothic choir, that lacks the harmony and elegance of the nave, was built from 1439 to 1472. Chapel has been added to chapel, aisle to aisle, with the profusion loved by the Breton, who would press into God’s service every foot of free land around his presbytery. The transept of the XII and XIII centuries was radically reconstructed during the late-Gothic day, retaining vestiges only of its Romanesque and early-Gothic work. It is doubtless to such repeated modelings that some of the buttresses fail to correspond to columns and vault shafts.
The Flamboyant Gothic choir, which lacks the harmony and elegance of the nave, was built between 1439 and 1472. Chapels have been added to chapels, aisles to aisles, with the abundance favored by the Breton, who would use every bit of free land around his church for God's service. The transept from the 12th and 13th centuries was completely rebuilt during the late Gothic period, keeping only traces of its Romanesque and early Gothic design. It's likely due to these repeated changes that some of the buttresses don't line up with the columns and vault shafts.
During a siege of St. Pol-de-Léon by the English, the church called the Kreisker, “center of the city,” was injured. When rebuilt, from 1345 to 1399, there was erected, between its nave and choir, carried merely on open arches, a grandiose tower modeled on Caen’s belfry of St. Pierre, as had been the twin towers of St. Pol’s cathedral, lesser in height than “the Kreisker.” The deeply recessed lancet openings in each face of the giant beacon serve the practical purpose of buttresses. Few cities can show three such brave towers as this little Breton town. “The Kreisker,” mantled in golden lichen, is the pride of every Breton. So sure is its poise, so supple and strong, that for centuries all the wild storms of the ocean have swept unheeded through its open stonework spire. The popular songs love to extol it:
During a siege of St. Pol-de-Léon by the English, the church known as the Kreisker, or “center of the city,” was damaged. When it was rebuilt between 1345 and 1399, a grand tower was constructed between its nave and choir, supported only by open arches. This impressive tower was modeled after the belfry of St. Pierre in Caen, just like the twin towers of St. Pol’s cathedral, but it’s shorter than “the Kreisker.” The deeply recessed lancet openings on each side of this massive beacon also serve as practical buttresses. Few towns can boast three such striking towers as this small Breton town. “The Kreisker,” covered in golden lichen, is a source of pride for every Breton. Its balance is so assured, so flexible and strong, that for centuries, wild ocean storms have swept through its open stone spire without causing harm. Popular songs celebrate it:
Mon church tower is the most beautiful on earth,
My country is the most beautiful around; Bring me my heath and my steeple up to date!
St. Pol received its name from another exile of Britain, and the good man’s little bell is rung on the days of Pardon, over the heads of the people, who believe it can cure maladies of the mind. The Revolution tried to change the town’s name to Port Pol, but the traditionalists and the independents that are the Bretons soon reverted to their St. Pol-de-Léon.
St. Pol got its name from another exile from Britain, and the kind man’s little bell is rung on Pardon days, above the people, who think it can heal mental illnesses. During the Revolution, there was an attempt to rename the town Port Pol, but the traditionalists and independents who are the Bretons quickly switched back to St. Pol-de-Léon.
THE CATHEDRAL OF TRÉGUIER[384]
THE CATHEDRAL OF TRÉGUIER__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Une, deux génerations peuvent oublier la Loi, se rendre coupable de tous les abandons, de toutes les ingratitudes. Mais il faut bien, à l’heure marquée que la chaine soit reprise et que la petite lampe vacillante brille de nouveau dans la maison.
Une, deux générations peuvent oublier la Loi, se rendre coupable de tous les abandons, de toutes les ingratitudes. Mais il faut bien, à l’heure marquée que la chaîne soit reprise et que la petite lampe vacillante brille de nouveau dans la maison.
—Ernest Psichari (1883-1914).
—Ernest Psichari (1883-1914).
The cathedral of St. Tugdual obtained its name from the founder of a local monastery, a nephew of St. Brieux, who had crossed from Britain with the returning missionary, St. Germain of Auxerre, and in Armorica had established a religious house which eventually gave its name to a Breton city. No church of the region demonstrates more clearly how difficult it is to obtain full Gothic effect with granite. Lacking sculpture, the art is necessarily abortive.
The cathedral of St. Tugdual got its name from the founder of a local monastery, a nephew of St. Brieux, who came from Britain with the returning missionary, St. Germain of Auxerre. In Armorica, he established a religious house that ultimately gave its name to a Breton city. No church in the area shows more clearly how challenging it is to achieve a full Gothic effect with granite. Without sculpture, the art is inherently limited.
The interior of Tréguier is dark and forbidding. The capitals of the graceless octagonal piers are merely uncut bands. There are Norman balustrades and a Norman interior passage below the clearstory lights. The name of the architect, Goneder, was recently unearthed by M. de la Borderie. From the previous Romanesque cathedral was retained the Tour Hastings which now terminates the northern arm of the transept. Toward the western end of the church the molds of the archivolts die off in the piers.
The inside of Tréguier is dark and unwelcoming. The tops of the clumsy octagonal pillars are just rough bands. There are Norman balustrades and a Norman interior passage beneath the clearstory lights. The architect's name, Goneder, was recently discovered by M. de la Borderie. The Tour Hastings from the old Romanesque cathedral remains, and it now ends the northern side of the transept. Towards the western end of the church, the shapes of the archivolts fade into the pillars.
The nave rose from 1296 to 1333; then came the pause of the Hundred Years’ War. Building was resumed—always on the original Rayonnant lines—by Bishop Jean de Coëtquis (1450-61), whose relative, of the same name, was finishing the nave of Tours Cathedral. The charming Flamboyant cloisters of Tréguier were made from 1461 to 1468, and with the Tour Hastings they compose one of the oft-sketched architectural groups of the country. St. Tugdual has suffered by wars and revolutions, being damaged by the English in 1347, by the Spaniards in 1592, the Liguers in 1594, and the Revolution’s cyclone passing here as elsewhere.
The nave was built from 1296 to 1333; then there was a break due to the Hundred Years’ War. Construction resumed—still following the original Rayonnant style—under Bishop Jean de Coëtquis (1450-61), whose relative of the same name was completing the nave of Tours Cathedral. The beautiful Flamboyant cloisters of Tréguier were created from 1461 to 1468, and along with the Tour Hastings, they make up one of the most frequently sketched architectural groups in the country. St. Tugdual has suffered from wars and revolutions, being damaged by the English in 1347, by the Spaniards in 1592, the Liguers in 1594, and the cyclone of the Revolution that swept through here as it did everywhere else.
In the nave of Tréguier Cathedral stands a sumptuous Gothic monument to honor Brittany’s patron saint, Yves de Helori, born in 1253, a mile from the town in the manor of Kernartin—modern Minihy. On the nineteenth of every May Tréguier marches in procession to Minihy to commemorate the good man who cleared the region of evil-doers, built a hospital beside his home that he might himself wait on the stricken, rose at midnight to chant matins, preached sometimes five sermons a day, and was the poor man’s lawyer, so a popular hymn relates: “An advocate and not a thief, a thing almost beyond belief.” The pardon of St. Yves, the Pardon of the Poor, is one of the five chief ones of Brittany. For centuries those who had pending law cases repaired to his primitive tomb. Thus Henry VII, Tudor, crossed from England the year before he won his kingship, to petition the favor of the Breton saint who had supported only just causes in law. Universities selected him as their patron.
In the nave of Tréguier Cathedral stands an impressive Gothic monument honoring Brittany’s patron saint, Yves de Helori, who was born in 1253, just a mile from the town in the manor of Kernartin—now known as Minihy. On May 19th each year, Tréguier holds a procession to Minihy to celebrate the good man who rid the area of wrongdoers, built a hospital next to his home to care for the sick, got up at midnight to chant matins, preached as many as five sermons a day, and served as the poor man’s lawyer, as a popular hymn describes: “An advocate and not a thief, a thing almost beyond belief.” The pardon of St. Yves, known as the Pardon of the Poor, is one of the five major pardons in Brittany. For centuries, those with unresolved legal issues would visit his simple tomb. In fact, Henry VII, Tudor, crossed from England the year before he gained his crown to seek the favor of the Breton saint, who favored only just causes in law. Universities chose him as their patron.
St. Yves was the son of a knight who went crusading with St. Louis. When sent, at fourteen, to Paris University, he sat with other young scholars on the rush-strewn floors to listen to the scholastics; even in his student days he visited the sick poor in the hospitals. Before thirty he entered the episcopal magistry, and henceforth his abilities were devoted to the relief of orphans and widows. This good man, after whom myriads of the sons of Brittany have been named, worked assiduously, it is said, to collect funds for the building of the Gothic cathedral of Tréguier.
St. Yves was the son of a knight who went on a crusade with St. Louis. At the age of fourteen, he was sent to the University of Paris, where he sat on the rush-covered floors with other young scholars to listen to lectures; even during his student years, he visited sick and poor people in the hospitals. Before turning thirty, he became a bishop, and from then on, he dedicated his efforts to helping orphans and widows. This good man, after whom countless sons of Brittany have been named, is said to have worked diligently to raise funds for the construction of the Gothic cathedral in Tréguier.
In a street near the cloisters of St. Tugdual, Ernest Renan was born in 1828, his name deriving from an Irish anchorite of VI-century Armorica. From his Breton father he derived his gravity, respect, faith, and imagination; from his mother’s Gascon stock his irony, gayety, and serenity in skepticism, the result being, as he himself said, a tissue of contradictions. Brittany took his Vie de Jésus as a personal affront. That a son of hers, once destined for the priesthood, should call her dear Christ of Calvary a “sorcerer,” a “demi-impostor,” a “géant sombre,” “un fin et joyeux moralist,” pierced her to the soul. When, beside the cathedral of Tréguier, partisan politics raised a Renan statue (singularly inartistic), whose inscription was taken as an affront by every believing Christian, two million Bretons donated toward the erection of a monumental protest. The Calvary of Reparation stands at the entrance to Tréguier, voicing the cry attributed to the dying Julian the Apostate, “Thou hast conquered, Galilæan!”
In a street close to the cloisters of St. Tugdual, Ernest Renan was born in 1828, his name coming from an Irish hermit of 6th-century Armorica. He inherited his seriousness, respect, faith, and imagination from his Breton father; from his mother’s Gascon background, he got his irony, cheerfulness, and calmness in skepticism, resulting in what he described as a mix of contradictions. Brittany took his Vie de Jésus as a personal insult. That a son of hers, once meant for the priesthood, would refer to her beloved Christ of Calvary as a “sorcerer,” a “semi-fraud,” a “dark giant,” and “a clever and joyful moralist” deeply hurt her. When, next to the cathedral of Tréguier, political supporters erected a statue of Renan (notably unartistic), its inscription was seen as an offense by every faithful Christian, prompting two million Bretons to contribute to a monumental response. The Calvary of Reparation stands at the entrance to Tréguier, echoing the cry attributed to the dying Julian the Apostate, “You have won, Galilæan!”
The son of Renan’s daughter was that chosen soul, Ernest Psichari, who fell defending Belgium in August, 1914, a death considered by mystic Brittany to be an atonement. He has told of his spiritual anguish, “without defense against evil, without protection against sophistry, wandering without conviction in the poisoned gardens of vice, sick to the soul and ever pursued by obscure remorse, weighed down by the bitter derision of a life ruled by disordered sentiments and thoughts.” In his Appel des Armes and his Voyage du Centurion he has traced his pilgrimage from materialism to Christian belief, taking “contre son père le parti de ses pères.” His grandfather, of Tréguier, in Armorica, had written many years earlier: “The characteristic trait of the Breton race is idealism—the disinterested pursuit of a moral or intellectual aim. The Celt craves the Infinite. He thirsts for it, seeking it beyond all the prizes of the world.”
The son of Renan’s daughter was that chosen soul, Ernest Psichari, who fell defending Belgium in August 1914, a death seen by mystic Brittany as a form of atonement. He shared his spiritual agony, saying, “without defense against evil, without protection against deception, wandering without conviction in the poisoned gardens of vice, sick to the soul and always haunted by vague remorse, weighed down by the bitter mockery of a life driven by chaotic feelings and thoughts.” In his Appel des Armes and his Voyage du Centurion, he documented his journey from materialism to Christian faith, taking “contre son père le parti de ses pères.” His grandfather, from Tréguier in Armorica, wrote many years earlier: “The defining trait of the Breton race is idealism—the selfless pursuit of a moral or intellectual goal. The Celt longs for the Infinite. He thirsts for it, seeking it beyond all worldly rewards.”
A SUMMING UP
A SUMMARY
All our France is in our cathedrals.... Initiation into the beauty of Gothic is initiation into the truth of our race, of our sky, of our landscape.... Gothic art is the sensible, tangible soul of France; it is the religion of the French atmosphere. We are not incredulous; we are merely unfaithful. We have lost at the same time the sense of our race and of our religion. To regain force we must live again in the past, revert to first principles. Taste reigned of yore in our country: we must become French again.
All of France is in our cathedrals... Discovering the beauty of Gothic art is discovering the truth of our identity, our sky, our landscape... Gothic art is the real, tangible essence of France; it embodies the spirit of the French atmosphere. We are not disbelieving; we are just unfaithful. We've lost touch with both our heritage and our faith. To regain our strength, we need to reconnect with the past and return to our roots. Taste once thrived in our country; we need to be French again.
—Rodin, Les cathédrales de France.
—Rodin, The Cathedrals of France.
With many a gap, with many a lapse, we have followed the earlier stages of Gothic art in the land where it was born. We have seen how, from the efforts of the monks to cover their Romanesque naves with a permanent stone roof, was evolved the intersecting rib vault which was the basis of Gothic architecture, how for a short time churches used the Romanesque and Gothic systems simultaneously as in Morienval and Poissy, and for another short period the churches were Gothic in essentials while retaining a few traits of the earlier phase. By many the imperishable hour that produced Soissons’ transept, the choir of St. Remi, Notre Dame at Laon, and Notre Dame at Paris, is beyond all others. When the national art expanded into its full flowering in the XIII century—an era as great in men and the making of history as in art—Gothic science, though ever seeking, ever reaching out, remained disciplined, even as the scholastic builders themselves were disciplined.
With many gaps and interruptions, we've traced the early stages of Gothic art in the place where it originated. We've observed how the monks' attempts to cover their Romanesque naves with a lasting stone roof led to the creation of the intersecting rib vault, which became the foundation of Gothic architecture. For a brief period, churches utilized both the Romanesque and Gothic styles at the same time, as seen in Morienval and Poissy. For another short time, churches were primarily Gothic while still keeping some characteristics of the earlier style. Many believe that the unforgettable moment that produced the transept of Soissons, the choir of St. Remi, Notre Dame in Laon, and Notre Dame in Paris stands above all others. When national art reached its peak in the 13th century—an era marked by remarkable individuals and historical developments as much as artistic achievements—Gothic science, though always exploring and striving for more, remained disciplined, just like the scholastic builders themselves.
While eighty cathedrals in France were rising, and in the same hour some hundreds of lesser churches, the rulers of the nation were capable warriors, compilers of laws, and administrators, the builders were monarchs, crusading bishops, troubadour counts, cloistral ascetics, and arduous sinners. Serf, artisan, burgher, baron, and king built the cathedrals; field laborer, minstrel, maiden, and chatelaine were harnessed to the same cart to drag in the great stones. Little children cleared the church pavement of sand and cement in preparation for the “Day of Benediction” for their city, as the solemn blessing of their church was held to be by those God-fearing generations.
While eighty cathedrals were being built in France, and at the same time, hundreds of smaller churches, the country's leaders were skilled warriors, lawmakers, and administrators. The builders included kings, crusading bishops, troubadour counts, devoted monks, and hardworking sinners. Serfs, craftsmen, townspeople, nobles, and kings all contributed to the cathedrals; laborers, minstrels, young women, and noblewomen worked together to haul the massive stones. Little children cleaned the church floor of sand and cement in preparation for the “Day of Benediction” for their city, as the solemn blessing of their church was important to those devout generations.
The new school of mediæval archæology, that during three generations has been interpreting the Gothic churches of France, is teaching us to read the stones with sympathy. “Symbol of Faith, the cathedral was also a symbol of Love,” says M. Émile Mâle. “All men labored there. The peasants offered their all, the work of their strong arms. They pulled carts and carried stones on their shoulders with the brave good will of the giant-saint, Christopher. The burgess gave his money, the baron his land, the artist his genius. During more than two centuries every vital force in France collaborated on the cathedrals. From that comes the puissant life emanating from these eternal monuments. The dead, too, were associated with the living, for the cathedral was paved with tombstones, and the earlier generations, with hands joined in prayer, continued to worship in their ancient church. Past and present were united in the same feeling of love. The cathedral was the very conscience, the very soul of the city.”[385]
The new field of medieval archaeology, which has been interpreting the Gothic churches of France for three generations, is teaching us to understand the stones with empathy. “Symbol of Faith, the cathedral was also a symbol of Love,” says M. Émile Mâle. “All people contributed. The peasants gave everything they had, the strength of their hard work. They pulled carts and carried stones on their shoulders with the brave determination of the giant-saint, Christopher. The townspeople provided money, the barons offered land, the artists contributed their talent. For over two centuries, every vital force in France worked together on the cathedrals. That's where the powerful life that radiates from these timeless monuments comes from. The dead were also connected to the living, as the cathedral’s floor was covered with tombstones, and earlier generations, with their hands joined in prayer, continued to worship in their ancient church. The past and present were united in the same feeling of love. The cathedral was the very conscience, the very soul of the city.”[385]
After five generations had reared so many and such magnificent churches, their energy, because it was human, passed from plenitude into decline. The death of St. Louis, in 1270, may be taken as the beginning of the change, though even before had been used various cut-and-dried Rayonnant features. Genius flagged when structural perfection was achieved. The divinely restless reaching out of art was stultified by geometric rule. Graceful and stately as is many a XIV-century church, never in them do we find the unexpected entrancing touches of Apogee Gothic. Gothic was fast becoming an art made tongue-tied by authority.
After five generations built so many impressive churches, their energy, being human, shifted from abundance to decline. The death of St. Louis in 1270 can be seen as the start of this change, although various rigid Rayonnant features had already been in use before that. Creativity faltered once structural perfection was achieved. The divine restlessness that drove art was stifled by geometric rules. While many 14th-century churches are graceful and majestic, they lack the unexpected and captivating details of High Gothic. Gothic was quickly becoming an art that was silenced by authority.
As time went on profiles deteriorated, sharp prismatic molds succeeding to the virile torus, or molds fluid and vague. By the XV century capitals were omitted altogether. The sane marking of the horizontal line had become an offense to the eye. Without capitals the molds died away weakly in the piers. Flamboyant Gothic architecture exhibited all these traits, and, moreover, gave capricious rein to many a redundant detail, yet it was none the less a phase of art far more vigorous and satisfactory than the Rayonnant geometric period, its predecessor. The verve and abundance of Flamboyant Gothic was a rebirth. The inspiration of St. Jeanne d’Arc, the restored political unity, the increase of trade, the love of pageantry, all aided the art renaissance which was in progress before the advent of Italian ideas. No one can say that Gothic architecture ended in decrepitude who knows such masterpieces as the façades of Rouen and Beauvais, the towers at Bordeaux, Rodez, and Chartres, the baldaquin and choir screen of Albi, or statuary as ample in its simplicity as Riom’s Virgin of the Bird and “the Saints” at Solesmes. And from end to end of France, as the XVI century opened, such work was in progress.
As time went on, profiles deteriorated, sharp prismatic shapes replaced the robust torus, or the molds became fluid and vague. By the 15th century, capitals were completely dropped. The clear marking of the horizontal line became an eyesore. Without capitals, the molds faded weakly in the piers. Flamboyant Gothic architecture showcased all these characteristics and also allowed for many unnecessary details, yet it was still a much more vibrant and satisfying phase of art than the Rayonnant geometric period that came before it. The energy and richness of Flamboyant Gothic marked a rebirth. The inspiration of St. Jeanne d’Arc, restored political unity, increased trade, and a love of spectacle all contributed to the artistic renaissance that was underway before Italian ideas arrived. Anyone familiar with masterpieces like the facades of Rouen and Beauvais, the towers of Bordeaux, Rodez, and Chartres, the baldaquin and choir screen of Albi, or the simple yet ample statuary of Riom’s Virgin of the Bird and “the Saints” at Solesmes cannot claim that Gothic architecture ended in decline. And throughout France, as the 16th century began, such work was in progress.
What, then, killed Gothic art? For it was slain with all this warm blood in its veins. Some say the return to pagan ideals dealt the death blow, the deserting of the celestial man-humble ideal for the terrestrial self-intoxicated pride of the Italian Renaissance: “The Renaissance is man seeking knowledge, happiness, and love, outside of Christianity.” A Christian had knelt in prayer on a Gothic tomb, or reposed with serene confidence, awaiting the trumpet call of the archangel, a Book of Hours in his hand. On a Renaissance tomb the deceased reclined like a pagan at a feast. The Italian wars diverted from its natural channels the genius of the northern Latins (who were so strongly Celt and Frank), and in many cases the imported neo-classicism was not that of Italy’s supreme masters, but of the lesser artists, their successors.
What, then, killed Gothic art? It was taken down with all that warm blood still flowing through its veins. Some say the return to pagan ideals delivered the final blow, abandoning the heavenly, humble ideal for the earthly, self-satisfied pride of the Italian Renaissance: “The Renaissance is man seeking knowledge, happiness, and love, outside of Christianity.” A Christian used to kneel in prayer on a Gothic tomb, or lie peacefully, waiting for the archangel's trumpet call, a Book of Hours in hand. On a Renaissance tomb, the deceased reclined like a pagan at a feast. The Italian wars diverted the creative genius of the northern Latins (who were strongly influenced by the Celts and Franks) from its natural course, and in many cases, the imported neo-classicism was not that of Italy’s top masters, but of the lesser artists, their successors.
Others have contended that the printing press and the Protestant Reformation—with its spirit of hostile criticism—proved fatal to the national art, since the very life of Gothic was legend, poetry, and dreams, and symbolism its inspiration. Doubt quickly drained the sources of life. “Its charm had been to retain the candor of childhood, the limpid book of young saints. It was an art whose faith discussed not—it sang.”[386] It was an art happy and bold and free of restraint, save the restraint which its own right instinct for discipline imposed—co-ordinating the multitudinous into a symmetrical unity—an art unfettered in its truth telling, daring to sculpture king or bishop marching to Hell, yet giving no offense to authority by so doing.
Others have argued that the printing press and the Protestant Reformation—with its critical spirit—were detrimental to national art, as the essence of Gothic was rooted in legend, poetry, dreams, and symbolism. Doubt quickly sapped the sources of its vitality. “Its charm lay in retaining the innocence of childhood, the clear narrative of young saints. It was an art whose faith wasn't debated—it sang.” It was an art that was happy and bold, free from restraints except for the discipline imposed by its own instincts—bringing together the diverse into a harmonious whole—an art that told the truth unapologetically, daring to depict a king or bishop on their way to Hell, yet not offending authority in the process.
Alas, one must acknowledge that the Church, so long the guardian of Gothic art, dealt a deadly blow at the sweet naïve gayety of the Middle Ages. To reform Catholic Christendom there gathered at Trent a much-needed Council, impregnated with the critical spirit which Luther had unloosed. Pious churchmen had come to look askance on legends. They were ashamed of the simplicities which the XIII-century man was so certain pleased Our Lady, who accepted them with a friendly smile of comprehension of her fellow creatures. The good fathers at Trent regarded prudishly the spiritual passion of the Canticle of Canticles flaming in cathedral windows; they thought it forwardness to carve mechanics’ tools on altar stones. Such manifestations were excessive. What would our critics of Wittemberg and Geneva say? The mystery plays, source of inspiration for the late-Gothic sculptors, now became suspect. Deprived of popular life, the religious themes grew cold. When censured, the creative instinct withered. In 1563 (a year after the iconoclastic outrages in France) the Council of Trent, at its last session, complained that Gothic artists scandalized the faithful by their childish superstitions. The Middle Ages were ended.
Sadly, we have to recognize that the Church, once the protector of Gothic art, dealt a serious blow to the innocent joy of the Middle Ages. To reform Catholic Christianity, a much-needed Council gathered at Trent, influenced by the critical spirit that Luther had unleashed. Devout church members became skeptical of legends. They felt embarrassed by the simple beliefs that 13th-century people were sure pleased Our Lady, who accepted them with a warm smile of understanding. The good fathers at Trent viewed the spiritual passion of the Song of Songs shining through the cathedral windows with disapproval; they considered it inappropriate to carve tools for workers on altar stones. Such expressions were seen as excessive. What would our critics from Wittenberg and Geneva think? The mystery plays, which inspired the late-Gothic sculptors, were now viewed with suspicion. Stripped of popular support, religious themes grew cold. Faced with criticism, the creative spirit faded away. In 1563 (a year after the iconoclastic events in France), the Council of Trent, during its final session, complained that Gothic artists were scandalizing the faithful with their childish superstitions. The Middle Ages had come to an end.
Cathedrals are not raised by critics or doubters. When France built her great churches, her faith was humble, her love a mounting flame. Her cathedrals were symbols of the Kingdom of God in her midst, the pons sæculorum whereby man passed beyond the bourne of his narrow life. They were solaces in his hours of misery, in his delinquencies; they stood for justice alike to serf and baron; they were the Sermon on the Mount made visible, the Biblia pauperum wherein lettered and unlettered read the same lessons; they were the Credo chanted by men who believed in Christ, Son of the Living God and Son of the Immaculate Virgin.
Cathedrals aren’t built by critics or skeptics. When France constructed her magnificent churches, her faith was sincere, and her love was a growing fire. Her cathedrals were symbols of the Kingdom of God among them, the pons sæculorum through which people transcended the limits of their everyday lives. They provided comfort in times of sorrow and wrongdoing; they stood for justice for both serfs and nobles; they were the Sermon on the Mount made tangible, the Biblia pauperum where both educated and uneducated people found the same lessons; they were the Credo sung by those who believed in Christ, Son of the Living God and Son of the Immaculate Virgin.
Nor should it be forgotten that the generations who raised the great cathedrals believed profoundly in themselves as God’s specially loved instruments, his own selected knights-errant. “We are a race that exists to advance in the world the affairs of God,” said the old Gallic patrician to Clovis the Frank, and soon a Frankish parchment ran, “Vivat Christus qui diligit Francos.” When men feel like that they are compelled to express it grandly. When as pagans they feel it, the expression is a cataclysmic war of conquest. When they feel it as Christians, they build cathedrals. The generations whom St. Bernard purified, whom Suger trained, whom St. Louis inspired, founded their church on a firm rock, a living rock, lighted it unto a precious stone, prepared it as a bride adorned for her husband, and ever since sanctity has abided therein; kings have brought hither their honors and glory, and the glory and honor of the people have adorned the walls.
Nor should we forget that the generations who built the great cathedrals truly believed they were God’s specially loved instruments, his chosen knights-errant. “We are a people meant to advance God’s work in the world,” said the old Gallic nobleman to Clovis the Frank, and soon after, a Frankish document declared, “Vivat Christus qui diligit Francos.” When people feel this way, they feel compelled to express it grandly. When they feel it as pagans, that expression takes the form of a monumental war of conquest. When they feel it as Christians, they construct cathedrals. The generations that St. Bernard purified, that Suger educated, and that St. Louis inspired, built their church on solid ground, a living rock, illuminated it like a precious gem, and prepared it as a bride ready for her groom. Ever since, sanctity has resided there; kings have brought their honors and glory here, and the glory and honor of the people have adorned the walls.
FRANCE
FRANCE
The words she spoke felt lost for a moment;
Everything wrong was blatant, and in every country The tyrants walked around with their faces exposed.
The rulers attacked the weak, shouting, “War!”
The moneylenders exploited the vulnerable, shouting, “Peace!” And her own feet were trapped in nets of gold,
And her own soul tainted by squirming sects,
And small vendors climbed her tall platforms and sold Her respect for the vulture and the worm.
The Over-Man, so bold in front of the weak.
Have you said your final word of argument,
Oh, the cult of slaves? Then it's her turn to speak.
As the thick fog lifted over Valmy, And once again, her hands raised in astonishment. Take hold of the battlements of Hell.
—Cecil Chesterton (who died as a soldier in World War I).
Regretfully one turns to other interests after spending years in trying to draw closer to the spirit of the Middle Ages—years that have coincided with the apocalyptic struggle that has desolated the classic region of the national art, laying low, one after another, the churches of the first fugitive hour. And watching the giant battle, it has grown clearer how indissoluble is the solidarity of modern Frenchmen with their achieving grandfathers. A nation’s bulwark is the unbroken solidarity of Past with Present. And only when la race lumineuse, compounded of Celt, Gaul, Latin, and Frank, denies that solidarity will it be conquered.
Regrettably, one turns to other interests after spending years trying to connect with the spirit of the Middle Ages—years that have coincided with the devastating struggle that has ravaged the classic heart of national art, bringing down, one after another, the churches of the earliest moments. And while observing this monumental conflict, it has become clearer how inseparable the bond is between modern French people and their pioneering ancestors. A nation’s strength lies in the unbroken connection between the Past and the Present. Only when la race lumineuse, made up of Celt, Gaul, Latin, and Frank, rejects that connection will it be defeated.
The peasant-soldier of 1914, starting for the front, who replied with grave dignity to his well-wisher, “Whichever way it turns, I am ready,”[387] would have met death like a paladin at Roncevaux, in 778, holding up his gauntlet to God, his suzerain, certain of the justice of Him who from the grave raised Blessed Lazarus, and Daniel saved from lions.
The peasant-soldier of 1914, setting out for the front, who replied with serious dignity to his supporter, “No matter what happens, I’m ready,”[387] would have faced death like a hero at Roncevaux in 778, raising his gauntlet to God, his lord, confident in the fairness of the one who raised Blessed Lazarus from the dead and saved Daniel from the lions.
The young tradesman of 1915 who wrote from the trenches to one who loved him: “I look on this struggle less as a war against an enemy than as a crusade to reinstate God in his place in France,” was true to his race apostolique that sets the church bells ringing. At Clermont, in 1095, he pressed forward with the cry: “The cross! The cross! God wills it!” The priest-soldier offering sacrifice at an improvised altar within hearing of the guns, his spurs fretting his sacerdotal gown, is Turpin, guarding well the Cross and France.
The young tradesman of 1915 who wrote from the trenches to someone who loved him: “I see this struggle less as a war against an enemy and more as a mission to restore God to his rightful place in France,” stayed true to his race apostolique that makes the church bells ring. At Clermont, in 1095, he pushed forward shouting: “The cross! The cross! God wants it!” The priest-soldier making a sacrifice at a makeshift altar nearby the sound of the guns, his spurs rubbing against his priestly gown, is Turpin, faithfully protecting the Cross and France.
The stricken lad, flung back, diseased from the prisons beyond the Rhine, weak, broken, in tatters, who cried with vibrant voice, as he and his comrades crossed the Swiss frontier, and friendly strangers gathered round: “La tête haute! C’est nous la France!” conquered Jerusalem with Godfrey de Bouillon in the olden days, and related his prowess in a legend-medallion window at Chartres.
The injured young man, thrown back, sick from the prisons beyond the Rhine, weak, broken, in rags, who shouted with a loud voice as he and his friends crossed the Swiss border, and friendly strangers gathered around: “With heads held high! We are France!” conquered Jerusalem with Godfrey de Bouillon in the past, and recounted his achievements in a legendary stained glass window at Chartres.
Above all, lives the soul of the Past in the generalissimo to whom a righteous destiny granted the freeing of his land from invaders. In churches shattered by shell fire he knelt daily—the weightiest fruit bending lowest—and he begged that the children of Christendom lift up their little white hands to heaven to petition for his endurance. In 1249, with flashing sword and the cry, “Montjoie-St.-Denis,” he sprang into the surf beside his saint-king, following the oriflamme as it touched African soil. We have seen them alive again, the cathedral builders, the commune winners, the crusaders, dying with the farewell sigh, “Ha! doulce France!”
Above all, the spirit of the Past lives on in the general who was destined to free his land from invaders. In churches damaged by shell fire, he knelt daily—the heaviest burden bending him low—and he asked that the children of Christendom raise their small white hands to heaven to pray for his strength. In 1249, with a flashing sword and the shout, “Montjoie-St.-Denis,” he jumped into the waves next to his saint-king, following the oriflamme as it touched African soil. We have seen them come to life again, the builders of cathedrals, the victors of communes, the crusaders, dying with the parting sigh, “Ha! doulce France!”
And thank God the flame is unquenchable, thank God that in the French race is the underlying sentiment for the Infinite, that peasant, artisan, student, priest, and chief feel the same humility and the same proper pride as those who built Soissons, the lovely stricken virgin; and Laon the intrepid, braving the hammer of Odin and Thor; Amiens the perfect, menaced and shaken but spared to us; and tragic, immortal Rheims, symbol of a people’s resurrection. To herald the dawn is the mission of France, to look on her deeds as Gesta Dei per Francos. “Hers is the hand that scatters the seed.”
And thank God the flame can’t be put out, thank God that the French people carry a deep feeling for the Infinite, that farmers, workers, students, priests, and leaders share the same humility and the same rightful pride as those who built Soissons, the beautiful wounded virgin; and Laon the fearless, standing strong against the forces of Odin and Thor; Amiens the flawless, threatened and shaken but still here for us; and the tragic, timeless Rheims, a symbol of a people’s revival. It is France’s mission to announce the dawn, to see her actions as Gesta Dei per Francos. “Hers is the hand that spreads the seed.”
Index
Note.—The heavy figures appearing here and there in the index indicate the pages in which a complete description of the subject is given. The other figures indicate additional references to the subject.
Note.—The bold numbers shown throughout the index point to the pages where you can find a full description of the topic. The other numbers provide extra references to the topic.
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A
Abadie, Paul, 151, 290, 292, 354, 355.
Abbeville (Somme), 210, 226.
Abélard, Pierre, 41, 91, 104, 130, 133, 138, 174, 175, 414, 419, 467, 566.
Abraham, 182, 218, 219.
Achery, Dom Luc d’, 149.
Acy-en-Multien (Oise), 45, 48.
Adams, Henry, 165, 170, 231, 299, 477, 499.
Adrian IV (Nicolas Breakspear), Pope, 134.
Agincourt, 1415 (Pas-de-Calais), battle of, 71, 483, 490, 565.
Agnes of Meran, 54, 95, 280.
Aicard, Jean, 378, 384.
Aigueperse (Puy-de-Dôme), 341.
Aigues-Mortes (Bouches-du-Rhône), 11, 66, 157, 377, 389, 390, 400.
Airaines (Somme), 45.
Airvault (Deux-Sèvres), 321.
Aix-en-Provence, 40, 330, 401, 403, 404.
Albi (Tarn), Cathedral of, 11, 13, 14, 279, 329, 330, 370-375, 466;
choir screen, 373, 577;
vault frescoes, 374, 519.
Albigensian Crusade, 11, 189, 330, 353, 357, 358, 362, 363, 364, 365-370, 371, 376, 383, 385, 386, 392, 394, 405.
Alcobaça, Cistercian abbatial of, 465.
Alcuin, 4, 10, 149, 249.
Aldégrevier (vitrine artist), 541.
Alençon (Orne), 542.
Alençon, the Duke d’, 315, 515, 527.
Aleth, Blessed, 458, 463.
Alexander II, Pope, 487.
Alexander III, Pope, 91, 136, 149, 250, 388, 433.
Aliénor of Aquitaine, 10, 60, 137, 138, 153, 174, 254, 274, 293, 296, 297, 298, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 326, 351, 353, 439, 440, 465, 502, 531, 543.
Alternate system, the, 80, 81, 93, 100, 127, 164, 478, 481, 482, 486.
Amboise (Indre-et-Loire), 254, 304, 558, 565.
Amboise, Cardinal Georges d’ (of Rouen), 373, 492, 513, 519, 558.
Amboise, Bishop Jacques d’ (of Clermont), 97, 335, 373, 421.
Amboise, Bishop Louis d’ (of Albi), 373, 374.
Ambulatory, 19, 24, 45, 48, 51, 54, 58, 64, 65, 92, 109, 124, 129, 150, 216, 278, 292, 307, 337, 353, 398, 432, 569.
America, United States of, 57, 367, 394, 429.
Amiens (Somme), Cathedral of, 12, 31, 34, 39, 46, 55, 181, 197, 201, 202-210, 214, 224, 225, 329, 331, 333, 351, 380, 425, 475, 539, 581.
Amyot, Bishop Jacques, 451.
Angers (Maine-et-Loire), 10, 13, 39, 255, 286, 303, 309, 310;
Cathedral of, 59, 113, 146, 273, 302-309, 351, 550;
Fortress of, 309, 310;
St. Jean’s Hospital, 310, 311;
St. Martin, 295, 305;
St. Nicolas-du-Ronceray, 294, 295, 305;
St. Serge, 302, 311, 312;
Toussaint, 310, 321;
Trinité, 300, 305.
Angoulême (Charente), Cathedral of, 287, 290-293, 295, 352.
Anjou, counts and dukes of, 173, 220, 269, 271, 273, 274, 280, 408.
Anjou, Charles I d’, 154, 156, 280, 295, 299, 307, 309, 427, 465;
Charles II d’, 280, 309, 401, 402;
St. Louis d’, 402;
Louis II d’, 280, 308, 309, 396.
Anjou, King René. See René.
Anne, St., 138, 181.
Anne of Brittany, 67, 89, 256, 344, 373, 557, 558, 565, 566, 567, 569.
Annunzio, Gabriele, d’, 107, 121.
Anselm, St., 4, 34, 133, 173, 250, 260, 271, 417, 473, 474, 475, 485.
Anselm de Laon. See Laon.
Anthony of Padua, St., 5, 350, 359.
Antioch, 157, 208, 323, 345, 390, 554.
Apocalypse, the, 20, 98, 99, 144, 204, 217, 219, 239, 309, 320, 347.
Apostles in art, the, 146, 182, 207, 208, 262, 278, 321, 349, 352, 377, 389, 438, 561.
Apses, notable, 65, 80, 93, 105, 115, 116, 122, 129, 216, 232, 251, 275, 276, 421, 486, 489, 536, 547, 554.
Aquinas, St. Thomas, 2, 4, 41, 126, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 175, 238, 267, 334, 359, 465, 475.
Aquitaine, dukes of, 10, 298, 318, 327, 347, 351, 384.
Arbrissel, Robert d’ (founder of Fontevrault), 294, 323.
Archæology of the Middle Ages, 2, 13, 40, 92, 552.
Archæology, modern French school of, 32, 37-48, 415, 428, 576.
Architects, mediæval, 5, 34, 35, 39, 57, 66, 82, 93, 94, 96, 141, 146, 150, 152, 163, 167, 177, 179, 190, 191, 204, 237, 276, 284, 251, 264, 271, 284, 299, 303, 334, 360, 380, 390, 406, 411, 457, 513, 517, 518, 553, 559, 564.
Architecture, 1, 4, 5, 7, 12, 15, 27, 56;
X century, 20, 21, 148, 411;
XI century, 17, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 34, 48, 117, 254, 270, 305, 314, 343, 349, 384, 397, 481, 546, 554;
XII century, 12, 22, 31, 34, 41, 57, 58, 92, 104, 105, 108, 109, 115, 116, 119, 120, 124, 136, 137, 147, 253, 270, 275, 287, 289, 291, 295, 300, 303, 313, 314, 320, 344, 381, 392, 403, 406, 423, 428, 435, 446, 532, 537, 546, 552, 554;
XIII century, 12, 41, 65, 66, 105, 110, 111, 139, 141, 146, 166, 177, 190, 204, 237, 330, 436, 446, 489, 503, 504, 538, 575, 576;
XIV century, 12, 13, 65, 105, 130, 164, 187, 207, 232, 265, 330, 346, 377, 378, 381, 382, 386, 407, 408, 447, 449, 489, 490, 509, 513, 514, 515, 538, 555, 564, 576;
for the XV and XVI centuries see Flamboyant Gothic;
XVII century, 243, 561.
Arcis-sur-Aube, 239.
Arezzo (Tuscany), 171, 374.
Aristotle, 344, 434.
Argentan (Orne), 542.
Arles (Bouches-du-Rhône), 11, 24, 397, 399;
St. Trophime, 330, 336, 398, 399, 400.
Arnold, Matthew, 264, 265.
Arnoul, Bishop (of Lisieux), 250, 531, 532, 534.
Arras (Pas-de-Calais), 2, 556.
Arthur of Brittany, 297, 308, 511.
Artois, Robert d’, 96, 156.
Asnières (Maine-et-Loire), 314.
Attila the Hun, 201, 231, 243.
Aucassin et Nicolette, 396.
Auch (Gers), Cathedral of, 358, 374.
Augustine, St., 132, 158, 364, 449, 508.
Augustus, 239-243, 257, 259, 424.
Aulnay (Charente-Inférieure), 291.
Autun (Saône-et-Loire), Cathedral of, 24, 181, 416, 419, 423-426, 429.
Autun, Honoré d’, 262, 424.
Auvergne, 11, 38, 39, 249, 330, 331, 336, 337, 381;
Romanesque school of, 11, 24, 38, 151, 254, 329, 331, 333, 337, 339, 340, 343, 344, 360, 449.
Auvergne, Guillaume d’ (Bishop of Paris), 133, 139, 140, 141, 469.
Auxerre (Yonne), 224, 428, 445;
Cathedral of, 7, 33, 115, 226, 242, 316, 429, 446-451, 460;
glass of, 449, 450, 451;
sculpture of, 447;
St. Germain, 410, 445, 446, 572;
St. Eusèbe, 448.
Avallon (Yonne), 24, 428, 435, 441.
Avignon (Vaucluse), 209, 381, 388, 405-409;
the Avignon popes, 330, 335, 347, 353, 359, 368, 381, 386, 387, 388, 405, 406, 407, 408, 409.
Avila, 242, 264, 340, 465.
Avranches (Manche), Cathedral of, 2, 474, 556.
B
Bacon, Francis, 276.
Bacon, Roger, 134.
Balmes, J. C., 41.
Balzac, Honoré de, 119, 247, 249, 312.
Bamburg, Cathedral of, 2, 77, 193.
Bannalec (Finistère), 560.
Barbarian invasions in France, 4, 18, 20, 28, 29, 36, 78, 107, 142, 172, 261, 325, 336, 337, 361, 411, 414, 472, 479, 483, 495, 510, 563.
Bari, Cathedral of, 555.
Barre, Chevalier de la, 151.
Barrès, Maurice, 389, 398, 435.
Bar-sur-Aube, 239.
Bar-sur-Seine, 239.
Barzas-Breiz, 400, 556.
Basly (Calvados), 491.
Bassac (Charente), 291.
Bayard, Chevalier, 342.
Bayeux (Calvados), Cathedral of, 488, 508, 545-551.
Bayonne (Basses-Pyrénées), Cathedral of, 354, 569.
Bazin, René, 259, 302, 415, 410, 580.
Beaucaire (Gard), 396.
Beauce, Jehan Texier, called de, 179, 180.
Beaulieu (Corrèze), 24, 288.
Beaumont, Raoul de, 306, 308;
family of, 308, 550.
Beaumont-le-Roger (Eure), 536, 541.
Beaune (Côte-d’Or), hospital and collegiate of, 419, 426, 427.
Beauneveu, André (sculptor), 67, 299, 327.
Beauvais (Oise), 3, 96, 100, 125, 127, 379, 380, 425, 533, 534, 539;
Cathedral of, 224-230, 404, 577;
St. Étienne, 45, 46, 50-53, 224, 228.
Beauvais, Vincent de, 9, 133, 134.
Bec (Eure), Abbey of, 125, 173, 473-476, 485, 487, 496, 502, 512.
Becket, St. Thomas, 11, 41, 91, 93, 94, 95, 97, 134, 136, 176, 184, 250, 261, 311, 340, 432, 433, 446, 518, 527, 531, 532, 550, 556;
windows of, 97, 184, 518, 550.
Bedford, John Plantagenet, Duke of, 87, 143, 489, 490, 523, 525, 527, 530, 535.
Bellefontaine (Oise), 45.
Belloc, Hilaire, 375, 548.
Benedict, St., 4, 23, 411, 483.
Benedict XII, Pope (Avignon), 407.
Benedictines, 7, 34, 54, 114, 117, 123, 124, 133, 148-151, 190, 278, 411, 476, 501, 548, 554.
Berengaria of Navarre, 279, 296, 538.
Berengar of Tours, 250, 487.
Berland, Pierre (Archbishop of Bordeaux), 354, 355.
Bernard, St., 14, 34, 40, 63, 64, 91, 92, 93, 107, 133, 135, 152, 243, 246, 271, 273, 298, 319, 321, 361, 362, 364, 367, 371, 412, 414, 418, 423, 430, 431, 434, 439, 440, 441, 442, 453, 461-471, 503, 541, 579.
Bernay (Eure), Abbatial of, 473, 481, 495, 496, 541.
Bernières-sur-mer (Calvados), 491.
Berry, Jean, Duke de, 214, 220, 221, 222, 232, 309, 320, 327, 329, 341, 342, 349, 353, 539.
Berzy-le-Sec (Aisne), 45.
Béthisy-St. Pierre (Oise), 45.
Bèze, Théodore de, 218, 441.
Béziers (Hérault), Cathedral and sack of, 330, 367, 369, 383, 405, 539.
Bible, in the Middle Ages, the, 9, 11, 58, 133, 142, 145, 208, 217, 233, 253, 273, 327, 358, 395, 418, 432, 434, 437, 470, 557.
Biblia pauperum windows and sculpture, 97, 184, 219, 233, 418, 437, 451, 462, 520, 579.
Bilson, John, archæologist. See Bibliography.
Bishop-builders of French cathedrals, 5, 32, 79, 80, 86, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 105, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 150, 172, 173, 174, 189, 202, 215, 229, 231, 243, 250, 251, 261, 263, 267, 270, 272, 275, 291, 299, 306, 334, 335, 344, 353, 354, 371, 373, 377, 381, 447, 513, 538, 542, 546, 592.
Black Prince, the, 347, 355, 368, 378.
Blanche of Castile, 54, 86, 106, 107, 153, 154, 185, 225, 232, 234, 253, 299, 313, 362, 398, 435, 508, 538.
Blois (Loir-et-Cher), 121, 254, 558.
Bobbio (Province of Pavia), monastery of, 411, 483.
Bohemund of Taranto, 323, 337, 555.
Bologna, 134, 327, 364, 374, 446.
Bonaventure, St., 5, 41, 133, 134, 267, 268.
Boniface VIII, Pope, 385.
Bonneuil-en-Valois, 45, 49.
Bordeaux (Gironde), 350-356;
Cathedral of, 13, 31, 226, 298, 318, 330, 350-356, 577;
Ste. Croix, 318, 351, 355;
St. Michel, 320;
St. Seurin, 318, 351, 352, 355, 356.
Born, Bertran de, 345, 348, 349.
Boscherville. See St. Georges de.
Bosham, Herbert of, 93.
Bossuet, 121, 163, 167, 247, 252, 253.
Boston, U. S. A., 353, 394.
Botrel, Théodor, 201.
Bouilhet, Louis, 78.
Bourbon art patrons, 185, 253, 259, 264, 265, 266, 295, 341, 357, 364, 406, 421, 456, 513, 539.
Bourdaloue, 212.
Bourges (Cher), Cathedral of, 8, 11, 14, 211, 212-224, 226, 255, 275, 276, 320, 322, 328, 454.
Bourget, Paul, 339, 531.
Bourgonnière chapel in Bouzilly (Maine-et-Loire), 322.
Bouvines, 1214 (Nord), battle of, 12, 32, 70, 86, 122, 195, 453.
Boyle (Co. Roscommon), Abbey of, 464.
Braine (Aisne), St. Yved at, 99, 113, 116, 121-125, 185, 284.
Brest (Finistère), 560, 561.
Bridges, mediæval, 267, 289, 350, 371, 405, 407.
Brienne (Aube), 239.
Brienne, Jean de, 4, 70, 189.
Brioude (Haute-Loire), 340.
Brittany, 11, 400, 556-575;
Calvaries of, 400, 559, 560, 561, 574;
cult of the dead in, 559, 561;
dukes of, 297, 308, 566, 567, 569;
glass of, 559, 560, 563, 569;
Gothic of, 12, 557, 558, 559, 562, 563, 570, 571;
Romanesque of, 557, 562;
the Renaissance in, 559, 560, 561, 562, 563, 564, 568.
See Anne of Brittany.
Brizeux, A., 570.
Brou (in Bourg-en-Bresse), the church of, 264, 265.
Brunetière, F., 148.
Bruno, St., 4, 117, 118, 194.
Bruyère (Aisne), 45.
Burgos, Cistercian abbatial of Las Huelgas, 2, 264, 399, 465, 502.
Burgundy, 21, 23, 39, 229, 410-470;
dukes of, 143, 154, 226, 261, 410, 425, 452, 453, 454;
Franco-Flamand school of sculpture, 240, 255, 256, 281, 452, 455, 456, 567;
Gothic of, 242, 410, 412, 413, 415, 427, 436, 440, 443, 446, 447, 448, 464, 465;
Apogee Gothic, sculpture of, 410-413, 444, 447, 449;
Romanesque school of, 23, 254, 340, 344, 360, 394, 422, 423, 428, 437, 438, 439;
Romanesque, sculpture of, 418, 422, 423, 424, 437, 457.
Bury (Oise), 44, 45, 150.
Buttresses, 25, 26, 27, 229, 352, 378, 412, 413, 451, 481, 504;
flying buttresses, 26, 27, 46, 52, 117, 124, 129, 163, 179, 181, 187, 196, 225, 237, 260, 276, 292, 360, 413, 437, 443, 486, 554.
Byzantine influences in French art, 17, 18, 43, 59, 101, 120, 123, 137, 138, 180, 181, 196, 234, 248, 249, 262, 287, 291, 292, 306, 322, 349, 398, 438, 486, 547.
C
Caen (Calvados), 10, 13, 30, 163, 478, 484-491, 519, 520;
Abbaye-aux-Dames (Ste. Trinité), 164, 482, 484, 485;
Abbaye-aux-Hommes (St. Étienne), 415, 482, 484, 486, 487, 488, 512, 532, 547, 554;
St. Nicholas, 484, 493;
St. Pierre, 488, 489, 490, 523, 570, 571;
Vaucelle’s tower, 491.
Cahors (Lot), Cathedral of, 24, 288, 289, 292, 407.
Calixtus II, Pope, 151, 200, 250, 261, 288, 291, 295, 360, 393, 417, 423, 453.
Calixtus III, Pope, 529.
Calvaries. See Brittany.
Cambrai (Nord), 2, 81, 264, 556.
Cambrai, Jean de (sculptor), 221, 266.
Cambridge, England, 407, 457.
Cambronne (Oise), 44, 45.
Candes (Maine-et-Loire), 314, 316, 319.
Canterbury, archbishops of, 173, 260, 410, 432, 433, 434, 474, 475, 550;
Cathedral of, 3, 30, 93, 94, 173, 474, 475, 487, 532;
pilgrims, 94, 551.
Captives, redeeming of Christian, 6, 38, 42, 139, 369, 386, 404, 405.
Carcassonne (Aude), 11, 330, 339, 375-378;
Cathedral of St. Nazaire, 349, 376, 377, 539.
Carentan (Manche), 539, 541, 554.
Carhaix (Finistère), 561.
Carnac (Morbihan), 400.
Carolingian vestiges and times, 20, 56, 57, 77, 78, 84, 149, 171, 173, 224, 225, 249, 250, 278, 283, 284, 305, 311, 324, 333, 337, 411, 470, 471, 478, 480, 482.
Cartharist heresy, 174, 362, 365, 366, 466.
Carthusian Order, 4, 117, 118, 194, 408;
the Grande-Chartreuse, 118, 408.
Carville (Seine-Inférieure), 492, 494.
Casamari (Province of Rome), Cistercian abbatial of, 465.
Castanets, Bernard de (Bishop of Albi), 371, 372.
Catalonia, 357, 380.
See Gerona, Poblet, Tarragona.
Cathedrals of France, 9, 42, 74, 193, 202, 268, 575, 576, 578, 579;
Religious fervor of the builders, 5, 8, 9, 23, 32, 33, 35, 36, 42, 57, 115, 174, 175, 275, 338, 350, 472, 491, 512, 553, 578, 579, 580, 581.
Catherine of Siena, St., 307, 388.
Cauchon, Bishop Pierre, 225, 328, 523, 524, 525, 529, 530, 531, 533, 534, 535, 536.
Caudebec-en-Caud (Seine-Inférieure), 474, 494, 518, 541.
Cécile, Abbess (Trinité, Caen), 485, 486.
Cecilia, St., 14, 370-375, 485, 486.
Cefalu (Palermo province), Cathedral of, 555.
Ceffonds (Aube), 239.
Celle, Pierre de (Bishop of Chartres), 114, 116, 170, 176, 190, 469.
Celtic element in France, 4, 11, 12, 21, 91, 135, 174, 177, 245, 336, 378, 384, 388, 411, 483, 556, 558, 562, 563, 567, 572, 574, 575, 577, 580.
Cerisy-la-Forêt (Manche), 473, 554, 573.
Cervantes, 405.
Chaalis (Oise), ruins of abbatial, 87, 215.
Chaise Dieu (Haute-Loire), abbatial of La, 330, 332, 335, 408, 566.
Châlons-sur-Marne, 424;
Cathedral of, 7, 241-244;
Notre Dame, 33, 74, 90, 114-116, 415;
St. Alpin, 243.
Chambiges, Martin (architect), 97, 152, 226, 235;
Pierre (architect), 89, 235.
Champagne, 6, 7, 39, 66, 121, 162;
counts of, 94, 119, 120, 137, 157, 231, 232, 234, 236, 244, 245, 246, 432, 464, 538;
fairs of, 6, 235, 244, 245;
glass of, 98, 118, 150, 219, 233, 234, 235, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 243;
Gothic art of, 114-120, 188-197, 211, 213, 230-247;
Gothic influence of, 109, 115, 116, 190, 191, 193, 202, 242, 244, 245, 246, 247, 448;
literature of, 119, 245, 246;
sculpture of, 113, 116, 117, 194, 195, 196.
Champeaux, Guillaume de (Bishop of Châlons), 41, 86, 104, 133, 176, 194, 243, 466, 469, 474.
Champigny-sur-Veude (Indre-et-Loire), 254, 266.
Chansons de geste, 42, 106, 135, 239, 245, 246, 299, 343, 376, 384, 436, 500, 501, 549, 580, 581.
Chantilly (Oise), 144, 328.
Charité-sur-Loire, abbatial of, 254, 566.
Charlemagne, 9, 10, 20, 22, 57, 78, 86, 105, 153, 184, 249, 344, 355, 356, 379, 501, 545.
Charles V, Emperor, 144, 264.
Charles V of France, 67, 144, 164, 209, 309, 353, 454, 520, 534, 539.
Charles VI, 221, 327.
Charles VII, 118, 223, 233, 247, 255, 278, 299, 483, 526, 527, 528, 529, 530, 540.
Charles VIII, 247, 256, 264, 558, 566.
Charles le Téméraire, Duke of Burgundy, 226, 264, 266, 452.
Charles Martel, 317, 388, 389, 436.
Charles the Bad, Count of Évreux, 164, 538, 539.
Chartier, Alain, 143, 546.
Chartres, Cathedral of, 8, 14, 22, 33, 36, 39, 111, 113, 115, 122, 139, 170-187, 197, 204, 207, 211, 212, 219, 220, 224, 226, 234, 272, 279, 306, 318, 413, 475, 490, 511, 512, 519, 541, 550, 581;
school of glass, 59, 101, 183, 184, 262, 519;
sculpture of, 175, 180, 181, 182, 288, 394;
St. Pierre, 172, 349, 539.
Chartres, St. Ives of, 337.
Chastellux, Jean de, 429.
Chateaubriand, 70, 118, 410, 443, 562.
Châteauneuf-du-Faou (Finistère), 559.
Chaucer, 372, 551.
Chaumes, Nicolas de (architect), 96, 167.
Chaumont-sur-Loire, 373, 566.
Chauvanges (Aube), 239.
Chauvigny (Vienne), 320, 321.
Chelles (Oise), 45.
Chelles, Jean and Pierre de (architects), 141, 146.
Cherbourg (Manche), 554.
Chérisy, Nivelon de (Bishop of Soissons), 6, 41, 86, 108, 109, 110.
Chesterton, Cecil, 579, 580.
Chevalier, Étienne, 241, 342.
Cheverus, Cardinal de, 352.
Chiaravalle (Milan province), 464, 465.
Chichester, St. Richard of, 434, 435.
Chinon (Indre-et-Loire), 254, 296, 315, 526.
Christian persecutions, the, 9, 56, 215, 248, 252, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 263, 436, 439.
Christopher, St., 553, 576.
Cicero, 344, 411.
Cistercian Order and architecture, 4, 7, 34, 93, 104, 105, 106, 107, 215, 278, 361, 412, 417, 430, 431, 461-465, 554;
influence of Cistercian Gothic, 461, 464, 465, 470, 471.
Cîteaux (Côte-d’Or), 34, 410, 412, 418, 425, 431, 444, 462, 469.
Civray (Vienne), 291.
Clairvaux (Yonne), 245, 430, 464, 467.
Claudianus Mamertus (Bishop of Vienne), 261.
Clearstory, 24, 92, 111, 115, 116, 124, 128, 141, 183, 185, 205, 214, 242, 251, 276, 353, 412, 413, 430, 478, 486, 500, 553.
Clement IV, Pope (Guy Fulcodi), 236, 381, 392, 393.
Clement V, Pope (Bertrand de Got), 261, 264, 320, 326, 327, 353, 354, 406, 515.
Clement VI, Pope, 335, 407, 408, 409, 497.
Clermont-Ferrand (Puy-de-Dôme), 334, 336, 373;
Cathedral of, 10, 146, 203, 205, 213, 330, 331-339, 346, 380, 381, 519;
Council of, 173, 337, 338, 344, 581;
Notre Dame-du-Port, 330, 339, 340.
Cloisters, sculptured, 82, 149, 254, 354, 360, 361, 383, 398, 399, 503, 504, 573.
Clouet, Jean and François, 256.
Clovis and Clotilda, 107, 118, 194, 317, 411, 446, 508.
Cluny (Saône-et-Loire), 2, 14, 22, 23, 24, 34, 104, 149, 150, 163, 259, 266, 270, 318, 335, 360, 361, 373, 393, 410, 411, 412, 413, 414-421, 425, 438, 444, 457, 465, 471, 473, 477, 512, 519.
Cœur, Jacques, 11, 222, 223, 528, 529, 541.
Cognac (Charente), 291.
Coliseum, 377.
Cologne, Cathedral of, 132, 203, 225, 333;
St. Gereon, 112, 122.
Colombe, Michel (sculptor), 67, 254, 255, 256, 264, 279, 280, 281, 342, 513, 519, 558, 563, 567-568.
Columbanus, St., 4, 122, 410, 411, 412, 457, 464, 483, 509.
Commendatory abbots, 420, 483, 507.
Communes, mediæval, 7, 8, 12, 32, 74, 62, 79, 102, 103, 262, 416, 435, 437, 439.
Como, Church of S. Abondio, 29, 338.
Compiègne (Oise), 47, 77, 143, 226, 534.
Comtat-Venaissin, the, 405, 408, 409.
Conches (Eure), Church of Ste. Foi, 536, 541.
Congrès Archéologique de France, 38, 50, 78, 84, 92, etc.
Conques (Aveyron), Abbatial of Ste. Foi, 250, 360, 415.
Constantine, Emperor, 215, 398, 507.
Constantinople, 6, 41, 204, 234, 261, 268, 270, 289, 298, 317, 345, 420, 427, 436.
Corbeil, Pierre de (Archbishop of Sens), 95, 234.
Cordova, 379.
Corpus Christi feast, 238, 243, 427.
Cosmati, the (artists), 29, 387.
Coucy-le-Château (Aisne), 102, 313.
Coulanges, Fustel de, 42.
Councils of the Church, 91, 117, 189, 206, 246, 250, 261, 263, 267, 268, 323, 337, 338, 344, 370, 534, 540.
Cousin, Jean (vitrine artist), 94, 98, 144.
Cousin, Victor, 133, 211.
Coutances (Manche), Cathedral of, 10, 276, 488, 538, 539, 547, 550, 551-556.
Coysevox (sculptor), 259.
Cram, Ralph Adams, 91.
Crawford, F. Marion, 439.
Crécy, 1346, battle of, 327, 487, 491.
Crestien de Troyes (trouvère), 245.
Creuil (Oise), 45, 46.
Crouy-sur-Ourcq (Seine-et-Marne), 45, 48, 405.
Crown of Thorns, the, 145, 159, 345.
Crucifixion windows. See Glass.
Crusades, 11, 31, 32, 299, 338, 365, 366, 440, 581;
First Crusade, 22, 118, 173, 194, 246, 250, 270, 294, 305, 323, 337-339, 344, 345, 360, 449;
Second Crusade, 62, 70, 79, 274, 298, 339, 429, 439, 466, 531;
Third Crusade, 70, 94, 136, 143, 367, 440, 514, 538;
Fourth Crusade, 41, 110, 161, 231, 233, 246, 369;
Fifth Crusade, 70, 159;
Sixth Crusade, 154, 155, 159, 390, 400, 553, 581;
Seventh Crusade, 120, 157, 158, 162, 262, 390, 391, 514.
Crusading-bishops, 6, 41, 79, 81, 82, 86, 97, 110, 111, 139, 189, 190, 206, 231, 233, 248, 334, 344, 345, 514, 531, 538, 547, 549.
Crypts of France, noted, 19, 22, 65, 168, 172, 215, 224, 225, 259, 283, 287, 339, 399, 401, 429, 446, 457, 486, 547, 566.
Cunault (Maine-et-Loire), 314.
Cupola churches, 18, 24, 151, 227, 285, 286, 287-295, 300, 303, 324, 344, 403.
Cyprus, 38, 154, 237, 381, 436, 538.
D
Dagobert, 51, 57, 67, 80.
Dammartin, Guy de, 221, 277, 327, 341, 387, 454;
André de, 221, 232, 277, 341, 454;
Jean de, 221, 255, 277;
Guillaume de, 566.
Dance of Death frescoes, 335, 565, 566.
Daniel, 233, 580.
Dante, 9, 133, 137, 141, 147, 148, 150, 153, 156, 245, 253, 349, 357, 363, 441, 462, 465, 474.
Daudet, Alphonse, 259, 396.
David, 9, 437, 447.
Da Vinci, Leonardo, 193.
Delorme, Philibert, 259.
Deschamps, Jean and Pierre (architects), 334, 346.
Deviation of axis, 68, 69, 136, 320, 569.
Dieppe (Seine-Inférieure), 494, 518.
Dies iræ, 128, 217, 317.
Dijon (Côte-d’Or), 11, 13, 40, 255, 314, 452-461;
Cathedral of St. Bénigne, 22, 410, 415, 452, 453, 456-459;
Franco-Flemish school of sculpture, 255, 256, 281, 327, 373, 454, 455, 456, 567;
Notre Dame, 413, 443, 452, 453, 459-461;
Fontaine-lès-Dijon, 463.
Dinan (Côtes-du-Nord), 541, 562.
Dol (Ille-et-Vilaine), 539, 557, 559, 563, 564.
Domenico Florentino (sculptor), 67, 240, 241.
Dominic, St., 5, 41, 128, 363, 364, 376.
Dominican Order, 134, 327, 330, 358, 364, 369, 373, 402, 420, 524, 528.
Doué, Normand de (Bishop of Le Mans), 306, 308.
Drayton, Michael, 490.
Dreux, family of, 122, 185, 190.
Dubois, Paul, 201, 568.
Dugueselin, Bertrand de, 67, 266, 327, 342, 557, 562.
Dunois, bâtard d’Orléans, 77, 355, 527, 529, 534.
Durandus, Guillaume (author of Rationale), 19, 69, 214, 267, 359, 387, 400, 401.
Dürer, Albert, 144, 347, 541.
Durham, Cathedral of, 30, 31, 492, 493, 532, 545.
E
École des Chartes, 25, 37, 38, 50, 545.
Écouen (Seine-et-Oise), 144.
Edmund Rich, St. (Archbishop of Canterbury), 4, 41, 434, 435.
Edward I of England, 390, 485.
Elbeuf (Seine-Inférieure), 518.
Elizabeth of Hungary, St., 53, 54, 112, 122, 280, 313.
Elne (Pyrénées-Orientales), 382, 383.
Eloi, St. (Bishop of Noyon), 80, 83, 240, 249, 349.
Ely, Cathedral of, 3, 482, 487, 516.
Enamel, Limoges, 172, 273, 314, 341, 349.
England, 11, 105, 351, 416, 426, 430, 478, 482, 487, 502, 516, 517, 518, 520, 549, 550, 552, 563.
See Henry I, Henry II, Henry III, the Black Prince, St. Thomas Becket, St. Stephen Harding, John of Salisbury, etc.
English architecture, 30, 93, 94, 99, 227, 296, 299, 301, 354, 407, 412, 432, 487, 495, 497, 516, 520, 523, 524, 533, 547.
See Canterbury, Durham, Ely, etc.
Enlart, Camille, archæologist. See Bibliography.
Entombments (Holy Sepulcher groups), 225, 239, 280, 281, 282, 497.
Ervy (Yonne), 239, 322.
Escorial, the, 283.
Espine, Jean de l’ (architect), 308, 311.
Estonteville family, the d’, 497, 518, 555;
Cardinal Guillaume d’, 506, 513, 517, 529;
Louis d’, 505, 529.
Étampes (Seine-et-Oise), 112, 511.
Eu (Seine-Inférieure), Abbatial of St. Laurent, 473, 498, 499, 513, 532, 555.
Eu, Geoffrey d’ (Bishop of Amiens), 206, 499.
Eugene III, Pope, 152, 243, 430, 458, 464, 466.
Eustace, St., 91, 152.
Évreux (Eure), Cathedral of, 518, 529, 536-541;
XIV-century glass of, 539, 540.
Exeter, Cathedral of, 407.
Eymoutiers (Haute-Vienne), 350, 541.
F
Fabian, Pope, 330, 399.
Façades, noted church, 51, 89, 97, 105, 129, 191, 192, 207, 217, 226, 235, 254, 271, 291, 292, 307, 323, 343, 347, 353, 406, 460, 514, 518, 548, 553.
Falaise (Calvados), 489, 544.
Fécamp (Seine-Inférieure), Abbatial of, 478, 482, 494-498, 502, 532, 554.
Fénelon, 36, 288.
Fenestration, development of Gothic, 25, 26, 51, 55, 111, 128, 146, 164, 183, 205, 213, 214, 227, 228, 234, 235, 237, 251, 262, 276, 292, 322, 333, 340, 377, 380, 406, 413, 431, 441, 450, 459, 478, 486, 488, 506, 519, 539, 548, 553, 554.
Ferdinand of Spain, St., 299.
Ferrero, Guglielmo, 329.
Feudal system, the, 11, 31, 61, 63, 92, 102, 104, 105, 151, 156, 160, 195, 225, 262, 271, 296, 299, 304, 305, 310, 313, 337, 349, 351, 362, 369, 370, 376, 383, 390, 394, 439, 455, 487, 531, 545, 550, 555.
Fiesole, Jerome of, 256, 568;
Mino da, 497.
Flamboyant Gothic, 13, 89, 118, 146, 152, 167, 207, 217, 222, 226, 227, 228, 232, 233, 237, 239, 244, 252, 254, 265, 271, 277, 301, 309, 314, 327, 335, 347, 354, 372, 380, 387, 403, 415, 425, 447, 473, 506, 513, 516, 517, 518, 521, 529, 530, 539, 541, 542, 558, 559, 565, 569, 571, 573.
Flandrin, H., 259.
Flaubert, Gustave, 519.
Flavigny (Côte-d’Or), 224, 410, 428, 429.
Fléac (Charente), 291.
Flemish influences in French art, 6, 44, 67, 209, 240, 263, 264, 309, 373, 404, 426, 427, 454, 455, 456, 567.
Flodoard (chronicler), 20.
Florence, Cathedral of, 3, 30, 406.
Foch, General, 106, 375, 581.
Folgoët (Finistère), Collegiate at, 558, 559.
Fontenay (Yonne), 7, 410, 428, 430, 431.
Fontevrault (Maine-et-Loire), Abbatial of, 10, 274, 286, 291, 294, 313, 315, 318, 328.
See Plantagenet tombs.
Fontfroide (Aude), Cistercian abbatial of, 380, 381, 407.
Fortified churches in the Midi, 332, 359, 368, 382, 383.
Fortunatus Venantius (Bishop of Poitiers); 10, 316, 317, 318, 322, 324.
Fossanuova (province of Rome), Cistercian Burgundian church, 132, 465.
Fouilloy, Evrard de (Bishop of Amiens): 206.
Fountains Abbey (Yorkshire), 3, 464.
Fouquet, Jean, 254, 256, 342.
Francis of Assisi, St., 4, 101, 131, 465.
Francis I, 67, 89, 172, 344, 518, 534.
Francis II, Duke of Brittany, tomb of 558, 567, 568.
Franciscan Order, 218, 268, 317, 330, 359, 364, 420.
Frederick II, Emperor, 132, 267.
Freeman, E. H., 412, 490.
Frescoes in French churches, 288, 314, 320, 321, 335, 344, 349, 374, 375, 405, 407, 408, 409, 511.
Froissart, 210, 327, 347, 349, 368, 408, 455.
Fulbert, of Chartres, Bishop, 22, 41, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176, 194.
Fulk III, Nerra, Count of Anjou, 254, 274, 296, 302, 304, 305, 310, 314, 315, 550.
Fulk IV, Count of Anjou, 295, 304.
Fulk V, Count of Anjou, 173, 272, 295, 304.
Furness Abbey (Lancashire), 464.
G
Gaillon (Eure), Château of, 373, 513, 558.
Gallo-Roman bishops and times, 21, 86, 117, 118, 148, 164, 193, 194, 208, 231, 243, 248, 325, 331, 336, 337, 340, 349, 394, 396, 398, 399, 429, 433, 515, 579.
Gargoyles, 8, 139, 142, 239, 358, 372, 461.
Gassicourt (Seine-et-Oise), 163.
Gautier, Léon, 133, 135, 162, 245, 356, 500, 501, 520, 542.
Gelasius II, Pope, 388, 417.
Genesis, 145, 253.
Geneviève, St., 71, 72, 73, 98, 133, 445.
Gennes (Marne-et-Loire), 314.
Genoa, 466, 497, 511.
Gensac (Charente), 291.
Gentil, François (sculptor), 241.
Geoffrey the Handsome, Count of Anjou, 271, 272, 273, 274, 295, 304.
Geoffrey, Abbot (of Vendôme), 271, 272, 337, 436.
Gerard, Bishop (of Angoulême), 291 292.
Gerbert (Sylvester II), 171, 194.
Germanic influences on French architecture, 21, 48, 81, 84, 109, 124, 142, 164, 243, 336, 347, 449, 567, 580, 588.
Germany, architecture in, 27, 77, 81, 99, 223, 288, 307, 464, 569.
See Rhenish school.
Gerona (Catalonia), 380, 386.
Gerson, Chancellor Jean, 143, 242, 247, 264, 534.
Giotto, 29, 267, 402.
Glaber, Raoul (chronicler), 22, 414, 458.
Glass, stained: XII-century, 10, 55, 58-60, 97, 98, 118, 144, 183, 184, 219, 244, 272, 279, 307, 308, 321;
XIII-century, 10, 59, 97, 98, 101, 118, 143, 145, 146, 172, 180, 184, 185, 186, 219, 234, 252, 262, 278, 321, 449, 450, 511, 519, 539;
XIV-century, 98, 172, 220, 234, 237, 244, 252, 325, 341, 377, 382, 444, 539, 543;
XV-century, 118, 185, 222, 223, 240, 244, 253, 265, 277, 350, 520, 540, 541, 569;
XVI-century, 51, 98, 144, 220, 223, 228, 233, 234, 235, 238, 239, 240, 244, 254, 264, 307, 374, 451, 513, 535, 539, 541;
XVII-century, 224, 234, 240;
grisaille glass, 172, 237, 431, 450, 540, 543;
camaïeu glass, 144, 239, 243;
abrasion, 540;
quarries, 540;
Creation windows, 239, 240, 451;
Crucifixion windows, 10, 32, 243, 39, 237, 322, 520;
New Alliance windows, 97, 185, 219, 220, 253, 260, 262, 424;
Jesse Tree windows, 59, 183, 228, 234, 238, 240, 253, 278, 517, 541;
Pressoir windows, 238, 240, 541;
Renaissance glass, 98, 115, 144, 223, 224, 233, 234, 240, 241, 243, 449, 451, 513, 539, 541.
Glennes (Aisne), 45.
Gloucester, Cathedral of, 482, 487, 519.
Golden Legend (Legenda Aurea), 9, 85, 97, 220, 400.
Gontier, Linard (vitrine artist), 234, 238, 240, 241.
Gothic architecture, 3, 17, 25, 26, 27, 29, 36, 113, 123, 202, 246, 426, 459, 575, 576, 578;
birth of, 42-52, 55, 123;
definition of, 16, 17, 22, 26, 31, 36;
first Gothic vaults, 27, 31, 39, 44, 45, 46, 287, 478, 479, 481;
sporadic examples of early Gothic vaults, 31, 48, 351, 355, 361, 384, 387, 389, 437;
Gothic schools in France, 211;
structural development of Gothic, 43, 44, 45, 46, 48, 50, 52, 55, 56, 81, 82, 100, 110, 115, 116, 124, 127, 131, 138, 150, 229, 237, 377, 479, 514;
ending of Gothic art, 576, 577, 578;
neo-classic contempt for Gothic, 36, 114, 130, 187, 308, 424, 450.
Goujon, Jean (sculptor), 515, 517.
Grandlieu (Loire-Inférieure), 224.
Gregory the Great, Pope, 181, 426.
Gregory VII, Pope, 22, 34, 250, 364, 412, 415, 416, 422, 508, 545, 546.
Gregory X, Pope, 267, 268.
Gregory XI, Pope, 335, 387, 388.
Gregory of Tours, Bishop, 248, 249, 304, 331, 332, 336, 399.
Grenoble (Izère), Church of St. Laurent, 225, 343.
Grosseteste, Robert (Bishop of Lincoln), 134, 263.
Guéranger, Dom Prosper, 280, 281, 321.
Guérin, Bishop (of Senlis), 86, 87.
Guildsmen donors and artisan artists, mediæval, 6, 7, 8, 25, 34, 55, 57, 58, 62, 79, 98, 102, 103, 141, 143, 184, 186, 210, 219, 220, 222, 228, 233, 234, 235, 239, 240, 241, 244, 253, 275, 278, 284, 415, 422, 430, 435, 439, 464, 478, 503, 514, 540, 550, 558, 578, 580, 581.
Guillaume of the White Hands, Archbishop (of Rheims), 94, 118, 176, 194.
Guillaume VIII, Duke of Aquitaine, 318, 351;
Guillaume IX, 291, 298, 318, 323, 351;
Guillaume X, 292, 298, 319, 321, 354.
Guimiliau (Finistère), 561.
Guingamp (Côtes-du-Nord), 557, 559, 560, 562.
Guizot, 36, 103, 296, 297, 536.
H
Haimon, Abbot, 174, 491, 492.
Halberstadt, Cathedral of, 3, 77.
Hambye Abbey (Manche), ruins of, 473, 554.
Hanoteau, Gabriel, 400, 503, 521.
Harcourt family, 529, 540, 546, 548.
Harding, Abbot Stephen (of Cîteaux), 4, 41, 431, 462, 463, 464.
Harfleur (Seine-Inférieure), 492, 494, 529.
Harold II, king of England, 549, 550.
Haslin, Nicolas (sculptor), 240.
Hastings, 1066, battle of, 545, 549, 552.
Héloïse, 133, 419.
Henry I, of England, 234, 295, 304, 485, 492, 494, 537, 546.
Henry II, Plantagenet, 5, 10, 67, 68, 91, 93, 94, 153, 250, 269, 271, 273, 274, 275, 290, 293, 295, 296, 298, 304, 312, 317, 319, 320, 321, 326, 348, 351, 433, 434, 495, 498, 502, 511, 531, 532, 550, 556.
Henry III of England, 154, 293, 352, 434, 485.
Henry V of England, 476, 483, 490, 505, 529, 534.
Henry VI of England, 143, 265, 266.
Henry VII, Tudor, 573.
Henry VIII, 416, 435, 518.
Henry II of France, 67, 144, 172.
Henry IV of France, 69, 147, 185, 219, 241, 255, 265, 266, 425.
Herlouin, Abbot (of Bec), 373.
Hilary, St. (Bishop of Portiers), 10, 317, 318, 321, 323, 324, 344, 364.
Histoire Littéraire de la France, 41, 55, 150, etc.
See Bibliography.
Hoël, Bishop (of Le Mans), 269, 270, 278, 280, 337.
Holbein, 221.
Holycross Abbey (Co. Tipperary), 3.
Honnecourt, Villard de, 34, 38, 101, 102, 122, 190, 280, 282, 284, 553.
Hospitals, mediæval, 80, 86, 96, 298, 310, 311, 323, 426, 427.
Hugh, St. (Bishop of Lincoln), 194, 263.
Huguenots. See Sixteenth-century religious wars.
Hugues, St. (Abbot of Cluny), 22, 34, 270, 337, 414, 416, 417, 421, 440.
Hugues de St. Victor. See Paris, Abbey of St. Victor.
Humbert, Albéric de, 6, 41, 139, 189, 370, 371.
Hundred Years’ War, 52, 69, 71, 72, 73, 97, 108, 165, 221, 225, 227, 228, 252, 327, 347, 368, 371, 378, 447, 455, 489, 490, 499, 503, 505, 506, 507, 509, 538, 570, 571, 573.
Hungary, 280, 284.
Huysmans, J. K., 100, 128, 144, 170, 280, 284, 321, 415, 460.
Hymns, mediæval, 128, 130, 135, 238, 261, 317, 345, 468.
I
Ile-de-France, 12, 24, 30, 31, 44, 45, 46, 49, 78, 113, 114, 141, 211, 225, 242, 269, 275, 276, 285, 337, 478, 479, 482, 494, 495, 514, 543, 547, 564.
Imitation of Christ, 143, 263, 470, 503, 535.
Ingeborg of Denmark, 80, 94.
Innocent II, Pope, 79, 291, 417, 423, 437.
Innocent III, Pope, 41, 95, 110, 134, 135, 138, 139, 206, 234, 299, 364, 369, 370, 385, 392, 394, 404, 465.
Innocent IV, Pope, 264, 278, 327, 419.
Innocent VI, Pope (Avignon), 267, 278, 335, 374, 408.
Innsbruck, tomb of Maximilian I in, 264.
Inquisition, the, 364, 368, 371.
Ipres, 2, 110, 193, 242.
Ireland, 5, 153, 155, 404, 411, 463, 464, 498.
Irenæus, St. (Bishop of Lyons), 5, 257, 258.
Irish missionaries, 4, 22, 410, 411, 449, 463, 480, 498, 560, 574.
Isabeau of Bavaria, 233, 327.
Isabelle of Angoulême, 193, 293, 297, 313, 326.
Isaias, 9, 234.
Issoire (Puy-de-Dôme), 340.
Italian influences in France, 67, 144, 239, 240, 241, 243, 255, 279, 324, 361, 373, 374, 375, 384, 456, 466, 474, 478, 479, 493, 497, 555, 564.
Italy, Gothic in, 10, 23, 28, 29, 38, 61, 185, 261, 345, 381, 411, 431, 464, 465, 479, 554, 555.
J
Jacquemart-André, Mme., 89.
Jaime el Conquistador, 267, 280, 334, 385, 386.
James, St., 185, 222, 250, 451.
James, Henry, 218.
Jarenton, Abbot (of St. Bénigne, Dijon), 337, 414, 458.
Jean le Bon, king of France, 308, 309, 327, 454.
Jean sans Peur, Duke of Burgundy, 143, 264, 265, 452, 523, 534.
Jeanne d’Arc, St., 13, 70, 71, 72, 73, 77, 87, 143, 152, 162, 166, 167, 168, 191, 192, 197, 201, 221, 222, 223, 225, 226, 233, 247, 254, 255, 296, 298, 315, 328, 338, 355, 356, 447, 448, 455, 476, 483, 497, 504, 505, 506, 508, 509, 520, 521-531, 533, 534, 535, 536, 544, 548, 555, 577.
Jeanne of Navarre and Champagne, 119, 120, 162, 166, 167, 232, 246, 247, 538.
Jeannin, Président, 423, 425.
Jerome, St., 9, 182, 444.
Jerusalem, 119, 142, 145, 154, 157, 274, 304, 311, 410, 485, 500, 508, 560, 561, 581.
Jesse Tree windows. See Glass, stained.
Jesus Christ, iconography of, 98, 120, 137, 142, 180, 183, 195, 199, 207, 208, 239, 240, 241, 288, 292, 317, 321, 322, 361, 373, 423, 438, 450, 520, 540, 560, 561, 574.
Jews in the Middle Ages, 12, 247, 336, 379, 408, 463, 468, 490.
Job, Book of, 217, 233.
Joffre, General, 198, 375.
John the Baptist, St., 146, 182, 210, 259, 347, 366, 408, 438, 441.
John the Evangelist, St., 9, 68, 204, 217, 219, 257, 259, 262, 281, 294, 310, 361, 396, 438, 441.
John Lackland, king of England, 275, 293, 297, 298, 299, 308, 313, 487, 503, 511, 537, 564.
John XXII, Pope, 264, 288, 289, 387, 407.
Johnson, Lionel, 165.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 294, 431.
Joinville, Jean, Sire de, 41, 70, 111, 119, 120, 138, 140, 152-162, 166, 190, 206, 219, 244, 245, 246, 247, 306, 312, 313, 326, 342, 399, 553.
Jouarre (Seine-et-Marne), crypt of, 168, 225, 411.
Joubert, J., 290.
Jubé, or rood screen, 239, 244, 247, 347, 373, 558, 560.
Judith of Brittany, Duchess of Normandy, 501.
Juliot, the (sculptors of Troyes), 235, 240, 241.
Jumièges (Seine-Inférieure), ruins of, 23, 116, 224, 411, 415, 480-483, 496, 509.
Juste, the (sculptors), 67, 564, 565.
K
Kensington Museum, 353.
Kernascleden (Morbihan), 559.
Keystones of Gothic vaults, 37, 48, 104, 150, 166, 301, 314, 444, 513.
Koran, the, 419.
Kreisker Tower, the. See St. Pol-de-Léon.
L
Lacordaire, J. B. H. D., 128, 430, 453, 462.
Lady chapel, 52, 203, 498, 515, 533, 540, 555, 569.
Lafayette family, burial place of, 335.
Lafenestre, George, 484.
La Ferté-Milon (Seine-et-Marne), 534.
Laffaux (Aisne), 45.
La Fontaine, 242.
Laic theory, the, 32, 100.
Lamartine, Alphonse de, 445.
Lamballe (Côtes-du-Nord), 559.
Lambin, Émile. See Bibliography.
Lamoricière, General de, 568.
Lampaul (Finistère).
Landrieux, Monseigneur, 188, 199.
Langeais (Indre-et-Loire), 566.
Langlois, Jean (architect), 237.
Langres (Haute-Marne), 424, 526.
Langrune (Calvados), 526.
Langton, Archbishop Stephen, 11, 41, 134, 432.
Languedoc, 11, 23, 24, 42, 356, 357, 361, 362, 365, 368, 370, 380, 384, 387;
Romanesque school of, 24, 28, 360, 361;
Romanesque sculpture of, 360, 361.
Lannion (Côtes-du-Nord), 557.
Laon (Aisne), 102, 103, 104, 106, 531;
Cathedral of, 7, 12, 32, 40, 74, 75, 76, 77, 99-106, 575, 581;
its glass and sculpture, 101;
its façade, 105;
St. Martin, 105, 106;
Templar’s church, 99, 106.
Laon, Anselm de, 104, 474, 512.
La Roche-Maurice (Finistère), 560.
Lasteyrie, Comte Robert de. See Bibliography.
Last Judgment, representation of, 147, 181, 195, 199, 217, 218, 375, 423, 426, 564.
Lateran, Church of the, 387;
4th Council of, 189, 206, 370.
Latin influences and vestiges in French art, 4, 9, 11, 18, 19, 21, 28, 30, 61, 193, 249, 257, 263, 270, 318, 336, 353, 384, 388, 389, 394, 398, 399, 400, 401, 403, 416, 418, 422, 424, 479, 507, 577, 579, 580.
La Trappe (Orne), Souligny, 418, 542.
Laurana, Francisco (sculptor), 279, 406.
Laurence, St., 224, 283.
Lavardin, Hildebert de, 41, 250, 269, 270, 271, 272, 275, 279.
Lavisse, Ernest, 76.
Lay-Ecclesiastic Controversy, the, 91, 94, 154, 173, 260, 267, 271, 282, 340, 432, 433, 434, 441, 475, 532, 556.
Lazarus, 395, 396, 424, 428, 436, 501, 580.
Le Braz, Anatole, 556, 568.
Lecuyer, Jean (vitrine artist), 223, 224.
Lefèvre-Pontalis, Eugène. See Bibliography.
Le Mans (Sarthe), 10, 274, 279, 349, 406, 454, 541;
Cathedral of, 13, 59, 125, 211, 212, 255, 268-279, 304, 315, 321, 351, 553;
glass of, 59, 220, 276, 277, 278;
St. Julien du Pré and the Couture church, 278, 280;
Henry II of England in Le Mans, 274.
Lenoncourt, Robert de (Archbishop of Rheims), 118, 198, 255.
Leo IX, Pope, 117, 542.
Leo XIII, Pope, 130, 385, 422, 521.
Leon, Cathedral of, 3, 242.
Le Pot, Nicolas, 51, 228.
Le Prince, Engrand (and sons, vitrine artists), 51, 144, 228, 517.
Le Puy (Haute-Loire), 342, 371, 566;
Cathedral of, 343, 344, 345;
St. Michel d’Aiguille, 343.
Lerens, Island of, 411.
Le Roux, Rouland (architect), 307, 498, 518, 519.
Les Andelys (Seine-Inférieure), 512, 513, 520.
Les Iff (Ille-et-Vilaine), 541, 559.
Les Noès (Aube), 238.
Les Saintes-Mariés (Bouches-du-Rhône), 239, 395, 396, 397.
Lessay (Manche), 473, 493, 512, 554.
Lèves, Geoffrey de (Bishop of Chartres), 60, 170, 173, 174, 181, 319, 361, 362, 469.
Liebnitz, 414.
Ligugé (Vienne), 321.
Lille (Nord), 226.
Limoges (Haute-Vienne), Cathedral of, 203, 334, 345-348, 380, 407, 408, 539;
St. Martial, 336, 345, 346, 348;
enamels of, 172, 341, 345, 349.
Lincoln, Cathedral of, 31, 134, 194, 298, 449, 516, 532.
Lincoln, St. Hugh of, 194, 263, 296.
Lisieux (Calvados), Cathedrals of, 113, 531-536;
St. Jacques, 518, 535.
Litchfield, Cathedral of, 516.
Literature in the Middle Ages, 4, 7, 9, 18, 31, 135, 150, 400;
XI-century, 106, 133, 171, 173, 195, 304, 318, 415, 417, 422, 424, 430, 432, 450, 461, 466, 474, 475, 478, 500, 501, 545, 549;
XII-century, 57, 116, 131, 133, 135, 174, 175, 176, 250, 270, 272, 273, 318, 345, 348, 398, 418, 419, 502, 537, 545;
XIII-century, 9, 119, 130, 131, 132, 135, 140, 158, 161, 166, 231, 232, 236, 238, 245, 246, 267, 334, 396;
XIV-century, 210, 287, 407, 551;
XV-century, 516, 517, 529, 565.
Loches (Indre-et-Loire), 44, 254;
Beaulieu-lès-Loches, 254.
Loctudy (Finistère), 557.
Loire, the, 10, 247, 254, 255, 304, 449, 565, 566.
Lombard architecture, 17, 24, 28, 29, 32, 44, 478, 479, 481, 493;
influences of, 28, 247, 360, 384, 395, 478, 481, 486, 493, 495.
Lombard, Pierre, 133, 134.
London, 486, 491, 517.
Longpont (Aisne), Abbey of, 107, 147, 431.
Longueil, Olivier de (Bishop of Coutances), 555.
Loti, Pierre, 199, 200, 561.
Lotte, Joseph, 499, 536.
Louis VI, 61, 122, 151.
Louis VII, 57, 60, 62, 70, 79, 84, 137, 138, 174, 245, 248, 250, 298, 299, 317, 351, 439.
Louis VIII, 69, 86, 96, 262.
Louis IX, St. Louis, 5, 9, 12, 14, 41, 52, 53, 54, 65, 66, 67, 70, 71, 86, 96, 106, 107, 118, 132, 135, 140, 143, 145, 152-162, 177, 184, 185, 193, 206, 218, 232, 248, 283, 299, 309, 310, 313, 314, 327, 334, 336, 375, 378, 390, 410, 435, 441, 489, 514, 538, 553, 579, 593.
Louis XI, 247, 255, 265, 309, 314, 452, 504, 540.
Louis XII, 67, 89, 96, 97, 373, 497, 534, 558, 565, 566.
Louis XIV, 70, 384, 405.
Louis XV and Louis XVI, 70.
Louis-Philippe, 66, 157.
Loup, St. (Bishop of Troyes), 231.
Loutil, Abbé (Pierre l’Hermite), 129.
Louviers (Eure), 518, 536.
Lowell, James Russell, 100, 170.
Loyola, St. Ignatius, 151.
Lozinga, Herbert (Bishop of Norwich), 494, 496.
Luce, Siméon, 490, 499, 520, 526, 557.
Lugo, Cathedral of, 465.
Lusarches, Robert de (sculptor), 204, 205, 248.
Luxeuil (Haute-Saône), monastery of, 122, 410, 411, 483.
Lyénin, family of (vitrine artists), 233, 234, 241.
Lyons, 13, 39, 336, 400; Cathedral of, 211, 212, 220, 248, 256-268;
Councils of, 263, 267, 268, 456;
glass and sculpture of, 262, 263, 264, 265;
St. Martin d’Ainay, 225, 259, 260.
M
Mabillon, Dom, 149, 418, 461.
Macadré family, the (sculptors), 233, 234, 240.
Mâcon, Hugues de (Bishop of Auxerre), 431, 447.
Magdeburg, Cathedral of, 2, 3, 77.
Magna Charta, 1215, 11, 12, 15, 432.
Maguelonne (Hérault), 11, 28, 330, 384, 388, 389.
Maine, Province of, 269, 271, 274, 302.
Maine de Biran, 579.
Maistre, Joseph de, 222, 411.
Malachy, O’Morgair, St., 4, 41, 463, 498.
Mâle, Émile. See Bibliography.
Manchon, secretary of Jeanne d’Arc’s trial, 523, 524, 525, 526.
Mansurah, 1250, battle of, 8, 111, 155, 156, 159, 453.
Mantegna, 341.
Mantes (Seine-et-Oise), Collegiate of Notre Dame at, 113, 162-165, 488; its
Chapel of Navarre, 164, 538, 539.
Marbeau, Monseigneur (Bishop of Meaux), 168.
Marburg, Church of St. Elizabeth at, 112, 122, 280, 313.
Marcherez, Madame Jeanne, 112.
Marguerite of Austria, 264.
Marguerite of Burgundy, 295, 427.
Marguerite of Flanders, 454, 455.
Marguerite of Provence, 96, 153, 154, 390.
Marie Antoinette, 70.
Marie of Champagne, Countess, 245, 299.
Maritain, Jacques, 224.
Marle, Thomas de, 102, 103.
Marmoutier (Indre-et-Loire), 251, 387, 400, 402.
Marolles (Oise), 45.
Marseilles, 28, 400, 401;
St. Victor’s abbatial, 387.
Martha, St., 239, 240, 247, 281, 395, 396, 403, 424.
Martin, St., 5, 9, 148, 185, 248, 249, 250, 253, 304, 315, 316, 321, 324, 446.
Martin, Thérèse, the “Little Flower,” 535, 536.
Marville, Jean de, 456, 520.
Mary of Burgundy, 264.
Mary Magdalene, 239, 240, 247, 254, 281, 353, 395, 396, 401, 402, 424, 436, 441, 442.
Matha, St. Jean de, 139, 404, 405.
Matilda, wife of William the Conqueror, 216, 295, 482, 484, 485, 486, 546, 549.
Massillon, Bishop, 335, 365.
Maulbronn, Cistercian church of, 464.
Maurice and the Theban Legion, St., 5, 248, 303, 304.
Maurille, Archbishop (of Rouen), 482, 485, 510, 511.
Meaux (Seine-et-Marne), Cathedral of, 96, 152, 165-168, 247, 538.
Mellifont Abbey (Co. Louth), 3, 464.
Melrose Abbey (Roxburghshire), 3, 464.
Mende (Cantal), Cathedral of, 330, 387.
Merimée, Prosper, 38, 285, 312, 321, 331, 341, 343, 370, 373, 383, 395.
Merovingian vestiges and times, 20, 56, 57, 77, 78, 84, 171, 224, 225, 249, 305, 324, 325, 470, 471, 480.
Metz (Lorraine), 226, 242.
Mézerai, François Eudes de, 298, 519, 520.
Mézières (Ardennes), 226.
Michael, St., 330, 343, 372, 499, 500, 504, 505, 520, 522, 553.
Michael Angelo, 183, 374.
Midi, Gothic in the, 329, 330, 346, 354, 377, 380, 386, 398, 402, 407, 408;
Romanesque in the, 25, 329, 330, 337, 339, 340, 342, 355, 359, 360, 371, 376, 381, 398, 403, 406.
Milan, 3, 28, 29, 338, 384, 464, 465, 466.
Military orders, 86, 106, 189, 246, 311, 326, 466, 504.
Missions in the Middle Ages, foreign, 327, 369, 386, 404, 405, 415, 419.
Mistral, Frédéric, 356, 357, 384, 397, 400, 466, 504, 581.
Modena, Cathedral of, 273, 361, 374, 395.
Moissac (Tarn-et-Garonne), 24, 28, 31, 288, 330, 360, 361, 415.
Moles, Arnaud de, 358, 374.
Molière, 36, 370.
Moncontour (Ille-et-Vilaine), 559.
Monk-builders, 17, 21, 22, 24, 25, 33, 34, 280, 295, 360, 361, 365, 371, 392, 410, 411, 412, 413, 415, 416, 417, 422, 437, 440, 473, 475, 481, 493, 494, 496, 498, 502, 554.
Montaigne, 350, 451.
Montaigu, Gilles Aycelin de, 381, 515.
Montalembert, Charles de, 237, 256, 280, 411, 414, 476.
Montbard (Côte-d’Or), 430, 453.
Montboissier, Pons de (Abbot of Vézelay), 338, 341, 418, 438, 439;
Peter de. See Peter the Venerable.
Montecorvino, John of, 326, 327.
Monteil, Adhémar de (Bishop of Le Puy), 344, 345.
Montereau, Pierre de (architect), 35, 53, 66, 70, 141, 146, 149, 150, 280, 299.
Montfort, Bertrada de, 173, 295, 323, 549.
Montfort, Simon de, 14, 353, 357, 362, 369, 370, 376, 383, 386.
Montfort-l’Amaury (Seine-et-Oise), 144.
Montier-en-Der (Haute-Marne), 239.
Montmajour-lès-Arles, 398, 399, 400.
Montmorency (Seine-et-Oise), 144;
art patrons, 144, 254, 347, 390, 408, 559.
Montpellier (Hérault), 369, 385-387;
Cathedral of, 384, 385, 386;
le Perou, 385, 400, 407.
Montréal (Yonne), 121, 428, 429.
Mont-Saint-Michel, 22, 34, 226, 322, 371, 435, 473, 482, 483, 487, 495, 499-507, 527, 529, 551, 554, 559;
the Merveille, 503.
Mont-Sainte-Odile (Alsace), 485.
Montvilliers (Seine-Inférieure), 491, 555.
Morel, Jacques (sculptor), 254, 265, 266, 308, 456.
Morlaix (Finistère), 559, 560.
Mortagne, Gautier de (Bishop of Laon), 105.
Mortain (Manche), Abbey of La Blanche, 473, 554.
Moses, 182, 438, 455.
Mouliherne (Seine-et-Loire), 315.
Moulins (Allier), 226, 265, 266, 322, 541.
Mowbray, Geoffrey de (Bishop of Coutances), 552.
Mozac (Puy-de-Dôme), 340, 341, 349.
Musset, Alfred de, 16.
Mussy-sur-Seine (Aube), 239.
Mystery plays, influence on sculpture of, 180, 223, 281, 455, 540, 578.
N
Nantes (Loire-Inférieure), Cathedral of, 255, 256, 557, 558, 563, 565-568.
Naples, Gothic in, 465.
Napoleon, 70, 259, 420, 446.
Narbonne (Aude), 368, 378, 408;
Cathedral of, 11, 203, 330, 336, 357, 364, 378-382, 390, 515, 539.
Narthex, or forechurch, 18, 57, 419, 424, 427, 436, 437, 457, 460, 532.
Navarre, 167, 232, 237.
Navas de Toloso, Las, 115, 153, 385, 538.
Neale, Rev. John Mason, 19, 214, 414, 421, 451.
Nemours, Pierre de (Bishop of Noyon), 80, 139, 243.
Nevers (Nièvre), Cathedral of, 413, 449, 566;
St. Étienne, 215, 254, 340, 495.
New Alliance windows. See Glass, stained.
Newman, Cardinal, 123.
Niçaise, St., 193, 194, 202.
Nicolas of Bari, St., 185, 239, 451.
Nîmes (Gard), 397, 400.
Nolasco, St. Peter, 369, 386.
Nonancourt (Eure), 536.
Norbert, St., 2, 4, 104, 467.
Normandy, 40, 223, 226, 242, 274, 472-556;
Gothic of, 494, 499, 504, 505, 508, 518, 533, 543, 547, 553, 554;
first Gothic vaults of, 30, 46, 478, 479, 493, 554;
sexpartite vaults of, 481, 482;
Romanesque school of, 17, 23, 30, 476-480, 481, 485, 486, 493, 502, 546, 554;
architectural influences of, 11, 46, 48, 163, 165, 276, 479, 555;
monasteries of, 372, 373, 374, 480, 484, 492, 494, 498, 499, 554;
Normans in Sicily, 132, 542, 552, 554, 555;
Norse invasions, 20, 21, 171, 324, 336, 477, 483, 495, 501, 510.
Norrey (Calvados), 491.
Norwich, Cathedral of, 430, 487, 496.
Notre Dame, the term, 565;
devotion to, 5, 126, 137, 138, 169, 170, 193, 343, 344, 404, 465, 511, 564, 571, 572;
iconography of, 85, 101, 123, 137, 138, 180, 182, 193, 208, 209, 240, 242, 244, 278, 280, 282, 342, 361, 362, 373, 541.
Notre-Dame-de-l’Épine (Marne), 242, 244.
Noyes, Alfred., 282.
Noyon (Oise), Cathedral of, 12, 33, 74, 75, 76, 78-84, 99, 112;
commune of, 12, 79;
World War havoc in, 2, 76, 82, 83.
O
Odilo. St. (Abbot of Cluny), 266, 414, 422.
Odo de Conteville (Bishop of Bayeux), 337, 545, 546, 547, 549, 552.
Orbais (Marne).
Orbais, Jean d’ (architect), 34, 190, 191, 192.
Orcival (Puy-de-Dôme), 340.
Ordericus Vitalis, 272, 492, 537.
Orders, mediæval religious, 414, 420;
Trinitarians, or Mathurins, 401, 405;
Order of Mercy, 369, 386.
See Carthusians, Cistercians, Cluny, Dominicans, Franciscans, Fontevrault, Prémontré.
Orgeval (Seine-et-Oise), 45.
Oriflamme of St. Denis, the, 61, 70, 71.
Orléans (Loiret), 2, 328, 504, 521, 526, 527, 529, 533;
Cathedral of, 2, 7, 218, 224, 254;
family of, 499.
Orléans, Charles d’, 67, 315, 497, 516, 517, 529, 534, 565.
Orléans, Louis, Duke d’, 67, 143, 497, 534.
O’Toole, St. Laurence, 498, 499.
Ourscamp (Oise), hospital and abbey of, 80, 96, 150, 431.
Oxford, 327, 407, 434, 516, 519.
Ozanam, Frédéric, 135, 259, 268, 508.
P
Palermo, 549, 555.
Papacy in the Middle Ages, the, 22, 23, 79, 91, 95, 135, 154, 171, 177, 194, 206, 239, 240, 243, 266, 267, 268, 291, 337, 388, 364, 367, 369, 370, 385, 386, 387, 388, 392, 393, 407, 408, 409, 411, 412, 416, 419, 466, 468, 489, 501, 578.
Paray-le-Monial (Allier), 410, 421, 422.
Paris, 7, 82, 126, 133, 317, 419, 445, 513, 527, 530;
Cathedral of Notre Dame, 3, 6, 7, 13, 33, 41, 59, 74, 85, 99, 100, 112, 126-146, 163, 167, 181, 182, 204, 213, 215, 228, 229, 290, 413, 416, 434, 489, 554, 575;
Flamboyant Gothic churches in, 144;
glass, school of, 59, 143, 145, 146, 252, 334;
Hôtel Cluny, 53, 97, 222, 335, 373, 421;
Hôtel Sens, 97;
Louvre, the, 425, 426;
Montmartre, church of St. Pierre de, 56, 148, 151,
and Sacré-Cœur basilica of, 151, 292;
Sainte-Chapelle, the, 132, 145, 146, 203, 205, 229, 252, 334, 538;
St. Germain-des-Prés, 33, 34, 148, 149, 415;
St. Germain l’Auxerrois, 152, 446;
St. Julien-le-Pauvre, 147, 431;
St. Martin-des-Champs, 33, 45, 148, 150;
St. Séverin, 152, 541;
St. Victor, Abbey of, 133, 134, 135, 468;
sculpture of, 131, 132, 137, 138, 139, 141, 142, 146, 147, 149;
Trocadéro Museum, 38, 244, 340, 353;
University of, 7, 41, 104, 133, 134, 147, 294, 327, 404, 408, 428, 434, 463, 469, 474, 476, 521, 524, 530, 534, 573.
Paris, Gaston, 135, 152, 242, 245, 565.
Parthenay (Deux-Sèvres), 321, 340.
Pascal, 331, 332.
Paschal II, Pope, 173, 250, 259, 261, 266, 291, 295, 415, 417, 428, 458.
Pasquier, Étienne, 521.
Passavent, Guillaume de (Bishop of Le Mans), 269, 272, 273, 274, 275.
Pasteur, Louis, 428.
Pater, Walter, 170, 432, 578.
Patrick, St., 446, 536, 537.
Paul, St., 9, 95, 208, 217, 273, 387, 389, 399, 442, 466, 567.
Paul, St. Vincent de, 151, 259, 402, 508.
Pavia (Lombardy), 437.
Péguy, Charles, 72, 73, 168, 179, 197, 536, 545.
Peking, 327.
Penafort, St. Raymond of, 369.
Penmarc’h (Finistère), 560, 561.
Pépin, 57.
Périgieux (Dordogne), Cathedral of St. Front, 47, 288-290., 291, 465.
Péronne (Somme), 82, 124, 226, 411.
Perpignan (Pyrénées Orientales), 382.
Perréal, Jean, 264, 568.
Peter, St., 9, 103, 148, 182, 186, 208, 218, 273, 317, 387, 388, 389, 399, 416, 438, 482, 565, 567.
Peter of Aragon, 385.
Peter the Venerable, 41, 60, 152, 174, 243, 341, 393, 414, 417, 418, 419, 435, 438, 463, 467.
Peterborough, Cathedral of, 482, 487, 562.
Petrarch, 239, 386, 406, 408.
Philibert, St., 413, 483.
Philippe I, king of France, 51, 173, 295, 323, 549.
Philippe-Auguste, 12, 14, 53, 54, 60, 62, 69, 70, 80, 94, 96, 108, 135, 136, 162, 163, 177, 194, 195, 234, 251, 267, 274, 275, 280, 309, 310, 340, 432, 440, 489, 503, 511, 513, 525, 537, 538.
Philippe III, the Bold, 67, 71, 247, 338, 375, 390, 408.
Philippe IV, le Bel, 13, 326, 489, 538.
Philippe le Hardi, Duke of Burgundy, 220, 232, 264, 353, 443, 452, 454;
tomb of, 455.
Philippe le Bon, Duke of Burgundy, 426, 427, 452, 527.
Picardy, 202, 203, 210, 503.
Pierrefonds (Oise), 534.
Piers, development of, 23, 24, 25, 26, 49, 55, 93, 100, 111, 122, 127, 166, 213, 214, 320, 333, 346, 358, 377, 380, 402, 514, 532.
Pilasters, channeled, 416, 422, 424.
Pilgrim shrines, mediæval, 6, 94, 157, 179, 185, 249, 250, 289, 324, 325, 343, 395, 436, 437, 498, 500, 551.
Pilon, Germain (sculptor), 68, 278.
Pinaigrier (vitrine artist), 149, 254.
Pisa, 417, 460.
Pisano, Niccola, 29.
Pius IX, Pope, 377.
Pius X, Pope, 188.
Plantagenet Gothic, 10, 39, 113, 250, 273, 275, 278, 291-301, 307, 311, 312, 314, 315, 317, 351.
Plantagenet tombs, the, 293, 296, 297.
Plato, 132, 169, 475.
Plélan (Ille-et-Vilaine), 541.
Pleyben (Finistère), 561.
Ploërmel (Morbihan), 559.
Plougastel-Daoulas (Finistère), 561.
Plougonven (Finistère), 561.
Poblet (Catalonia), Monastery of, 380, 381, 464.
Poissy (Seine-et-Oise), 45, 53, 54, 574.
Poitiers, 40, 221, 255, 286, 318, 324, 325, 327, 328, 454;
Cathedral of, 10, 57, 279, 312, 316-322;
Baptistry of St. Jean, 225;
Counts of, 298, 318: see Guillaume VIII, IX, and X;
glass of, 10, 59, 317, 321, 322;
Minerva statue, 325;
Montierneuf, 318;
Notre Dame-la-Grande, 24, 318, 323;
Palais de Justice (Counts’ palace), 326, 327, 328;
St. Hilaire, 172, 319, 323, 324, 344;
Ste. Radégonde, 325, 326, 327, 539;
University of, 325.
Poitiers, Alphonse de, 156, 313, 320, 362, 370, 408.
Poitiers, Diane de, 144, 172, 515.
Poitou, 5, 10, 39;
Romanesque school of, 24, 38, 291, 311, 316, 319, 320, 321, 323, 355.
Polo, Marco, 299, 327.
Polychrome decoration, 339, 340, 343.
Pont-Audemer (Eure), 541.
Pont-de-l’Arche (Eure), 536, 539.
Pontigny (Yonne), Cistercian abbatial of, 11, 33, 93, 215, 239, 261, 430-435, 447.
Pontoise (Seine-et-Oise), 45, 53, 54, 57, 65.
Portals, sculptured, 4, 95, 180, 181, 182, 239, 252, 253, 261, 273, 289, 394, 398, 418, 428, 438, 514, 515, 517, 518, 550, 561.
Porter, Arthur Kingsley. See Bibliography.
Portugal, 38, 454.
Pot, Philippe (Seneschal of Burgundy), 144, 425.
Pothimus, St. (Bishop of Lyons), 257, 258, 259.
Prague, 3, 203, 387.
Prémontré, Order of, 34, 104, 122, 468, 543.
Primary Gothic, 68, 74-125, 75, 76, 77, 108, 109, 110, 113, 114, 125, 303, 306, 440, 494, 508, 511, 580.
Primitifs, French, 265, 404.
Prophets and patriarchs, in art, 182, 262, 373, 404, 455.
Provence, 112, 113, 114, 153, 309, 361, 390, 397, 400, 402, 441, 465;
Romanesque school of, 23, 24, 398, 403, 405, 406;
sculpture of, 361, 392, 394, 395, 398;
tradition of the Saintes Maries in, 436, 441.
Provins (Seine-et-Marne), 7, 119-121, 538;
St. Quiriace, 123.
Psichari, Ernest, 168, 572, 574.
Puvis de Chavannes, 216, 259.
Puy-Notre-Dame (Maine-et-Loire), 314, 319.
Q
Quimper (Finistère), Cathedral of, 541, 557, 559, 563, 568-571.
Quimperlé (Finistère), 31, 557, 560.
R
Races in France, amalgamation of, 4, 5, 21, 135, 248, 378, 388.
See Barbarian invasions, Celtic element, Gallo-Romans, and Latin influences.
Racine, 36, 242.
Radegund, Queen, 4, 10, 78, 84, 324, 325, 327.
Rationale, or the symbolism of churches, 19, 69, 214, 267, 359, 377, 387, 400, 401.
Raymond IV, of Toulouse, 391.
Raymond VI, of Toulouse, 297, 357, 369, 376, 392, 394.
Raymond VII, 297, 370.
Rayonnant Gothic, 12, 13, 105, 116, 130, 141, 232, 236, 237, 277, 346, 352, 353, 354, 380, 497, 508, 509, 514, 515, 516, 538, 543, 548, 573, 577.
Rebirth of architecture after the year 1000, 20, 22, 422, 458, 575.
Reclus, O., 498.
Redon (Ille-et-Vilaine), 256, 268.
Regnault, Guillaume (sculptor), 67, 256, 568.
Remigius, St., 118, 191, 194.
See Rheims, Church of St. Remi.
Renaissance, the classic, 10, 152, 179, 180, 228, 239, 240, 243, 246, 279, 281, 282, 295, 306, 374, 375, 406, 483, 489, 497, 513, 515, 541, 560, 564, 566, 567, 568, 577.
Renan, Ernest, 27, 258, 462, 572, 574.
René, King, of Anjou, 221, 222, 277, 279, 305, 308, 309, 314, 402, 404, 540.
Revolution, devastation by the French, 2, 34, 69, 81, 122, 139, 144, 149, 153, 155, 209, 221, 239, 240, 241, 243, 249, 265, 266, 279, 308, 336, 347, 348, 358, 363, 374, 393, 420, 421, 423, 455, 457, 461, 497, 515, 519, 548, 554, 556, 573, 577.
Rheims (Marne), 2, 6, 10, 32, 40, 61, 77, 153, 197-201, 425, 527, 538;
Cathedral of, 34, 122, 188-201, 209, 211, 242, 244, 284, 475, 581;
its sculpture, 6, 192, 193, 195, 196, 204, 208;
St. Remi, 7, 33, 74, 76, 77, 105, 109, 116-119, 121, 196, 242, 322, 415, 575;
World War devastation by, 2, 76, 196, 197-202, 581.
Rhenish school, the, 24, 27, 28, 164, 177, 449.
Rhuis (Oise), 45.
Richard I, the Fearless, Duke of Normandy, 495, 501.
Richard II, the Good, Duke of Normandy, 485, 492, 495, 501, 502, 510.
Richard Cœur-de-Lion, 10, 14, 177, 245, 251, 267, 269, 274, 279, 293, 296, 297, 298, 299, 304, 319, 340, 348, 351, 440, 491, 511, 513, 514, 537, 538.
Richelieu, 282, 289.
Riom (Puy-de-Dôme), 340, 341, 342, 387, 541;
Virgin of the Bird, the, 342, 490, 577.
Robert the Magnificent, Duke of Normandy, 544, 545, 554.
Roc-amadour (Lot), 289.
Rochester, Cathedral of, 482, 485.
Rodez (Aveyron), Cathedral of, 203, 226, 330, 370, 374, 577.
Rodin, Auguste, 114, 172, 189, 196, 215, 250, 272, 278, 390, 472, 575.
Roland, Chanson de, 106, 184, 194, 246, 355, 356, 500, 501, 545, 549, 580.
Rolin, Nicolas, 425, 426, 427.
Rollo, Duke of Normandy, 477, 482, 503, 510.
Roman centers in Gaul, 9, 91, 379, 398, 424.
Romanesque architecture, 16, 17, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 43, 44, 48, 49, 187, 225, 287, 291, 320, 321, 323, 329, 340, 344, 359, 361, 362, 378, 403, 406, 422, 427, 433, 476-486, 493, 546, 557, 575;
Romanesque sculpture, 51, 288, 291, 292, 361, 480, 546, 547;
Romanesque traits in Gothic art, 55, 75, 80, 81, 82, 92, 95, 99, 100, 116, 117, 120, 127, 149, 150, 180, 181, 223, 242, 261, 378, 394, 419, 429, 434, 437, 488, 513, 532, 547, 553, 575.
Rome, 11, 18, 19, 81, 119, 204, 230, 250, 257, 320, 327, 329, 343, 372, 375, 385, 387, 388, 397, 398, 405, 406, 407, 409, 416, 424, 434, 464, 472, 479, 564.
Roncevaux, 778;
battle of, 8, 194, 355, 500, 545, 580.
Roquefort, Pierre de (Bishop of Carcassonne), 377.
Ros, Guillaume de (Abbot of Fécamp), 496, 497.
Roscoff (Finistère), 560.
Rosnay (Aube), 239.
Rostand, Edmond, 391, 559.
Rouen, 10, 13, 33, 507-530, 535, 538, 554, 558;
Cathedral of, 104, 113, 129, 322, 373, 475, 494, 499, 507-520, 523, 524, 531, 541, 555, 577;
Abbatial of St. Ouen, 415, 472, 475, 487, 491, 507, 509, 516, 520, 522, 524, 530, 534, 541;
Flamboyant towers, 509, 517, 518;
Hôtel du Bourgtherould, 519;
Palais de Justice, 222, 518;
St. Gervais, 510;
St. Julien, Petit-Quevilly, 511, 512;
St. Maclou, 404, 492, 515, 517, 541;
St. Vincent, 517;
sons of, 519;
trial of Jeanne d’Arc in, 521-530.
Rouilly (Aube), 239.
Roullet (Charente), 291.
Rousse, Joseph, 563.
Royal (Puy-de-Dôme), 332.
Rubruquis, William of, 327.
Rue (Somme), 222.
Ruffec (Charente), 291.
Ruskin, John, 1, 3, 15, 208, 209, 556.
S
Sablé (Sarthe), 280, 282.
St. Albans (Hertfordshire), Abbey of, 487.
St. Andre-lès-Troyes (Aube), 238.
St. Astier (Dordogne), 288, 289.
St. Bartholomew Massacre, 1572, the, 425, 566.
St. Benoît-sur-Loire (Loiret), 254, 566.
St. Bertrand-de-Comminges (Haute-Garonne), 354, 406.
St. Brieuc (Côtes-du-Nord), 557, 572.
St. Catherine de Fierbois (Indre-et-Loire), 254.
St. Cher, Cardinal Hugues de, 134.
St. Denis-en-France, Abbey of, 21, 31, 33, 44, 45, 51, 52, 54-72, 125, 132, 146, 147, 175, 336, 339, 415, 482, 486, 565, 581;
built by Abbot Suger, 56, 57, 58, 59, 64;
rebuilt by St. Louis, 65, 66;
dedicated, 60, 319;
its deviated axis, 68;
glass of, 55, 58, 59, 60, 64, 66, 183, 184, 279;
influence of, 65, 66, 74, 173, 175, 307, 321;
tombs of, 66, 67, 68, 153;
notable gatherings in, 56, 57, 60, 70.
Ste. Baume (Var), 396.
Sainte-Beuve, Ch. A., 158, 451, 453.
Saintes (Charente-Inférieure), 226, 287, 340.
Saintes-Chapelles, various, 52, 66, 145, 146, 153, 205, 206, 221, 341.
St. Évroult (Orne), 473, 537, 542.
St. Fiacre-du-Faouët (Morbihan), 560.
St. Florent-lès-Saumur (Maine-et-Loire), 314, 315, 566.
St. Florentin (Yonne), 239.
St. Flour (Cantal), 408, 487.
St. Gall, Switzerland, Abbey of, 411.
St. Georges de Boscherville (Seine-Inférieure), 473, 492-494, 532.
St. Germain-en-Laye (Seine-et-Oise), 53, 66, 235.
St. Germain-sur-Vienne, 314.
St. Germer-en-Flay (Oise), 45, 51, 52, 53, 66.
St. Gildas-de-Rhuis (Morbihan), 557.
St. Gilles (Gard), 11, 24, 31, 323, 330, 388, 390, 391-396.
St. Guilhem-le-Désert (Hérault), 318, 384.
St. Jean-du-Doigt (Finistère), 558.
St. Jouin-de-Marne (Deux-Sèvres), 224, 321.
St. Julien-du-Sault (Yonne), 98.
St. Léger-lès-Troyes (Aube), 239.
St. Leu d’Esserent (Oise), 45, 46, 74, 76, 113, 121, 123-125.
St. Lô (Manche), 518, 541, 554.
St. Loup (Aube), 239.
St. Loup-de-Naud (Seine-et-Marne), 120.
St. Maixent (Deux-Sèvres), 225, 321, 415.
St. Malo (Ille-et-Vilaine), 4, 562, 563.
St. Maur, Congregation of, 37, 41, 418, 483, 507, 548.
St. Maximin (Var), 280, 309, 330, 400, 402.
St. Mihiel (Meuse), 281.
St. Nectaire (Puy-de-Dôme), 340.
St. Nicolas-du-Port (Meurthe-et-Moselle), 226, 358.
St. Parre-lès-Tertres (Aube), 238.
St. Père-sous-Vézelay (Yonne), 436.
St. Pierre-sur-Dives (Calvados), 33, 473, 491.
St. Pol-de-Léon (Finistère), Cathedral of, 557, 563, 568, 570-572;
the Kreisker Tower, 12, 557, 562.
St. Ponanges (Aube), 239.
St. Quentin (Aisne), 2, 115, 224, 226, 242, 282-284.
St. Riquier (Somme), 226, 411.
St. Satur (Cher), 254, 566.
St. Saturnin (Puy-de-Dôme), 340.
St. Savin-sur-Gartemps, 320, 321, 415.
St. Thégonnec (Finistère), 561.
St. Vaast-lès-Mello (Oise), 45.
St. Victor’s Abbey, Paris, 133, 135;
Adam de St. Victor, 133, 134, 468;
Hugues de St. Victor, 133, 468;
Richard de St. Victor, 133, 135, 468;
St. Victor’s Abbey at Marseilles, 387, 468.
St. Wandrille (Seine-Inférieure), Abbatial ruins of, 373, 411, 415, 472, 473, 483.
Salamanca, 327, 465.
Salazar, Tristan de (Archbishop of Sens), 97.
Sales, St. François de, 151, 259, 508.
Salisbury, Cathedral of, 434, 516, 532.
Salisbury, John of (Bishop of Chartres), 4, 41, 94, 116, 120, 134, 136, 170, 175, 176, 183, 433, 532.
San Galgano (province of Siena), 465.
Sanglier, Henri le, (Archbishop of Sens), 92, 132, 467.
Santa-Creus (Catalonia), 464, 465.
Santayana, George, 169, 170.
Santiago Compostela, 185, 222, 250, 319, 340, 360, 361, 371.
Saracens, 6, 124, 158, 159, 160, 184, 323, 326, 336, 338, 355, 388, 389, 390, 395, 402, 404, 405.
Sarcey, Madame Yvonne, 102.
Saulieu (Côte-d’Or), 410, 423, 429.
Saumur (Marne-et-Loire), 286, 295, 312-316.
Scandinavia, Gothic in, 324, 412, 464, 465, 477, 479, 480.
Schism of the West, Great, 222, 409, 455, 540;
the Greek Schism, 14, 268, 456.
Scholastics, mediæval, 8, 39, 95, 96, 104, 130, 132, 133, 136, 138, 139, 175, 209, 224, 299, 334, 446, 473, 474, 475, 476, 575.
Schools, mediæval, 7, 61, 104, 133, 134, 170, 171, 172, 299, 415, 446, 474, 487, 496.
Sculpture, 6, 8, 11, 35, 37, 39, 126, 167, 454, 560;
XI-century, 361, 418, 423, 437, 438;
XII-century, 65, 85, 120, 134, 138, 180, 181, 273, 306, 330, 339, 340, 394, 422;
XIII-century, 66, 69, 101, 122, 137, 141, 142, 167, 192, 195, 196, 205, 208, 209, 217, 239, 252, 273, 278, 444;
XIV-century, 166, 167, 252, 253, 59, 263, 373, 377, 387, 436, 447, 514;
XV-century, 67, 167, 181, 209, 247, 263, 281, 282, 327, 406, 429, 454, 566;
XVI-century, 10, 67, 180, 210, 218, 233, 255, 256, 265, 278, 280, 281, 322, 327, 342, 373, 404, 490, 515, 577;
XVII-century, 210, 518, 560, 561, 567, 568.
Séché, Léon, 556.
Secqueville (Calvados), 491.
Séez (Orne), Cathedral of, 166, 539, 542-544.
Seignelay, Guillaume de (Bishop of Paris), 32, 139, 446, 447.
Semur-en-Auxois (Côte-d’Or), 413, 443, 444.
Senlis (Oise), 14, 33, 40, 74, 77, 84-90, 99, 425;
Cathedral of, 74, 75, 76, 78, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89, 90, 99, 112, 124, 490, 508;
its tower, 76;
St. Frambourg, 88;
Abbaye de la Victoire;
World War devastations, 89, 90.
Sens (Yonne), 91, 99, 433, 532;
Cathedral of, 74, 75, 91, 92, 93, 94, 112, 153;
glass of, 97, 98, 100;
noted archbishops of, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96;
St. Louis in, 96;
St. Thomas Becket in, 91, 93, 95.
Sens, Guillaume de (architect), 30, 93, 94, 532.
Sévigné, Madame de, 398, 453.
Seville, 185, 299.
Shakespeare, 4, 5, 159, 162.
Sibyls in French art, the, 98, 224, 228, 238, 239, 243, 258, 404, 448, 449.
Sicily, 309, 464, 465, 479, 554, 555;
Sicilian Vespers, 1280, the, 156, 299, 427.
Sidonius Apollinaris, 261, 331, 379.
Siena, Cathedral of, 29, 406, 465.
Sigüenza, Cathedral of, 465.
Sixteenth-century religious wars, destruction by, 2, 34, 69, 107, 108, 167, 218, 249, 254, 266, 279, 290, 292, 308, 314, 319, 324, 393, 406, 408, 420, 425, 437, 446, 451, 488, 509, 520, 546, 552, 554, 556, 577.
Smith, Marion Couthouy, 506.
Soissons (Aisne), 77, 103, 107, 108, 112, 424;
Cathedral of, 6, 12, 33, 74, 75, 77, 78, 106-114, 122, 185, 215, 302, 547, 569, 581;
St. Jean-des-Vignes, 106, 108;
St. Léger, 106, 122;
World War, destruction by, 107, 108, 112.
Solesmes (Sarthe), 255, 278-282, 308, 490, 494, 577;
Saints of, 255, 280, 281, 282.
Solignac (Haute Vienne), 291.
Solomon’s Judgment, 447, 515.
Sorbon, Robert de, 8, 133, 134.
Sorel, Agnes, 254, 255, 483.
Soufflot (architect), 423, 460.
Souillac (Lot), 291.
Souvestre, Émile, 560.
Souvigny (Allier), Abbatial and tombs of, 265, 266, 456.
Spain, 3, 416, 420, 465, 563;
French architectural influences in, 23, 38, 115, 185, 337, 361, 380, 385, 416, 419, 465.
Spandrels, ensculptured, 444, 448, 449, 547, 555.
Stephen, St., 95, 96, 141, 167, 224, 346, 347, 357, 396, 445, 449.
Suger, Abbot, 5, 6, 14, 31, 34, 40, 43, 44, 45, 52, 55-65, 66, 68, 69, 79, 84, 103, 143, 144, 175, 181, 189, 295, 298, 306, 319, 321, 339, 371, 417, 418, 467, 579.
Sully, Eudes de (Bishop of Paris), 137, 138, 139, 215, 232, 299;
Henri de, 139, 215, 299.
Sully, Maurice de (Bishop of Paris), 33, 41, 94, 133, 136, 138, 181, 229, 405.
Summa, the, 130, 131, 132, 334.
Symbolism in mediæval art, 9, 12, 19, 36, 56, 64, 68, 69, 105, 136, 139, 195, 207, 214, 219, 253, 262, 289, 324, 371, 396, 400, 401, 404, 424, 438, 450, 514, 578, 579.
T
Taine, H., 53, 108, 420.
Taj, the (Agra), 442.
Tancreds, the, 10, 106, 323, 554, 555.
Tapestry, mediæval, 118, 196, 309, 313, 314, 335, 427, 519, 548, 549.
Taragona (Catalonia), 381.
Tarentaise, Pierre de (Innocent IV), 268.
Tarascon (Bouches-du-Rhône), 239, 396.
Templars, Order of, 12, 62, 99, 106, 246, 261, 326, 379, 466, 557.
Temple, Raymond du (architect), 164, 232.
Tennyson, Alfred, 433.
Tenth century, horrors of the, 20, 21, 411.
Thibaut IV, le chansonnier, 119, 157, 231, 236, 246, 247, 299, 313, 432, 538.
Thibaut V, Count of Champagne, 119, 120, 159.
Thierry, A., 23, 435, 472, 480.
Thomas, St., 8, 9, 220, 441.
Thompson, Francis, 197.
Tillières (Eure), 536, 541.
Tintern Abbey (Monmouthshire), 3, 464.
Toledo, 3, 264, 337.
Tombs, mediæval, 11, 66, 67, 69, 244, 254, 256, 266, 308, 405, 406, 407, 408, 425, 455, 456, 504, 515, 519, 564, 567, 568.
Tonnerre (Yonne), Hospital of, 295, 427, 429.
Torigny, Robert de (Abbot of Mont-Saint-Michel), 499, 502, 532.
Toucy, Hugues de (Archbishop of Sens), 92, 93, 94, 96.
Toul (Meurthe-et-Moselle), 226, 242.
Toulouse (Haute-Garonne), 330, 356, 357, 359, 368, 387, 391, 407, 466, 539;
Cathedral of, 330, 356, 357, 358;
Jacobins Church, 11, 358, 359, 372;
museum of, 256, 259, 360;
St. Sernin, 24, 250, 330, 336, 338, 340, 356, 359, 360, 361, 415.
Tour, Guy de la, 267, 333, 334, 336.
Touraine, 40, 212, 248, 250, 254, 256, 274, 567.
Tournai (Belgium), 81, 89, 242, 305.
Tournus (Saône-et-Loire), 24, 164, 287, 410, 414, 415, 457, 458, 483.
Tours (Indre-et-Loire), 173, 347, 454, 566, 568;
Cathedral of, 8, 9, 125, 203, 205, 211, 212, 220, 226, 270, 315, 316, 322, 324;
St. Julien, 250;
St. Martin, 10, 248, 249, 250, 304;
St. Symphorien, 250;
sculptor, Region-of-the-Loire school, 254, 278, 281, 361, 564, 567, 568.
Tours, Gregory of, 249, 250, 331, 336.
Toustain, Thomas (architect), 276, 553.
Towers of France, noted, 11, 78, 87, 89, 101, 140, 141, 174, 177, 179, 187, 188, 271, 276, 354, 436, 481, 484, 488, 489, 511, 517, 533, 553, 557, 572;
Flamboyant towers, 217, 230, 287, 374, 492, 509, 517, 518;
Romanesque towers, 49, 113, 446, 491, 557.
Transept, 19, 54, 69, 108, 129, 136, 213, 215, 226, 283, 360, 532, 541, 556.
Transition from Romanesque to Gothic, 16, 26, 33, 43, 44, 45, 46, 48, 50, 52, 57, 58, 75, 99, 120, 124, 262, 412, 413, 419, 432, 437, 554, 575.
Tréguier (Côtes-du-Nord), Cathedral of, 557, 559, 563, 572-575.
Trent, Council of, 130, 466, 578.
Trève-de-Dieu, 21, 411, 422.
Tribune galleries, 18, 52, 82, 92, 99, 116, 125, 128, 163, 164, 166, 482, 486, 493, 532, 552, 564.
Triforium, 65, 66, 82, 99, 116, 125, 234, 251, 276, 353, 380, 430, 431, 437, 444, 486, 547, 552, 553.
Troubadours and trouvères, 245, 298, 345, 348, 357, 545.
Troyes (Aube), 419, 424, 519, 538;
Cathedral of, 98, 125, 203, 211, 213, 226, 230-235, 281;
glass of, 98, 115;
Treaty of, 233;
St. Jean, 240;
St. Madeleine, 239, 240, 244, 247;
St. Martin-ès-Vignes, 241;
St. Nicolas, 241;
St. Nizier, 235;
St. Urbain, 236-238;
churches in the environs, 238, 239, 539.
Troyes, Crestien de, 245.
Tunis, 71, 157, 162.
Turpin, Archbishop (of Rheims), 194, 355.
Tympanums, 85, 137, 141, 288, 345, 361, 423, 438, 444.
U
Urbain II, Pope, 22, 29, 118, 194, 266, 270, 294, 305, 337, 338, 344, 348,
352, 360, 375, 376, 388, 393, 415, 416, 417.
Urbain IV, Pope, 232, 236, 238.
Urbain V, Pope, 259, 384, 386, 387, 408, 409, 415, 446.
V
Vallery-Radot, Robert, 428.
Valmont (Seine-Inférieure), ruins of, 518.
Valois princes, 309, 353, 452, 453, 454.
See Charles V, Jean de Berry, Louis d’Anjou, Philippe-le-Hardi of Burgundy.
Van Eyck, 222, 404, 426.
Vauban (engineer), 423, 460, 552.
Vaughan, Cardinal, 426.
Vault, masonry, 19, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 38, 43, 44, 48, 55, 58, 95, 100, 372, 413, 424, 440, 457, 575;
bombé vaults, 84, 95, 124, 269, 285, 286, 300, 301, 303, 309, 310, 311, 314, 316, 320, 351, 357, 381, 432;
broken-rib vault, 58, 92;
octopartite vault, 120;
sexpartite vault, 81, 100, 127, 398, 481, 482, 486.
Vauvenargues, 403.
Vendôme (Loir-et-Cher), church of the Trinité, 59, 112, 113, 271, 272, 304, 305, 315, 511.
Vendôme, Geoffrey of (Abbot of the Trinité), 271, 272, 337, 415.
Venice, 96, 289.
Verdun (Meuse), 129, 281, 526.
Verlaine, Paul, 74.
Verneuil (Eure), 536.
Verona, 246, 338, 361, 437.
Verrières (Aube), 239.
Vézelay (Yonne), Abbey of the Madeleine, 10, 24, 31, 33, 121, 180, 288, 298, 319, 323, 371, 395, 401, 410, 415, 418, 419, 424, 429, 435-442, 450;
its portico, 428, 439;
meeting place of crusades, 439, 440.
Vienne (Isère), Cathedral of, 256, 258, 261, 417.
Viffort (Aisne), 45.
Vignory (Haute-Marne), 241.
Villehardouin, 161, 231, 246.
Villeneuve l’Archevêque (Yonne), 239.
Villeneuve-lès-Avignon (Gard), 405, 408.
Villetertre (Oise), 45.
Villon, François, 222, 565.
Vincennes (Seine), 144.
Viollet-le-Duc, E. See Bibliography.
Viterbo, 110, 465.
Vitry (Ille-et-Vilaine), 559.
Volpiano, William of, 4, 34, 266, 414, 422, 452, 457, 458, 473, 478, 482, 495, 502, 554.
Voltaire, 36, 150, 338, 453, 530, 536.
Voragine, Jacobus de, 9, 85, 97, 220, 400.
W
Wace, Robert, 545, 549.
Wells, Cathedral of, 516.
Westminster Abbey, 3, 154, 232, 293, 297, 299, 552.
Weyden, Roger van der, 426, 427.
William the Conqueror, 5, 10, 22, 51, 53, 101, 137, 164, 165, 274, 304, 482, 484, 485, 486, 487, 488, 494, 496, 502, 510, 511, 544, 545, 546, 549, 550, 552, 554, 580, 581.
William Longsword, Duke of Normandy, 482, 495, 510.
William Rufus, 271, 475.
Winchester, Cathedral of, 481, 482, 487.
Women in the Middle Ages, 13, 54, 72, 86, 96, 121, 122, 135, 138, 153, 154, 159, 166, 173, 174, 193, 209, 226, 232, 234, 238, 245, 253, 264, 279, 281, 293, 294, 295, 297, 298, 299, 309, 315, 319, 324, 341, 344, 353, 385, 395, 396, 419, 427, 434, 440, 458, 463, 483, 484, 485, 490, 501, 508, 527-531, 536, 544, 549, 558, 567.
Worcester, Cathedral of, 487.
Wordsworth, 54, 65.
World War, devastation by the, 76, 77, 82, 123, 144, 145, 168, 196, 197-201, 283, 329, 375, 384, 391, 405, 520, 526, 535, 559, 580, 581.
Y
Yolande of Aragon, Countess d’Anjou, 191, 221, 277, 280, 309, 328.
York, Cathedral of, 59, 242.
Ypres, 2, 110, 202.
Yves of Brittany, St., 386, 572, 573, 574.
Z
Zamora, Cathedral of, 465.
Zola, Émile, 249, 362.
Zozimus, Pope, 399.
A
Abadie, Paul, 151, 290, 292, 354, 355.
Abbeville (Somme), 210, 226.
Abélard, Pierre, 41, 91, 104, 130, 133, 138, 174, 175, 414, 419, 467, 566.
Abraham, 182, 218, 219.
Achery, Dom Luc d’, 149.
Acy-en-Multien (Oise), 45, 48.
Adams, Henry, 165, 170, 231, 299, 477, 499.
Adrian IV (Nicolas Breakspear), Pope, 134.
Agincourt, 1415 (Pas-de-Calais), battle of, 71, 483, 490, 565.
Agnes of Meran, 54, 95, 280.
Aicard, Jean, 378, 384.
Aigueperse (Puy-de-Dôme), 341.
Aigues-Mortes (Bouches-du-Rhône), 11, 66, 157, 377, 389, 390, 400.
Airaines (Somme), 45.
Airvault (Deux-Sèvres), 321.
Aix-en-Provence, 40, 330, 401, 403, 404.
Albi (Tarn), Cathedral of, 11, 13, 14, 279, 329, 330, 370-375, 466;
choir screen, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
vault murals, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.
Albigensian Crusade, 11, 189, 330, 353, 357, 358, 362, 363, 364, 365-370, 371, 376, 383, 385, 386, 392, 394, 405.
Alcobaça, Cistercian abbatial of, 465.
Alcuin, 4, 10, 149, 249.
Aldégrevier (vitrine artist), 541.
Alençon (Orne), 542.
Alençon, the Duke d’, 315, 515, 527.
Aleth, Blessed, 458, 463.
Alexander II, Pope, 487.
Alexander III, Pope, 91, 136, 149, 250, 388, 433.
Aliénor of Aquitaine, 10, 60, 137, 138, 153, 174, 254, 274, 293, 296, 297, 298, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 326, 351, 353, 439, 440, 465, 502, 531, 543.
Alternate system, the, 80, 81, 93, 100, 127, 164, 478, 481, 482, 486.
Amboise (Indre-et-Loire), 254, 304, 558, 565.
Amboise, Cardinal Georges d’ (of Rouen), 373, 492, 513, 519, 558.
Amboise, Bishop Jacques d’ (of Clermont), 97, 335, 373, 421.
Amboise, Bishop Louis d’ (of Albi), 373, 374.
Ambulatory, 19, 24, 45, 48, 51, 54, 58, 64, 65, 92, 109, 124, 129, 150, 216, 278, 292, 307, 337, 353, 398, 432, 569.
America, United States of, 57, 367, 394, 429.
Amiens (Somme), Cathedral of, 12, 31, 34, 39, 46, 55, 181, 197, 201, 202-210, 214, 224, 225, 329, 331, 333, 351, 380, 425, 475, 539, 581.
Amyot, Bishop Jacques, 451.
Angers (Maine-et-Loire), 10, 13, 39, 255, 286, 303, 309, 310;
Cathedral of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, 302-309, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__;
Fortress of __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
St. Jean’s Hospital, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
St. Martin, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
St. Nicolas-du-Ronceray, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__;
St. Serge, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__;
Toussaint, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
Trinity, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.
Angoulême (Charente), Cathedral of, 287, 290-293, 295, 352.
Anjou, counts and dukes of, 173, 220, 269, 271, 273, 274, 280, 408.
Anjou, Charles I d’, 154, 156, 280, 295, 299, 307, 309, 427, 465;
Charles II of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__;
St. Louis of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__;
Louis II of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__.
Anjou, King René. See René.
Anne, St., 138, 181.
Anne of Brittany, 67, 89, 256, 344, 373, 557, 558, 565, 566, 567, 569.
Annunzio, Gabriele, d’, 107, 121.
Anselm, St., 4, 34, 133, 173, 250, 260, 271, 417, 473, 474, 475, 485.
Anselm de Laon. See Laon.
Anthony of Padua, St., 5, 350, 359.
Antioch, 157, 208, 323, 345, 390, 554.
Apocalypse, the, 20, 98, 99, 144, 204, 217, 219, 239, 309, 320, 347.
Apostles in art, the, 146, 182, 207, 208, 262, 278, 321, 349, 352, 377, 389, 438, 561.
Apses, notable, 65, 80, 93, 105, 115, 116, 122, 129, 216, 232, 251, 275, 276, 421, 486, 489, 536, 547, 554.
Aquinas, St. Thomas, 2, 4, 41, 126, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 175, 238, 267, 334, 359, 465, 475.
Aquitaine, dukes of, 10, 298, 318, 327, 347, 351, 384.
Arbrissel, Robert d’ (founder of Fontevrault), 294, 323.
Archæology of the Middle Ages, 2, 13, 40, 92, 552.
Archæology, modern French school of, 32, 37-48, 415, 428, 576.
Architects, mediæval, 5, 34, 35, 39, 57, 66, 82, 93, 94, 96, 141, 146, 150, 152, 163, 167, 177, 179, 190, 191, 204, 237, 276, 284, 251, 264, 271, 284, 299, 303, 334, 360, 380, 390, 406, 411, 457, 513, 517, 518, 553, 559, 564.
Architecture, 1, 4, 5, 7, 12, 15, 27, 56;
X century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__;
11th century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__;
XII century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_21__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_22__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_23__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_24__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_25__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_26__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_27__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_28__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_29__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_30__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_31__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_32__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_33__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_34__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_35__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_36__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_37__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_38__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_39__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_40__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_41__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_42__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_43__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_44__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_45__;
13th century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_21__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_22__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_23__;
14th century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_21__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_22__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_23__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_24__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_25__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_26__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_27__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_28__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_29__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_30__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_31__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_32__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_33__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_34__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_35__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_36__;
For the 15th and 16th centuries, see Flamboyant Gothic;
17th century, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.
Arcis-sur-Aube, 11.
Arezzo (Tuscany), 24, 397.
Aristotle, 399, 330.
Argentan (Orne), 336.
Arles (Bouches-du-Rhône), 398, 399, 400, 264;
St. Trophime, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, 531, 532, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__.
Arnold, Matthew, 2, 556.
Arnoul, Bishop (of Lisieux), 297, 308, 511, 96.
Arras (Pas-de-Calais), 156, 314.
Arthur of Brittany, 201, 231, 243.
Artois, Robert d’, 396, 358.
Asnières (Maine-et-Loire), 374.
Attila the Hun, 132, 158, 364.
Aucassin et Nicolette, 449.
Auch (Gers), Cathedral of, 508, 239-243.
Augustine, St., 257, 259, 424, 291, 24.
Augustus, 181, 416, 419, 423-426.
Aulnay (Charente-Inférieure), 429.
Autun (Saône-et-Loire), Cathedral of, 262, 424, 11, 38, 39, 249.
Autun, Honoré d’, 330, 331.
Auvergne, 336, 337, 381, 11, 24, 38, 151, 254, 329;
Romanesque school of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__.
Auvergne, Guillaume d’ (Bishop of Paris), 428, 445, 7, 33, 115.
Auxerre (Yonne), 226, 242, 316;
Cathedral of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, 410, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__;
glass of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__;
sculpture of __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__;
St. Germain, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__;
St. Eusebius, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
Avallon (Yonne), 388, 405-409, 330, 335.
Avignon (Vaucluse), 347, 353, 359, 368;
the Avignon popes, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__.
Avila, 242, 264, 340, 465.
Avranches (Manche), Cathedral of, 2, 474, 556.
B
Bacon, Francis, 276.
Bacon, Roger, 134.
Balmes, J. C., 41.
Balzac, Honoré de, 119, 247, 249, 312.
Bamburg, Cathedral of, 2, 77, 193.
Bannalec (Finistère), 560.
Barbarian invasions in France, 4, 18, 20, 28, 29, 36, 78, 107, 142, 172, 261, 325, 336, 337, 361, 411, 414, 472, 479, 483, 495, 510, 563.
Bari, Cathedral of, 555.
Barre, Chevalier de la, 151.
Barrès, Maurice, 389, 398, 435.
Bar-sur-Aube, 239.
Bar-sur-Seine, 239.
Barzas-Breiz, 400, 556.
Basly (Calvados), 491.
Bassac (Charente), 291.
Bayard, Chevalier, 342.
Bayeux (Calvados), Cathedral of, 488, 508, 545-551.
Bayonne (Basses-Pyrénées), Cathedral of, 354, 569.
Bazin, René, 259, 302, 415, 410, 580.
Beaucaire (Gard), 396.
Beauce, Jehan Texier, called de, 179, 180.
Beaulieu (Corrèze), 24, 288.
Beaumont, Raoul de, 306, 308;
family of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.
Beaumont-le-Roger (Eure), 536, 541.
Beaune (Côte-d’Or), hospital and collegiate of, 419, 426, 427.
Beauneveu, André (sculptor), 67, 299, 327.
Beauvais (Oise), 3, 96, 100, 125, 127, 379, 380, 425, 533, 534, 539;
Cathedral of, 224-230, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__;
St. Étienne, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, 50-53, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__.
Beauvais, Vincent de, 9, 133, 134.
Bec (Eure), Abbey of, 125, 173, 473-476, 485, 487, 496, 502, 512.
Becket, St. Thomas, 11, 41, 91, 93, 94, 95, 97, 134, 136, 176, 184, 250, 261, 311, 340, 432, 433, 446, 518, 527, 531, 532, 550, 556;
windows of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__.
Bedford, John Plantagenet, Duke of, 87, 143, 489, 490, 523, 525, 527, 530, 535.
Bellefontaine (Oise), 45.
Belloc, Hilaire, 375, 548.
Benedict, St., 4, 23, 411, 483.
Benedict XII, Pope (Avignon), 407.
Benedictines, 7, 34, 54, 114, 117, 123, 124, 133, 148-151, 190, 278, 411, 476, 501, 548, 554.
Berengaria of Navarre, 279, 296, 538.
Berengar of Tours, 250, 487.
Berland, Pierre (Archbishop of Bordeaux), 354, 355.
Bernard, St., 14, 34, 40, 63, 64, 91, 92, 93, 107, 133, 135, 152, 243, 246, 271, 273, 298, 319, 321, 361, 362, 364, 367, 371, 412, 414, 418, 423, 430, 431, 434, 439, 440, 441, 442, 453, 461-471, 503, 541, 579.
Bernay (Eure), Abbatial of, 473, 481, 495, 496, 541.
Bernières-sur-mer (Calvados), 491.
Berry, Jean, Duke de, 214, 220, 221, 222, 232, 309, 320, 327, 329, 341, 342, 349, 353, 539.
Berzy-le-Sec (Aisne), 45.
Béthisy-St. Pierre (Oise), 45.
Bèze, Théodore de, 218, 441.
Béziers (Hérault), Cathedral and sack of, 330, 367, 369, 383, 405, 539.
Bible, in the Middle Ages, the, 9, 11, 58, 133, 142, 145, 208, 217, 233, 253, 273, 327, 358, 395, 418, 432, 434, 437, 470, 557.
Biblia pauperum windows and sculpture, 97, 184, 219, 233, 418, 437, 451, 462, 520, 579.
Bilson, John, archæologist. See Bibliography.
Bishop-builders of French cathedrals, 5, 32, 79, 80, 86, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 105, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 150, 172, 173, 174, 189, 202, 215, 229, 231, 243, 250, 251, 261, 263, 267, 270, 272, 275, 291, 299, 306, 334, 335, 344, 353, 354, 371, 373, 377, 381, 447, 513, 538, 542, 546, 592.
Black Prince, the, 347, 355, 368, 378.
Blanche of Castile, 54, 86, 106, 107, 153, 154, 185, 225, 232, 234, 253, 299, 313, 362, 398, 435, 508, 538.
Blois (Loir-et-Cher), 121, 254, 558.
Bobbio (Province of Pavia), monastery of, 411, 483.
Bohemund of Taranto, 323, 337, 555.
Bologna, 134, 327, 364, 374, 446.
Bonaventure, St., 5, 41, 133, 134, 267, 268.
Boniface VIII, Pope, 385.
Bonneuil-en-Valois, 45, 49.
Bordeaux (Gironde), 350-356;
Cathedral of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, 350-356, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__;
Ste. Croix, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__;
St. Michael, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__;
St. Seurin, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__.
Born, Bertran de, 345, 348, 349.
Boscherville. See St. Georges de.
Bosham, Herbert of, 93.
Bossuet, 121, 163, 167, 247, 252, 253.
Boston, U. S. A., 353, 394.
Botrel, Théodor, 201.
Bouilhet, Louis, 78.
Bourbon art patrons, 185, 253, 259, 264, 265, 266, 295, 341, 357, 364, 406, 421, 456, 513, 539.
Bourdaloue, 212.
Bourges (Cher), Cathedral of, 8, 11, 14, 211, 212-224, 226, 255, 275, 276, 320, 322, 328, 454.
Bourget, Paul, 339, 531.
Bourgonnière chapel in Bouzilly (Maine-et-Loire), 322.
Bouvines, 1214 (Nord), battle of, 12, 32, 70, 86, 122, 195, 453.
Boyle (Co. Roscommon), Abbey of, 464.
Braine (Aisne), St. Yved at, 99, 113, 116, 121-125, 185, 284.
Brest (Finistère), 560, 561.
Bridges, mediæval, 267, 289, 350, 371, 405, 407.
Brienne (Aube), 239.
Brienne, Jean de, 4, 70, 189.
Brioude (Haute-Loire), 340.
Brittany, 11, 400, 556-575;
Calvaries of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, 561, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__;
cult of the dead in, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
dukes of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__;
glass of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__;
Gothic of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__;
Romanesque of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
the Renaissance in, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__.
Check out Anne of Brittany.
Brizeux, A., 570.
Brou (in Bourg-en-Bresse), the church of, 264, 265.
Brunetière, F., 148.
Bruno, St., 4, 117, 118, 194.
Bruyère (Aisne), 45.
Burgos, Cistercian abbatial of Las Huelgas, 2, 264, 399, 465, 502.
Burgundy, 21, 23, 39, 229, 410-470;
dukes of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__;
Franco-Flemish school of sculpture, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__;
Gothic of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__;
Apogee Gothic sculpture, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__;
Romanesque school of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__;
Romanesque sculpture of, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__.
Bury (Oise), 44, 45, 150.
Buttresses, 25, 26, 27, 229, 352, 378, 412, 413, 451, 481, 504;
flying buttresses, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_21__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_22__.
Byzantine influences in French art, 17, 18, 43, 59, 101, 120, 123, 137, 138, 180, 181, 196, 234, 248, 249, 262, 287, 291, 292, 306, 322, 349, 398, 438, 486, 547.
C
Caen (Calvados), 10, 13, 30, 163, 478, 484-491, 519, 520;
Abbey of the Ladies (St. Trinity), __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, 484, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__;
Abbey of Men (St. Étienne), __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, 484, 486, 487, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__;
St. Nicholas, 484, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__;
St. Pierre, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__;
Vaucelle’s tower, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.
Cahors (Lot), Cathedral of, 24, 288, 289, 292, 407.
Calixtus II, Pope, 151, 200, 250, 261, 288, 291, 295, 360, 393, 417, 423, 453.
Calixtus III, Pope, 529.
Calvaries. See Brittany.
Cambrai (Nord), 2, 81, 264, 556.
Cambrai, Jean de (sculptor), 221, 266.
Cambridge, England, 407, 457.
Cambronne (Oise), 44, 45.
Candes (Maine-et-Loire), 314, 316,
Bibliography
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_2__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_3__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_4__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_5__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_6__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_7__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_8__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_9__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_10__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_11__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_12__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_13__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_14__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_15__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_16__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_17__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_18__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_19__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_20__, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_21__.
A
Abadie, Paul, 151, 290, 292, 355.
Abgrall, Abbé, 40, 556, 565, 568, 570.
Adams, Henry, 165, 170, 231, 299, 477, 499.
Agnel, Abbé A. d’, 387.
Agos, D’, 354.
Aigon, Abbé H., 389.
Albanès, Abbé, 400, 402.
Allard, Paul, 258, 331, 520.
Alline et Loisel, 504.
Annunzio, Gabriele d’, 107, 121.
Antony, C. M., 364.
Arbellot, Abbé, 345.
Arnaud, F., 230.
Arnold, Matthew, 264, 265.
Assier, A., 234.
Auber, Abbé, 40, 316.
Aubert, Marcel, 39, 78, 84, 126, 461.
Aucouturièr, H., 266.
Aufauvre, Amédée, 231.
Auger, 148.
Avril, Adolph d’, 194.
Ayroles, R. P., 521.
Ayzac, Félicie d’, 55.
B
Balzac, Honoré de, 119, 247, 249, 312.
Barbat, L., 114.
Barbeau, Albert, 236.
Barraud, P. C., 50, 224.
Barrès, Maurice, 50, 389, 398, 435.
Barres, Chaillon des, 430.
Barron, L., 126, 247, 256, 350.
Barsaux, Chanoine, 224.
Barthélemy, E. M. de, 114, 241.
Bavard, Abbé, 426.
Bayet, Jean, 126.
Bayle, G., 406.
Bazin, H., 126, 188.
Bazin, J., 410.
Bazin, René, 259, 302, 415, 419, 580.
Beaurepaire, Ch. de, 38, 472, 484, 499, 507.
Bédier, Joseph, 135, 245, 344, 435, 501.
Bégule, Lucien, 39, 256, 261, 428, 461, 565.
Beissier, F., 397.
Belloc, Hilaire, 375, 548.
Benard, Pierre, 282.
Bérard, E., 90.
Berger, E., 133, 154.
Bernard, Abbé, 397.
Berret, P., 261.
Bertaud, Émile, 479, 555.
Berthelé, J., 39, 404.
Besnard, A., 50, 492.
Besnard, Ch. H., 288, 303, 499.
Beugnot, A., 152.
Biais, 290.
Bilson, John, 16, 30, 46, 47, 68, 276, 302, 303, 461, 476, 479, 480,
481, 484, 493, 494, 495, 496, 512, 554.
Biran, Maine de, 285.
Blanqueron, Edmond, 241.
Boinet, Amédée, 39, 126, 281, 282.
Boissonnot, Chanoine, 247.
Bondot, L., 428.
Bonnard, 133.
Bonnet, Émile, 39, 384.
Bontier, 231.
Borderie, A. de la, 557, 566, 573.
Born, Bertran de, 345, 348, 349.
Bossebœuf, Abbé, 40, 249, 254, 280, 285, 293.
Bossuet, 121, 163, 167, 247, 452, 453.
Botrel, Théodor, 201.
Bouet, G., 39, 106, 484, 491, 551, 552.
Bouilhet, Louis, 78.
Bouillart, Jacques, 148.
Bouillet, Abbé A., 145, 541.
Bourassé, Abbé J. J., 39, 247, 315.
Bourdaloue, 212.
Bourget, Paul, 339, 531.
Bourillon, F. W., 396.
Bournon, F., 254.
Bourrienne, V., 545.
Boutarie, E., 154.
Bouvier, Abbé, 39, 40, 90.
Bouxin, Abbé, 40, 99.
Bouzerand, 443.
Branche, D., 331.
Bréhier, Louis, 188, 331.
Brière, Gaston, 39, 54, 188.
Brin, 499.
Brizeux, A., 570.
Broche, Lucien, 39, 99.
Broglie, Em. de, 148.
Brown, Prof. Baldwin, 481.
Bruel, F. L., 114.
Brun, Armand de, 147.
Brunetière, F., 148.
Brutails, J. A., 39, 47, 288, 291, 350, 351, 355.
Bulteau, Abbé, 40, 170.
Bunodière, H. de la, 509.
Bushnell, A. J. de H., 55, 90, 170, 234, 242, 247, 266, 302, 316, 536.
C
Cagnat, R., 157.
Cagni et Mocquereau, 280.
Cahier et Martin, P. P., 213, 219, 262.
Calmette, A., 382, 410.
Canéto, Abbé, 384.
Calvert, 381.
Caumont, Arcisse de, 38, 226, 293, 410, 472, 484, 491, 520, 531, 545,
546, 554.
Cerf, Abbé, 40, 188.
Chabeuf, H., 426, 452.
Chaillan, Abbé, 384.
Chaillot, A., 406.
Chalandon, F., 479, 555.
Champeaux et Gauchery, 213, 341.
Chantelon, Dom, 399.
Charmasse, A. de, 423.
Chartraire, E., 90.
Chassepied, Ch., 570.
Chateaubriand, 70, 118, 410, 443, 562.
Chaucer, 372, 551.
Chaumont, Chanoine L., 414.
Chérest, A., 435, 445.
Cherge, De, 316.
Cherval, 170.
Chesterton, Cecil, 579, 580.
Chevalier, Ed., 250.
Chevalier, U., 152, 452, 521.
Chigougesnel, 545.
Chomton, Abbé, 40, 452.
Choyer, 285.
Clémat, Chanoine Joseph, 266.
Clément, Pierre, 222.
Cleuziou, H. de, 556.
Cloquet (A.) et Cassier (J.), 254.
Clouard, E., 341.
Coffinet, J. B., 230.
Cogny, G. de, 374.
Colonne, A. de, 202.
Congny, Gaston, 213, 449.
Cook, 507.
Cook, Sir Theodore Andreas, 213, 254, 499, 519, 534.
Corberon, 448.
Corbolin, 428.
Cordier, Léon le, 472.
Corroyer, Ed., 288, 294, 298, 359, 499.
Coulanges, Fustel de, 42.
Courajod, Louis, 38, 145, 247, 266, 452.
Courcel, V. C. de, 230.
Courteault, P., 350.
Courtépée, Claude, 410, 423, 428.
Cousin, Victor, 133, 211.
Coutan, Dr., 38, 494, 498, 512.
Cram, Ralph Adams, 91.
Crawford, F. Marion, 439.
Crégut, Abbé R., 341.
Cros-Meyreveille, 375.
Crosnier, Abbé, 39, 55, 90, 170, 435, 449.
Crozes, H., 390.
Cruppi, 151.
Cucherat, Abbé, 421.
Cunisset-Carnot, 452.
D
Dangibeaud, Ch., 287.
Dante, 9, 133, 137, 141, 147, 148, 150, 153, 156, 245, 253, 349, 357,
363, 441, 462, 465, 474.
Darcel, Alfred, 480.
Daudet, Alphonse, 259, 396.
Déchelette, Joseph, 423.
Dehaines, Mgr., 99, 226.
Delaborde, H. F., 245.
Deliguières, 210.
Delisle, Léopold, 378, 499, 520.
Demaison, Louis, 39, 114, 188, 199, 241.
Demimuid, 114.
Demogeon, 202.
Denais, J., 302, 311.
Dénifle, H., 490, 521.
Denis, Abbé, 492.
Depeyre, G., 266.
Desdevises du Dézert, 331, 381.
Desgardin, Gustave, 224.
Deshair, Léon, 453.
Deshoulières, F., 266, 313.
Deville, A., 507.
Deville, J. A., 492.
Devoncoux, Abbé, 423.
Didot, A. F., 90.
Didron, E. A., 39, 265, 513.
Diehl, Ch., 479, 555.
Dieudonné, A., 269.
Digonnet, Félix, 405.
Dion, A. de, 38, 114, 269, 461, 545, 551, 552.
Douais, Mgr. C., 364, 365, 375.
Dreux-Durandier, 316.
Drouet (H.) et Calmette (A.), 410.
Dubois, P., 224.
Dubouchet, 499.
Duchaisne, Mgr., 39, 395, 400, 401, 402, 424, 436.
Duchemin, 512.
Dufay, C. J., 265.
Duhamel, L., 405.
Dumaine, Abbé L. V., 542.
Durand, E., 335.
Durand, Georges, 39, 202, 203, 210.
Durandus, Guillaume, 19, 69, 214, 267, 359, 387, 400, 401.
E
Echivard, A., 268.
Édeline, Abbé, 491.
Ehrle, R. P., 405.
Engelhard, Ch., 531.
Engerand, Louis, 476, 545.
Enlart, Camille, 16, 18, 29, 30, 31, 38, 47, 49, 78, 81, 126, 201, 227,
228, 282, 287, 341, 342, 354, 435, 445, 447, 456, 461, 464, 465, 476,
479, 484, 507, 509, 514, 516, 555.
Escoffier, H., 152.
Esnault, G., 269.
Espinay, D’, 306, 312.
F
Fabrège, A., 384.
Fage, René, 39, 345.
Faillon, 396.
Fallue, A., 507.
Fançon, Maurice, 335.
Farcy, Louis de, 39, 302, 303, 310.
Farcy, Paul de, 545.
Faure, H., 266.
Fédié, L., 375.
Fénelon, 36, 288.
Fichot, Ch., 230.
Fillon, Benj., 280, 316, 565.
Flandin, V., 435.
Fleury, Gabriel, 39, 84, 99, 119, 170, 268, 428, 551.
Florival (de) et Midoux, 99.
Focillon, Henri, 257.
Fonteray, H. de, 423.
Forel, Alexis, 288, 289, 316, 331, 343, 356, 391.
Formeville, H. de, 531.
Formigé, J., 165, 408.
Forts, Paul des, 50.
Fossa, F. de, 144.
Fossey, Abbé Jules, 40, 536.
Foucaud, L. de, 350, 509.
Fournier, Paul, 369.
Fowke, J. R., 548.
Fraipont, G., 331.
France, Anatole, 521.
François, S., 126.
Freeman, E. H., 412, 490.
Froissart, 210, 327, 347, 349, 368, 408, 455.
Fyot, Eugène, 452.
G
Galimard, J., 428.
Gally, 435.
Gandillon, A., 213.
Gard, R. Martin du, 480.
Gareau, 293.
Garry, Eugène, 219.
Gauchery, P., 213, 341.
Gautier, Léon, 133, 135, 162, 245, 356, 500, 501, 520, 542.
George, J., 291.
Germain, Alphonse, 384, 426, 452.
Germain, A., 384.
Gerville, C. de, 546, 551.
Gillet, H. L., 356.
Girard, Ch., 343.
Girardot, A. T., 213, 280.
Glanville, L. de, 492.
Gobillot, Abbé Ph., 331.
Godart-Faultrier, 302, 312.
Gomart, Ch., 282.
Gonse, Louis, 16, 39, 67, 247, 282, 332, 342, 345, 435, 452, 498, 515,
537.
Goodyear, Prof. W. H., 68, 276.
Gosset, Alphonse, 114, 188.
Gourmont, Remy de, 135.
Gout, Paul, 499, 502.
Graillot, H., 356, 375.
Grandmaison, Ch. de, 38, 247, 280.
Gratry, P., 79.
Graves, 224.
Green, Mrs. J. R., 269, 472.
Grignon, Louis, 114.
Guépin, Dom, 279.
Guéranger, Dom Prosper, 280, 281, 321.
Guérard, R. Louis, 405.
Guerlin, H., 242, 249.
Guigue, C., 256, 266.
Guilhermy, F. de, 126, 565.
Guirard, Jean, 364, 365, 384, 405.
Guizot, 36, 103, 296, 297, 536.
H
Hallays, André, 84, 405.
Halphen, L., 302.
Hanoteau, Gabriel, 400, 503, 521.
Hardy (G.) et Gandillon (A.), 213.
Hardy, Abbé V., 535.
Haskins, Ch. H., 477.
Hauréau, B., 133.
Havard, H., 39, 99, 144, 148, 149, 219, 250, 256, 310, 389, 423, 435,
452, 507, 509.
Healy, 411.
Heaton, Clement, 458.
Hefele, 257.
Hello, Ernest, 551.
Hennezel, H. d’, 256.
Henry, Abbé V. B., 430.
Histoire Littéraire de la France, 41, 55, 84, 90, 99, 133, 150, 170,
258, 269, 293, 304, 343, 378, 391, 414, 430, 473, 494, 499, 531, 545.
Hubidos, H., 391.
Hucher, E., 268, 269.
Huillier, L., 433.
Humbert, A., 452.
Hurault, E., 242.
Hutton, W. H., 162.
Huysmans, J. K., 100, 128, 144, 170, 280, 284, 321, 415, 460.
Hymans, H., 203, 242.
J
Jeannin, Président, 423, 425.
Joanne, 39.
Johnson, Lionel, 165.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 294, 431.
Join-Lambert, O., 165.
Joinville, Jean de, 41, 70, 111, 119, 120, 138, 140, 152-162, 190, 206,
219, 244, 245, 246, 312, 342, 399, 553.
Jossier, Abbé, 236, 237.
Joubert, J., 290.
Jouin, H., 302, 310.
Jourdain et Duval, 202.
Jourdanne, Gaston, 375.
Jubainville, d’Arbois de, 231, 461.
Juiffrey, Jules, 312, 426.
Julleville, Petit de, 135, 245, 521.
Jullian, C., 350.
K
Kersers, A. Buhot de, 38, 213.
Kleinclausz, A., 410, 426, 452.
Koechlin, Raymond, 39, 231, 361, 452.
L
Labande, L. H., 39, 391, 392, 397, 403, 405.
Lacordaire, J. B. H. D., 128, 450, 462.
La Croix, P. de, 40, 325.
Lafenestre, George, 484.
Laferrière (J.) et Musset (G.), 287.
Lafond, Jean, 507.
Lahondès, Jules de, 39, 356, 360, 375, 381.
Lahore, Abbé, 236.
La Martillière, 272.
Lamartine, Alphonse de, 445.
Lambin, Émile, 39, 84, 99, 106, 123, 126, 165, 188, 202, 445, 507, 517,
531.
Landrieux, Mgr., 188, 199.
Laran, Jean, 370.
Largent, R. P., 316.
Lassus, J. B. A., 126, 266, 282, 460.
Lasteyrie, Charles de, 345.
Lasteyrie, Comte Robert de, 16, 17, 30, 38, 39, 49, 68, 114, 170, 228,
229, 250, 287, 331, 356, 359, 391, 394, 476, 484.
Lasteyrie, Ferdinand de, 55.
Latouche, Robert, 269.
Lauer, Philippe, 153.
Laurière, J. de, 354.
La Tremblay, Dom Coutil de la, 279, 281.
Lavalley, G., 491.
Lavedan, P., 172, 345.
La Villemarqué, Hersant de, 557.
Lavisse, Ernest, 76.
Lebeuf, Abbé, 445.
Le Beuf, D., 498.
Leblant, E., 397.
Le Braz, Anatole, 556, 568
Lecestre, 414.
Lecocq, 282.
Le Conte, R., 554.
Lecureur, L. Th., 570.
Ledeuil, 443.
Ledru, Abbé A., 40, 268.
Lefèvre, L. E., 435.
Lefèvre-Pontalis, Eugène, 16, 30, 31, 37, 38, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50,
78, 84, 99, 102, 106, 112, 121, 123, 126, 163, 170, 211, 237, 241, 268,
285, 291, 305, 323, 325, 340, 379, 421, 423, 443, 452, 479, 480, 482,
490, 491, 551, 553, 554, 557.
Leger, L., 203.
Legris, Abbé A., 498.
Leliène, Abbé, 545.
Lelong, E., 302.
Lemire, Ch., 521.
Lenoir, A., 148.
Lentheric, Ch., 378, 389.
Leo XIII, 130, 385, 422, 521.
Leport, A., 494.
Leroux, A., 345.
Leseur, F., 315.
Lestrade, Abbé, 356.
Levé, A., 548, 549.
Levillain, L., 55.
Lhuillier, Victor, 50.
Liard, L., 133.
Lignum, Lambin de, 279, 565.
Lincy, Le Roux de, 419, 494, 557.
Locquin, J., 266, 449.
Loisel, Abbé, 40, 504.
Lorière, Éd. de, 314.
Loriquet, Ch., 188.
Lorme, A. de, 556.
Lot, F., 480.
Loth, Abbé Julien, 480, 507.
Loti, Pierre, 199, 200, 561.
Lotte, Joseph, 499, 536.
Loutil, Abbé, 129.
Louvière, J. de, 397.
Lowell, James Russell, 100, 170.
Luce, Siméon, 490, 499, 521, 526, 557.
Luchaire, A., 162, 365.
Luzel, F. M., 557.
Luzuy, Abbé, 341.
M
Mabillon, Dom, 149, 418, 461.
Mâcon, E., 144.
Magne, Lucien, 293, 326.
Maistre, Joseph de, 222, 411.
Maître, Léon, 55, 257.
Mâle, Émile, 35, 39, 55, 85, 126, 144, 180, 182, 183, 207, 256, 262,
335, 341, 342, 343, 345, 347, 361, 424, 507, 541, 565, 570, 578.
Maleissye, C. de, 521.
Malifaud, G., 293.
Mallay, 343.
Mandet, 343.
Manteyer, Georges, 395, 397.
Mantz, Paul, 341, 343.
Marchand et Bourassé, 247.
Marche, Lecoy de la, 55, 133, 152, 302.
Marignan, A., 254, 356, 391.
Maritain, Jacques, 224.
Marlavagne, Bion de, 374.
Marsaux, Chanoine, 242.
Martin, Alexis, 126.
Martin, H., 250, 411, 490.
Martin, 39, 356, 397.
Maurin, Abbé E. F., 40, 403.
Mauvinière, H. de la, 290, 316.
Méloizes, Vicomte des, 213.
Mély, F. de, 145, 170.
Merimée, Prosper, 38, 285, 312, 321, 331, 341, 343, 370, 373, 383, 395.
Merlet, Lucien, 170.
Merlet, René, 39, 170, 171.
Meunier, Paul, 449.
Meyer, Alfred, 345.
Mézerai, 298, 519, 520.
Michel, André, 39, 228, 292, 345, 426, 431, 452, 507, 509, 516, 541.
Michel, Robert André, 405, 408.
Michel-Danzac, R., 288.
Migne, 414.
Mignon, A., 133.
Mistral, Frédéric, 356, 357, 384, 397, 400, 466, 504, 581.
Mocquereau, Dom, 280.
Molière, 36, 370.
Molinier, A., 152, 356, 362, 364.
Monod, Gabriel, 477, 520.
Monstrelet, 489.
Montaiglon, A. de, 67, 90, 563.
Montaigne, 350, 451.
Montalembert, Ch. de, 237, 256, 280, 411, 414, 476.
Montault, Mgr. Barbier de, 40, 224, 316.
Montegut, 423.
Montfort, J., 565.
Moore, Charles Herbert, 16, 22, 29.
Morand, 145.
Moreau-Nélaton, E., 106, 188.
Morel-Payen, 119, 230.
Mortet, Victor, 39, 126, 378.
Mortier, 364.
Mottay, Gautier du, 556.
Moulton, E., 445.
Müller, Abbé Eugène, 40, 84, 123.
Müntz, Eugène, 39, 312, 384, 387, 405.
Mure, De la, 343.
Musset, Alfred de, 16.
Musset (G.) et Laferrière (J.), 287.
Musset, Abbé E., 242.
Mylne, Rev. R. S., 545.
N
Narbonne, L., 317, 378.
Neale, Rev. John Mason, 19, 214, 317, 401, 414, 421, 451.
Newman, Cardinal, 123.
Nicolai, N. de, 421.
Nicquet, Honorat, 293.
Nodet, V., 265.
Norgate, Kate, 269, 302, 433, 472.
Normand, Ch., 149.
Noyes, Alfred, 282.
O
Oliphant, Mrs., 521.
Orderieus Vitalis, 472, 492, 537.
O’Reilly, E., 72, 194, 503, 506, 521, 523, 525, 527, 528.
O’Reilly, P. J., 350.
Orléans, Charles d’, 67, 143, 315, 497, 516, 517, 527, 529, 534, 565.
Ouin-Lacroix, Abbé, 517.
Ozanam, Frédéric, 135, 259, 268, 508.
P
Pacary, P., 536.
Palustre, Bernard, 293, 452.
Palustre, Léon, 39, 67, 302, 342, 405, 515, 519, 541, 556, 563.
Paris, Gaston, 135, 152, 242, 245, 565.
Pascal, 331, 332.
Pasquier, Étienne, 521.
Pasteur, Louis, 428.
Paté, L., 423.
Pater, Walter, 170, 432, 578.
Pavie, Victor, 293.
Pécout, Abbé, 288.
Péguy, Ch., 72, 73, 168, 179, 197, 536, 545.
Peigné-Delacour, 80.
Pélissier, L. G., 400.
Penjon, A., 405, 414.
Pépin, J., 492.
Perier, Arsène, 426.
Perkins, Rev. T., 202, 507.
Perrault-Dabot, A., 410.
Petit, A., 345.
Petit, Ernest, 410, 428, 452.
Petit-Dutaillis, 247, 452.
Peyre, Roger, 361, 397.
Peyron, P., 569.
Philippe, André, 417, 445, 461.
Pigéon, Abbé E. A., 40, 551, 552.
Pignot, H., 114.
Pihan, Abbé L., 50, 224.
Pillion, Louise, 188, 224, 445, 507.
Pinier, Chanoine, 305.
Pissier, Abbé, 436.
Plancher, Dom, 410.
Plat, Abbé, 272.
Poli, Vicomte Oscar de, 499.
Pommeraye, Dom, 509.
Poquet, Abbé, 106, 107.
Porée, Chanoine, 40, 472, 473, 496, 513, 536.
Porée, Charles, 39, 90, 435, 445, 446, 452, 460.
Port, Célestin, 280, 285, 302, 312.
Porter, Arthur Kingsley, 16, 18, 28, 29, 44, 46, 69, 183, 225, 228, 254,
277, 361, 465, 476, 478, 479, 493, 517.
Pottier, Abbé, 361.
Poulaine, F., 521.
Poussin, Abbé, 114.
Pradel, F., 378.
Prentout, Henri, 267, 472, 477, 484, 545.
Prioux, S., 121.
Psiehari, Ernest, 168, 572, 574.
Purchon, W. S., 410.
Q
Quantin, Max, 443, 448.
Queyron, 126.
Quicherat, Jules, 38, 99, 148, 152, 282, 509, 521.
Quirielle, R. de, 266.
R
Racine, 36, 242.
Ramée, D., 78.
Ranquet, H. du, 39, 331, 340.
Rashdall, H., 133.
Raynouard, 316.
Reau, L., 203.
Rebatu, 397.
Reclus, O., 498.
Régnier, Louis, 16, 39, 47, 544.
Rémusat, Ch. de, 419, 473.
Renan, Ernest, 27, 258, 462, 572, 574.
Renaud, Edmond, 517.
Requin, Abbé, 266.
Revoil, 38, 356, 397.
Rey, E., 289.
Reymond, Marcel, 261, 343.
Rhein, André, 39, 291, 315, 316, 554, 563.
Riat, G., 126.
Richard, Alfred, 316.
Rigault, G., 219, 234.
Rivières, B. Ed., 370.
Rivoira, G. T., 28, 30, 414, 428, 452, 476, 496.
Robertson, J. C., 433.
Robida, A., 557.
Robuchon, J., 316.
Rochias, Abbé G., 340.
Rodière et Guyencourt, 202.
Rodin, Auguste, 114, 172, 189, 196, 215, 250, 272, 278, 390, 472, 575.
Roschach, 356.
Rossi, J. B. de, 397.
Rostan, L., 400.
Rostand, Edmond, 391, 559.
Rousse, Joseph, 563.
Roux, J. Ch., 261, 288, 389, 391, 397.
Royer, L., 399.
Rule, Martin, 373.
Rupin, Ernest, 39, 289, 345, 361.
Ruprich-Robert, V., 38, 472, 476, 484, 531, 542, 544.
Ruskin, John, 1, 3, 15, 208, 209, 556.
S
Sainsaulieu, Max, 188.
Sainte-Beuve, Ch. A., 158, 451, 453.
Saint-Germain, S. de, 50.
Saint-Paul, Anthyme, 16, 31, 32, 38, 39, 47, 49, 53, 54, 67, 68, 84,
126, 188, 227, 228, 276, 285, 288, 345, 354, 356, 481, 490, 516, 539.
Saladin, H., 157.
Salembier, 405.
Sanoner, G., 142, 435.
Santayana, George, 169, 170.
Sarcey, Mme. Yvonne, 102.
Sarrazin, A., 521, 531.
Saunier, Ch., 350.
Sauvage, Abbé, 480, 494.
Sauvageot, 213.
Saveron, 331.
Savory, Isabelle, 382.
Schmidt, Ch. E., 379.
Séché, Léon, 556.
Segange, L. du Broc du, 266.
Sepet, Marius, 61, 447, 521.
Serbat, Louis, 39, 254, 291, 345, 378, 417, 449, 531.
Sertillanges, R. P., 152.
Sery, Abbé, 449.
Shakespeare, 54, 159, 162.
Sharp, 291.
Sicotière, De la, 542.
Simpson, F. M., 16, 517.
Smith, Marion Couthouy, 506.
Soleil, Félix, 565.
Sommerard, E. du, 149.
Sorel, Albert, 472.
Souvestre, Émile, 560.
Spiers, R. Phené, 288, 291.
Stein, Henri, 39, 66, 126, 145, 165, 331.
Steyert, André, 256.
Suppligeon, 315.
T
Taine, Henri, 53, 108, 420.
Tarbé, P., 245.
Tardieu, Ambrose, 331.
Taylor, I., 165.
Taylor et Nodier, 202, 331, 370, 410, 443, 472, 556.
Tennyson, Alfred, 433.
Thierry, A., 23, 435, 472, 480.
Thiollier, Noël et Félix, 39, 342, 344.
Thomas, Chanoine, 452.
Thompson, Francis, 197.
Tillemont, Le Nain de, 152.
Tillet, Jules, 445, 446.
Topin, Marius, 389.
Tougard, Abbé A., 492.
Tournouër, H., 542.
Tranchant, Ch., 321.
Trichaud, J. M., 399.
Triger, Robert, 39, 268.
Troche, 145.
Truchis, Vicomte Pierre de, 423, 428.
U
Urseau, Chanoine, 293, 302.
V
Vacandard, E., 364, 419, 461.
Vachon, Marius, 90.
Vallery-Radot, Jean, 428, 545.
Vallery-Radot, Robert, 426, 428.
Valois, Noël, 133.
Vasselot, J. M. de, 39, 231, 361.
Vasseur, Ch., 531.
Vaudin-Bataille, E., 90.
Verlaine, Paul, 74.
Verlaque, 405.
Verneilh, Félix de, 38, 43, 55, 288.
Viatte, J., 147.
Vic et Vaissette, 356, 389.
Vidal, Pierre, 382.
Villat, Louis, 343.
Ville, Cirot de la, 350.
Villefosse, Héron de, 190.
Villehardouin, 161, 231, 246.
Villetard, Abbé, 428.
Villon, François, 222, 565.
Vimont, E., 331.
Viollet-le-Duc, E., 32, 35, 38, 50, 90, 100, 123, 126, 128, 139, 162,
236, 291, 333, 346, 352, 363, 378, 389, 440, 441, 445, 446, 450, 460,
498, 534, 552.
Virey, Jean, 39, 414.
Viriville, Vallet de, 222, 521.
Vitet, Victor, 78.
Vitry, Paul, 39, 54, 188, 231, 255, 265, 279, 280, 342, 361, 423, 452,
507, 515, 563, 565.
Vöge, Wilhelm, 394.
Vögué, Melchior de, 37.
Voltaire, 36, 150, 338, 453, 530, 536.
Voragine, Jacques de, 9, 85, 97, 220, 400.
W
Waern, C., 555.
Wailly, Natalis de, 152, 245.
Wallon, H., 152, 521.
Westlake, M. H. J., 536.
Wismes, De, 269, 302.
Woillez, Eugène, 31, 38, 50, 224.
Wordsworth, 54, 65.
A
Abadie, Paul, 151, 290, 292, 355.
Abgrall, Abbé, 40, 556, 565, 568, 570.
Adams, Henry, 165, 170, 231, 299, 477, 499.
Agnel, Abbé A. d’, 387.
Agos, D’, 354.
Aigon, Abbé H., 389.
Albanès, Abbé, 400, 402.
Allard, Paul, 258, 331, 520.
Alline et Loisel, 504.
Annunzio, Gabriele d’, 107, 121.
Antony, C. M., 364.
Arbellot, Abbé, 345.
Arnaud, F., 230.
Arnold, Matthew, 264, 265.
Assier, A., 234.
Auber, Abbé, 40, 316.
Aubert, Marcel, 39, 78, 84, 126, 461.
Aucouturièr, H., 266.
Aufauvre, Amédée, 231.
Auger, 148.
Avril, Adolph d’, 194.
Ayroles, R. P., 521.
Ayzac, Félicie d’, 55.
B
Balzac, Honoré de, 119, 247, 249, 312.
Barbat, L., 114.
Barbeau, Albert, 236.
Barraud, P. C., 50, 224.
Barrès, Maurice, 50, 389, 398, 435.
Barres, Chaillon des, 430.
Barron, L., 126, 247, 256, 350.
Barsaux, Chanoine, 224.
Barthélemy, E. M. de, 114, 241.
Bavard, Abbé, 426.
Bayet, Jean, 126.
Bayle, G., 406.
Bazin, H., 126, 188.
Bazin, J., 410.
Bazin, René, 259, 302, 415, 419, 580.
Beaurepaire, Ch. de, 38, 472, 484, 499, 507.
Bédier, Joseph, 135, 245, 344, 435, 501.
Bégule, Lucien, 39, 256, 261, 428, 461, 565.
Beissier, F., 397.
Belloc, Hilaire, 375, 548.
Benard, Pierre, 282.
Bérard, E., 90.
Berger, E., 133, 154.
Bernard, Abbé, 397.
Berret, P., 261.
Bertaud, Émile, 479, 555.
Berthelé, J., 39, 404.
Besnard, A., 50, 492.
Besnard, Ch. H., 288, 303, 499.
Beugnot, A., 152.
Biais, 290.
Bilson, John, 16, 30, 46, 47, 68, 276, 302, 303, 461, 476, 479, 480, 481, 484, 493, 494, 495, 496, 512, 554.
Biran, Maine de, 285.
Blanqueron, Edmond, 241.
Boinet, Amédée, 39, 126, 281, 282.
Boissonnot, Chanoine, 247.
Bondot, L., 428.
Bonnard, 133.
Bonnet, Émile, 39, 384.
Bontier, 231.
Borderie, A. de la, 557, 566, 573.
Born, Bertran de, 345, 348, 349.
Bossebœuf, Abbé, 40, 249, 254, 280, 285, 293.
Bossuet, 121, 163, 167, 247, 452, 453.
Botrel, Théodor, 201.
Bouet, G., 39, 106, 484, 491, 551, 552.
Bouilhet, Louis, 78.
Bouillart, Jacques, 148.
Bouillet, Abbé A., 145, 541.
Bourassé, Abbé J. J., 39, 247, 315.
Bourdaloue, 212.
Bourget, Paul, 339, 531.
Bourillon, F. W., 396.
Bournon, F., 254.
Bourrienne, V., 545.
Boutarie, E., 154.
Bouvier, Abbé, 39, 40, 90.
Bouxin, Abbé, 40, 99.
Bouzerand, 443.
Branche, D., 331.
Bréhier, Louis, 188, 331.
Brière, Gaston, 39, 54, 188.
Brin, 499.
Brizeux, A., 570.
Broche, Lucien, 39, 99.
Broglie, Em. de, 148.
Brown, Prof. Baldwin, 481.
Bruel, F. L., 114.
Brun, Armand de, 147.
Brunetière, F., 148.
Brutails, J. A., 39, 47, 288, 291, 350, 351, 355.
Bulteau, Abbé, 40, 170.
Bunodière, H. de la, 509.
Bushnell, A. J. de H., 55, 90, 170, 234, 242, 247, 266, 302, 316, 536.
C
Cagnat, R., 157.
Cagni et Mocquereau, 280.
Cahier et Martin, P. P., 213, 219, 262.
Calmette, A., 382, 410.
Canéto, Abbé, 384.
Calvert, 381.
Caumont, Arcisse de, 38, 226, 293, 410, 472, 484, 491, 520, 531, 545, 546, 554.
Cerf, Abbé, 40, 188.
Chabeuf, H., 426, 452.
Chaillan, Abbé, 384.
Chaillot, A., 406.
Chalandon, F., 479, 555.
Champeaux et Gauchery, 213, 341.
Chantelon, Dom, 399.
Charmasse, A. de, 423.
Chartraire, E., 90.
Chassepied, Ch., 570.
Chateaubriand, 70, 118, 410, 443, 562.
Chaucer, 372, 551.
Chaumont, Chanoine L., 414.
Chérest, A., 435, 445.
Cherge, De, 316.
Cherval, 170.
Chesterton, Cecil, 579, 580.
Chevalier, Ed., 250.
Chevalier, U., 152, 452, 521.
Chigougesnel, 545.
Chomton, Abbé, 40, 452.
Choyer, 285.
Clémat, Chanoine Joseph, 266.
Clément, Pierre, 222.
Cleuziou, H. de, 556.
Cloquet (A.) et Cassier (J.), 254.
Clouard, E., 341.
Coffinet, J. B., 230.
Cogny, G. de, 374.
Colonne, A. de, 202.
Congny, Gaston, 213, 449.
Cook, 507.
Cook, Sir Theodore Andreas, 213, 254, 499, 519, 534.
Corberon, 448.
Corbolin, 428.
Cordier, Léon le, 472.
Corroyer, Ed., 288, 294, 298, 359, 499.
Coulanges, Fustel de, 42.
Courajod, Louis, 38, 145, 247, 266, 452.
Courcel, V. C. de, 230.
Courteault, P., 350.
Courtépée, Claude, 410, 423, 428.
Cousin, Victor, 133, 211.
Coutan, Dr., 38, 494, 498, 512.
Cram, Ralph Adams, 91.
Crawford, F. Marion, 439.
Crégut, Abbé R., 341.
Cros-Meyreveille, 375.
Crosnier, Abbé, 39, 55, 90, 170, 435, 449.
Crozes, H., 390.
Cruppi, 151.
Cucherat, Abbé, 421.
Cunisset-Carnot, 452.
D
Dangibeaud, Ch., 287.
Dante, 9, 133, 137, 141, 147, 148, 150, 153, 156, 245, 253, 349, 357, 363, 441, 462, 465, 474.
Darcel, Alfred, 480.
Daudet, Alphonse, 259, 396.
Déchelette, Joseph, 423.
Dehaines, Mgr., 99, 226.
Delaborde, H. F., 245.
Deliguières, 210.
Delisle, Léopold, 378, 499, 520.
Demaison, Louis, 39, 114, 188, 199, 241.
Demimuid, 114.
Demogeon, 202.
Denais, J., 302, 311.
Dénifle, H., 490, 521.
Denis, Abbé, 492.
Depeyre, G., 266.
Desdevises du Dézert, 331, 381.
Desgardin, Gustave, 224.
Deshair, Léon, 453.
Deshoulières, F., 266, 313.
Deville, A., 507.
Deville, J. A., 492.
Devoncoux, Abbé, 423.
Didot, A. F., 90.
Didron, E. A., 39, 265, 513.
Diehl, Ch., 479, 555.
Dieudonné, A., 269.
Digonnet, Félix, 405.
Dion, A. de, 38, 114, 269, 461, 545, 551, 552.
Douais, Mgr. C., 364, 365, 375.
Dreux-Durandier, 316.
Drouet (H.) et Calmette (A.), 410.
Dubois, P., 224.
Dubouchet, 499.
Duchaisne, Mgr., 39, 395, 400, 401, 402, 424, 436.
Duchemin, 512.
Dufay, C. J., 265.
Duhamel, L., 405.
Dumaine, Abbé L. V., 542.
Durand, E., 335.
Durand, Georges, 39, 202, 203, 210.
Durandus, Guillaume, 19, 69, 214, 267, 359, 387, 400, 401.
E
Echivard, A., 268.
Édeline, Abbé, 491.
Ehrle, R. P., 405.
Engelhard, Ch., 531.
Engerand, Louis, 476, 545.
Enlart, Camille, 16, 18, 29, 30, 31, 38, 47, 49, 78, 81, 126, 201, 227, 228, 282, 287, 341, 342, 354, 435, 445, 447, 456, 461, 464, 465, 476, 479, 484, 507, 509, 514, 516, 555.
Escoffier, H., 152.
Esnault, G., 269.
Espinay, D’, 306, 312.
F
Fabrège, A., 384.
Fage, René, 39, 345.
Faillon, 396.
Fallue, A., 507.
Fançon, Maurice, 335.
Farcy, Louis de, 39, 302, 303, 310.
Farcy, Paul de, 545.
Faure, H., 266.
Fédié, L., 375.
Fénelon, 36, 288.
Fichot, Ch., 230.
Fillon, Benj., 280, 316, 565.
Flandin, V., 435.
Fleury, Gabriel, 39, 84, 99, 119, 170, 268, 428, 551.
Florival (de) et Midoux, 99.
Focillon, Henri, 257.
Fonteray, H. de, 423.
Forel, Alexis, 288, 289, 316, 331, 343, 356, 391.
Formeville, H. de, 531.
Formigé, J., 165, 408.
Forts, Paul des, 50.
Fossa, F. de, 144.
Fossey, Abbé Jules, 40, 536.
Foucaud, L. de, 350, 509.
Fournier, Paul, 369.
Fowke, J. R., 548.
Fraipont, G., 331.
France, Anatole, 521.
François, S., 126.
Freeman, E. H., 412, 490.
Froissart, 210, 327, 347, 349, 368, 408, 455.
Fyot, Eugène, 452.
G
Galimard, J., 428.
Gally, 435.
Gandillon, A., 213.
Gard, R. Martin du, 480.
Gareau, 293.
Garry, Eugène, 219.
Gauchery, P., 213, 341.
Gautier, Léon, 133, 135, 162, 245, 356, 500, 501, 520, 542.
George, J., 291.
Germain, Alphonse, 384, 426, 452.
Germain, A., 384.
Gerville, C. de, 546, 551.
Gillet, H. L., 356.
Girard, Ch., 343.
Girardot, A. T., 213, 280.
Glanville, L. de, 492.
Gobillot, Abbé Ph., 331.
Godart-Faultrier, 302, 312.
Gomart, Ch., 282.
Gonse, Louis, 16, 39, 67, 247, 282, 332, 342, 345, 435, 452, 498, 515, 537.
Goodyear, Prof. W. H., 68, 276.
Gosset, Alphonse, 114, 188.
Gourmont, Remy de, 135.
Gout, Paul, 499, 502.
Graillot, H., 356, 375.
Grandmaison, Ch. de, 38, 247, 280.
Gratry, P., 79.
Graves, 224.
Green, Mrs. J. R., 269, 472.
Grignon, Louis, 114.
Guépin, Dom, 279.
Guéranger, Dom Prosper, 280, 281, 321.
Guérard, R. Louis, 405.
Guerlin, H., 242, 249.
Guigue, C., 256, 266.
Guilhermy, F. de, 126, 565.
Guirard, Jean, 364, 365, 384, 405.
Guizot, 36, 103, 296, 297, 536.
H
Hallays, André, 84, 405.
Halphen, L., 302.
Hanoteau, Gabriel, 400, 503, 521.
Hardy (G.) et Gandillon (A.), 213.
Hardy, Abbé V., 535.
Haskins, Ch. H., 477.
Hauréau, B., 133.
Havard, H., 39, 99, 144, 148, 149, 219, 250, 256, 310, 389, 423, 435, 452, 507, 509.
Healy, 411.
Heaton, Clement, 458.
Hefele, 257.
Hello, Ernest, 551.
Hennezel, H. d’, 256.
Henry, Abbé V. B., 430.
Histoire Littéraire de la France, 41, 55, 84, 90, 99, 133, 150, 170, 258, 269, 293, 304, 343, 378, 391, 414, 430, 473, 494, 499, 531, 545.
Hubidos, H., 391.
Hucher, E., 268, 269.
Huillier, L., 433.
Humbert, A., 452.
Hurault, E., 242.
Hutton, W. H., 162.
Huysmans, J. K., 100, 128, 144, 170, 280, 284, 321, 415, 460.
Hymans, H., 203, 242.
J
Jeannin, Président, 423, 425.
Joanne, 39.
Johnson, Lionel, 165.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 294, 431.
Join-Lambert, O., 165.
Joinville, Jean de, 41, 70, 111, 119, 120, 138, 140, 152-162, 190, 206, 219, 244, 245, 246, 312, 342, 399, 553.
Jossier, Abbé, 236, 237.
Joubert, J., 290.
Jouin, H., 302, 310.
Jourdain et Duval, 202.
Jourdanne, Gaston, 375.
Jubainville, d’Arbois de, 231, 461.
Juiffrey, Jules, 312, 426.
Julleville, Petit de, 135, 245, 521.
Jullian, C., 350.
K
Kersers, A. Buhot de, 38, 213.
Kleinclausz, A., 410, 426, 452.
Koechlin, Raymond, 39, 231, 361, 452.
L
Labande, L. H., 39, 391, 392, 397, 403, 405.
Lacordaire, J. B. H. D., 128, 450, 462.
La Croix, P. de, 40, 325.
Lafenestre, George, 484.
Laferrière (J.) et Musset (G.), 287.
Lafond, Jean, 507.
Lahondès, Jules de, 39, 356, 360, 375, 381.
Lahore, Abbé, 236.
La Martillière, 272.
Lamartine, Alphonse de, 445.
Lambin, Émile, 39, 84, 99, 106, 123, 126, 165, 188, 202, 445, 507, 517, 531.
Landrieux, Mgr., 188, 199.
Laran, Jean, 370.
Largent, R. P., 316.
Lassus, J. B. A., 126, 266, 282, 460.
Lasteyrie, Charles de, 345.
Lasteyrie, Comte Robert de, 16, 17, 30, 38, 39, 49, 68, 114, 170, 228, 229, 250, 287, 331, 356, 359, 391, 394, 476, 484.
Lasteyrie, Ferdinand de, 55.
Latouche, Robert, 269.
Lauer, Philippe, 153.
Laurière, J. de, 354.
La Tremblay, Dom Coutil de la, 279, 281.
Lavalley, G., 491.
Lavedan, P., 172, 345.
La Villemarqué, Hersant de, 557.
Lavisse, Ernest, 76.
Lebeuf, Abbé, 445.
Le Beuf, D., 498.
Leblant, E., 397.
Le Braz, Anatole, 556, 568
Lecestre, 414.
Lecocq, 282.
Le Conte, R., 554.
Lecureur, L. Th., 570.
Ledeuil, 443.
Ledru, Abbé A., 40, 268.
Lefèvre, L. E., 435.
Lefèvre-Pontalis, Eugène, 16, 30, 31, 37, 38, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 78, 84, 99, 102, 106, 112, 121, 123, 126, 163, 170, 211, 237, 241, 268, 285, 291, 305, 323, 325, 340, 379, 421, 423, 443, 452, 479, 480, 482, 490, 491, 551, 553, 554, 557.
Leger, L., 203.
Legris, Abbé A., 498.
Leliène, Abbé, 545.
Lelong, E., 302.
Lemire, Ch., 521.
Lenoir, A., 148.
Lentheric, Ch., 378, 389.
Leo XIII, 130, 385, 422, 521.
Leport, A., 494.
Leroux, A., 345.
Leseur, F., 315.
Lestrade, Abbé, 356.
Levé, A., 548, 549.
Levillain, L., 55.
Lhuillier, Victor, 50.
Liard, L., 133.
Lignum, Lambin de, 279, 565.
Lincy, Le Roux de, 419, 494, 557.
Locquin, J., 266, 449.
Loisel, Abbé, 40, 504.
Lorière, Éd. de, 314.
Loriquet, Ch., 188.
Lorme, A. de, 556.
Lot, F., 480.
Loth, Abbé Julien, 480, 507.
Loti, Pierre, 199, 200, 561.
Lotte, Joseph, 499, 536.
Loutil, Abbé, 129.
Louvière, J. de, 397.
Lowell, James Russell, 100, 170.
Luce, Siméon, 490, 499, 521, 526, 557.
Luchaire, A., 162, 365.
Luzel, F. M., 557.
Luzuy, Abbé, 341.
M
Mabillon, Dom, 149, 418, 461.
Mâcon, E., 144.
Magne, Lucien, 293, 326.
Maistre, Joseph de, 222, 411.
Maître, Léon, 55, 257.
Mâle, Émile, 35, 39, 55, 85, 126, 144, 180, 182, 183, 207, 256, 262, 335, 341, 342, 343, 345, 347, 361, 424, 507, 541, 565, 570, 578.
Maleissye, C. de, 521.
Malifaud, G., 293.
Mallay, 343.
Mandet, 343.
Manteyer, Georges, 395, 397.
Mantz, Paul, 341, 343.
Marchand et Bourassé, 247.
Marche, Lecoy de la, 55, 133, 152, 302.
Marignan, A., 254, 356, 391.
Maritain, Jacques, 224.
Marlavagne, Bion de, 374.
Marsaux, Chanoine, 242.
Martin, Alexis, 126.
Martin, H., 250, 411, 490.
Martin, 39, 356, 397.
Maurin, Abbé E. F., 40, 403.
Mauvinière, H. de la, 290, 316.
Méloizes, Vicomte des, 213.
Mély, F. de, 145, 170.
Merimée, Prosper, 38, 285, 312, 321, 331, 341, 343, 370, 373, 383, 395.
Merlet, Lucien, 170.
Merlet, René, 39, 170, 171.
Meunier, Paul, 449.
Meyer, Alfred, 345.
Mézerai, 298, 519, 520.
Michel, André, 39, 228, 292, 345, 426, 431, 452, 507, 509, 516, 541.
Michel, Robert André, 405, 408.
Michel-Danzac, R., 288.
Migne, 414.
Mignon, A., 133.
Mistral, Frédéric, 356, 357, 384, 397, 400, 466, 504, 581.
Mocquereau, Dom, 280.
Molière, 36, 370.
Molinier, A., 152, 356, 362, 364.
Monod, Gabriel, 477, 520.
Monstrelet, 489.
Montaiglon, A. de, 67, 90, 563.
Montaigne, 350, 451.
Montalembert, Ch. de, 237, 256, 280, 411, 414, 476.
Montault, Mgr. Barbier de, 40, 224, 316.
Montegut, 423.
Montfort, J., 565.
Moore, Charles Herbert, 16, 22, 29.
Morand, 145.
Moreau-Nélaton, E., 106, 188.
Morel-Payen, 119, 230.
Mortet, Victor, 39, 126, 378.
Mortier, 364.
Mottay, Gautier du, 556.
Moulton, E., 445.
Müller, Abbé Eugène, 40, 84, 123.
Müntz, Eugène, 39, 312, 384, 387, 405.
Mure, De la, 343.
Musset, Alfred de, 16.
Musset (G.) et Laferrière (J.), 287.
Musset, Abbé E., 242.
Mylne, Rev. R. S., 545.
N
Narbonne, L., 317, 378.
Neale, Rev. John Mason, 19, 214, 317, 401, 414, 421, 451.
Newman, Cardinal, 123.
Nicolai, N. de, 421.
Nicquet, Honorat, 293.
Nodet, V., 265.
Norgate, Kate, 269, 302, 433, 472.
Normand, Ch., 149.
Noyes, Alfred, 282.
O
Oliphant, Mrs., 521.
Orderieus Vitalis, 472, 492, 537.
O’Reilly, E., 72, 194, 503, 506, 521, 523, 525, 527, 528.
O’Reilly, P. J., 350.
Orléans, Charles d’, 67, 143, 315, 497, 516, 517, 527, 529, 534, 565.
Ouin-Lacroix, Abbé, 517.
Ozanam, Frédéric, 135, 259, 268, 508.
P
Pacary, P., 536.
Palustre, Bernard, 293, 452.
Palustre, Léon, 39, 67, 302, 342, 405, 515, 519, 541, 556, 563.
Paris, Gaston, 135, 152, 242, 245, 565.
Pascal, 331, 332.
Pasquier, Étienne, 521.
Pasteur, Louis, 428.
Paté, L., 423.
Pater, Walter, 170, 432, 578.
Pavie, Victor, 293.
Pécout, Abbé, 288.
Péguy, Ch., 72, 73, 168, 179, 197, 536, 545.
Peigné-Delacour, 80.
Pélissier, L. G., 400.
Penjon, A., 405, 414.
Pépin, J., 492.
Perier, Arsène, 426.
Perkins, Rev. T., 202, 507.
Perrault-Dabot, A., 410.
Petit, A., 345.
Petit, Ernest, 410, 428, 452.
Petit-Dutaillis, 247, 452.
Peyre, Roger, 361, 397.
Peyron, P., 569.
Philippe, André, 417, 445, 461.
Pigéon, Abbé E. A., 40, 551, 552.
Pignot, H., 114.
Pihan, Abbé L., 50, 224.
Pillion, Louise, 188, 224, 445, 507.
Pinier, Chanoine, 305.
Pissier, Abbé, 436.
Plancher, Dom, 410.
Plat, Abbé, 272.
Poli, Vicomte Oscar de, 499.
Pommeraye, Dom, 509.
Poquet, Abbé, 106, 107.
Porée, Chanoine, 40, 472, 473, 496, 513, 536.
Porée, Charles, 39, 90, 435, 445, __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER
FOOTNOTES:
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ruskin, *The Seven Lamps of Architecture*.
[2] Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies.
[3] Louis Gonse, L’art gothique (Paris, Quantin, 1891); Camille Enlart, Manuel d’archéologie française (Paris, A. Picard et Fils, 1902), 2 vols., 8vo; ibid., Monuments religieux de l’architecture romane et de la transition dans la région picarde (Paris, A. Picard et Fils, 1895), folio; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, L’architecture religieuse dans l’ancien diocèse de Soissons au XIe et au XIIe siècle (Paris, Plon, 1894-97), 2 vols., folio; Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, Its Origins and Development (New York and London, 1909), 2 vols.; C. H. Moore, Development and Character of Gothic Architecture (New York, Macmillan, 1904); Anthyme Saint-Paul, “La transition,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1895-96, vols. 44, 45, and 1912-13, pp. 206, 263; R. de Lasteyrie, L’architecture religieux en France à l’époque romane (Paris, 1912), chap. x; ibid., in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1902, vol. 45, p. 213, his answer to Mr. Bilson, and Mr. Bilson’s reply; Louis Régnier, “Les origines de l’architecture gothique,” in Mém. de la Soc. hist. et archéol. de Pontoise, vol. 16; John Bilson, “The Beginnings of Gothic Architecture,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3d series, 1898-99, vol. 6, pp. 289, 322, 345; p. 259 (answer to M. de Lasteyrie); vol. 9, p. 350; Mr. Bilson’s papers were given in part in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901, vol. 44, pp. 369, 462; F. M. Simpson, A History of Architectural Development (London, 1909).
[3] Louis Gonse, Gothic Art (Paris, Quantin, 1891); Camille Enlart, Manual of French Archaeology (Paris, A. Picard et Fils, 1902), 2 vols., 8vo; ibid., Religious Monuments of Romanesque Architecture and Transition in the Picardy Region (Paris, A. Picard et Fils, 1895), folio; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Religious Architecture in the Former Diocese of Soissons in the 11th and 12th Centuries (Paris, Plon, 1894-97), 2 vols., folio; Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, Its Origins and Development (New York and London, 1909), 2 vols.; C. H. Moore, Development and Character of Gothic Architecture (New York, Macmillan, 1904); Anthyme Saint-Paul, “The Transition,” in Review of Christian Art, 1895-96, vols. 44, 45, and 1912-13, pp. 206, 263; R. de Lasteyrie, Religious Architecture in France during the Romanesque Period (Paris, 1912), chap. x; ibid., in Review of Christian Art, 1902, vol. 45, p. 213, his response to Mr. Bilson, and Mr. Bilson’s reply; Louis Régnier, “The Origins of Gothic Architecture,” in Memoirs of the Historical and Archaeological Society of Pontoise, vol. 16; John Bilson, “The Beginnings of Gothic Architecture,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3rd series, 1898-99, vol. 6, pp. 289, 322, 345; p. 259 (response to M. de Lasteyrie); vol. 9, p. 350; Mr. Bilson’s papers were partly published in Review of Christian Art, 1901, vol. 44, pp. 369, 462; F. M. Simpson, A History of Architectural Development (London, 1909).
[4] “Gothic architecture did not arise from a reaction against the principles of Romanesque: on the contrary, it is the natural development of those principles, the logical consequence of the germ idea of the Romanesque builders, which was to protect the naves of their churches by vaults of stone.”—R. de Lasteyrie.
[4] “Gothic architecture didn't come from a pushback against Romanesque principles; rather, it is the natural evolution of those ideas, the logical outcome of what the Romanesque builders originally envisioned, which was to shield the naves of their churches with stone vaults.”—R. de Lasteyrie.
[5] Any raised balcony, or gallery, in a church is called a tribune. The term will be used here mainly for the deep gallery over side aisles. The making of tribunes was brought about by the custom, in early Christendom, of separating the ages and sexes; in primitive days the kiss of peace used to be given among the congregation.
[5] Any raised balcony or gallery in a church is called a tribune. This term will mainly refer to the deep gallery above the side aisles. The creation of tribunes came about because of the practice in early Christianity of separating different ages and genders; in the early days, the congregation would exchange a kiss of peace.
[7] Guillaume Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, translated as The Symbolism of Churches and Church Ornaments by Neale and Webb of the Camden Society (Leeds, T. W. Green, 1843).
[7] Guillaume Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum, translated as The Symbolism of Churches and Church Ornaments by Neale and Webb of the Camden Society (Leeds, T. W. Green, 1843).
[8] The barrel vault (a half cylinder) was known to the Egyptians and Assyrians. Rome used it extensively, also the groin vault (made of two intersecting half cylinders).
[8] The barrel vault (a half cylinder) was recognized by the Egyptians and Assyrians. The Romans made extensive use of it, along with the groin vault (formed by two intersecting half cylinders).
[9] “There are few things more interesting, more instructive, or more beautiful in human history than the spectacle of those early cowled builders struggling against all difficulties and disadvantages, and laying the foundations of a new art which was, in the stronger hands of their lay successors, to culminate in the marvels of Chartres and Amiens.”—Charles Herbert Moore, Development and Character of Gothic Architecture (New York, Macmillan, 1904).
[9] “There are few things more fascinating, more educational, or more beautiful in human history than watching those early builders in robes facing numerous challenges and setbacks as they laid the groundwork for a new art that would, in the more capable hands of their successors, lead to the wonders of Chartres and Amiens.”—Charles H. Moore, Development and Character of Gothic Architecture (New York, Macmillan, 1904).
[10] Let us run briefly over the French Romanesque schools to gain an idea of the monk builder’s activities.
[10] Let's quickly go over the French Romanesque schools to get a sense of what the monk builders were up to.
Normandy displayed a powerful regional genius, and carried through her Romanesque churches with native thoroughness. Her school was formulated early. By 1040 Jumièges abbey church was begun, and within thirty years the two abbeys of Caen were building. Norman Romanesque used the alternate system of piers, a central lantern tower, cubic capitals, and a geometric sculpture. Their architects were inclined to be overcautious; up to the advent of Gothic they often covered the middle nave with a timber roof, though they vaulted the side aisles with stone.
Normandy showcased a strong regional talent and built her Romanesque churches with local dedication. Her architectural style was established early on. By 1040, the construction of the Jumièges abbey church had begun, and within thirty years, the two abbeys of Caen were in progress. Norman Romanesque architecture employed an alternating system of piers, a central lantern tower, cubic capitals, and geometric sculpture. The architects tended to be overly cautious; until the arrival of Gothic architecture, they often covered the main nave with a wooden roof, while they used stone vaulting for the side aisles.
Burgundy’s Romanesque school was bolder. Groin and barrel vaultings covered side aisles and central vessel; and the transverse arches which braced the vaulting were often pointed, since it was found that such an arch exerted less side thrust. Some of Burgundy’s monastic churches were as lofty and spacious as the coming Gothic cathedrals. However, to obtain proper lighting by clearstory windows she sacrificed stability, and years later the Gothic builders had to add flying buttresses to prevent the collapse of the Romanesque churches. In this region where Gallo-Roman art had flourished, channeled pilasters were used. As was to be expected of the province where Cluny’s arts and crafts were centered, Burgundy was a leader in monumental sculpture, and such portals as Avallon, Autun, and Vézelay attest her skill.
Burgundy’s Romanesque school was more daring. Groin and barrel vaults covered the side aisles and the main area; and the transverse arches that supported the vaults were often pointed, as this type of arch was found to create less lateral pressure. Some of Burgundy’s monastic churches were as tall and spacious as the upcoming Gothic cathedrals. However, to achieve adequate lighting through clerestory windows, she compromised stability, and years later, Gothic builders had to add flying buttresses to prevent the collapse of the Romanesque churches. In this area where Gallo-Roman art had thrived, channeled pilasters were utilized. As could be expected from the region where Cluny’s arts and crafts were prominent, Burgundy was a leader in monumental sculpture, and portals like those at Avallon, Autun, and Vézelay demonstrate her expertise.
Auvergne produced a distinctive Romanesque school. Her art sprang direct from the ancient Roman traditions in the province. More cautious than her neighbor Burgundy, she soon gave up trying to light her upper nave by clearstory windows, but obtained light indirectly from side aisles and from a central tower. A precocious use of the ambulatory and of apse chapels appeared in the region. The two most striking features of her churches were the octagonal central tower set on a barlong base, and the apse whose exterior walls were decorated by the volcanic polychrome stones of the district.
Auvergne developed a unique Romanesque style. Its art came directly from the ancient Roman traditions of the area. More cautious than its neighbor Burgundy, it quickly abandoned the attempt to light the upper nave with clerestory windows, instead getting light indirectly from the side aisles and a central tower. There was an advanced use of the ambulatory and apse chapels in the region. The two most notable features of its churches were the octagonal central tower sitting on a rectangular base and the apse, whose exterior walls were adorned with the colorful volcanic stones from the area.
Poitou’s Romanesque school also developed early, and it, too, sacrificed spaciousness to solidity. The side aisles were made of almost equal height as the central vessel, and one roof covered all. The church interiors were often somber and cramped. The apse exterior was ornamented, and the boast of the region is its richly sculptured façades of which that of Notre-Dame-la-Grande at Poitiers is one of the best examples.
Poitou’s Romanesque school also emerged early, and it, too, sacrificed openness for sturdiness. The side aisles were nearly the same height as the central nave, and a single roof covered everything. The interiors of the churches were often dark and tight. The outside of the apse was decorated, and the highlight of the region is its richly sculpted façades, with Notre-Dame-la-Grande in Poitiers being one of the finest examples.
Languedoc built Romanesque churches of the first rank, such as St. Sernin at Toulouse, but the school had no definite uniformity. Sometimes it combined with the Romanesque of Poitou, sometimes with that of Auvergne, or of Burgundy. Because of Cluny affiliations, the Midi school was strong in sculpture—witness Beaulieu, Cahors, Moissac, and Toulouse.
Languedoc constructed top-tier Romanesque churches, like St. Sernin in Toulouse, but there was no clear uniformity in their style. At times, it merged with the Romanesque styles of Poitou, Auvergne, or Burgundy. Thanks to its connections with Cluny, the Midi school excelled in sculpture— as seen in Beaulieu, Cahors, Moissac, and Toulouse.
Provence Romanesque covered a more limited area. Usually the churches were aisleless, with a simple apse. A flat stone roof was laid directly on the barrel vaulting, which had pointed transverse ribs like those of Burgundy. Provence also used the fluted pilasters of antiquity. The many remains of Gallo-Roman sculpture in the region served as models for the notable imaged portals at St. Gilles and Arles.
Provence Romanesque covered a smaller area. Typically, the churches didn’t have aisles and featured a simple apse. A flat stone roof was placed directly on the barrel vaulting, which had pointed transverse ribs similar to those found in Burgundy. Provence also incorporated fluted pilasters from ancient times. The numerous remains of Gallo-Roman sculptures in the region inspired the famous sculpted portals at St. Gilles and Arles.
The Franco-Picard school had scarcely developed when it was supplanted by the nascent Gothic art. Besides these regional schools, two unique experiments in vaulting were essayed, though neither spread far afield. At Tournus, in the abbey church of St. Philibert was built a series of barrel vaults (carried on lintels) placed side by side transversely over the central vessel. And in Aquitaine, in the region of Périgueux and Angoulême, spreading in a line, north and south, arose a number of churches, each bay of which was covered by a cupola. Both these experiments were but partial solutions. While mediæval archæology was obscure, the pointed arch was looked on as the sine qua non of Gothic, and it was puzzling to find it in certain Romanesque churches, like those in Burgundy and Provence. The pointed arch was in use in Persia, in the VI century, and the Arabs early brought the form to Egypt, Sicily, and Spain. From the XI century it had appeared sporadically in Christian Europe. Such arches were not the first step in a new architecture, but were used either as a decorative feature or as an expedient to lessen the side thrust of a vault. From outside of France two schools of Romanesque art, the Lombard and the Rhenish, exerted considerable influences on their neighbor, but the forces paramount in each of the local French schools were the pre-Lombardic pre-Rhenish inheritances from Rome, blended with indigenous traditions.
The Franco-Picard school had just started to develop when it was overtaken by the emerging Gothic art. In addition to these regional schools, there were two unique experiments in vaulting attempted, though neither gained much popularity. In Tournus, the abbey church of St. Philibert featured a series of barrel vaults (supported by lintels) placed side by side across the central space. Meanwhile, in Aquitaine, in the regions of Périgueux and Angoulême, a number of churches were built in a line from north to south, each bay topped with a cupola. Both of these experiments were only partial solutions. While medieval archaeology was still not well understood, the pointed arch was considered the sine qua non of Gothic architecture, making its appearance in certain Romanesque churches, like those in Burgundy and Provence, quite puzzling. The pointed arch had been used in Persia as early as the 6th century, and the Arabs soon introduced this form to Egypt, Sicily, and Spain. From the 11th century, it had sporadically appeared in Christian Europe. These arches weren’t the initial step in a new architecture; rather, they were applied either as a decorative element or as a practical way to reduce the lateral thrust of a vault. From outside France, two schools of Romanesque art, the Lombard and the Rhenish, significantly influenced their neighboring regions, but the main forces in each local French school were the pre-Lombardic and pre-Rhenish legacies from Rome, combined with local traditions.
[11] Rome had used some brick lines under the surface of certain of her groin vaults. They performed no separate function, but were embedded in the vaults’ concrete. The true Gothic vault has the ribs independent of the infilling. In their elasticity is their strength.
[11] Rome used some brick lines beneath the surface of certain groin vaults. They didn't serve a separate purpose but were embedded in the concrete of the vaults. The true Gothic vault has the ribs independent from the infilling. Their strength lies in their flexibility.
[12] G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture (London, Heinemann, 1910). Translated from Le origini dell’ architettura lombarda (Milano, 1908); Arthur Kingsley Porter, Lombard Architecture (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1917), 3 vols. and Atlas; ibid., The Construction of Lombard and Gothic Vaults (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1911).
[12] G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture (London, Heinemann, 1910). Translated from Le origini dell’ architettura lombarda (Milan, 1908); Arthur Kingsley Porter, Lombard Architecture (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1917), 3 vols. and Atlas; ibid., The Construction of Lombard and Gothic Vaults (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1911).
[13] E. Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle (Paris, 1875), 11 vols.; Anthyme Saint-Paul, Viollet-le-Duc et son système archéologique (Tours, 1881). The masterly technical knowledge of M. Viollet-le-Duc did much to remove the stigma of caprice and extravagance which the neo-classic age had fixed on Gothic art. It is a pity that the pioneer who struck good blows for the rehabilitation of Gothic should have jeopardized the permanence of his work by giving free rein to his personal prejudices.
[13] E. Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire raisonné de l’architecture française du XIe au XVIe siècle (Paris, 1875), 11 vols.; Anthyme Saint-Paul, Viollet-le-Duc et son système archéologique (Tours, 1881). M. Viollet-le-Duc's impressive technical expertise greatly helped to change the negative perception of Gothic art that the neo-classical era had created. It's unfortunate that the pioneer who fought hard for the revival of Gothic architecture endangered the longevity of his work by letting his personal biases take over.
[14] E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Le plan d’une monographie d’église et le vocabulaire archéologique,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1910, p. 379. He has written on the same subject in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 453, and 1907, vol. 71, pp. 136, 351, 535.
[14] E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “The Outline of a Monograph on Churches and Archaeological Vocabulary,” in Christian Art Review, 1910, p. 379. He has also written on the same topic in Monumental Bulletin, 1906, vol. 70, p. 453, and 1907, vol. 71, pp. 136, 351, 535.
[16] Camille Enlart, Origines françaises de l’architecture gothique en Italie (Paris, 1893); ibid., Les origines de l’architecture gothique en Espagne et en Portugal (Paris, 1894); ibid., Notes archéologiques sur les abbayes cisterciennes de Scandinavie (Paris, 1894); ibid., Villard de Honnecourt et les Cisterciens (Paris, 1895); ibid., L’art gothique et de la Renaissance en Chypre (Paris, Leroux, 1899), 2 vols.; Émile Bertaud, L’art dans l’Italie méridionale (Paris, Fontemoing, 1904).
[16] Camille Enlart, French Origins of Gothic Architecture in Italy (Paris, 1893); ibid., The Origins of Gothic Architecture in Spain and Portugal (Paris, 1894); ibid., Archaeological Notes on Cistercian Abbeys in Scandinavia (Paris, 1894); ibid., Villard de Honnecourt and the Cistercians (Paris, 1895); ibid., Gothic and Renaissance Art in Cyprus (Paris, Leroux, 1899), 2 vols.; Émile Bertaud, Art in Southern Italy (Paris, Fontemoing, 1904).
[17] Other publications of value to the student are the Revue de l’art chrétien, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Moyen-Âge, l’Archéologie, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, Revue archéologique, and the Didron’s Annales archéologique. There are H. Havard’s La France artistique et monumental, Viollet-le-Duc’s Dictionnaire de l’architecture française, Joanne’s Dictionnaire de la France. The regional and local monographs will be given here with each school of Gothic and each cathedral as it is described.
[17] Other valuable publications for students include the Revue de l’art chrétien, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Moyen-Âge, l’Archéologie, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, Revue archéologique, and Didron’s Annales archéologique. There’s also H. Havard’s La France artistique et monumental, Viollet-le-Duc’s Dictionnaire de l’architecture française, and Joanne’s Dictionnaire de la France. The regional and local monographs will be provided here alongside each Gothic school and cathedral as we describe them.
[19] Émile Mâle, L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle en France (Paris, Colin, 1908), 4to; ibid., L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France (Paris, Colin, 1910), 4to.
[19] Émile Mâle, The Religious Art of the 13th Century in France (Paris, Colin, 1908), 4to; ibid., The Religious Art of the Late Middle Ages in France (Paris, Colin, 1910), 4to.
[20] “Il en est parmi nous qui préfèrent la victoire de leur parti à la victoire de la patrie. Écrire l’histoire de France était une façon de travailler pour un parti et de combattre un adversaire. Pour beaucoup de Français être patriote, c’est être ennemi de l’ancienne France. Cette sorte de patriotisme au lieu de nous unier contre l’étranger nous pousse tout droit à la guerre civile.”—Fustel de Coulanges.
[20] “Some among us prefer the victory of their party over the victory of the nation. Writing the history of France has become a way to support a party and fight an opponent. For many French people, being patriotic means being opposed to old France. This kind of patriotism, instead of uniting us against outsiders, leads us straight into civil war.”—Fustel de Coulanges.
[23] In each vault section of the ambulatory of St. Maclou, Pontoise, was inserted a fifth rib, which sprang from the keystone to the middle of each apse chapel’s rear wall, and which consolidated both chapel and procession path. The diagonals do not curve, as do those of Morienval. St. Maclou was entirely finished in the XII century, but it was reconstructed radically in the XV century: the present façade is 1450-70. Again in the XVI century the church was partly rebuilt, so that the double-aisled nave of to-day appears a beautiful example of Renaissance art. It was at Pontoise that St. Louis, in 1244, took the vow to go crusading. (See, Lefèvre-Pontalis, Monographie de l’église St. Maclou de Pontoise.)
[23] In each section of the vault in the ambulatory of St. Maclou, Pontoise, there was a fifth rib added, which extended from the keystone to the middle of each apse chapel’s back wall, reinforcing both the chapel and the processional path. The diagonals are straight, unlike those at Morienval. St. Maclou was fully completed in the 12th century but was extensively rebuilt in the 15th century; the current façade dates from 1450-70. In the 16th century, the church was partially reconstructed, resulting in today's double-aisled nave, which is a stunning example of Renaissance art. It was in Pontoise that St. Louis took his vow to go on a crusade in 1244. (See, Lefèvre-Pontalis, Monographie de l’église St. Maclou de Pontoise.)
[24] Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture (New York and London, 1909). In vol. 2, pp. 193-251, is a full list of monuments of the transition.
[24] Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture (New York and London, 1909). In vol. 2, pp. 193-251, there is a complete list of transitional monuments.
[25] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 154, on Morienval; ibid., 1908, vol. 2, pp. 128, 476, on Morienval, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Brutails, and John Bilson; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, L’architecture religieuse dans l’ancien diocèse de Soissons au XIe et au XIIe siècle (Paris, Plon, 1894-97), 2 vols., folio. Also, his discussion on the vaults of Morienval in Bulletin Monumental, vol. 71, pp. 160, 335; 1908, vol. 72, p. 477; and in Correspondance historique et archéologique, 1897, pp. 193, 197; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “La transition,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1895, p. 13. Also, his studies of Morienval in Mémoires de la Soc. archéol. de Pontoise ..., 1894, vol. 16; Mémoires du Comité archéol. de Senlis, 1892, vol. 7; Correspondance historique et archéologique, 1897, pp. 129, 161; John Bilson, on Morienval, in Bulletin Monumental, 1908, vol. 72, p. 498; and Congrès Archéologique, 1905; L. Régnier, in Mémoires de la Soc. archéol. de Pontoise ..., 1895, p. 124.
[25] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 154, on Morienval; ibid., 1908, vol. 2, pp. 128, 476, on Morienval, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Brutails, and John Bilson; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, L’architecture religieuse dans l’ancien diocèse de Soissons au XIe et au XIIe siècle (Paris, Plon, 1894-97), 2 vols., folio. Also, his discussion on the vaults of Morienval in Bulletin Monumental, vol. 71, pp. 160, 335; 1908, vol. 72, p. 477; and in Correspondance historique et archéologique, 1897, pp. 193, 197; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “La transition,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1895, p. 13. Also, his studies of Morienval in Mémoires de la Soc. archéol. de Pontoise ..., 1894, vol. 16; Mémoires du Comité archéol. de Senlis, 1892, vol. 7; Correspondance historique et archéologique, 1897, pp. 129, 161; John Bilson, on Morienval, in Bulletin Monumental, 1908, vol. 72, p. 498; and Congrès Archéologique, 1905; L. Régnier, in Mémoires de la Soc. archéol. de Pontoise ..., 1895, p. 124.
[26] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, “St. Étienne, at Beauvais,” pp. 15, 530; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire, vol. 3, pp. 254, 263; vol. 4, p. 289; vol. 7, p. 133; Stanislas de Saint-Germain, Notice historique et descriptive de l’église St. Étienne de Beauvais; Victor Lhuillier, St. Étienne de Beauvais; P. C. Barraud, “Les vitraux de St. Étienne de Beauvais,” in Soc. Académique d’archéologie, department de l’Oise, vol. 2, p. 507; Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 81, “St. Germer,” L. Régnier; and p. 406, “St. Germer,” A. Besnard; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “L’église de St. Germer,” in l’Annuaire Normand, 1903, p. 134; and Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1885 and 1889; also Bulletin Monumental, 1886; A. Besnard, L’église de St. Germer de Fly (Oise), (Paris, E. Lechavalier, 1913); Paul des Forts, “Une excursion en Beauvaisis,” in Bulletin de la Société d’émulation d’Abbeville, 1903; Eugène Woillez, Archéologie des monuments religieux de l’ancien Beauvoisis.
[26] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, “St. Étienne, at Beauvais,” pp. 15, 530; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire, vol. 3, pp. 254, 263; vol. 4, p. 289; vol. 7, p. 133; Stanislas de Saint-Germain, Historical and Descriptive Notice of the Church of St. Étienne de Beauvais; Victor Lhuillier, St. Étienne de Beauvais; P. C. Barraud, “The Stained Glass of St. Étienne de Beauvais,” in Academic Society of Archaeology, Department of Oise, vol. 2, p. 507; Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 81, “St. Germer,” L. Régnier; and p. 406, “St. Germer,” A. Besnard; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “The Church of St. Germer,” in Norman Yearbook, 1903, p. 134; and Library of the School of Chartes, 1885 and 1889; also Monumental Bulletin, 1886; A. Besnard, The Church of St. Germer de Fly (Oise), (Paris, E. Lechavalier, 1913); Paul des Forts, “An Excursion in Beauvaisis,” in Bulletin of the Society of Emulation of Abbeville, 1903; Eugène Woillez, Archaeology of Religious Monuments in Ancient Beauvoisis.
[28] Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Poissy et Morienval,” in Mémoires de la Société archéol. de Pontoise et du Vexin, 1894, vol. 16; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, L’Architecture religieuse dans l’ancien diocèse de Soissons au XIe et au XIIe siècle (Paris, Plon, 1894), 2 vols., folio; F. de Verneilh, Le premier des monuments gothic (Paris, 1864).
[28] Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Poissy and Morienval,” in Mémoires de la Société archéol. de Pontoise et du Vexin, 1894, vol. 16; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Religious Architecture in the Old Diocese of Soissons in the 11th and 12th Centuries (Paris, Plon, 1894), 2 vols., folio; F. de Verneilh, The First Gothic Monuments (Paris, 1864).
[29] Some naïve XVI-century lines are under the window of St. Louis’ chapel:
[29] Some simplistic 16th-century lines are under the window of St. Louis' chapel:
And baptized in this church;
The fonts are still preserved here,
"And honored as an exquisite relic."
[30] “King John,” Act II.
[31] Vitry et Brière, L’église abbatiale de St. Denis et ses tombeaux (Paris, Longuet, 1908); ibid., Documents de sculpture française (Paris, 1913); Anthyme Saint-Paul. “Suger. L’église de St. Denis, et St. Bernard,” Mémoire lu à la Sorbonne, inséré au Bulletin archéologique, et tiré à part, 1890; F. de Verneilh, Le premier des monuments gothiques (Paris, 1864); Abbé Crosnier, “Vitrail de l’abbaye de St. Denis expliqué,” in Revue archéologique, 1847, vol. 7, p. 377; Félicie d’Ayzac, Histoire de l’abbaye de Saint Denis-en-France (Paris, 1861), 2 vols.; Ferdinand de Lasteyrie, Histoire de la peinture sur verre (Paris, Didot, 1852), 2 vols.; Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan, 1914); Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France (Paris, A. Colin, 1910); ibid., “La part de Suger dans la création de l’iconographie,” in Revue de l’art ancien et moderne, 1914; L. Levillain, “L’église carolingienne de St. Denis,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1907, vol. 71, p. 211; L. Levillain et L. Maitre, “Crypt de St. Denis,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1903, p. 136; Suger, Œuvres complètes, éd. Lecoy de la Marche (Paris, Renouard, 1867); Histoire littéraire de la France. (Begun by the XVII-century Benedictines and continued by the Institute of France.) Vol. 12, p. 361, on Suger, published in 1764.
[31] Vitry and Brière, The Abbey Church of St. Denis and Its Tombs (Paris, Longuet, 1908); ibid., Documents of French Sculpture (Paris, 1913); Anthyme Saint-Paul. “Suger. The Church of St. Denis, and St. Bernard,” Memoir Read at the Sorbonne, published in the Archaeological Bulletin, and printed separately, 1890; F. de Verneilh, The First of the Gothic Monuments (Paris, 1864); Abbé Crosnier, “Stained Glass of the Abbey of St. Denis Explained,” in Archaeological Review, 1847, vol. 7, p. 377; Félicie d’Ayzac, History of the Abbey of Saint Denis-en-France (Paris, 1861), 2 vols.; Ferdinand de Lasteyrie, History of Stained Glass Painting (Paris, Didot, 1852), 2 vols.; Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan, 1914); Émile Mâle, Religious Art of the Late Middle Ages in France (Paris, A. Colin, 1910); ibid., “Suger’s Contribution to the Creation of Iconography,” in Review of Ancient and Modern Art, 1914; L. Levillain, “The Carolingian Church of St. Denis,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1907, vol. 71, p. 211; L. Levillain and L. Maitre, “Crypt of St. Denis,” in Archaeological Congress, 1903, p. 136; Suger, Complete Works, ed. Lecoy de la Marche (Paris, Renouard, 1867); Literary History of France. (Begun by the 17th-century Benedictines and continued by the Institute of France.) Vol. 12, p. 361, on Suger, published in 1764.
[32] Marius Sepet, Le Drapeau de la France.
[33] Henri Stein, Les architectes des cathédrales gothiques (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); ibid., “Pierre de Montereau,” in Mémoires de la Société des antiquaires de France, 1900, vol. 61.
[33] Henri Stein, The Architects of Gothic Cathedrals (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); ibid., “Pierre de Montereau,” in Memoirs of the Society of Antiquaries of France, 1900, vol. 61.
[34] A. de Montaiglon, “La famille des Juste en France,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1876, vol. 42, pp. 76, 768. Details of the tombs of St. Denis are to be found in Palustre, La Renaissance en France (1888); Gonse, La Sculpture française depuis le XIVe siècle (1895); Vitry, Michel Colombe et la sculpture française (1901); and in writings by A. Saint-Paul and Louis Courajod.
[34] A. de Montaiglon, “The Juste Family in France,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1876, vol. 42, pp. 76, 768. Information about the tombs of St. Denis can be found in Palustre, The Renaissance in France (1888); Gonse, French Sculpture Since the 14th Century (1895); Vitry, Michel Colombe and French Sculpture (1901); and in writings by A. Saint-Paul and Louis Courajod.
[35] R. de Lasteyrie, “La déviation de l’axe des églises est-elle symbolique?” in Bulletin Monumental, 1905, vol. 69, p. 422, also published separately; A. Saint-Paul, “Les irrégularités de plan des églises,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 129; John Bilson, “Deviation of Axis in Medieval Churches,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, December 25, 1905; W. H. Goodyear, “Architectural Refinements in French Cathedrals,” in Architectural Record, vols. 16, 17, 1904-05, and Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3d series, 1907, vol. 15, p. 17.
[35] R. de Lasteyrie, “Is the Deviation of Church Axes Symbolic?” in Bulletin Monumental, 1905, vol. 69, p. 422, also published separately; A. Saint-Paul, “Irregularities in Church Plans,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 129; John Bilson, “Axis Deviation in Medieval Churches,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, December 25, 1905; W. H. Goodyear, “Architectural Details in French Cathedrals,” in Architectural Record, vols. 16, 17, 1904-05, and Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3d series, 1907, vol. 15, p. 17.
[36] During three days in August, 1793, and again in October of the same year, the tombs at St. Denis were violated. Robespierre stood long studying the chivalrous head of Henry IV, then plucked some hairs from the king’s white beard and put them in his portfolio; Henry IV had abjured Calvinism in this very church of St. Denis in 1593. The corpse of Louis XIV presented an air of serene majesty. When the coffin of Louis XV was opened the air was infected insupportably. On that same day in October, 1793, Marie Antoinette mounted the scaffold. Her remains and those of Louis XVI are to-day laid in the inner core of St. Denis’ crypt.
[36] During three days in August 1793, and again in October of the same year, the tombs at St. Denis were desecrated. Robespierre stood for a long time, studying the noble head of Henry IV, then pulled some hairs from the king’s white beard and placed them in his portfolio; Henry IV had renounced Calvinism in this very church of St. Denis in 1593. The body of Louis XIV had an air of calm dignity. When the coffin of Louis XV was opened, the smell was unbearable. On that same day in October 1793, Marie Antoinette climbed the scaffold. Her remains and those of Louis XVI are now interred in the inner section of St. Denis’ crypt.
[37] E. O’Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation ... de Jeanne d’Arc, vol. 2, p. 134, the eighth interrogation, March 17, 1431 (Paris, Plon, 1868), 2 vols.
[37] E. O’Reilly, The Two Trials of Condemnation ... of Joan of Arc, vol. 2, p. 134, the eighth interrogation, March 17, 1431 (Paris, Plon, 1868), 2 vols.
[39] The following is a free rendering of Péguy’s verses:
[39] Here’s a modern version of Péguy’s lines:
So Geneviève must see her France in ruins,
And Paris, her own godchild, was engulfed by flames,
And devastated by the most malevolent groups.
Even in their graves, the dead continued to pursue, Many innocent people were hung high on gibbets. With its tongue sticking out, pecked by crows.
God never intended a greater miracle. In His Peace, Kindness, and Strength,
After 920 vigil years
Geneviève saw her ancient city approaching. Her of Lorraine, symbol of God's pure compassion—
Jeanne the Maid!—
Hiding her effectiveness behind her visor, Living in deep mystery with sweet wisdom,
Dying in bleak martyrdom with courageous energy Bringing an entire army to the power of Prayer.
[40] Paul Verlaine, Choix de Poésies (Paris, Charpentier, 1912).
[41] “The privileged land where the Seine, the Oise, and the Marne approach their waters gave France its laws and political unity, its literary language with its incomparable clarity, and its Gothic art.”—Ernest Lavisse, Histoire de France.
[41] “The special land where the Seine, the Oise, and the Marne converge provided France with its laws and political unity, its literary language known for its unmatched clarity, and its Gothic art.”—Ernest Lavisse, Histoire de France.
[43] The people of the Valois country cried “Noël!” as Jeanne passed. And as she rode between the great Dunois and the archbishop of Rheims she exclaimed, with emotion: “Here is a good people! Happy would I be, when I come to die, to be laid here to rest.” “Know you when you will die, Jeanne?” said the archbishop. “I know not. I am in the hands of God,” she made answer. “I would it pleased God, my creator, that I could go back now to serve under my father and my mother, and to keep their sheep with my brothers, who would be right glad to see me home.”—From the testimony of the Comte de Dunois, in 1455, Jeanne’s companion-in-arms in 1429.
[43] The people of the Valois region shouted "Merry Christmas!" as Jeanne passed by. Riding between the great Dunois and the archbishop of Rheims, she said with heartfelt emotion, "These are good people! I would be happy, when my time comes, to be laid to rest here." "Do you know when you will die, Jeanne?" asked the archbishop. "I do not know. I am in God's hands," she replied. "I wish it pleased God, my creator, that I could go back now to serve my father and mother, and tend their sheep with my brothers, who would be very glad to see me home." —From the testimony of the Comte de Dunois, in 1455, Jeanne’s companion-in-arms in 1429.
[44] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 170; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Histoire de la cathédrale de Noyon, (1901); Vitet et Ramée, Monographie de l’église Notre Dame de Noyon (Paris, 1845), 2 vols., 4to and folio; Brière, Précis descriptive et historique de la cathédrale de Noyon (1899); Camille Enlart, Hôtels de Villes et beffrois du nord de la France (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); Marcel Aubert, Noyon et ses environs (Paris, Longuet, 1919).
[44] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 170; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Histoire de la cathédrale de Noyon, (1901); Vitet et Ramée, Monographie de l’église Notre Dame de Noyon (Paris, 1845), 2 vols., 4to and folio; Brière, Précis descriptive et historique de la cathédrale de Noyon (1899); Camille Enlart, Hôtels de Villes et beffrois du nord de la France (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); Marcel Aubert, Noyon et ses environs (Paris, Longuet, 1919).
[45] Noyon was made a bishopric in the VI century, when St. Médard translated the see from St. Quentin, before the advance of the Huns and the Vandals. St. Médard gave the veil to Queen Radegund in the Merovingian cathedral of Noyon. Two Carolingian cathedrals stood in succession on the site: in the first, Charlemagne was consecrated king, 768, Noyon being his residence before Aix-la-Chapelle; in the second church, which rose after a Norman sacking, Hugues Capet was elected king shortly before 1000—the first monarch of the House of Capet, which was to rule over France during seven hundred years. Since the Revolution the sees of Noyon, Senlis, and Laon have been suppressed.
[45] Noyon became a bishopric in the 6th century when St. Médard moved the see from St. Quentin, just before the Huns and the Vandals invaded. St. Médard presented a veil to Queen Radegund at the Merovingian cathedral of Noyon. There were two Carolingian cathedrals built on the same site: in the first, Charlemagne was crowned king in 768, with Noyon serving as his residence before Aix-la-Chapelle; in the second church, which was constructed after a Norman raid, Hugues Capet was elected king just before the year 1000—the first monarch of the House of Capet, which would rule France for seven hundred years. Since the Revolution, the bishoprics of Noyon, Senlis, and Laon have been dissolved.
[46] The abbey church of Ourscamp is a ruin, but with the choir and ambulatory of the end of the XIII century partly standing. Where once were the piers of the nave have been planted two rows of poplars. Like Longpont and Royaumont, it was a Cistercian church that paid no heed to St. Bernard’s strictures on lavish architecture. The former infirmary of the monastery, now used as a factory, is one of the most graceful civic halls of the age (c. 1240); Peigné-Delacour, Histoire de l’abbaye de Notre Dame d’Ourscamp (1876), in 4to; Congrés Archéologique, 1905, p. 165, on Ourscamp.
[46] The abbey church of Ourscamp is in ruins, but the choir and ambulatory from the late 13th century are still partially standing. Where the nave's piers once stood, two rows of poplar trees have been planted. Like Longpont and Royaumont, it was a Cistercian church that ignored St. Bernard’s strict rules about extravagant architecture. The former infirmary of the monastery, now repurposed as a factory, is one of the most elegant civic halls of its time (c. 1240); Peigné-Delacour, Histoire de l’abbaye de Notre Dame d’Ourscamp (1876), in 4to; Congrés Archéologique, 1905, p. 165, on Ourscamp.
[48] Marcel Aubert, Monographie de la cathédrale de Senlis (1907). He has also described Senlis in the collection, Petites monographies (1910); Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 89, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; passim, 1877, vol. 44, “L’architecture dans le Valois,” Anthyme Saint-Paul; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, À travers le Beauvaisis et le Valois (1907); Émile Lambin, “La Cathédrale de Senlis,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1898, vol. 47; Abbé Eugène Müller, Senlis et ses environs (1897); André Hallays, En flanant à travers la France. Autour de Paris (Paris, 1910); G. Fleury, Études sur les portails imagés du XII siècle (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1904); Histoire littéraire de la France (Paris, 1835), vol. 18, p. 33, “Guérin, évêque de Senlis.”
[48] Marcel Aubert, Monographie de la cathédrale de Senlis (1907). He has also described Senlis in the collection, Petites monographies (1910); Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 89, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; passim, 1877, vol. 44, “L’architecture dans le Valois,” Anthyme Saint-Paul; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, À travers le Beauvaisis et le Valois (1907); Émile Lambin, “La Cathédrale de Senlis,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1898, vol. 47; Abbé Eugène Müller, Senlis et ses environs (1897); André Hallays, En flanant à travers la France. Autour de Paris (Paris, 1910); G. Fleury, Études sur les portails imagés du XII siècle (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1904); Histoire littéraire de la France (Paris, 1835), vol. 18, p. 33, “Guérin, évêque de Senlis.”
[51] Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend. Translated into English by Caxton and reprinted by William Morris, Kelmscott Press, 1872, 3 vols. Translated also in Temple Classics. One of the best recent French editions is that of Théodor de Wyzewa (Paris, Perrie et Cie, 1909).
[51] Jacobus de Voragine, The Golden Legend. Translated into English by Caxton and reprinted by William Morris, Kelmscott Press, 1872, 3 vols. Also translated in Temple Classics. One of the best recent French editions is by Théodor de Wyzewa (Paris, Perrie et Cie, 1909).
[52] The Church of the Victory, consecrated by the warrior-bishop in 1225, was ruined during the Hundred Years’ War by the Duke of Bedford’s troops, who day after day were pricked on by Jeanne d’Arc’s army to a battle. In Flamboyant Gothic times the abbatial was rebuilt, but again it was wrecked in the XVIII century. Only a few late-Gothic bays now stand on the lawn before the country house of the Comte Boula de Coulomier. Bishop Guérin also consecrated the church of Chaalis abbey, where he was buried in 1228. Chaalis is now a picturesque ruin.
[52] The Church of the Victory, dedicated by the warrior-bishop in 1225, was destroyed during the Hundred Years' War by the Duke of Bedford's troops, who were constantly pushed into battle by Jeanne d'Arc's army. In the Flamboyant Gothic period, the abbey was rebuilt, but it was again ruined in the 18th century. Only a few late-Gothic arches now remain on the lawn in front of the Comte Boula de Coulomier's country house. Bishop Guérin also dedicated the church of the Chaalis abbey, where he was buried in 1228. Chaalis is now a charming ruin.
[54] The corner stone of St. Frambourg was laid in 1177 by Louis VII. It is a sort of forerunner of the Sainte-Chapelle type of edifice, without aisles or transept. Its sober, pure lines show faultless constructive skill, and a grievous pity is its present abandonment. Behind the cathedral is the church of St. Pierre, built in six different epochs: the lower stories of the tower, XI century; the choir and transept, 1260; the piers of the nave and the north tower’s top story, XV century; the rich façade, XVI century, a work of Pierre Chambiges; and the heavy, cold south tower, of the XVII century. In Senlis are St. Vincent’s church with a choir built after 1136, a XII-century tower, contemporary of the cathedral, and a groin roof of the XVIII century. St. Aignan’s belfry is of the end of the XI century, and served as model for the towers of St. Vincent and St. Pierre, just as all three of them contributed toward the inspiration of that sovereign thing of Senlis, the cathedral tower.
[54] The cornerstone of St. Frambourg was laid in 1177 by Louis VII. It’s a forerunner of the Sainte-Chapelle type of building, lacking aisles or transepts. Its simple, clean lines showcase exceptional construction skills, and it’s a real shame that it’s now abandoned. Behind the cathedral is St. Pierre's church, which was built over six different periods: the lower stories of the tower from the 11th century; the choir and transept from 1260; the piers of the nave and the top story of the north tower from the 15th century; the ornate façade from the 16th century, created by Pierre Chambiges; and the heavy, cold south tower from the 17th century. In Senlis, there’s St. Vincent's church featuring a choir built after 1136, an 11th-century tower contemporary with the cathedral, and an 18th-century groin roof. St. Aignan's belfry dates back to the end of the 11th century and served as a model for the towers of St. Vincent and St. Pierre, just as all three of them inspired the renowned cathedral tower of Senlis.
[55] Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 205, Charles Porée; E. Chartraire, La cathédrale de Sens (Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1920); E. Bérard, “La cathédrale de Sens,” in L’Architecture, 1902; E. Vaudin-Bataille, La cathédrale de Sens (Paris, 1899); Bouvier, Histoire de l’église de l’ancien archdiocèse de Sens (Paris, 1906); A. de Montaiglon, Antiquités de Sens (Paris, 1881); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan, 1914); A. F. Didot, “Jean Cousin, peintre verrier,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1873, vol. 39, p. 75; Marius Vachon, Une famille parisienne d’architectes maistre-maçons: les Chambiges; Crosnier, in Congrès Archéologique, 1847, “Iconographie des portails de Sens”; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire, vol. 9, pp. 222, 506; vol. 8, p. 74 (on the synodal hall); Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 15, p. 324, “Michel de Corbeil, archévêque de Sens”; p. 524, “Guillaume de Champagne, cardinal, archevêque de Rheims” (Paris, 1820); vol. 17, p. 223, “Pierre de Corbeil” (Paris, 1832); vol. 18, p. 270, “Gautier de Cornut, archévêque de Sens” (Paris, 1835).
[55] Archaeological Congress, 1907, p. 205, Charles Porée; E. Chartraire, The Cathedral of Sens (Little Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1920); E. Bérard, “The Cathedral of Sens,” in Architecture, 1902; E. Vaudin-Bataille, The Cathedral of Sens (Paris, 1899); Bouvier, History of the Church of the Former Archdiocese of Sens (Paris, 1906); A. de Montaiglon, Antiquities of Sens (Paris, 1881); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan, 1914); A. F. Didot, “Jean Cousin, stained glass painter,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1873, vol. 39, p. 75; Marius Vachon, A Parisian Family of Architects and Master Builders: the Chambiges; Crosnier, in Archaeological Congress, 1847, “Iconography of the Portals of Sens”; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionary, vol. 9, pp. 222, 506; vol. 8, p. 74 (on the synodal hall); Literary History of France, vol. 15, p. 324, “Michel de Corbeil, Archbishop of Sens”; p. 524, “Guillaume de Champagne, Cardinal, Archbishop of Rheims” (Paris, 1820); vol. 17, p. 223, “Pierre de Corbeil” (Paris, 1832); vol. 18, p. 270, “Gautier de Cornut, Archbishop of Sens” (Paris, 1835).
[57] At St.-Julien-du-Sault, fourteen miles from Sens, are over a dozen good XIII-century windows, and some four of the XVI century. St. Louis was a donor. In the window devoted to Ste. Geneviève are interesting XVI-century costumes.
[57] At St.-Julien-du-Sault, fourteen miles from Sens, there are more than a dozen beautiful 13th-century windows, along with about four from the 16th century. St. Louis was a donor. In the window dedicated to Ste. Geneviève, you'll find fascinating 16th-century costumes.
[58] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, Lucien Broche, p. 158, the cathedral; p. 225, St. Martin’s church; p. 239, the Templar’s church; Chanoine A. Bouxin, La cathédrale Notre Dame de Laon. Histoire et description (Laon, 1902); Jules Quicherat, “L’âge de la cathédrale de Laon” in Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1874, vol. 35, p. 249; Lucien Broche, Laon et ses environs (Caen, 1913); ibid., “L’évêche de Laon,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1902, vol. 66; De Florival et Midoux, Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Laon (Paris, Didron, 1882), folio; E. Fleury, Antiquités et monuments du département de l’Aisne, (1879), vol. 3, p. 153; Émile Lambin, Les églises de l’Ile-de-France (Paris, 1906). His description of Laon is also in the Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901-02, vols. 14, 15; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Les influences normandes au XIe et au XIIe siècle dans le nord de la France,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 10, p. 171, “Anselm de Laon” (Paris, 1756); vol. 11, p. 243, “St. Norbert” (Paris, 1759); vol. 13, p. 511, “Gautier de Mortagne, évêque de Laon” (Paris 1814); H. Havard, éd La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 4, p. 81, Mgr. Dehaisnes, on Laon.
[58] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, Lucien Broche, p. 158, the cathedral; p. 225, St. Martin’s church; p. 239, the Templar’s church; Chanoine A. Bouxin, La cathédrale Notre Dame de Laon. Histoire et description (Laon, 1902); Jules Quicherat, “L’âge de la cathédrale de Laon” in Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1874, vol. 35, p. 249; Lucien Broche, Laon et ses environs (Caen, 1913); ibid., “L’évêche de Laon,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1902, vol. 66; De Florival et Midoux, Les vitraux de la cathédrale de Laon (Paris, Didron, 1882), folio; E. Fleury, Antiquités et monuments du département de l’Aisne, (1879), vol. 3, p. 153; Émile Lambin, Les églises de l’Ile-de-France (Paris, 1906). His description of Laon is also in the Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901-02, vols. 14, 15; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Les influences normandes au XIe et au XIIe siècle dans le nord de la France,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 10, p. 171, “Anselm de Laon” (Paris, 1756); vol. 11, p. 243, “St. Norbert” (Paris, 1759); vol. 13, p. 511, “Gautier de Mortagne, évêque de Laon” (Paris 1814); H. Havard, éd La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 4, p. 81, Mgr. Dehaisnes, on Laon.
[59] For Coucy-le-Château (between Soissons and Laon) see M. Lefèvre-Pontalis’ study (1909) in the Petites Monographies series; or the Congrès Archéologique, 1911, p. 239. The XIII-century donjon was the most massive conception of the Middle Ages. Coucy’s lord ruled a hundred towns and was one of the big figures in feudal France. His proud device read: “Roi ne suis, ne prince, ne duc, ne comte aussi—Je suis le sire de Coucy.” The superb pile has been demolished in the World War. Madame Yvonne Sarcey visited Coucy in April, 1917. Of the imposing mediæval castle, hanging like a bourg to the flank of the hill, there remain two gaping porticos. “C’est tout!... C’est tout!” she lamented. “Ce paysage adorable de l’Ile-de-France portera sa croix.” The Germans blew up the castle before their strategic retirement, in 1917.
[59] For Coucy-le-Château (between Soissons and Laon) see M. Lefèvre-Pontalis’ study (1909) in the Petites Monographies series; or the Congrès Archéologique, 1911, p. 239. The 13th-century donjon was the most massive structure of the Middle Ages. The lord of Coucy ruled over a hundred towns and was one of the key figures in feudal France. His proud motto read: “Roi ne suis, ne prince, ne duc, ne comte aussi—Je suis le sire de Coucy.” The magnificent castle was demolished in World War I. Madame Yvonne Sarcey visited Coucy in April 1917. Of the impressive medieval castle, clinging to the side of the hill, only two gaping porticos remain. “C’est tout!... C’est tout!” she mourned. “Ce paysage adorable de l’Ile-de-France portera sa croix.” The Germans blew up the castle before their strategic withdrawal in 1917.
[60] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, p. 315, the cathedral; p. 337, St. Médard; p. 343, St. Léger; p. 348, St. Jean-des-Vignes; Étienne Moreau-Nélaton, “Soissons avant la guerre,” in Les cités ravagées (Collection, Images historiques), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); ibid., Les églises de chez nous: Soissons (Paris, H. Laurens); Abbé Poquet, Notice historique et archéologique de la cathédrale de Soissons (Soissons, 1848); Émile Lambin, “La cathédrale de Soissons” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1898, vol. 47; Émile Mâle, L’art allemand et l’art français du moyen âge (Paris, 1917); Bouet, “Excursion à Noyon, à Laon et à Soissons,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1868, vol. 34, p. 430; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, L’architecture religieuse dans l’ancien diocèse de Soissons au XIe et au XIIe, siècle (Paris, Plon, 1894-98), 2 vols., folio.
[60] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, p. 315, the cathedral; p. 337, St. Médard; p. 343, St. Léger; p. 348, St. Jean-des-Vignes; Étienne Moreau-Nélaton, “Soissons before the war,” in Les cités ravagées (Collection, Historical Images), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); ibid., The Churches of Our Area: Soissons (Paris, H. Laurens); Abbé Poquet, Historical and Archaeological Notice of the Cathedral of Soissons (Soissons, 1848); Émile Lambin, “The Cathedral of Soissons” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1898, vol. 47; Émile Mâle, German and French Art of the Middle Ages (Paris, 1917); Bouet, “Excursion to Noyon, Laon, and Soissons,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1868, vol. 34, p. 430; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Religious Architecture in the Former Diocese of Soissons in the 11th and 12th Centuries (Paris, Plon, 1894-98), 2 vols., folio.
[61] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, p. 410, Longpont abbatial; Abbé Poquet, Monographie de l’abbaye de Longpont (1869). Longpont, where the bishops of Soissons were buried, was founded by Gerard de Chérisy, who had married Lady Agnes of Longpont. St. Bernard sent twelve Cistercian monks to start the new house in 1131. The splendid Gothic church, which departed from Cîteaux’s rule of church simplicity, was consecrated in 1227 before the queen regent and Louis IX, by the bishop of Soissons, Jacques de Bazoches, who had just anointed Louis as king, at Rheims. Longpont was sacked by the Huguenots in 1567, and wrecked by the Revolution. The picturesque ruins were acquired by the de Montesquieu family in 1850.
[61] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, p. 410, Longpont abbatial; Abbé Poquet, Monographie de l’abbaye de Longpont (1869). Longpont, where the bishops of Soissons were buried, was established by Gerard de Chérisy, who married Lady Agnes of Longpont. St. Bernard sent twelve Cistercian monks to start the new monastery in 1131. The magnificent Gothic church, which strayed from Cîteaux’s principle of simple church design, was consecrated in 1227 in the presence of the queen regent and Louis IX, by the bishop of Soissons, Jacques de Bazoches, who had just anointed Louis as king at Rheims. Longpont was plundered by the Huguenots in 1567 and devastated by the Revolution. The scenic ruins were purchased by the de Montesquieu family in 1850.
[62] The monastery church of St. Jean-des-Vignes was in size a cathedral, and the maker of the great façade at Rheims, Bernard de Soissons, is said to have designed it. The cloisters, once the most sumptuous in the kingdom, were begun by an abbot who died in 1224, after he had built an aqueduct for the city which still is in use. St. Jean’s big west rose had been, since 1870, an empty circle. Little more than its façade and western towers stood before 1914. Sacked by the Revolution, its real demolition was under the Empire, when to repair the cathedral the deserted monastery was sold for a paltry sum, and stone by stone removed. The congregation of good men in this abbey did parish work for many centuries. In such good repute with the citizens were they that, when the Revolution suppressed the house, Soissons’ municipality protested, saying that the abbey had “always claimed with zeal its share of public duties.” Taine in his L’Ancien Régime quotes the protest: “In calamities this abbey opens its doors to the destitute citizens and feeds them. It alone has borne the expense of the citizens’ meetings, preparatory to the election of deputies for the National Assembly. It now is lodging a company of soldiers. Always when there are sacrifices to be made it is on hand.” However, the revolutionary authorities paid no heed to the citizens’ desire to retain their historic house.
[62] The monastery church of St. Jean-des-Vignes was as large as a cathedral, and it's said that Bernard de Soissons, the architect of the great façade in Rheims, designed it. The cloisters, which were once the most luxurious in the kingdom, were started by an abbot who passed away in 1224, after he built an aqueduct for the city that's still in use today. Since 1870, St. Jean’s large west rose window had been just an empty circle. By 1914, little more than its façade and western towers remained. The church was plundered during the Revolution, but it was truly demolished under the Empire when the abandoned monastery was sold for a meager amount to fund cathedral repairs, and stones were removed one by one. For many centuries, the congregation of good men at this abbey served the local community. They were held in such high regard by the citizens that when the Revolution shut down the abbey, the municipality of Soissons protested, claiming that the abbey had “always zealously fulfilled its public duties.” Taine, in his L’Ancien Régime, quotes the protest: “In times of trouble, this abbey opens its doors to the needy and feeds them. It has borne the costs of the citizens’ meetings to prepare for the election of deputies to the National Assembly. It is now providing shelter for a group of soldiers. Whenever sacrifices need to be made, it is always there.” However, the revolutionary authorities ignored the citizens’ wishes to keep their historic building.
[63] For the churches of Notre Dame and St. Martins, at Étampes, see Bulletin Monumental, 1905, vol. 69, and Annales de la Société hist. et archéol. du gatinais, 1907, Lefèvre-Pontalis; also the Congrès Archéologique, 1901, p. 71. Notre Dame was begun about 1160. Its strongly Romanesque south portal is of the same type as Chartres’ western doors. The crypt and piers of the nave are XI century, and the transept and choir were rebuilt about 1170 as early Gothic. The Romanesque tower is one of the best of its epoch; its base is approximately 1050; the next two stories about 1075; the fourth story, 1125; and the spire, 1130. The church is full of irregularities from rebuildings. St. Martin’s church is XII and XIII century; its much discussed ambulatory of the Champagne type is about 1165. The number of supports for the vault was doubled in the outer wall, thus making the space to be covered a series of square compartments alternating with triangles.
[63] For the churches of Notre Dame and St. Martins in Étampes, check Bulletin Monumental, 1905, vol. 69, and Annales de la Société hist. et archéol. du gatinais, 1907, Lefèvre-Pontalis; also refer to Congrès Archéologique, 1901, p. 71. Notre Dame started construction around 1160. Its prominent Romanesque south portal is similar to the western doors of Chartres. The crypt and piers of the nave date back to the 11th century, while the transept and choir were rebuilt around 1170 in early Gothic style. The Romanesque tower is one of the finest examples from its time; its base is roughly from 1050, the next two stories around 1075, the fourth story from 1125, and the spire from 1130. The church has many irregularities from various rebuilds. St. Martin’s church is from the 12th and 13th centuries; its much-debated ambulatory of the Champagne style is around 1165. The number of supports for the vault in the outer wall was doubled, creating a series of square compartments interspersed with triangles.
[65] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, St. Remi (Rheims), p. 57, and Notre Dame (Châlons), p. 473, Louis Demaison; Louis Demaison, Les églises de Châlons-sur-Marne (Caen, 1913); E. M. de Barthélemy, “Notre Dame-en-Vaux à Châlons-sur-Marne,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, vol. 15, p. 97; A. de Dion, “Notre Dame-en-Vaux à Châlons-sur-Marne,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1886, vol. 52, p. 547, and 1887, vol. 53, p. 439, Louis Grignon; L. Grignon, Description et l’histoire de Notre Dame de Châlons-sur-Marne (Châlons-sur-Marne, 1884), 2 vols.; Abbé Poussin, Monographie de l’abbaye et de l’église de St. Remi de Rheims (Rheims, 1857); Alfonse Gosset, La basilique de St. Remi à Rheims (Paris, 1900); L. Barbat, Histoire de la ville de Châlons-sur-Marne; R. de Lasteyrie, L’architecture religieuse en France à l’époque romane (Paris, 1912), p. 158, St. Remi.
[65] Archaeological Congress, 1911, St. Remi (Rheims), p. 57, and Notre Dame (Châlons), p. 473, Louis Demaison; Louis Demaison, The Churches of Châlons-sur-Marne (Caen, 1913); E. M. de Barthélemy, “Notre Dame-en-Vaux in Châlons-sur-Marne,” in Christian Art Review, vol. 15, p. 97; A. de Dion, “Notre Dame-en-Vaux in Châlons-sur-Marne,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1886, vol. 52, p. 547, and 1887, vol. 53, p. 439, Louis Grignon; L. Grignon, Description and History of Notre Dame de Châlons-sur-Marne (Châlons-sur-Marne, 1884), 2 vols.; Abbé Poussin, Monograph of the Abbey and Church of St. Remi of Rheims (Rheims, 1857); Alfonse Gosset, The Basilica of St. Remi in Rheims (Paris, 1900); L. Barbat, History of the City of Châlons-sur-Marne; R. de Lasteyrie, Religious Architecture in France during the Romanesque Period (Paris, 1912), p. 158, St. Remi.
[66] “Il est digne de remarque, que de toutes ces règles monastiques les plus rigides ont été les mieux observées: les Chartreux ont donné au monde l’unique exemple d’une congrégation qui a existé sept cents ans sans avoir besoin de réforme.”—Chateaubriand, Génie du Christianisme.
[66] “It's worth noting that out of all these strict monastic rules, the Carthusians have followed them the best: they are the only congregation in the world that has existed for seven hundred years without needing reform.”—Chateaubriand, Génie du Christianisme.
In April, 1903, two squadrons of dragoons expelled the last monks from La Grande Chartreuse. An economic loss for the entire region has resulted.
In April 1903, two squadrons of dragoons expelled the last monks from La Grande Chartreuse. This led to an economic loss for the entire region.
[67] Congrès Archéologique, 1902; Morel-Payen, Troyes et Provins (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Félix Bourquelot, Histoire de Provins (Paris, Techener, 1840), 2 vols.; Gabriel Fleury, “Le portail de St. Ayoul de Provins,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1902, p. 458, or in Études sur les portails imagés du XIIe siècle (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1904).
[67] Archaeological Congress, 1902; Morel-Payen, Troyes and Provins (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Félix Bourquelot, History of Provins (Paris, Techener, 1840), 2 vols.; Gabriel Fleury, “The Portal of St. Ayoul of Provins,” in Archaeological Congress, 1902, p. 458, or in Studies on the Illustrated Portals of the 12th Century (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1904).
[68] The transept of St. Ayoul is good Romanesque. After a fire in 1160 the nave was rebuilt as XIII-century Gothic; the choir is XVI century. At St. Loup-de-Naud there is a central lantern on squinches (XII century).
[68] The transept of St. Ayoul is a nice example of Romanesque architecture. After a fire in 1160, the nave was rebuilt in 13th-century Gothic style; the choir dates from the 16th century. At St. Loup-de-Naud, there’s a central lantern supported by squinches from the 12th century.
[69] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, p. 428, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; S. Prioux, Monographie de l’ancienne abbaye royale St. Yved de Braine (1859), folio; Bulletin Monumental, 1908, vol. 72, p. 455, A. Boinet.
[69] Archaeological Congress, 1911, p. 428, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; S. Prioux, Monograph of the Old Royal Abbey St. Yved de Braine (1859), folio; Monumental Bulletin, 1908, vol. 72, p. 455, A. Boinet.
[70] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 121, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, À travers le Beauvaisis et le Valois (Paris, 1907); Émile Lambin, “L’eglise de St. Leu d’Esserent,” in Gazette des beaux-arts, 1901, tome 25, p. 305; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire, vol. 2, p. 504; vol. 4, pp. 83, 230; vol. 7, p. 384; vol. 9, p. 280; Abbé Eugène Müller, Senlis et ses environs (1897).
[70] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, p. 121, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, À travers le Beauvaisis et le Valois (Paris, 1907); Émile Lambin, “The Church of St. Leu d’Esserent,” in Gazette des beaux-arts, 1901, vol. 25, p. 305; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionary, vol. 2, p. 504; vol. 4, pp. 83, 230; vol. 7, p. 384; vol. 9, p. 280; Abbé Eugène Müller, Senlis and Its Surroundings (1897).
[71] Marcel Aubert, La cathédrale de Notre Dame de Paris (Paris, Longuet, 1909); Lassus et Viollet-le-Duc, Monographie de Notre Dame de Paris (Paris), folio; V. Mortet, Étude historique et archéologique sur la cathédrale et le palais épiscopal de Paris (Paris, 1888); Queyron, Histoire et description de l’église de Notre Dame (Paris, Plon, Nourret et Cie); De Guilhermy, Description de Notre Dame de Paris (1856); ibid., Itinéraire archéologique de Paris (1855); S. François, La façade de Notre Dame de Paris (Brussels, Imprimerie Goosens, 1907), 4to; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Les origines des gables,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1907, vol. 71, p. 92; Camille Enlart, Le musée de sculpture comparée du Trocadéro (Collection, Les grandes institutions de France), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); H. Bazin, Les monuments de Paris (Paris, 1904); G. Riat, Paris (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Amédée Boinet and Jean Bayet, Les édifices religieux de Paris (Collection, Les richesses d’art de la ville de Paris), (Paris, H. Laurens), 3 vols.; L. Barron, La Seine (Collection, Fleuves de France), (Paris, H. Laurens); Émile Lambin, La flore des grandes cathédrales de France, (Paris, 1897); ibid., Les églises des environs de Paris étudiées au point de vue de la flore ornamentale (Paris, 1896), folio; ibid., Les églises de l’Ile-de-France (Paris, 1906); Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Notices sur les églises des environs de Paris,” in Bulletin Monumental, vol. 34, p. 861, and vol. 35, p. 709; Alexis Martin, Excursions dans les environs de Paris (Paris, 1900); Henri Stein, Les architectes des cathédrales gothiques (Paris, 1908); Émile Mâle, L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle en France (Paris, Colin, 1908), 4to.
[71] Marcel Aubert, The Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris (Paris, Longuet, 1909); Lassus and Viollet-le-Duc, Monograph of Notre Dame de Paris (Paris), folio; V. Mortet, Historical and Archaeological Study of the Cathedral and the Episcopal Palace of Paris (Paris, 1888); Queyron, History and Description of the Church of Notre Dame (Paris, Plon, Nourret et Cie); De Guilhermy, Description of Notre Dame de Paris (1856); ibid., Archaeological Itinerary of Paris (1855); S. François, The Façade of Notre Dame de Paris (Brussels, Imprimerie Goosens, 1907), 4to; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “The Origins of Gables,” in Bullentin Monumental, 1907, vol. 71, p. 92; Camille Enlart, The Museum of Comparative Sculpture of Trocadéro (Collection, The Great Institutions of France), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); H. Bazin, The Monuments of Paris (Paris, 1904); G. Riat, Paris (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); Amédée Boinet and Jean Bayet, The Religious Buildings of Paris (Collection, The Artistic Riches of the City of Paris), (Paris, H. Laurens), 3 vols.; L. Barron, The Seine (Collection, Rivers of France), (Paris, H. Laurens); Émile Lambin, The Flora of the Great Cathedrals of France, (Paris, 1897); ibid., The Churches of the Surroundings of Paris Studied from the Ornamental Flora Perspective (Paris, 1896), folio; ibid., The Churches of Île-de-France (Paris, 1906); Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Notices on the Churches of the Surroundings of Paris,” in Bullentin Monumental, vol. 34, p. 861, and vol. 35, p. 709; Alexis Martin, Excursions in the Surroundings of Paris (Paris, 1900); Henri Stein, The Architects of Gothic Cathedrals (Paris, 1908); Émile Mâle, Religious Art of the 13th Century in France (Paris, Colin, 1908), 4to.
[73] “Il me sembla que tout le passé de mon pays se dressait devant moi. Tout ce qu’elles ont vu, ces pierres!... Tout ce qu’elles ont entendu, ces voûtes!”
[73] “It felt like the entire history of my country was standing right in front of me. Everything these stones have seen!... Everything these arches have heard!”
—Pierre l’Ermite (Abbé Loutil)
—Pierre l’Ermite (Abbé Loutil)
[74] “The first of the great Gothic façades in point of dignity is undoubtedly that of Paris, a design of which no words can express the exalted beauty. Grandeur of composition, nobility of silhouette, perfection of proportion, wealth of detail, infinitely varied play of light and shade combine to raise this composition, so majestic, so serene, to the place it has ever occupied in the heart of everyone endowed with the slightest feeling for the beautiful.”—Arthur Kingsley Porter.
[74] “The first truly great Gothic façade, in terms of its dignity, is undoubtedly the one in Paris. No words can fully capture its stunning beauty. The grand design, elegant outline, perfect proportions, and intricate details, along with a rich interplay of light and shadow, all come together to elevate this impressive and calm structure to a special place in the hearts of anyone who appreciates beauty.” —Arthur Kingsley Porter.
[76] In his Summa totius theologiæ St. Thomas held that the existence of God was to be known by reason. He took his stand on a palpable fact—the existence of creatures. He began with the fecund idea of motion, the stars in their orbits, man engendering man. If there is movement there must be a First Motor. If there ever had been an instant when nothing was, nothing ever would have been. Effects must have a cause. Either nothing is, which is an absurdity, or there must be One Being eternally immutable.
[76] In his Summa totius theologiæ, St. Thomas argued that you can know God exists through reason. He based his argument on an obvious fact—the existence of creatures. He started with the clear idea of motion, like the stars moving in their orbits and humans reproducing. If there is movement, there has to be a First Mover. If there was ever a moment when nothing existed, then nothing would have ever come into being. Effects have to have a cause. Either nothing exists, which is ridiculous, or there must be One Being that is eternally unchanging.
That the movement is ordered, such as night and day, season following season, shows a supreme power directing. That creatures are more or less perfect supposes a perfect being. One by one Aquinas laid his foundation stones till a solid lower wall was built, on which he reared his majestic structure. In the Roman Breviary, he is thus recorded: “Thou hast written well of me, Thomas, what recompense do you ask of me?” “None but yourself, Lord!” (“Non aliam, Domine, nisi te ipsum!”).
That the movement is organized, like night and day, with one season following another, indicates a higher power guiding it. That living beings are more or less perfect implies the existence of a perfect being. One by one, Aquinas laid his foundation stones until he built a solid base, on which he constructed his grand structure. In the Roman Breviary, it says: “You have written well about me, Thomas, what reward do you ask of me?” “None but yourself, Lord!” (“Non aliam, Domine, nisi te ipsum!”).
[77] The father of St. Thomas was the Count of Aquin, nephew of the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. His mother came of the line of the Norman rulers in Sicily; the same stocks produced that undisciplined, undecipherable genius of the XIII century, Frederick II.
[77] St. Thomas's father was the Count of Aquin, who was the nephew of Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. His mother was from the lineage of the Norman rulers in Sicily; the same family also produced that unpredictable, enigmatic genius of the 13th century, Frederick II.
[78] L. Liard, L’Université de Paris (Collection, Les grandes institutions de France), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Maître, Les écoles épiscopales et monastiques de l’occident depuis Charlemagne jusqu’à Philippe-Auguste (Paris, 1866); Tarsot, Les écoles et les écoliers à travers les âges (Paris, H. Laurens); H. Rashdall, The Universities of the Middle Ages (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1895), 2 vols.; Bonnard, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de St. Victor de Paris (1907); V. Cousin, éd., Œuvres de Pierre Abélard (Paris, 1849-59), 2 vols.; B. Hauréau, éd., Les œuvres de Hugues de St. Victor (Paris, 1887); B. Hauréau, Histoire de la philosophie scholastique (Paris, 1872), 3 vols.; A. Mignon, Hugues de St. Victor (Paris, 1895); Léon Gautier, éd., Œuvres poétiques d’Adam de St. Victor (Paris, 1858), 2 vols.; Léon Gautier, Histoire de la poésie religieuse dans les cloîtres des Xe et XIe siècle (Paris, 1887); Noël Valois, Guillaume d’Auvergne (Paris, 1880); E. Berger, La Bible française au moyen âge (Paris, 1884); Lecoy de la Marche, La chaire française au moyen âge (Paris, 1886); Histoire littéraire de la France. (Begun by the XVII-century Benedictines, continued by the Institute of France.) Vol. 9, p. 1, “L’État des lettres en France, XIIe siècle” (Paris, 1750); vol. 10, p. 309, “Guillaume de Champeaux” (Paris, 1759); vol. 12, p. 1, “Hugues de St. Victor”; p. 86, “Abélard”; p. 585, “Pierre Lombard”; p. 629, “Héloïse” (Paris, 1764); vol. 13, p. 472, “Richard de St. Victor” (Paris, 1814); vol. 15, p. 40, “Adam de St. Victor”; p. 149. “Maurice de Sully” (Paris, 1820); vol. 16, p. 1, “L’état des lettres en France au XIIIe siècle” p. 574, “Eudes de Sully” (Paris, 1824); vol. 18, p. 357, “Guillaume d’Auvergne” p. 449, “Vincent de Beauvais” (Paris, 1835); vol. 19, p. 38, “Hugues de Saint-Cher”; p. 143, “St. Louis”; p. 238, “St. Thomas d’Aquin”; p. 266, “St. Bonaventure”; p. 291, “Robert de Sorbon”; p. 621, “Les trouvères,” (Paris, 1838).
[78] L. Liard, The University of Paris (Collection, Great Institutions of France), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Maître, The Episcopal and Monastic Schools of the West from Charlemagne to Philippe-Auguste (Paris, 1866); Tarsot, Schools and Scholars Throughout the Ages (Paris, H. Laurens); H. Rashdall, The Universities of the Middle Ages (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1895), 2 vols.; Bonnard, History of the Royal Abbey of St. Victor in Paris (1907); V. Cousin, ed., Works of Peter Abelard (Paris, 1849-59), 2 vols.; B. Hauréau, ed., The Works of Hugue de St. Victor (Paris, 1887); B. Hauréau, History of Scholastic Philosophy (Paris, 1872), 3 vols.; A. Mignon, Hugue de St. Victor (Paris, 1895); Léon Gautier, ed., Poetical Works of Adam de St. Victor (Paris, 1858), 2 vols.; Léon Gautier, History of Religious Poetry in the Cloisters of the 10th and 11th Century (Paris, 1887); Noël Valois, Guillaume d'Auvergne (Paris, 1880); E. Berger, The French Bible in the Middle Ages (Paris, 1884); Lecoy de la Marche, The French Chair in the Middle Ages (Paris, 1886); Literary History of France. (Started by 17th-century Benedictines, continued by the Institute of France.) Vol. 9, p. 1, "The State of Literature in France, 12th Century" (Paris, 1750); vol. 10, p. 309, "Guillaume de Champeaux" (Paris, 1759); vol. 12, p. 1, "Hugue de St. Victor"; p. 86, "Abelard"; p. 585, "Peter Lombard"; p. 629, "Héloïse" (Paris, 1764); vol. 13, p. 472, "Richard de St. Victor" (Paris, 1814); vol. 15, p. 40, "Adam de St. Victor"; p. 149, "Maurice de Sully" (Paris, 1820); vol. 16, p. 1, "The State of Literature in France in the 13th Century" p. 574, "Eudes de Sully" (Paris, 1824); vol. 18, p. 357, "Guillaume d’Auvergne" p. 449, "Vincent de Beauvais" (Paris, 1835); vol. 19, p. 38, "Hugue de Saint-Cher"; p. 143, "St. Louis"; p. 238, "St. Thomas Aquinas"; p. 266, "St. Bonaventure"; p. 291, "Robert de Sorbon"; p. 621, "The Trouvères," (Paris, 1838).
[79] The last vestige of St. Victor’s monastery, foyer of sanctity for the XII century, was wiped out by order of a stupid municipality of Paris, in 1842.
[79] The last remnant of St. Victor’s monastery, a place of holiness from the 12th century, was destroyed by a misguided decision from the Paris municipality in 1842.
[80] Petit de Julleville, éd., Histoire de la langue et de la littérature française (Paris, Colin, 1900), 8 vols. In vols. 1 and 2 the Middle Ages are treated by Gaston Paris, Léon Gautier, and Joseph Bédier; Gaston Paris, La littérature du XIIe siècle (Paris, Hachette, 1895). He places the classic epoch of the literature of the Middle Ages between 1108 (opening of Louis VI’s reign) and 1223 (end of Philippe-Auguste’s rule); Joseph Bédier, Les légendes épiques (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.; Remy de Gourmont, Le Latin mystique.
[80] Petit de Julleville, ed., History of the French Language and Literature (Paris, Colin, 1900), 8 vols. In volumes 1 and 2, the Middle Ages are covered by Gaston Paris, Léon Gautier, and Joseph Bédier; Gaston Paris, The Literature of the 12th Century (Paris, Hachette, 1895). He defines the classic period of Middle Age literature as lasting from 1108 (the start of Louis VI’s reign) to 1223 (the end of Philippe-Auguste’s rule); Joseph Bédier, The Epic Legends (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.; Remy de Gourmont, The Mystical Latin.
[81] Paradiso, xxxiii: 4-6.
[82] Some of the modern archbishops of Paris have added to the prestige of their see. Monseigneur Affre was shot on the barricades, in 1848, when he went forth bearing a message of peace. Monseigneur Darboy was shot in prison by the Commune of 1871. Both are commemorated in side chapels of the cathedral’s choir.
[82] Some of the recent archbishops of Paris have enhanced the reputation of their diocese. Archbishop Affre was shot on the barricades in 1848 when he went out carrying a message of peace. Archbishop Darboy was shot in prison by the Commune in 1871. Both are honored in side chapels of the cathedral's choir.
[83] G. Sanoner, “La Bible racontée par les artistes du moyen âge,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1907-13; ibid., “La vie de Jésus-Christ racontée par les imagiers du moyen âge sur les portes d’églises,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1905-08.
[83] G. Sanoner, “The Bible as Told by Medieval Artists,” in Review of Christian Art, 1907-13; ibid., “The Life of Jesus Christ as Depicted by Medieval Illustrators on Church Doors,” in Review of Christian Art, 1905-08.
[84] Once the Paris churches were filled with late-Gothic windows, though the troubled history of the city has left but few. Some XVI-century glass is still to be found in St. Merri and St. Germain-l’Auxerrois, for which churches see Huysman’s Trois églises et trois primitifs (1908). St Étienne-du-Mont has in a chapel an Engrand Le Prince window, a symbolic wine press with portraits of Pope Paul II, Charles V, Francis I, and Henry VIII; and reset in the passage leading to the catechism chapel is the masterpiece of Pinaigrier, twelve panels that are veritable enameling on glass. In St. Gervais, where on Good Friday, 1918, a projectile from the long-distance German gun crashed through the masonry roof, killing many, are two windows, Solomon’s judgment (1531), and St. Laurence (1551), said to be by Jean Cousin, also some Pinaigrier glass. To Jean Cousin are attributed the five splendid windows of the Apocalypse in the chapel at Vincennes, whose design derives from Dürer’s woodcuts, published in 1498. They have deep shadows and are strong in color and plan. M. Mâle says that Dürer’s German has here been translated into graceful Renaissance Italian. Vincennes’ chapel had been begun by Charles V in 1378. Then came the pause of a century, and the works were finished by Henry II, still on the Gothic plan, however. Henry donated the windows and he had Diana of Poitiers pictured among the righteous souls in the fifth seal of the Apocalypse. Francis I is represented at the base of the second window. Excursions can be made from Paris to places within easy distance that posses Gothic-Renaissance glass. At Écouen, nine miles from Paris, in the church of St. Acceul, are sixteen windows due to De Montmorency patronage. Originally in Écouen’s guard hall were the forty-four panels (made for the constable, Anne de Montmorency) now in the long gallery of Chantilly, the château bequeathed to the Institute of France in 1897 by the Duc d’Aumale. The story of Cupid and Psyche is told in that camaïeu glass so suited for domestic decoration, a species of iron-red grisaille, whose only other hue is yellow stain. Chantilly’s panels were painted in the Raphaelesque style by the Flemish master, Coexyen, trained in Van Orley’s school. At Montmorency, ten miles from Paris, in St. Martin’s church, the history of France seems written in the windows, with the portraits of Francis I, Henry II, Adrian VI, and members of the houses of Montmorency, Pot, and Coligny. Three of the lights are by Engrand Le Prince. More portrait work appears in the many windows at Montfort l’Amaury, twenty-nine miles from Paris (1544-78), work not equal to the earlier XVI-century glass.
[84] Once the churches in Paris were filled with late-Gothic windows, but the city's turbulent history has left only a few. Some 16th-century glass can still be found in St. Merri and St. Germain-l’Auxerrois, for which churches see Huysman’s Trois églises et trois primitifs (1908). St. Étienne-du-Mont has an Engrand Le Prince window in a chapel, featuring a symbolic wine press with portraits of Pope Paul II, Charles V, Francis I, and Henry VIII; and in the passage leading to the catechism chapel is the masterpiece by Pinaigrier, consisting of twelve panels that are true enameling on glass. In St. Gervais, where on Good Friday, 1918, a projectile from a long-distance German gun crashed through the masonry roof, killing many, there are two windows: Solomon’s judgment (1531) and St. Laurence (1551), said to be by Jean Cousin, along with some Pinaigrier glass. Jean Cousin is credited with the five stunning windows of the Apocalypse in the chapel at Vincennes, whose design is based on Dürer’s woodcuts published in 1498. They have deep shadows and are bold in color and composition. M. Mâle notes that Dürer’s German style has here been translated into elegant Renaissance Italian. The chapel at Vincennes was started by Charles V in 1378. Then there was a pause of a century, and the work was completed by Henry II, who followed the Gothic plan. Henry donated the windows and included Diana of Poitiers among the righteous souls in the fifth seal of the Apocalypse. Francis I is depicted at the base of the second window. Day trips can be made from Paris to nearby places that have Gothic-Renaissance glass. At Écouen, nine miles from Paris, in the church of St. Acceul, there are sixteen windows thanks to De Montmorency's patronage. Originally, the forty-four panels (made for the constable, Anne de Montmorency) were in Écouen’s guard hall but are now in the long gallery of Chantilly, the château left to the Institute of France in 1897 by the Duc d’Aumale. The story of Cupid and Psyche is depicted in that camaïeu glass, perfect for home decoration, a type of iron-red grisaille with yellow stain as the only other color. The panels at Chantilly were painted in the Raphaelesque style by the Flemish master, Coexyen, who trained in Van Orley’s school. At Montmorency, ten miles from Paris, in St. Martin’s church, the history of France appears in the windows, featuring portraits of Francis I, Henry II, Adrian VI, and members of the Montmorency, Pot, and Coligny families. Three of the panels are by Engrand Le Prince. More portrait work is found in the many windows at Montfort l’Amaury, twenty-nine miles from Paris (1544-78), but this work does not match the quality of the earlier 16th-century glass.
H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 4, Écouen; vol. 5, Chantilly, Vincennes, Pierrefonds; F. de Fossa, Le château de Vincennes (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Macon, Chantilly et le musée Condé (Paris, H. Laurens).
H. Havard, ed., The Artistic and Monumental France, vol. 4, Écouen; vol. 5, Chantilly, Vincennes, Pierrefonds; F. de Fossa, The Château of Vincennes (Collection, Little Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Macon, Chantilly and the Condé Museum (Paris, H. Laurens).
[85] Henri Stein, La Sainte-Chapelle de Paris (Paris, 1912); F. de Guilhermy, Description de la Sainte-Chapelle (Paris, 1899), 12me; Troche, Notice historique et descriptive sur la Sainte-Chapelle; Morand, Histoire de la Sainte-Chapelle (Paris, 1790); Louis Courajod, La polychromie dans le statuaire du moyen âge et de la Renaissance (Paris, 1888); Abbé A. Bouillet, Les églises paroissiales de Paris, vol. 5, La Sainte-Chapelle (Paris, 1900); F. de Mély, “La sainte couronne d’épines,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1899, vol. 42.
[85] Henri Stein, The Sainte-Chapelle of Paris (Paris, 1912); F. de Guilhermy, Description of the Sainte-Chapelle (Paris, 1899), 12th ed.; Troche, Historical and Descriptive Notice of the Sainte-Chapelle; Morand, History of the Sainte-Chapelle (Paris, 1790); Louis Courajod, Polychrome in Medieval and Renaissance Sculpture (Paris, 1888); Abbé A. Bouillet, The Parish Churches of Paris, vol. 5, The Sainte-Chapelle (Paris, 1900); F. de Mély, “The Holy Crown of Thorns,” in Review of Christian Art, 1899, vol. 42.
[86] Armand le Brun, L’église St. Julien-le-Pauvre (Paris, 1889); J. Viatte, L’église de St. Julien-le-Pauvre de Paris (Châteaudun, Prudhomme, 1899).
[86] Armand le Brun, The Church of St. Julien-le-Pauvre (Paris, 1889); J. Viatte, The Church of St. Julien-le-Pauvre in Paris (Châteaudun, Prudhomme, 1899).
[87] Jules Quicherat, “St. Germain-des-Prés,” in Bibli. de l’École des chartes, 1865, vol. I, p. 513; and Mémoires de la Soc. des Antiquaires de France, 1864, vol. 28, p. 156; Jacques Bouillart, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de St. Germain-des-Prés (Paris, 1724); Auger, Les dépendances de St. Germain-des-Prés (Paris, 1909), 3 vols.; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Étude sur le chœur de l’église de St. Martin-des-Champs à Paris,” in Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1886, vol. 47; F. Deshoulières, St. Pierre de Montmartre (Caen, H. Delesque, 1913); also in Bulletin Monumental, 1913, vol. 77, p. 4; H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 6, p. 66, “Le conservatoire des arts et métiers” (St. Martin-des-Champs); A. Lenoir, Statistique monumentale de la ville de Paris (Paris, Imprimerie Impériale, 1867), 3 vols., folio (valuable drawings of the Parisian abbeys); Em. de Broglie, Mabillon et la société de l’abbaye de St. Germain-des-Prés (Paris, 1881).
[87] Jules Quicherat, “St. Germain-des-Prés,” in Bibli. de l’École des chartes, 1865, vol. I, p. 513; and Mémoires de la Soc. des Antiquaires de France, 1864, vol. 28, p. 156; Jacques Bouillart, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de St. Germain-des-Prés (Paris, 1724); Auger, Les dépendances de St. Germain-des-Prés (Paris, 1909), 3 vols.; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Étude sur le chœur de l’église de St. Martin-des-Champs à Paris,” in Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1886, vol. 47; F. Deshoulières, St. Pierre de Montmartre (Caen, H. Delesque, 1913); also in Bulletin Monumental, 1913, vol. 77, p. 4; H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 6, p. 66, “Le conservatoire des arts et métiers” (St. Martin-des-Champs); A. Lenoir, Statistique monumentale de la ville de Paris (Paris, Imprimerie Impériale, 1867), 3 vols., folio (valuable drawings of the Parisian abbeys); Em. de Broglie, Mabillon et la société de l’abbaye de St. Germain-des-Prés (Paris, 1881).
[88] The Hôtel Cluny, which became a national museum in 1848, was built as the town house for the abbot of Burgundian Cluny, by those two art patrons, Jean de Bourbon (1456-81) and Jacques d’Amboise (1481-1514). It is one of the best works of Gothic civic architecture in France. It stands on the site of Roman baths, alleged to be those of Julian the Apostate, above which had later risen a residence of the Merovingian kings. In the time of the Carolings, Alcuin taught on this spot. The Palais des Termes was purchased for Cluny by Abbot Pierre de Chastellux (1322-43). H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 1, p. 161, A. Darcel, on Musée Cluny; E. du Sommerard, Le palais des thermes et l’Hôtel de Cluny; Ch. Normand, l’Hôtel de Cluny (Paris, 1888).
[88] The Hôtel Cluny, which became a national museum in 1848, was constructed as the townhouse for the abbot of Burgundian Cluny by two art patrons, Jean de Bourbon (1456-81) and Jacques d’Amboise (1481-1514). It is one of the finest examples of Gothic civic architecture in France. It is located on the site of Roman baths, which are believed to have belonged to Julian the Apostate, above which there later stood a residence for the Merovingian kings. During the time of the Carolingians, Alcuin taught here. The Palais des Termes was acquired for Cluny by Abbot Pierre de Chastellux (1322-43). H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 1, p. 161, A. Darcel, on Musée Cluny; E. du Sommerard, Le palais des thermes et l’Hôtel de Cluny; Ch. Normand, l’Hôtel de Cluny (Paris, 1888).
[89] Paul Abadie, who over-restored the cathedrals of Angoulême and Périgieux, won the competition for the national memorial basilica of the Sacré-Cœur, and began his strange Romano-Byzantine monument in 1873. He united Auvergne’s Romanesque ambulatory with the cupola church of Aquitaine. There is not sufficient contrast between his elongated dome and the tower. Nevertheless, the immense pile of white stone standing over the capital presents exotic and superb effects in sun and mist, and no one can deny that a profound religious spirit breathes in this new shrine of France, as if the prayers and sufferings of generations had already hallowed its walls. Below the basilica stands a statue of the young Chevalier de la Barre, a victim of the personal intrigue of a corrupt magistrate of Abbeville and the lax law courts of Louis XV’s time, not in any way the object of clerical hate, as the inscription on his statue would indicate. His abbess aunt was his warm defender, as was the bishop of Amiens, and on the day of his execution he received the sacraments piously. See Cruppi, Révue des Deux Mondes, March, 1895. As this mythical hero meets one in many a French city, it were well to know his real story.
[89] Paul Abadie, who over-restored the cathedrals of Angoulême and Périgieux, won the competition for the national memorial basilica of the Sacré-Cœur and started his unusual Romano-Byzantine monument in 1873. He combined Auvergne’s Romanesque ambulatory with the cupola church of Aquitaine. There's not enough contrast between his elongated dome and the tower. Still, the massive white stone structure rising above the capital creates striking and beautiful effects in sunlight and mist, and no one can deny that a deep religious spirit permeates this new shrine of France, as if the prayers and sufferings of many generations have already blessed its walls. Below the basilica stands a statue of the young Chevalier de la Barre, a victim of the personal machinations of a corrupt magistrate from Abbeville and the lenient law courts of Louis XV’s era, not at all the target of clerical hatred as the inscription on his statue suggests. His abbess aunt was a strong supporter, as was the bishop of Amiens, and on the day of his execution, he received the sacraments devoutly. See Cruppi, Révue des Deux Mondes, March, 1895. Since this legendary hero can be found in many French cities, it’s good to know his true story.
[90] Some of the later manifestations of Gothic art in the capital are the porch and façade of St. Germain l’Auxerrois (1431-39), one of the first signs of renewed energy after Jeanne d’Arc’s mission; the tower of St. Jacques (1508-22), attributed to the late-Gothic master, Martin Chambiges, and formerly part of a Flamboyant church destroyed by the Revolution; and the church of St. Merri (1520-1612), still Gothic in spirit. Th e Renaissance appears in St. Étienne-du-Mont (1517-63), whose interior is alluringly graceful, though it cannot boast of purity of style. St. Eustache (1532-1642), begun slightly after St. Merri, has a Gothic skeleton, “dressed in Renaissance robes sewed together like the pieces of a harlequin’s garment, bizarre and contradictory, satisfactory to neither taste nor reason.” The old church of St. Séverin used to be employed by M. Jules Quicherat as an object lesson for his pupils, since four different epochs are traceable in it; the three westernmost bays of the nave are early XIII century; and there is much Flamboyant Gothic with disappearing moldings. Abbé A. Bouillet, Les églises paroissiales de Paris (1903); H. Escoffier, Les dernières églises gothiques au diocèse de Paris (Thèse, École des chartes, 1900).
[90] Some of the later examples of Gothic art in the capital include the porch and façade of St. Germain l’Auxerrois (1431-39), which marked a revival of energy after Joan of Arc’s mission; the tower of St. Jacques (1508-22), attributed to the late-Gothic master Martin Chambiges, and which was once part of a Flamboyant church destroyed during the Revolution; and the church of St. Merri (1520-1612), which still embodies a Gothic spirit. The Renaissance appears in St. Étienne-du-Mont (1517-63), whose interior is beautifully graceful, although it lacks a consistent style. St. Eustache (1532-1642), started slightly after St. Merri, has a Gothic framework, “dressed in Renaissance attire stitched together like a harlequin’s outfit, strange and contradictory, pleasing to neither taste nor reason.” The old church of St. Séverin was used by M. Jules Quicherat as a teaching example for his students, as it showcases four different architectural periods; the three westernmost bays of the nave are early 13th century; and it features much Flamboyant Gothic with fading moldings. Abbé A. Bouillet, Les églises paroissiales de Paris (1903); H. Escoffier, Les dernières églises gothiques au diocèse de Paris (Thèse, École des chartes, 1900).
[91] Le Nain de Tillemont, Vie de St. Louis (Paris, 1848-51 éd., Gauble), 6 vols.; Sertillanges, St. Louis (Collection, L’art et les saints), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1918); H. Wallon, St. Louis et son temps (Tours, 1865), 2 vols.; A. Beugnot, Essai sur les institutions de St. Louis (Paris, 1821); Jean, sire de Joinville, texte original accompagné d’une traduction, Natalis de Wailly, éd., Paris, 1867. Translated into English, Bohn’s Antiquarian Library, London; Gaston Paris, “Jean de Joinville,” in Hist. littéraire de la France, 1848, vol. 32, p. 291; also Delaborde’s biography; Lecoy de la Marche, La France sous St. Louis et sous Philippe le Hardi (Paris, 1894); A. Molinier, Les sources de l’histoire de France (Paris, 1901-06); U. Chevalier, Répertoire des sources hist. du moyen âge (Montbéliard, 1903).
[91] Le Nain de Tillemont, Life of St. Louis (Paris, 1848-51 ed., Gauble), 6 vols.; Sertillanges, St. Louis (Collection, Art and Saints), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1918); H. Wallon, St. Louis and His Time (Tours, 1865), 2 vols.; A. Beugnot, Essay on the Institutions of St. Louis (Paris, 1821); Jean, Lord of Joinville, original text accompanied by a translation, Natalis de Wailly, ed., Paris, 1867. Translated into English, Bohn’s Antiquarian Library, London; Gaston Paris, “Jean de Joinville,” in Literary History of France, 1848, vol. 32, p. 291; also Delaborde’s biography; Lecoy de la Marche, France Under St. Louis and Philip the Bold (Paris, 1894); A. Molinier, The Sources of French History (Paris, 1901-06); U. Chevalier, Directory of Historical Sources from the Middle Ages (Montbéliard, 1903).
[93] One sister of St. Louis’ queen married Henry III of England, under whom was built Westminster Abbey (1217-54). The second was the wife of King Henry’s brother, Richard of Cornwall, who was titular emperor of Germany. The youngest sister inherited Provence and wedded St. Louis’ brother, Charles d’Anjou, king of the Two Sicilies. E. Boutarie, Marguerite de Provence, femme de St. Louis (Paris, 1869); E. Berger, Blanche de Castille (Paris, 1900).
[93] One sister of St. Louis’ queen married Henry III of England, who oversaw the construction of Westminster Abbey (1217-54). The second sister was married to King Henry’s brother, Richard of Cornwall, who held the title of emperor of Germany. The youngest sister inherited Provence and married St. Louis’ brother, Charles d’Anjou, king of the Two Sicilies. E. Boutarie, Marguerite de Provence, femme de St. Louis (Paris, 1869); E. Berger, Blanche de Castille (Paris, 1900).
[94] Joinville, in Syria, went to the Krak, the great Christian fortress beyond the Jordan, to obtain, as a relic for his church at Joinville, the shield of his crusading ancestor whom Richard Cœur-de-Lion had admired. His “beau chastel” on the Marne was wrecked by the Revolution. His line had ended in an heiress who married into the ruling house of Lorraine, so that the XVI-century Duke of Guise, whose personal charm made him the idol of the French people, was fifth, by female descent, from the irresistible seneschal. A brother of Joinville’s, Geoffrey, married Mahaut de Lacy, heiress of Meath, and became Lord Chief Justice of Ireland in 1273. Under Henry III and Edward I he played a role, and went crusading in 1270. He left nine children. On his wife’s death he entered the Dominican convent of Tuam, where he died in 1314.
[94] Joinville, in Syria, went to the Krak, the great Christian fortress beyond the Jordan, to get the shield of his crusading ancestor that Richard the Lionheart had admired as a relic for his church in Joinville. His “beautiful castle” on the Marne was destroyed by the Revolution. His lineage ended with an heiress who married into the ruling house of Lorraine, making the 16th-century Duke of Guise, who was adored by the French people for his charm, the fifth in line through female descent from the notable seneschal. Joinville’s brother, Geoffrey, married Mahaut de Lacy, the heiress of Meath, and became Lord Chief Justice of Ireland in 1273. He was active during the reigns of Henry III and Edward I, and he went on a crusade in 1270. He had nine children. After his wife's death, he joined the Dominican convent of Tuam, where he died in 1314.
[95] Often did Louis IX sigh over his youngest brother. “Charles d’Anjou! Charles d’Anjou!” he would say, sadly. As king of the Two Sicilies, Charles won the title of the Merciless, and his harshness was punished by the Sicilian Vespers, 1282. Dante abominated the house of Anjou in Italy. Of Charles he wrote in the Paradiso (viii: 73-75), “His evil rule, which ever cuts into the heart of subject people, caused Palermo to shriek out: ‘Die! Die!’” St. Louis loved especially his brother Robert d’Artois, whose overhardy courage caused the defeat of the crusaders at Mansourah. When word was brought to the king of his brother’s death in that battle, tears warm and full fell from his eyes, though he said, “God must be thanked for all he sends.” The other brother of Louis IX was Alphonse of Poitiers, who married the heiress of Toulouse and took guidance of the king in his administration of the Midi.
[95] Louis IX often sighed about his youngest brother. “Charles d’Anjou! Charles d’Anjou!” he would say, sadly. As the king of the Two Sicilies, Charles earned the nickname the Merciless, and his cruelty led to the Sicilian Vespers in 1282. Dante despised the house of Anjou in Italy. About Charles, he wrote in the Paradiso (viii: 73-75), “His evil rule, which always cuts into the hearts of his subjects, made Palermo cry out: ‘Die! Die!’” St. Louis especially loved his brother Robert d’Artois, whose reckless bravery led to the defeat of the crusaders at Mansourah. When the king was informed of his brother’s death in that battle, warm, full tears fell from his eyes, even though he said, “God must be thanked for all He sends.” Louis IX’s other brother was Alphonse of Poitiers, who married the heiress of Toulouse and guided the king in administering the Midi.
[96] In 1841 Louis-Philippe built a chapel on the site where St. Louis had died in Tunis, 1270. In the Ville d’Art Célèbres series (H. Laurens, Paris), see H. Saladin, Tunis et Kairouan, and R. Cagnat, Carthage, Tingad, Tébessa.
[96] In 1841, Louis-Philippe constructed a chapel at the location where St. Louis died in Tunis, 1270. In the Ville d’Art Célèbres series (H. Laurens, Paris), refer to H. Saladin, Tunis et Kairouan, and R. Cagnat, Carthage, Tingad, Tébessa.
[97] Shakespeare, “Richard II.” iv: 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Shakespeare, “Richard II.” Act 4, Scene 1.
[98] Congrès Archéologique, 1905; Léon Gautier, La France sous Philippe-Auguste (Tours, Mâme et fils, 1869); A. Luchaire, La société française au temps de Philippe-Auguste (Paris, Hachette, 1909); W. H. Hutton, Philip-Augustus (London and New York, Macmillan Company, 1896); Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture; see articles on cathedral, rose, triforium.
[98] Congrès Archéologique, 1905; Léon Gautier, La France sous Philippe-Auguste (Tours, Mâme et fils, 1869); A. Luchaire, La société française au temps de Philippe-Auguste (Paris, Hachette, 1909); W. H. Hutton, Philip-Augustus (London and New York, Macmillan Company, 1896); Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture; see articles on cathedral, rose, triforium.
[99] Two miles from Mantes, across the river, is Gassicourt (Seine-et-Oise), once a Cluniac priory. Its earliest diagonals were built about 1125. The nave and tower are XII century; the choir and transept are Rayonnant Gothic. Some of the windows donated by Blanche of Castile remain. Bossuet long held the living of Gassicourt. See Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Monographie des églises Gassicourt, Meulan,” etc., in Bul. de la Commission des antiquités et des arts de Seine-et-Oise, 1885-88, vols. 5 to 8.
[99] Two miles from Mantes, across the river, is Gassicourt (Seine-et-Oise), which was once a Cluniac priory. Its earliest structures were built around 1125. The nave and tower date from the 12th century, while the choir and transept showcase Rayonnant Gothic style. Some of the windows given by Blanche of Castile still remain. Bossuet held the position in Gassicourt for a long time. See Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Monographie des églises Gassicourt, Meulan,” etc., in Bul. de la Commission des antiquités et des arts de Seine-et-Oise, 1885-88, vols. 5 to 8.
[100] J. Formigé, La cathédrale de Meaux (Pontoise, 1917); Amédée Boinet, “La cathédrale de Meaux,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1912; I. Taylor, La cathédrale de Meaux (Paris, Didot, 1858), folio; Emile Lambin, “La cathédrale de Meaux,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1900; Henri Stein, La cathédrale de Meaux et l’architecte Nicolas de Chaumes (Arcis-sur-Aube, 1890); Du Carro, Histoire de Meaux et du pays meldois (Meaux, 1865); Monseigneur Allon, Chronique des évêques de Meaux; also his Notice hist. et descript. de la cathédrale de Meaux (1871); O. Join-Lambert, Le diocèse de Meaux (Thèse, École des chartes, 1894).
[100] J. Formigé, The Cathedral of Meaux (Pontoise, 1917); Amédée Boinet, “The Cathedral of Meaux,” in Christian Art Review, 1912; I. Taylor, The Cathedral of Meaux (Paris, Didot, 1858), folio; Emile Lambin, “The Cathedral of Meaux,” in Christian Art Review, 1900; Henri Stein, The Cathedral of Meaux and the Architect Nicolas de Chaumes (Arcis-sur-Aube, 1890); Du Carro, History of Meaux and the Meldois Region (Meaux, 1865); Monseigneur Allon, Chronicle of the Bishops of Meaux; also his Historical and Descriptive Notice of the Cathedral of Meaux (1871); O. Join-Lambert, The Diocese of Meaux (Thesis, École des chartes, 1894).
[102] Péguy pierced to the very soul of the Maid in his Mystère de la charité de Jeanne d’Arc. Jeanne, in Domrémy, seeing the evil round her caused by war, says: “Je pourrais passer ma vie entière à la maudire, et les villes n’en seront pas moins efforcées, et les hommes d’armes n’en feront pas moins chevaucher leurs chevaux dans les blés vénérables ... blés sacrés, blés qui faites le pain ... sacrés blés qui devîntes le corps de Jésus-Christ.”
[102] Péguy reached deep into the soul of the Maid in his Mystère de la charité de Jeanne d’Arc. Jeanne, in Domrémy, witnessing the evil around her caused by war, says: “I could spend my whole life cursing it, and cities wouldn’t be any less attacked, and soldiers wouldn’t stop riding their horses through the sacred wheat ... the sacred wheat that becomes the body of Jesus Christ.”
[103] Another who fell in battle in that same summer of 1914, Ernest Psichari, divined this pregnant region: “Diocèse de Meaux, cryptes de Jouarre, cloches des petites communes ... l’harmonie délicate, la grâce parfaite, le bon goût de ces paysages modérés. Ici la race est d’accord avec le paysage, sérieuse comme lui, ardente sans frivolité, sans élégances inutiles. Certains soirs, on pense à Pascal, si français, quand il écrivait: ‘Certitude.... Pleurs de joie.’ ”—L’Appel des Armes (Paris, G. Oudin et Cie, 1913).
[103] Another person who fell in battle that same summer of 1914, Ernest Psichari, understood this meaningful area: “Diocese of Meaux, crypts of Jouarre, bells of the small towns … the delicate harmony, perfect grace, and good taste of these moderate landscapes. Here the people resonate with the landscape, serious like it, passionate without frivolity, without unnecessary showiness. Some evenings, one thinks of Pascal, so French, when he wrote: ‘Certainty.... Tears of joy.’”—L’Appel des Armes (Paris, G. Oudin et Cie, 1913).
[104] Paradiso, xxxiii: 15-16.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Paradiso, xxxiii: 15-16.
[105] Congrès Archéologique, 1900; René Merlet, La cathédrale de Chartres (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1909); ibid., “Les architectes de la cathédrale de Chartres et la construction de la chapelle Saint Piat au XIVe siècle,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 218; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Les architectes et la construction des cathédrales de Chartres (Paris, 1905); ibid., Les façades successives de la cathédrale de Chartres au XIe et au XIIe siècle (Caen, 1902); Abbé Bulteau, Monographie de la cathédrale de Chartres (1891), 3 vols.; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Le portail sud de la cathédrale de Chartres,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1907, p. 100; F. de Mély, Études iconographiques sur les vitraux du XIIIe siècle de la cathédrale de Chartres (Lille, 1888), 4to; J. K. Huysmans, La Cathédrale (Paris, 1898; tr. London, Paul, Trench & Trübner); Henry Adams, Mont Saint-Michel and Chartres (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1913); De Lasteyrie, Études sur la sculpture française au moyen âge (Paris, 1902); Cherval, Chartres, sa cathédrale, ses monuments (Chartres, 1905); ibid., Les écoles de Chartres au moyen âge (1895); Lucien Merlet, tr. Lettres de St. Ives, évêque de Chartres (Chartres, Petrot-Garnier, 1885); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Crosnier, Iconographie chrétienne (Tours, Mâme, 1876); Gabriel Fleury, Études sur les portails imagés du XIIe siècle (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1904); Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 7, p. 1, “État des lettres en France, XIe siècle”; p. 261, “St. Fulbert” (Paris, 1746); vol. 10, p. 102, “St. Ives” (Paris, 1756); vol. 13, p. 82, “Geofroi de Lèves” (Paris, 1814); vol. 14, p. 89, “Jean de Sarisbéry”; p. 236, “Pierre de Celle, évêque de Chartres” (Paris, 1817).
[105] Congrès Archéologique, 1900; René Merlet, La cathédrale de Chartres (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1909); ibid., “The Architects of the Chartres Cathedral and the Construction of the Saint Piat Chapel in the 14th Century,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 218; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, The Architects and the Construction of the Chartres Cathedrals (Paris, 1905); ibid., The Successive Facades of the Chartres Cathedral in the 11th and 12th Centuries (Caen, 1902); Abbé Bulteau, Monograph of the Chartres Cathedral (1891), 3 vols.; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “The South Portal of the Chartres Cathedral,” in Christian Art Review, 1907, p. 100; F. de Mély, Iconographic Studies on the 13th Century Stained Glass of the Chartres Cathedral (Lille, 1888), 4to; J. K. Huysmans, The Cathedral (Paris, 1898; tr. London, Paul, Trench & Trübner); Henry Adams, Mont Saint-Michel and Chartres (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1913); De Lasteyrie, Studies on French Sculpture in the Middle Ages (Paris, 1902); Cherval, Chartres, Its Cathedral, Its Monuments (Chartres, 1905); ibid., The Schools of Chartres in the Middle Ages (1895); Lucien Merlet, tr. Letters of St. Ives, Bishop of Chartres (Chartres, Petrot-Garnier, 1885); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Crosnier, Christian Iconography (Tours, Mâme, 1876); Gabriel Fleury, Studies on the Imagery Portals of the 12th Century (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1904); Literary History of France, vol. 7, p. 1, “State of Literature in France, 11th Century”; p. 261, “St. Fulbert” (Paris, 1746); vol. 10, p. 102, “St. Ives” (Paris, 1756); vol. 13, p. 82, “Geofroi de Lèves” (Paris, 1814); vol. 14, p. 89, “Jean de Sarisbéry”; p. 236, “Pierre de Celle, Bishop of Chartres” (Paris, 1817).
[107] Bishop Fulbert was buried in 1029 in the church of St. Pierre-en-Vallée. St. Pierre’s choir is Romanesque and early Gothic; its sanctuary is a gem of XIV-century Rayonnant; its nave is in larger part of the XIII century, but later than the cathedral of Chartres; its west tower is of the XI century. At present it possesses a treasure of enamel work, the plaques of the apostles, by Léonard Limosin, which Francis I had made in 1545, and which Henry II gave to Diana de Poitiers for the château of Anet. There is much grisaille glass in St. Pierre; each window of the nave is divided perpendicularly into three panels—a colored one in the center and grisailles on either side. In the choir is some XII-century glass; the brilliant apse windows are XIV century, as are a few in the nave. P. Lavedan, Léonard Limosin el les émailleurs français (Collection, Les grands artistes), (Paris, H. Laurens); Alleaume et Duplessis, Les douze apôtres; émaux de Léonard Limosin (Paris, 1865).
[107] Bishop Fulbert was buried in 1029 in the church of St. Pierre-en-Vallée. St. Pierre’s choir features Romanesque and early Gothic elements; its sanctuary is a masterpiece of 14th-century Rayonnant style; its nave, primarily from the 13th century, is younger than the cathedral of Chartres; its west tower dates back to the 11th century. Today, it houses a collection of enamel work, the plaques of the apostles, created by Léonard Limosin, which Francis I commissioned in 1545 and which Henry II gifted to Diana de Poitiers for the château of Anet. St. Pierre is filled with grisaille glass; each window in the nave is divided vertically into three sections—one colored section in the center with grisaille panels on either side. In the choir, there is some 12th-century glass; the stunning apse windows are from the 14th century, as are a few in the nave. P. Lavedan, Léonard Limosin el les émailleurs français (Collection, Les grands artistes), (Paris, H. Laurens); Alleaume et Duplessis, Les douze apôtres; émaux de Léonard Limosin (Paris, 1865).
[108] “Chartres est sage avec une passion intense.... Palais de la paix et du silence!... C’est du paix héroique qu’il s’agit ici.”—Rodin, Les Cathédrales de France (Paris, Colin, 1914).
[108] “Chartres is wise with an intense passion.... Palace of peace and silence!... It's about heroic peace we're talking about here.”—Rodin, Les Cathédrales de France (Paris, Colin, 1914).
[109] “I am Beauceron, Chartres is my cathedral,” said Charles Péguy, who walked in pilgrimage a hundred miles to pray in the cathedral when his little son lay dying with diphtheria. No one has celebrated it better than that XX-century maker of mystery plays, true artisan-artist of the moyen âge:
[109] “I am Beauceron, Chartres is my cathedral,” said Charles Péguy, who walked a hundred miles on pilgrimage to pray in the cathedral while his young son was dying of diphtheria. No one has honored it better than that 20th-century creator of mystery plays, a true artisan-artist of the middle ages:
And forget about yesterday, and forget about tomorrow; And the futility of all human calculation; And more than sin, wisdom confounds.
The regret, the departure, even the event,
And the temporary goodbye and the distraction,
The only place on earth where everything becomes submissive...
And the silence and the shadows and the physical absence.
And the beginning of eternal presence,
"The only refuge where the soul is exactly what it used to be."
—“Prières dans la cathédrale de Chartres,” Œuvres de Charles Péguy, vol. 6, p. 383, éd., Nouvelle Reçue française, 1916-18.
—“Prayers in the Cathedral of Chartres,” Works of Charles Péguy, vol. 6, p. 383, ed., New French Edition, 1916-18.
[110] Émile Mâle, L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle en France (Paris, A. Colin, 1908); ibid., L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France (Paris, A. Colin, 1910).
[110] Émile Mâle, The Religious Art of the 13th Century in France (Paris, A. Colin, 1908); ibid., The Religious Art of the Late Middle Ages in France (Paris, A. Colin, 1910).
[112] “Lovelier color the hand of man has not produced. There are times when human art seems to be something more than mortal; when it rises to heights infinitely above the ordinary achievements of men. French glass of the XII century is such an art. It is impossible to stand in the presence of these translucent mosaics without experiencing a depth of æsthetic emotion that at once disarms the critical faculty. Such sensuous beauty of tone, such richness of color, has been equaled by no painter of the Renaissance, by no Byzantine worker in mosaics. Yet it is not only for their absolute beauty, but also for their perfectly architectural character that these windows claim unqualified admiration.”—Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture (New York and London, 1907), vol. 2, p. 108.
[112] “No better color has ever been created by human hands. There are moments when art seems to transcend human limits; when it reaches heights far beyond what people usually accomplish. French glass from the 12th century embodies such art. It’s impossible to stand before these translucent mosaics without feeling a deep aesthetic emotion that neutralizes any critical judgment. The sensual beauty of the tones and the richness of color found here have not been matched by any Renaissance painter or Byzantine mosaic artist. Yet, it’s not just their undeniable beauty that earns these windows unwavering admiration; it’s also their perfectly architectural style.”—Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture (New York and London, 1907), vol. 2, p. 108.
[113] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, Rheims, p. 19, the cathedral; p. 57, St. Remi, L. Demaison; Louis Demaison, Album de la cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, 1902), 2 vols., folio; ibid., La cathédrale de Rheims (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Abbé Cerf, Histoire et description de Notre Dame de Rheims (Rheims, Dubois, 1861), 2 vols., 8vo; Alphonse Gosset, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris and Rheims, 1894), folio; ibid., Rheims monumental (Rheims, 1880), 12mo; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “La cathédrale de Rheims, au XIIIe siècle,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 288; E. Moreau-Nélaton, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, 1915); Monseigneur Landrieux, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, H. Laurens, 1917); Louis Bréhier, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); Max Sainsaulieu, Rheims avant la guerre (Paris, H. Laurens); Vitry, La cathédrale de Rheims, architecture et sculpture (Paris, Longuet, 1913); Ch. Loriquet, Les tapisseries de Notre Dame de Rheims; H. Bazin, Une vieille cité de France, Rheims; monuments et histoire (Rheims, Michaud, 1900), 4to; Louise Pillion, Les sculpteurs français du XIIIe siècle (Collection, Les maîtres de l’art), (Paris); Émile Lambin, Flore des grandes cathédrales (Paris, 1897); Vitry et Brière, Documents de sculpture française au moyen âge (Paris, Longuet, 1900).
[113] Congrès Archéologique, 1911, Rheims, p. 19, the cathedral; p. 57, St. Remi, L. Demaison; Louis Demaison, Album de la cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, 1902), 2 vols., folio; ibid., La cathédrale de Rheims (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Abbé Cerf, Histoire et description de Notre Dame de Rheims (Rheims, Dubois, 1861), 2 vols., 8vo; Alphonse Gosset, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris and Rheims, 1894), folio; ibid., Rheims monumental (Rheims, 1880), 12mo; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “La cathédrale de Rheims, au XIIIe siècle,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 288; E. Moreau-Nélaton, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, 1915); Monseigneur Landrieux, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, H. Laurens, 1917); Louis Bréhier, La cathédrale de Rheims (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); Max Sainsaulieu, Rheims avant la guerre (Paris, H. Laurens); Vitry, La cathédrale de Rheims, architecture et sculpture (Paris, Longuet, 1913); Ch. Loriquet, Les tapisseries de Notre Dame de Rheims; H. Bazin, Une vieille cité de France, Rheims; monuments et histoire (Rheims, Michaud, 1900), 4to; Louise Pillion, Les sculpteurs français du XIIIe siècle (Collection, Les maîtres de l’art), (Paris); Émile Lambin, Flore des grandes cathédrales (Paris, 1897); Vitry et Brière, Documents de sculpture française au moyen âge (Paris, Longuet, 1900).
[115] The Benedictines’ church at Orbais (Marne), between Rheims and Châlons, contains some exceptionally good XII-century windows. Its nave has been destroyed, but the transept and the choir, with its radiating chapels (c. 1200), survive. The World War swept over Orbais, but the abbatial is unharmed. Héron de Villefosse, Abbaye d’Orbais (Paris, 1892).
[115] The Benedictine church in Orbais (Marne), located between Rheims and Châlons, features some remarkably well-preserved 12th-century windows. Although its nave has been destroyed, the transept and choir, along with its radiating chapels (circa 1200), still stand. Orbais experienced the impact of World War I, but the abbey remains intact. Héron de Villefosse, Abbaye d’Orbais (Paris, 1892).
[116] It has been suggested that about 1260 a façade then rising was dismounted and moved forward, to allow for the insertion of several more bays in the nave, but the idea remains a hypothesis.
[116] It’s been suggested that around 1260, an existing façade was taken down and moved ahead to make room for several more bays in the nave, but this idea is still just a hypothesis.
[117] E. O’Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation ... de Jeanne d’Arc, eighth interrogation, March 17, 1431. “Il avait été à la peine, c’était bien raison qu’il fût à l’honneur.” (Paris, Plon, 1868), 2 vols.
[117] E. O’Reilly, The Two Trials of the Condemnation ... of Joan of Arc, eighth interrogation, March 17, 1431. “He had endured pain; it was only right that he should receive honor.” (Paris, Plon, 1868), 2 vols.
[118] During this summer of 1020 excavations made under Rheims Cathedral have brought to light vestiges of the cathedral of the Virgin, founded by St. Nicaise in 401. Three Roman arches in good condition support the venerable nave, in a corner of whose floor was found buried sacred images of ivory most beautifully carved. Evidently they had been hidden to save them from the invading Vandals.
[118] During the summer of 1020, excavations beneath Rheims Cathedral unearthed remnants of the Virgin's cathedral, established by St. Nicaise in 401. Three well-preserved Roman arches support the ancient nave, where sacred ivory images, intricately carved, were discovered buried in a corner of the floor. It’s clear they were hidden to protect them from the invading Vandals.
" "With Turpin, the cross is well protected!”
Roland addressed the dead archbishop on the field of Roncevaux:
Roland spoke to the dead archbishop on the battlefield of Roncevaux:
No one has known better, since the holy apostles __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Faith keeps and converts people:
"May the door to paradise be open for him!"
—The Song of Roland (Edition, A. d’Avril).
[120] Along the lower walls of the side aisles of Rheims hung splendid tapestries, “color of incense, silver-gray dashed with blue, with red.” They related Our Lady’s life and were given in 1530 by the saintly archbishop, Robert de Lenoncourt, the same who presented to St. Remi’s monastery church other sumptuous embroideries, and who remade as Flamboyant Gothic St. Remi’s south façade. The tapestries of Rheims were saved from the wrecked city and exhibited in Paris during the World War for the benefit of the refugees. It is said that a certain number of the stained-glass windows of the cathedral were dismounted in time to escape annihilation.
[120] Along the lower walls of the side aisles of Rheims hung beautiful tapestries, “the color of incense, silver-gray mixed with blue, and red.” They told the story of Our Lady’s life and were donated in 1530 by the saintly archbishop, Robert de Lenoncourt, the same one who gave other exquisite embroideries to St. Remi’s monastery church and redesigned the south façade of St. Remi in Flamboyant Gothic style. The tapestries of Rheims were saved from the destroyed city and displayed in Paris during the World War to benefit the refugees. It is said that several of the stained-glass windows of the cathedral were taken down just in time to avoid destruction.
[121] Sung in the French trenches:
Sung in the French trenches:
It cracks, crumbles, and falls With a gasp, and all of a sudden!
... But in the ruined city,
By the fire's light,
Joan of Arc is still standing! —(Théodor Botrel, Refrains de guerre (Paris, Payot, 1915)).
[122] Georges Durand, Monographie de l’église Notre Dame, cathédrale d’Amiens (Paris, Picard et fils, 1903), 2 vols., folio; ibid., Description abrégée de la cathédrale d’Amiens (Amiens, Yvert et Tellier, 1904); ibid., “La peinture sur verre au XIIIe siècle et les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Amiens,” in Mémoires de la Société des antiquaires de Picardie 1891, 4e série, tome I, p. 389; Jourdain et Duval, “Le grand portail de la cathédrale d’Amiens,” in Bulletin Monumental, vols. 11, 12, passim; ibid., Cathédrale d’Amiens, les stalles et clôtures du chœur (Amiens, 1867), 8vo; T. Perkins, The Cathedral Church of Amiens (London, Bell, 1902); Rodière et Guyencourt, La Picardie historique et monumentale (Paris, Picard, 1906), 4to; Camille Enlart, Monuments religieux de l’architecture romane et de transition dans la région Picarde (Amiens, Yvert et Tellier, 1895); Taylor et Nodier, Voyages pittoresques ... dans l’ancienne France. Picardie, (Paris, Didron, 1835-45), 3 vols.; Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France (Paris, Colin, 1910); A. de Colonne, Histoire de la ville d’Amiens (Paris, 1900); Demogeon, La Picardie (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf).
[122] Georges Durand, Monographie de l’église Notre Dame, cathédrale d’Amiens (Paris, Picard et fils, 1903), 2 vols., folio; ibid., Description abrégée de la cathédrale d’Amiens (Amiens, Yvert et Tellier, 1904); ibid., “La peinture sur verre au XIIIe siècle et les vitraux de la cathédrale d’Amiens,” in Mémoires de la Société des antiquaires de Picardie 1891, 4e série, tome I, p. 389; Jourdain et Duval, “Le grand portail de la cathédrale d’Amiens,” in Bulletin Monumental, vols. 11, 12, passim; ibid., Cathédrale d’Amiens, les stalles et clôtures du chœur (Amiens, 1867), 8vo; T. Perkins, The Cathedral Church of Amiens (London, Bell, 1902); Rodière et Guyencourt, La Picardie historique et monumentale (Paris, Picard, 1906), 4to; Camille Enlart, Monuments religieux de l’architecture romane et de transition dans la région Picarde (Amiens, Yvert et Tellier, 1895); Taylor et Nodier, Voyages pittoresques ... dans l’ancienne France. Picardie, (Paris, Didron, 1835-45), 3 vols.; Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France (Paris, Colin, 1910); A. de Colonne, Histoire de la ville d’Amiens (Paris, 1900); Demogeon, La Picardie (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf).
[124] L. Reau, Cologne (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Leger, Prague (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Henry Hymans, Bruges et Ipres (Paris, H. Laurens).
[124] L. Reau, Cologne (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Leger, Prague (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); Henry Hymans, Bruges and Ypres (Paris, H. Laurens).
[125] Apocalypse xxi:17.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Revelation 21:17.
[127] Psalm xc:13.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Psalm 90:13.
[128] Eph. ii:20-21.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eph. 2:20-21.
[130] Abbeville, close by, also had its Puy, in whose competitions figured Froissart, the historian, as laureate. The magnificent portal decorations (1548) of the Flamboyant Gothic collegiate church of St. Wulfran were contributed in this way.
[130] Abbeville, nearby, also had its Puy, where Froissart, the historian, was a winner in competitions. The stunning portal decorations (1548) of the Flamboyant Gothic collegiate church of St. Wulfran were created in this manner.
Émile Deliguières, L’église Saint-Vulfran à Abbeville (Abbeville, Paillart, 1898); Congrès Archéologique, 1893.
Émile Deliguières, The Church of Saint-Vulfran in Abbeville (Abbeville, Paillart, 1898); Archaeological Congress, 1893.
[131] Congrès Archéologique, 1849 and 1898; Amédée Boinet, La cathédrale de Bourges (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); ibid., “Les sculpteurs de la cathédrale de Bourges,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1912; also published by Champion (Paris, 1912); Gaston Congny, Bourges et Nevers; Buhot de Kersers, “Les chapelles absidioles de la cathédrale de Bourges,” in Bulletin Monumental, vol. 40, p. 417; ibid., Histoire et statistique monumentale du département du Cher (Bourges, 1875-98), 8 vols., 4to; Girardot et Durant, La cathédrale de Bourges (Moulins, 1849); G. Hardy et A. Gandillon, Bourges et les abbayes et châteaux de Berry (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1912); Cahier et Martin (P. P.), Monographie de la cathédrale de Bourges; vitraux du XIIIe siècle; Des Méloizes, Les vitraux de Bourges postérieurs au XIIIe siècle (Lille, 1897), folio; ibid., Les vitraux de Bourges, 1901; ibid., “Note sur un très ancien vitrail de la cathédrale de Bourges,” in Mémoires de la Soc. des Antiquaires du Centre, 1873, vol. 4, p. 193; Champeaux et Gauchery, Les travaux d’art exécutés pour Jean de France, duc de Berry (Paris, Champion, 1894), folio; Buhot de Kersers, “Caractères de l’architecture religieuse en Berry à l’époque romane,” in Bul. archéol. du Comité des Travaux hist. et scientifiques, 1890, p. 25; F. Deshoulières, “Les églises romanes du Berry,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1909, p. 463; Raynal, Histoire de Berry; Vacher, Le Berry (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf); Sauvageot, Palais, châteaux, hôtels et maisons de France; Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (London and New York, 1916).
[131] Archaeological Congress, 1849 and 1898; Amédée Boinet, The Cathedral of Bourges (Collection, Little Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); ibid., “The Sculptors of the Cathedral of Bourges,” in Review of Christian Art, 1912; also published by Champion (Paris, 1912); Gaston Congny, Bourges and Nevers; Buhot de Kersers, “The Absidal Chapels of the Cathedral of Bourges,” in Monumental Bulletin, vol. 40, p. 417; ibid., History and Monumental Statistics of the Cher Department (Bourges, 1875-98), 8 vols., 4to; Girardot and Durant, The Cathedral of Bourges (Moulins, 1849); G. Hardy and A. Gandillon, Bourges and the Abbeys and Castles of Berry (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1912); Cahier and Martin (P. P.), Monograph of the Cathedral of Bourges; 13th Century Stained Glass; Des Méloizes, The Stained Glass of Bourges After the 13th Century (Lille, 1897), folio; ibid., The Stained Glass of Bourges, 1901; ibid., “Note on a Very Old Stained Glass Window of the Cathedral of Bourges,” in Memoirs of the Society of Antiquaries of the Center, 1873, vol. 4, p. 193; Champeaux and Gauchery, The Art Works Executed for Jean de France, Duke of Berry (Paris, Champion, 1894), folio; Buhot de Kersers, “Characteristics of Religious Architecture in Berry During the Romanesque Period,” in Archaeological Bulletin of the Committee for Historical and Scientific Work, 1890, p. 25; F. Deshoulières, “The Romanesque Churches of Berry,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1909, p. 463; Raynal, History of Berry; Vacher, Berry (Collection, The Regions of France), (Paris, L. Cerf); Sauvageot, Palaces, Castles, Hotels, and Houses of France; Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (London and New York, 1916).
[133] Rodin should have placed his “Thinker” here: “Le Penseur aurait été au diapason dans cette crypt; cette ombre immense l’aurait fortifié!”
[133] Rodin should have put his “Thinker” here: “The Thinker would have resonated in this crypt; this immense shadow would have strengthened him!”
—Rodin, Les cathédrales de France.
—Rodin, The Cathedrals of France.
[134] “There is a charming detail in this section. Beside the angel, on the left, where the wicked are the prey of demons, stands a little female figure, that of a child, who, with hands meekly folded and head gently raised, waits for the stern angel to decide upon her fate. In this fate, however, a dreadful big devil also takes a keen interest; he seems on the point of appropriating the tender creature; he has a face like a goat and an enormous hooked nose. But the angel gently lays a hand upon the shoulder of the little girl—the movement is full of dignity—as if to say, ‘No; she belongs to the other side.’ The frieze below represents the general Resurrection, with the good and the wicked emerging from their sepulchers. Nothing can be more quaint and charming than the difference shown in their way of responding to the final trump. The good get out of their tombs with a certain modest gayety, an alacrity tempered by respect; one of them kneels to pray as soon as he has disinterred himself. You may know the wicked, on the other hand, by their extreme shyness; they crawl out slowly and fearfully; they hang back.”—Henry James, A Little Tour in France (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1900), p. 105.
[134] “There’s a lovely detail in this section. Next to the angel on the left, where the wicked become the targets of demons, is a small female figure, a child, who, with her hands softly folded and her head raised gently, waits for the stern angel to decide her fate. However, a terrible big devil is also very interested in this fate; he looks ready to snatch the delicate creature away; he has a goat-like face and a huge hooked nose. But the angel gently places a hand on the girl’s shoulder—the gesture is dignified— as if to say, ‘No; she belongs to the other side.’ The frieze below shows the general Resurrection, with the good and the wicked rising from their graves. Nothing is more charming than the way they respond to the final trumpet. The good emerge from their tombs with a certain modest cheerfulness, a readiness tempered by respect; one of them kneels to pray as soon as he frees himself. You can recognize the wicked by their extreme shyness; they crawl out slowly and fearfully; they hold back.” —Henry James, A Little Tour in France (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1900), p. 105.
[135] The chief piers of Orléans Cathedral were mined by Théodore de Bèze and blown up on the night of March 23, 1567. The portal, part of the choir, and the apse chapel escaped. The XII-century nave had double aisles with tribunes; the frontispiece also was XII century. The choir, begun in 1287, was finished by 1297, and a new Gothic nave was in progress at the time of the civil wars of religion. Henry IV undertook to rebuild Orléans Cathedral, and with his bride, Marie de Medici, laid the first stone in 1601. But a bastard-Gothic edifice is not compensation for earlier work. H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 6, p. 122, “Orléans,” G. Lefenestre; Congrès Archéologique, 1854 and 1892; G. Rigault, Orléans et le val de Loire (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Lèfevre-Pontalis et Eugène Garry, on Orléans Cathedral, in Bulletin Monumental, 1904, vol. 68, p. 309.
[135] The main pillars of Orléans Cathedral were mined by Théodore de Bèze and blown up on the night of March 23, 1567. The entrance, part of the choir, and the apse chapel were spared. The 12th-century nave featured double aisles with tribunes; the façade was also from the 12th century. The choir, which began in 1287, was completed by 1297, and a new Gothic nave was being built at the time of the civil wars of religion. Henry IV initiated the reconstruction of Orléans Cathedral and, along with his bride, Marie de Medici, laid the first stone in 1601. However, a bastard-Gothic structure is not a suitable replacement for the earlier work. H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 6, p. 122, “Orléans,” G. Lefenestre; Congrès Archéologique, 1854 and 1892; G. Rigault, Orléans et le val de Loire (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Lèfevre-Pontalis et Eugène Garry, on Orléans Cathedral, in Bulletin Monumental, 1904, vol. 68, p. 309.
[136] Nouvelle Alliance windows are to be found at Chartres (sixth window in the nave’s north aisle), at Le Mans (the east window of the long Lady chapel), at Tours (in the axis chapel), in the transept of Sens Cathedral (in five lights below the north rose), and in the apse curve of Lyons Cathedral.
[136] Nouvelle Alliance windows can be seen at Chartres (the sixth window in the north aisle of the nave), at Le Mans (the east window of the long Lady chapel), at Tours (in the axis chapel), in the transept of Sens Cathedral (in five lights below the north rose), and in the apse curve of Lyons Cathedral.
[137] The happy chance of travel led the writer, in May of 1914, to the ceremony of the unveiling of a statue of Jeanne d’Arc in the cathedral of this city, that has not known invasion—the military arsenal of France. As the preaching bishop exhorted modern France to remake her soul else she would perish, over that spellbound congregation seemed to pass a premonition of portentous events looming ahead. Within three months the World War opened, forte et aspre guerre, as they said in Jeanne’s day, war the chastiser, war the purifier: “Il y a des guerres qui avilissent les nations, et les avilissent pour des siècles; d’autres les exaltent, les perfectionnent de toutes manières,” wrote Joseph de Maistre.
[137] In May 1914, a fortunate travel opportunity brought the writer to the unveiling ceremony of a statue of Jeanne d’Arc in the cathedral of this city, which had never faced invasion—the military stronghold of France. As the preaching bishop urged modern France to rejuvenate her spirit or risk extinction, a sense of foreboding seemed to wash over the captivated congregation, hinting at the significant events on the horizon. Within three months, World War I began, forte et aspre guerre, as they described it in Jeanne's time, war the punisher, war the purifier: “There are wars that debase nations and debase them for centuries; others exalt them, perfect them in every way,” wrote Joseph de Maistre.
[138] Carved on Jacques Cœur’s house in Bourges are mottoes such as, “A vaillans cœurs rien impossible,” or “Dire, faire, taire, de ma joie,” or “En bouche close, n’entre mousche.” Vallet de Viriville, Jacques Cœur; Pierre Clément, Jacques Cœur et Charles VII.
[138] On the facade of Jacques Cœur’s house in Bourges are sayings like, “For brave hearts, nothing is impossible,” “Speak, do, be silent, of my joy,” and “With a closed mouth, no fly enters.” Vallet de Viriville, Jacques Cœur; Pierre Clément, Jacques Cœur et Charles VII.
[139] Congrès Archéologique, 1905, “Beauvais,” Chanoine Barsaux; P. Dubois, La cathédrale de Beauvais (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); Abbé P. C. Barraud, “Beauvais et ses monuments,” in Bulletin Monumental, vol. 27, passim. He gives studies on the Le Prince and other windows in the cathedral and St. Étienne, in Mémoires de la Soc. Académique de l’Oise, 1851-53, vol. 1, p. 225; vol. 2, p. 537; vol. 3, pp. 150, 277; Louise Pillion, on St. Étienne’s glass, in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1910, p. 367; Eug. J. Woillez, Archéologie des monuments religieux de l’ancien Beauvoisis pendant la métamorphose romane (Paris, 1839-49), folio; Graves, Notice archéologique sur le département de l’Oise (Beauvais, 1856); Gustave Desgardins, Histoire de la cathédrale de Beauvais (1875); Abbé L. Pihan, Beauvais, sa cathédrale, ses monuments (1905); ibid., Esquisse descriptive des monuments historiques dans l’Oise; see Gonse and Palustre on the portals of the cathedral; Monseigneur Barbier de Montault, “Iconographie des Sibylles,” in Rev. de l’art chrétiens, 1874.
[139] Archaeological Congress, 1905, “Beauvais,” Canon Barsaux; P. Dubois, The Cathedral of Beauvais (Collection, Little Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); Abbé P. C. Barraud, “Beauvais and Its Monuments,” in Monumental Bulletin, vol. 27, passim. He provides studies on the Le Prince and other windows in the cathedral and St. Étienne, in Memoirs of the Académique de l’Oise, 1851-53, vol. 1, p. 225; vol. 2, p. 537; vol. 3, pp. 150, 277; Louise Pillion, on St. Étienne’s glass, in Review of Christian Art, 1910, p. 367; Eug. J. Woillez, Archaeology of Religious Monuments in Ancient Beauvoisis During the Romanesque Transformation (Paris, 1839-49), folio; Graves, Archaeological Notice on the Department of Oise (Beauvais, 1856); Gustave Desgardins, History of the Cathedral of Beauvais (1875); Abbé L. Pihan, Beauvais, Its Cathedral, Its Monuments (1905); ibid., Descriptive Outline of Historical Monuments in Oise; see Gonse and Palustre on the cathedral portals; Monseigneur Barbier de Montault, “Iconography of the Sibyls,” in Review of Christian Art, 1874.
[140] Carolingian work aboveground is rare; besides this Basse-Œuvre at Beauvais, there is St. Philibert de Grandlieu (Loire-Inférieure), part of the small church under the flank of Jumièges’ ruined abbatial, portions of St. Jouin-de-Marnes (Deux-Sèvres), and vestiges in the walls of La Couture at Le Mans. There are Carolingian crypts at St. Quentin, Amiens, Chartres, Orléans, Auxerre, Flavigny. More exceptional still are Merovingian remains, such as the crypt of Jouarre, the small tri-lobed church of St. Laurent at Grenoble, the crypt of St. Léger at St. Maixent (Deux-Sèvres), a crypt at Lyons, in St. Martin d’Ainay, and apsidal chapels in St. Jean’s baptistry at Poitiers. A list of the Romanesque monuments of the Ile-de-France and bordering districts is to be found in Arthur Kingsley Porter’s Medieval Architecture, 1909, vol. 2, pp. 13-49.
[140] Aboveground Carolingian structures are rare; besides this Basse-Œuvre in Beauvais, there’s St. Philibert de Grandlieu (Loire-Inférieure), part of the small church next to the ruins of Jumièges’ abbey, sections of St. Jouin-de-Marnes (Deux-Sèvres), and remnants in the walls of La Couture in Le Mans. There are Carolingian crypts at St. Quentin, Amiens, Chartres, Orléans, Auxerre, and Flavigny. Even more unusual are Merovingian remains, such as the crypt of Jouarre, the small tri-lobed church of St. Laurent in Grenoble, the crypt of St. Léger at St. Maixent (Deux-Sèvres), a crypt in Lyons at St. Martin d’Ainay, and apsidal chapels in St. Jean’s baptistry in Poitiers. A list of Romanesque monuments in the Ile-de-France and surrounding areas can be found in Arthur Kingsley Porter’s Medieval Architecture, 1909, vol. 2, pp. 13-49.
[141] Among the Flamboyant monuments of France are St. Wulfran’s frontispiece at Abbeville, begun in 1481, overcharged with ornament but with portals of great beauty; St. Riquier near by, also overcharged; the churches of Rue and Mézières; façades of cathedrals at Sens, Senlis, Auxerre, Troyes, Tours, and Limoges; Vendôme’s frontispiece, and Albi’s porch; towers at Bordeaux, Rodez, Saintes, Chartres, Auxerre, Bourges, Rouen, and many other cities in Normandy; the cathedrals of Toul and Metz; St. Maurice at Lille, a well-restrained Flamboyant monument; the magnificent church of St. Nicholas-du-Port near Nancy; the choir of Moulins; St. Antoine at Compiègne and a number of civic halls such as Compiègne’s and St. Quentin’s. The beautiful Flamboyant Gothic church at Péronne (1509-25) has been wiped out in the World War. Artois and Flanders were especially rich in late-Gothic edifices. Normandy was a Mecca of Flamboyant work—from Rouen, to that gem of the final phase, the choir of Mont Saint-Michel. Monseigneur Dehaisnes, Histoire de l’art dans la Flandre, l’Artois et le Hainaut (Lille, 1886), 3 vols.
[141] Among the striking monuments of France are St. Wulfran’s façade at Abbeville, started in 1481, which is heavily decorated but features beautiful portals; St. Riquier nearby, also heavily decorated; the churches of Rue and Mézières; the façades of cathedrals in Sens, Senlis, Auxerre, Troyes, Tours, and Limoges; Vendôme’s façade, and Albi’s porch; towers in Bordeaux, Rodez, Saintes, Chartres, Auxerre, Bourges, Rouen, and many other cities in Normandy; the cathedrals of Toul and Metz; St. Maurice in Lille, a well-balanced Flamboyant monument; the stunning church of St. Nicholas-du-Port near Nancy; the choir of Moulins; St. Antoine at Compiègne; and several civic halls like those in Compiègne and St. Quentin. The beautiful Flamboyant Gothic church in Péronne (1509-25) was destroyed in World War I. Artois and Flanders were particularly rich in late-Gothic buildings. Normandy was a center of Flamboyant work—from Rouen to the exquisite final phase, the choir of Mont Saint-Michel. Monseigneur Dehaisnes, Histoire de l’art dans la Flandre, l’Artois et le Hainaut (Lille, 1886), 3 vols.
[142] André Michel, éd., Histoire de l’Art, vol. 3, 1ère partie, “Le style flamboyant,” Camille Enlart (Paris, A. Colin), 1914, 10 vols.; Camille Enlart, “Origine anglaise du style flamboyant,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1886, 1906, p. 38; A. Saint-Paul, “L’architecture religieuse en France pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1908, p. 5; ibid., Les origines du gothique flamboyant en France (Caen, 1907); Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, vol. 2 (New York and London, 1907), 2 vols.
[142] André Michel, ed., History of Art, vol. 3, part 1, “The Flamboyant Style,” Camille Enlart (Paris, A. Colin), 1914, 10 vols.; Camille Enlart, “English Origins of the Flamboyant Style,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1886, 1906, p. 38; A. Saint-Paul, “Religious Architecture in France During the Hundred Years' War,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1908, p. 5; ibid., The Origins of Flamboyant Gothic in France (Caen, 1907); Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, vol. 2 (New York and London, 1907), 2 vols.
[143] Congrès Archéologique, 1902; V. C. de Courcel, La cathédrale de Troyes, (1910); L. Morel-Payen, Troyes et Provins (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); F. Arnaud, Description historique de l’église cathédrale de Troyes; J. B. Coffinet, “Les peintres-verriers de Troyes,” in Annales Archéologiques, vol. 18, pp. 125, 212; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows, chapters 32 and 33, on Troyes (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Ch. Fichot, Statistique monumentale du département de l’Aube, vol. 1, Arrondissement de Troyes (Troyes, 1884), 4to; R. Koechlin and J.M. de Vasselot, La sculpture à Troyes et dans la Champagne méridionale au XVIe siècle (Paris, A. Colin, 1900); Raymond Koechlin, “La sculpture du XIVe et du XVe siècle dans la région de Troyes,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1908; Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe et la sculpture française de son temps (Paris, 1901); Louis Gonse, La sculpture française depuis le XIVe siècle (Paris, Quantin, 1895), folio; D’Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des ducs et des comtes de Champagne, 1859, 7 vols.; Bontier, Histoire de Troyes et de la Champagne méridionale (Troyes, 1880), 4 vols.; Amédée Aufauvre, Troyes et ses environs.
[143] Congrès Archéologique, 1902; V. C. de Courcel, The Cathedral of Troyes, (1910); L. Morel-Payen, Troyes and Provins (Collection, Cities of Famous Art), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); F. Arnaud, Historical Description of the Cathedral Church of Troyes; J. B. Coffinet, “The Stained Glass Artists of Troyes,” in Archaeological Annals, vol. 18, pp. 125, 212; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows, chapters 32 and 33, on Troyes (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Ch. Fichot, Monumental Statistics of the Department of Aube, vol. 1, District of Troyes (Troyes, 1884), 4to; R. Koechlin and J.M. de Vasselot, Sculture in Troyes and Southern Champagne in the 16th Century (Paris, A. Colin, 1900); Raymond Koechlin, “Sculpture of the 14th and 15th Centuries in the Troyes Region,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1908; Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe and French Sculpture of His Time (Paris, 1901); Louis Gonse, French Sculpture Since the 14th Century (Paris, Quantin, 1895), folio; D’Arbois de Jubainville, History of the Dukes and Counts of Champagne, 1859, 7 vols.; Bontier, History of Troyes and Southern Champagne (Troyes, 1880), 4 vols.; Amédée Aufauvre, Troyes and Its Surroundings.
[145] Generation after generation, the Lyénin, Macadré, Verrat, and Gontier families produced noted artists. Assier, Les arts dans l’ancienne capitale de la Champagne.
[145] For generations, the Lyénin, Macadré, Verrat, and Gontier families have produced renowned artists. Assier, The Arts in the Former Capital of Champagne.
[146] The same feat can be seen in St. Nizier at Troyes, rebuilt in 1528 and literally filled with XVI-century glass. Its best window is in the transept (1552), and shows the beasts of heresy trampled upon, for that day was nothing if not controversial. In a central window of the choir, the Descent of the Holy Ghost, the artist made the hands of a figure in one panel appear in the neighboring panel, regardless of the stone mullions. In 1901 an anarchist bomb exploded in St. Nizier, and in 1910 a terrible storm wrecked more of its windows. The church possesses a Saint Sépulcre and a Christ de Pité in which the Gothic spirit lingers. Its reredos, now in the Museum, was from the Juliot atelier. Her international fairs early accustomed Troyes to foreign influences. Flemish realism had fortified her sculptors and vitrine artists, and during the first third of the XVI century (when the trade of the city tripled itself) the new Italian ideas found favor. For a generation the just and loyal measure of Champagne’s own Gothic tradition held the leadership, but finally the Italian Renaissance conquered. When abstract types were substituted for types precisely observed, imagery became cold, declamatory, and pretentious. In several of the churches of Troyes will be found the Education of the Virgin by her mother, St. Anne, a theme for which this city had a partiality.
[146] The same achievement can be seen in St. Nizier in Troyes, rebuilt in 1528 and filled with 16th-century glass. Its best window is in the transept (1552), depicting the beasts of heresy being trampled, as that day was anything but ordinary. In a central window of the choir, the Descent of the Holy Ghost, the artist made the hands of a figure in one panel appear in the adjacent panel, ignoring the stone mullions. In 1901, an anarchist bomb exploded in St. Nizier, and in 1910 a severe storm damaged more of its windows. The church has a Saint Sépulcre and a Christ de Pité where the Gothic spirit still remains. Its reredos, now in the Museum, came from the Juliot atelier. The international fairs early on introduced Troyes to foreign influences. Flemish realism had strengthened her sculptors and glass artists, and during the first third of the 16th century (when the city’s trade tripled), new Italian ideas gained popularity. For a time, the fair and loyal standards of Champagne’s Gothic tradition led the way, but eventually, the Italian Renaissance took over. When abstract forms replaced accurately observed types, the imagery became cold, showy, and pretentious. In several churches in Troyes, you can find the Education of the Virgin by her mother, St. Anne, a theme that this city particularly favored.
[147] Abbé O. F. Jossier, Monographie des vitraux de St. Urbain de Troyes (Troyes, 1912); E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Jean Langlois, architecte de St. Urbain de Troyes,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1904, vol. 64, p. 93; Albert Barbeau, St. Urbain de Troyes (Troyes, Dufour-Bonquot, 1891), 8vo; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 4, pp. 182-192; Abbé Lahore, L’église Saint-Urbain (1891).
[147] Abbé O. F. Jossier, Monograph on the Stained Glass of St. Urbain de Troyes (Troyes, 1912); E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Jean Langlois, Architect of St. Urbain de Troyes,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1904, vol. 64, p. 93; Albert Barbeau, St. Urbain de Troyes (Troyes, Dufour-Bonquot, 1891), 8vo; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionary of Architecture, vol. 4, pp. 182-192; Abbé Lahore, The Church of Saint-Urbain (1891).
[148] Within walking distance of Troyes are Ste. Maure, with a Jesse tree by Linard Gontier; Les Noès, with good sculpture and a Jesse-tree window of 1521; St. André-lès-Troyes, with a lovely St. Catherine statue; St. Parre-les-Tertres, with a Vision of Augustus in camaïeu like a magnificent enamel on white glass, and another grisaille-like Vision of Augustus at St. Léger-lès-Troyes (1558); Chapelle St. Luc, with a triptych on wood, sculpture of the Three Maries, and good glass; Torvilliers, Pont-Ste.-Marie, and Montgueux, with other objets d’art. Eight miles away, at Verrières, is the best portal of the region and more late-Gothic glass. There are storied windows at St. Loup, St. Ponanges, Rosnay, Brienne, Rouilly (with a good Virgin image), Pouvres, Chavanges, Bar-sur-Seine, Bar-sur-Aube (with a statue of St. Barbara), Mussy-sur-Seine, Montier-en-Der, Arcis-sur-Aube, and Ceffonds, whose windows were the gift of Étienne Chévalier (1528). Some thirty miles away lies St. Florentin (six miles from Pontigny), where are twenty splendid Renaissance lights, among them a Creation window (1525), with God the Father wearing the tiara, one of 1528 telling St. Nicolas’ life in quatrains describing each scene, and a 1529 window devoted to the Apocalypse. Between Troyes and St. Florentin lies Ervy, where is a Crucifixion window (1570), showing the Saviour nailed to a Tree of Knowledge Cross with apples and leaves on its top, and Adam and Eve standing below. There are also the noted windows of the Sibyls (1515), representing twelve instead of ten prophetesses, each accompanied by the event of the New Law which she is said to have foretold, and the window called the Triumph of Petrarch (1502).
[148] Within walking distance of Troyes are Ste. Maure, featuring a Jesse tree by Linard Gontier; Les Noès, known for its impressive sculpture and a Jesse-tree window from 1521; St. André-lès-Troyes, which has a beautiful statue of St. Catherine; St. Parre-les-Tertres, showcasing a Vision of Augustus in camaïeu resembling a stunning enamel on white glass, and another grisaille-like Vision of Augustus at St. Léger-lès-Troyes (1558); Chapelle St. Luc, with a wooden triptych, a sculpture of the Three Maries, and excellent stained glass; Torvilliers, Pont-Ste.-Marie, and Montgueux, featuring additional objets d’art. Eight miles away in Verrières, you’ll find the finest portal in the region and more late-Gothic glass. There are remarkable windows at St. Loup, St. Ponanges, Rosnay, Brienne, Rouilly (with a lovely Virgin image), Pouvres, Chavanges, Bar-sur-Seine, Bar-sur-Aube (with a statue of St. Barbara), Mussy-sur-Seine, Montier-en-Der, Arcis-sur-Aube, and Ceffonds, whose windows were gifted by Étienne Chévalier (1528). About thirty miles away is St. Florentin (six miles from Pontigny), home to twenty stunning Renaissance windows, including a Creation window (1525), depicting God the Father wearing a tiara, one from 1528 illustrating St. Nicolas’ life in quatrains for each scene, and a 1529 window focused on the Apocalypse. Between Troyes and St. Florentin is Ervy, which features a Crucifixion window (1570), showing the Savior nailed to a Tree of Knowledge Cross topped with apples and leaves, with Adam and Eve below. There are also the famous windows of the Sibyls (1515), depicting twelve instead of ten prophetesses, each linked to an event of the New Law that she supposedly foretold, along with the window known as the Triumph of Petrarch (1502).
[149] Of the same appealing type as St. Martha at Troyes are the Virgin and Madeleine of the Holy Sepulcher group at Villeneuve l’Archevêque (Yonne), where are also some beautiful portal images of the XIII century. M. Ch. Fichot has brought forward testimony that would indicate the image called St. Martha in the church of the Madeleine is really one of St. Mary Magdelene herself. However, the majority of those who have written on the sculpture of Champagne continue to call it a St. Martha.
[149] Similar in charm to St. Martha at Troyes are the Virgin and Mary Magdalene from the Holy Sepulcher group at Villeneuve l’Archevêque (Yonne), which also features some stunning portal images from the 13th century. M. Ch. Fichot has presented evidence suggesting that the image referred to as St. Martha in the church of the Madeleine is actually of St. Mary Magdalene herself. However, most scholars discussing the sculpture of Champagne still refer to it as St. Martha.
[150] Congrès Archéologique, 1855, 1875, and 1911, p. 447, the cathedral of Châlons; p. 473, Notre-Dame-en-Vaux; p. 496, St. Alpin; p. 512, Notre-Dame-de-l’Épine; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “L’architecture dans la Champagne méridionale au XIIIe et au XVIe siècle,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1902, p. 273; ibid., “Les caractères distinctifs des écoles gothiques de la Champagne et de la Bourgogne,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 546; Louis Demaison, Les églises de Châlons-sur-Marne (Caen, 1913); E. de Barthélemy, Diocèse ancien de Châlons-sur-Marne. Histoire et monuments (Paris, 1861), 2 vols.; E. Hurault, La cathédrale de Châlons-sur-Marne et sa clergé au XIIIe siècle; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows, chapter 34, on the windows of Châlons (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Abbé E. Musset, Notre Dame-de-l’Épine près Châlons-sur-Marne. La légende, l’histoire, le monument et le pèlerinage (Paris, Champion, 1902); Chanoine Marsaux, “La prédiction de la sibylle et la vision d’Auguste,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1908, p. 235.
[150] Archaeological Congress, 1855, 1875, and 1911, p. 447, the cathedral of Châlons; p. 473, Notre-Dame-en-Vaux; p. 496, St. Alpin; p. 512, Notre-Dame-de-l’Épine; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Architecture in Southern Champagne in the 13th and 16th Centuries,” in Archaeological Congress, 1902, p. 273; ibid., “Distinctive Features of the Gothic Schools of Champagne and Burgundy,” in Archaeological Congress, 1907, p. 546; Louis Demaison, The Churches of Châlons-sur-Marne (Caen, 1913); E. de Barthélemy, Ancient Diocese of Châlons-sur-Marne. History and Monuments (Paris, 1861), 2 vols.; E. Hurault, The Cathedral of Châlons-sur-Marne and Its Clergy in the 13th Century; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows, chapter 34, on the windows of Châlons (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Abbé E. Musset, Notre Dame-de-l’Épine near Châlons-sur-Marne. The Legend, the History, the Monument, and the Pilgrimage (Paris, Champion, 1902); Canon Marsaux, “The Prediction of the Sibyl and the Vision of Augustus,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1908, p. 235.
[151] Congrès Archéologique, 1890, Toul. In the series of Villes d’art célèbres, published by H. Laurens (Paris), are studies on Tournai, Ipres, and Avila: Henri Guerlin, Ségovie, Avila, Salamanque; Henri Hymans, Gand et Tournai and Bruges et Ypres.
[151] Congrès Archéologique, 1890, Toul. In the series of Famous Art Cities, published by H. Laurens (Paris), there are studies on Tournai, Ypres, and Avila: Henri Guerlin, Segovia, Avila, Salamanca; Henri Hymans, Ghent and Tournai and Bruges and Ypres.
[152] L. Petit de Julleville, Histoire de la langue et de la littérature française, dirigée par (Paris, Colin et Cie, 1841-1901), 8 vols. In vols. 1 and 2 the Middle Ages are treated by Léon Gautier, Gaston Paris, and Joseph Bédier; Gaston Paris, La littérature française au moyen âge (Paris, Hachette, 1890); ibid., Les origines de la poésie lyrique, en France au moyen âge (Paris, 1892); Léon Gautier, Origines et histoire des épopées françaises (Paris, V. Palme, 1878-94), 4 vols.; Joseph Bédier, Les légends épiques (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.; P. Tarbé, Les chansonniers de Champagne (1851); Delaborde, Notice historique sur le château de Joinville. Haute-Marne (Joinville, 1891); Natalis de Wailly, éd., Jean, sire de Joinville, texte original accompagné d’une traduction. Translated into English, Bohns’ Antiquarian Library, VI, London; Bouchet, éd., Villehardouin (Paris, 1891). English translation by Sir F. T. Marzial (London, Everyman’s Library, 1908).
[152] L. Petit de Julleville, History of the French Language and Literature, edited by (Paris, Colin et Cie, 1841-1901), 8 vols. In vols. 1 and 2, the Middle Ages are covered by Léon Gautier, Gaston Paris, and Joseph Bédier; Gaston Paris, French Literature in the Middle Ages (Paris, Hachette, 1890); ibid., The Origins of Lyric Poetry in France during the Middle Ages (Paris, 1892); Léon Gautier, Origins and History of French Epics (Paris, V. Palme, 1878-94), 4 vols.; Joseph Bédier, The Epic Legends (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.; P. Tarbé, The Songwriters of Champagne (1851); Delaborde, Historical Notice on the Castle of Joinville, Haute-Marne (Joinville, 1891); Natalis de Wailly, ed., Jean, Lord of Joinville, Original Text with Translation. Translated into English, Bohns’ Antiquarian Library, VI, London; Bouchet, ed., Villehardouin (Paris, 1891). English translation by Sir F. T. Marzial (London, Everyman’s Library, 1908).
[153] Chanoine Boissonnot, La cathédrale de Tours (Tours, 1904); Paul Vitry, Tours et les châteaux de Touraine (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1905); ibid., Michel Colombe et la sculpture française de son temps (Paris, 1901); Marchand et Bourassé, Verrières du chœur de l’église metropolitaine de Tours (Paris, 1849), folio; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows, chapter 22, on Tours (New York and London, 1914); Charles de Grandmaison, Tours archéologique (Paris, 1879); Abbé Bossebœuf, Tours et ses monuments; Monseigneur Chevalier, Promenades pittoresques en Touraine (Tours, 1869); Abbé J. J. Bourassé, Recherches hist. et archéol. sur les églises romanes en Touraine (1869); L. Courajod, La sculpture française avant la Renaissance classique (Paris, 1891); Louis Gonse, La sculpture française depuis le XIVe siècle (Paris, 1895), folio; Giraudet, Histoire de la ville de Tours (Tours, 1873), 2 vols.; Chalmel, Histoire de Touraine (1841), 4 vols.; Henri Guerlin, La Touraine (Collection, Provinces françaises), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Barron, La Loire (Fleuves de France), (Paris, H. Laurens); C. H. Petit-Dutaillis, Charles VII, Louis XI et les premières années de Charles VIII (Paris, Hachette, 1902).
[153] Chanoine Boissonnot, The Cathedral of Tours (Tours, 1904); Paul Vitry, Tours and the Châteaux of Touraine (Famous Art Cities Collection), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1905); ibid., Michel Colombe and French Sculpture of His Time (Paris, 1901); Marchand and Bourassé, Stained Glass Windows of the Metropolitan Church of Tours (Paris, 1849), folio; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows, chapter 22, on Tours (New York and London, 1914); Charles de Grandmaison, Archaeological Tours (Paris, 1879); Abbé Bossebœuf, Tours and Its Monuments; Monseigneur Chevalier, Picturesque Walks in Touraine (Tours, 1869); Abbé J. J. Bourassé, Historical and Archaeological Research on Romanesque Churches in Touraine (1869); L. Courajod, French Sculpture Before the Classical Renaissance (Paris, 1891); Louis Gonse, French Sculpture from the 14th Century (Paris, 1895), folio; Giraudet, History of the City of Tours (Tours, 1873), 2 vols.; Chalmel, History of Touraine (1841), 4 vols.; Henri Guerlin, Touraine (French Provinces Collection), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Barron, The Loire (Rivers of France), (Paris, H. Laurens); C. H. Petit-Dutaillis, Charles VII, Louis XI, and the Early Years of Charles VIII (Paris, Hachette, 1902).
[154] Behind the choir of Tours Cathedral, in the Place Grégoire de Tours, a veritable nook of the Middle Ages, are XII-century vestiges of the Episcopal Palace, a mansion of the XV century, and near by is the rue de la Psalette, in which Balzac set the scene of his Curé de Tours. Why has not Tours named her chief square and residential street for Balzac, her own son, instead of for Emile Zola? Balzac’s sister has told of the profound impression made on him by the cathedral of Tours, especially by its marvels of stained glass, so that all through the novelist’s life the mere name “St. Gatien” had the power to rouse him to the dreams and aspirations of his youth.
[154] Behind the choir of Tours Cathedral, in the Place Grégoire de Tours, a true little corner of the Middle Ages, are 12th-century remnants of the Episcopal Palace, a mansion from the 15th century, and nearby is rue de la Psalette, where Balzac set the scene for his Curé de Tours. Why hasn’t Tours named its main square and its main street after Balzac, her own son, instead of Emile Zola? Balzac’s sister recounted the deep impression the cathedral of Tours had on him, especially its stunning stained glass, so that throughout the novelist’s life, just the name “St. Gatien” could inspire him with the dreams and hopes of his youth.
[155] R. de Lasteyrie, L’église St. Martin de Tours (Paris, 1891); Monsuyer, Histoire de l’abbaye de St. Martin; Henri Martin, Saint-Martin (Collection, L’art et les saints), (Paris, H. Laurens); Ed. Chévalier, Histoire de l’abbaye de Marmoutier (Tours, 1871), 2 vols. There are papers on the church of St. Julien de Tours in the Mémoires de la Soc. archéol. de Touraine, 1909, p. 13, and on St. Martin de Tours, 1907; also in the Bulletin Monumental, 1873, p. 830, on St. Symphorien de Tours. The abbatial of St. Julien, a contemporary of Tours Cathedral, is exceptionally pure Gothic. Its tower is Romanesque and in part dates before 1000.
[155] R. de Lasteyrie, The Church of St. Martin in Tours (Paris, 1891); Monsuyer, History of the Abbey of St. Martin; Henri Martin, Saint-Martin (Collection, Art and Saints), (Paris, H. Laurens); Ed. Chévalier, History of the Abbey of Marmoutier (Tours, 1871), 2 vols. There are articles on the church of St. Julien de Tours in the Memoirs of the Archaeological Society of Touraine, 1909, p. 13, and on St. Martin de Tours, 1907; also in the Bulletin Monumental, 1873, p. 830, on St. Symphorien de Tours. The abbatial of St. Julien, contemporary with Tours Cathedral, features exceptionally pure Gothic architecture. Its tower is Romanesque and partially dates back to before 1000.
[156] Many a Council has been held in Tours. In 1055 came Gregory VII, the reformer. In 1095 Urban II preached the First Crusade, and dedicated a Romanesque abbatial at Marmoutier. In 1107 Pope Paschal II came, in 1119 Calixtus II, in 1134 Innocent II, and Alexander III in 1163. At the Council of 1163 the new archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, pleaded for St. Anselm’s canonization, and the builder of Lisieux Cathedral, the politic Arnoul, delivered an address that urged the unity and liberty of the Church; yet later he upheld Henry II in his dispute with St. Thomas Becket. Tours can even boast a pope, for Martin IV (d. 1285) had long been a canon in St. Martin’s abbey.
[156] Many councils have been held in Tours. In 1055, Gregory VII, the reformer, arrived. In 1095, Urban II preached the First Crusade and dedicated a Romanesque abbey at Marmoutier. In 1107, Pope Paschal II visited, followed by Calixtus II in 1119, Innocent II in 1134, and Alexander III in 1163. At the Council of 1163, the new archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, advocated for St. Anselm’s canonization, and the builder of Lisieux Cathedral, the shrewd Arnoul, gave a speech that called for the unity and freedom of the Church; however, he later sided with Henry II in his conflict with St. Thomas Becket. Tours can even claim a pope, as Martin IV (d. 1285) had long been a canon at St. Martin’s abbey.
[157] Such is the architectural wealth within reach of Tours that one can draw but a few monuments to the traveler’s attention. At Amboise is St. Hubert’s marvelously sculptured little chapel (c. 1491) and the church of St. Florentin (c. 1445). At Loches is Anne of Brittany’s oratory, a Virgin statue of Michel Colombe’s school of Tours, and the tomb of Agnes Sorel, attributed to the master who made Souvigny’s ducal tomb, Jacques Morel. The collegiate church of St. Ours is of exceptional interest to archæologists; its narthex (now the first bay), covered by a tower, was built by Fulk II of Anjou; the porch, also with a tower over it, was added in the XII century. To that date belong the two bays of the church covered by hollow pyramids, said by Mr. A. Kingsley Porter to be an attempt to make a stone roof without wooden centering. At Beaulieu-lès-Loches, founded by Fulk Nerra, the choir is late-Gothic (1440-1540). At St. Catherine de Fierbois, where Jeanne d’Arc found her sword, is a charming Flamboyant Gothic church. There are Plantagenet Gothic vaults at Chinon. Nine miles from Chinon, at Champigny-sur-Veude, is a rich mass of Renaissance glass attributed to Pinagrier, with Bourbon-Montpensier portraits.
[157] The architectural treasures around Tours are so abundant that only a few can truly capture a traveler’s interest. In Amboise, there’s the wonderfully sculpted little chapel of St. Hubert (c. 1491) and the church of St. Florentin (c. 1445). In Loches, you can visit Anne of Brittany’s oratory, a Virgin statue from Michel Colombe’s workshop in Tours, and the tomb of Agnes Sorel, attributed to the artist behind Souvigny’s ducal tomb, Jacques Morel. The collegiate church of St. Ours is particularly fascinating for archaeologists; its narthex (now the first bay), topped by a tower, was constructed by Fulk II of Anjou, and the porch, also featuring a tower, was added in the 12th century. The two bays of the church with hollow pyramid roofs date from that time, which Mr. A. Kingsley Porter described as an attempt to create a stone roof without wooden framework. At Beaulieu-lès-Loches, founded by Fulk Nerra, the choir is late Gothic (1440-1540). At St. Catherine de Fierbois, where Jeanne d’Arc found her sword, there's a beautiful Flamboyant Gothic church. Chinon features Plantagenet Gothic vaults. Nine miles from Chinon, at Champigny-sur-Veude, there's an impressive collection of Renaissance glass attributed to Pinagrier, which includes portraits of Bourbon-Montpensier.
Some twenty miles from Blois is the Romanesque church of Fleury Abbey at St. Benoît-sur-Loire, with a superb XI-century narthex of three bays, surmounted by a tower. In 1562 the Huguenots wrecked the church. Also, between Orléans and Nevers, beside Sancerre, is the abbey church of St. Satur, a forerunner of Flamboyant Gothic, as early as 1361. The Benedictine church of La Charité-sur-Loire derives chiefly from the Burgundian Romanesque school, influenced by Berry and Auvergne. Its central and west towers, its nave, and chevet belong to the second half of the XII century, the transept is earlier; there was a reconstruction of the nave after 1559.
Some twenty miles from Blois is the Romanesque church of Fleury Abbey at St. Benoît-sur-Loire, featuring a stunning 11th-century narthex with three bays and topped by a tower. In 1562, the Huguenots destroyed the church. Also, between Orléans and Nevers, near Sancerre, is the abbey church of St. Satur, an early example of Flamboyant Gothic that dates back to 1361. The Benedictine church of La Charité-sur-Loire primarily reflects the Burgundian Romanesque style, influenced by Berry and Auvergne. Its central and west towers, the nave, and the chevet date from the second half of the 12th century, while the transept is older; the nave was reconstructed after 1559.
Louis Serbat, “La Charité-sur-Loire,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 374; Abbe Bossebœuf, Amboise. For Loches, see Congrès Archéol., 1869, 1910; G. Rigault, Orléans et le val de Loire (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres); F. Bournon, Blois, Chambord et les châteaux du Blésois (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres); A. Marignan, “Une visite à l’abbaye de Fleury à St. Benoît-sur-Loire,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901-02, p. 291; L. Cloquet et J. Casier, “Excursion de la Gilde de St. Thomas et de St. Luc dans la Maine, la Touraine, et l’Anjou,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1889-90, vols. 42, 43; La Touraine artistique et monumental; Amboise (Tours, Pericet, 1899); Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (New York and London, 1916).
Louis Serbat, “La Charité-sur-Loire,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 374; Abbe Bossebœuf, Amboise. For Loches, see Congrès Archéol., 1869, 1910; G. Rigault, Orléans et le val de Loire (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres); F. Bournon, Blois, Chambord et les châteaux du Blésois (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres); A. Marignan, “Une visite à l’abbaye de Fleury à St. Benoît-sur-Loire,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901-02, p. 291; L. Cloquet et J. Casier, “Excursion de la Gilde de St. Thomas et de St. Luc dans la Maine, la Touraine, et l’Anjou,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1889-90, vols. 42, 43; La Touraine artistique et monumental; Amboise (Tours, Pericet, 1899); Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (New York and London, 1916).
[158] Lucien Bégule et C. Guigue, Monographic de la cathédrale de Lyon (Lyon, 1880); Lucien Bégule, La cathédrale de Lyon (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., Les vitraux du moyen âge et de la Renaissance dans la région lyonnaise (Lyon, A. Rey et Cie, 1911); ibid., Les incrustations décoratives des cathédrales de Lyon et de Vienne (Lyon, 1905); H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 3, p. 80, C. Guigue; Émile Màle, L’art religieux du XIIIe siècle, pp. 52-59, on the glass of Lyons Cathedral; Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 527, on St. Martin d’Ainay; Abbé Martin, Histoire des églises et chapelles de Lyon (1909); André Steyert, Nouvelle histoire de Lyon ... (Lyon, Bernoux et Gamin, 1895), 3 vols.; Meynis, Grands souvenirs de l’église de Lyon (Lyon, 1886); Charletz, Histoire de Lyon (Lyon, 1902); Hefele, History of the Christian Councils, 12 vols.; H. d’Hennezel, Lyon (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Léon Maitre, “Les premières basiliques de Lyon et leurs cryptes,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1900, p. 445; Henri Foeillon, Le Musée de Lyon (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Barron, Le Rhone (Collection, Fleuves de France), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[158] Lucien Bégule and C. Guigue, Monograph of the Cathedral of Lyon (Lyon, 1880); Lucien Bégule, The Cathedral of Lyon (Collection, Little Monographs), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., The Stained Glass of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance in the Lyon Region (Lyon, A. Rey et Cie, 1911); ibid., The Decorative Inlays of the Cathedrals of Lyon and Vienne (Lyon, 1905); H. Havard, ed., Artistic and Monumental France, vol. 3, p. 80, C. Guigue; Émile Màle, Religious Art of the 13th Century, pp. 52-59, on the glass of Lyon Cathedral; Archaeological Congress, 1907, p. 527, on St. Martin d’Ainay; Abbé Martin, History of the Churches and Chapels of Lyon (1909); André Steyert, New History of Lyon ... (Lyon, Bernoux et Gamin, 1895), 3 vols.; Meynis, Great Memories of the Church of Lyon (Lyon, 1886); Charletz, History of Lyon (Lyon, 1902); Hefele, History of the Christian Councils, 12 vols.; H. d’Hennezel, Lyon (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); Léon Maitre, “The First Basilicas of Lyon and Their Crypts,” in Review of Christian Art, 1900, p. 445; Henri Foeillon, The Museum of Lyon (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Barron, The Rhône (Collection, Rivers of France), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[159] Paul Allard, Histoire des persécutions (Paris, 1892), 5 vols.; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 1, pp. 290, 324, on St. Irenæus and the churches of Lyons and Vienne (Paris, 1733).
[159] Paul Allard, History of Persecutions (Paris, 1892), 5 vols.; Literary History of France, vol. 1, pp. 290, 324, on St. Irenaeus and the churches of Lyons and Vienne (Paris, 1733).
[160] The church of St. Nizier also possessed a manécanterie in which Alphonse Daudet, as Le Petit Chose, spent some happy years. Another romance based on reality whose scene is Lyons is René Bazin’s l’Isolée. An ancient crypt under St. Nizier, shaped like a Greek cross, dedicated to St. Pothin since the IV century, has been ruined by restorations; the actual church is Rayonnant and Flamboyant Gothic, with a portal of the Renaissance by a son of Lyons, Philibert Delorme (d. 1570). Jean Perréal was also born here, as was Coysevox, who made the Virgin of St. Nizier (1676). Eminence in religious or idealistic mural painting has been attained by two sons of Lyons, Puvis de Chavannes (1824-98), who decorated the Museum with Le Bois Sacré, and Flandrin (1809-64), who frescoed the walls of St. Martin d’Ainay. Meissonier (d. 1891) was born here; so was Ampère, scientist and Christian believer (d. 1836). In the hospital of fifteen thousand free beds which opened its doors in the VI century and has never since closed them, worked a loved physician who was father of Frédéric Ozanam, the founder of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. St. Vincent’s heart is treasured in a chapel of the cathedral. Another of the leaders of the Catholic reform, St. Francis de Sales, died in Lyons in 1622.
[160] The church of St. Nizier also had a manécanterie where Alphonse Daudet, as Le Petit Chose, spent some happy years. Another novel based on true events set in Lyons is René Bazin’s l’Isolée. An ancient crypt beneath St. Nizier, shaped like a Greek cross and dedicated to St. Pothin since the 4th century, has been damaged by renovations; the current church is in the Rayonnant and Flamboyant Gothic style, featuring a Renaissance portal by a son of Lyons, Philibert Delorme (d. 1570). Jean Perréal was also born here, as was Coysevox, who created the Virgin of St. Nizier (1676). Two notable mural painters known for their religious or idealistic works, both from Lyons, are Puvis de Chavannes (1824-98), who decorated the Museum with Le Bois Sacré, and Flandrin (1809-64), who frescoed the walls of St. Martin d’Ainay. Meissonier (d. 1891) was born here, as was Ampère, a scientist and Christian believer (d. 1836). In the hospital with fifteen thousand free beds that opened in the 6th century and has never closed, worked a beloved physician who was the father of Frédéric Ozanam, the founder of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul. St. Vincent’s heart is kept in a chapel of the cathedral. Another leader of the Catholic reform, St. Francis de Sales, died in Lyons in 1622.
[161] The see of Vienne was founded A.D. 160. The cathedral of St. Maurice, well set on the Rhone, contains vestiges of the church consecrated in 1106 by Paschal II, and which had been aided by that archbishop of Vienne, of the first line of Burgundy’s Capetian dukes, who became Pope Calixtus II in 1119. The present edifice is due to Bishop Jean de Bernin (1218-66), and was consecrated by Innocent IV in 1251. Only in 1533 were its façade and the four bays behind it finished. There is no transept. The XV century made the northern entrance, and the XVI century that to the south. The red incrustations form friezes, in the choir, below both triforium and clearstory.
[161] The see of Vienne was established in A.D. 160. The cathedral of St. Maurice, nicely positioned on the Rhône, includes remnants of the church consecrated in 1106 by Paschal II, which was supported by the archbishop of Vienne from the first line of Burgundy’s Capetian dukes, who became Pope Calixtus II in 1119. The current building was created by Bishop Jean de Bernin (1218-66) and was consecrated by Innocent IV in 1251. It wasn't until 1533 that its façade and the four bays behind it were completed. There is no transept. The northern entrance was added in the 15th century, and the southern entrance was completed in the 16th century. The red inlays create friezes in the choir, below both the triforium and clearstory.
A V-century bishop of Vienne was Claudianus Mamertus, who upheld Latin culture against the Barbarians, like his friend and fellow poet, Bishop Apollinaris Sidonius at Clermont. To Vienne’s bishop is attributed the noted hymn Pange lingua gloriosi proclium certamini, and the institution of the Rogation days of penance and procession before the Ascension, in that hour when earthquakes and volcanic eruptions had terrorized central France. In 1312 Vienne was the scene of a general Council of the Church at which the Templars were suppressed by a pope cowed into obedience by the king of France, who arrived at the Council with an escort of the size of an army. The majority of the bishops present held that to abolish the Order was not a legal act, since the charges against them were unproven. Therefore, Clement V was forced to fall back on the expedient plea of solicitude for the public good.
A 5th-century bishop of Vienne was Claudianus Mamertus, who defended Latin culture against the Barbarians, alongside his friend and fellow poet, Bishop Apollinaris Sidonius of Clermont. The bishop of Vienne is credited with the famous hymn Pange lingua gloriosi proclium certamini, and he also established the Rogation days of penance and processions before the Ascension, during a time when earthquakes and volcanic eruptions were terrifying central France. In 1312, Vienne hosted a general Council of the Church where the Templars were dissolved by a pope who was pressured into submission by the king of France, who arrived at the Council with a military-sized escort. Most of the bishops present believed that abolishing the Order was not a legal action, as the charges against them were unproven. Consequently, Clement V had to resort to the convenient argument of acting for the public good.
Congrès Archéologique, 1879; J. Ch. Roux, Vienne (Paris, Bloud et Cie, 1909); M. Reymond, Grenoble, Vienne (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, II. Laurens); Lucien Bégule, L’ancienne cathédrale de Vienne-en-Dauphiné (Paris, II. Laurens, 1914); Paul Berret, Le Dauphiné (Collection, Provinces françaises), (Paris, II. Laurens).
Congrès Archéologique, 1879; J. Ch. Roux, Vienne (Paris, Bloud et Cie, 1909); M. Reymond, Grenoble, Vienne (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, II. Laurens); Lucien Bégule, L’ancienne cathédrale de Vienne-en-Dauphiné (Paris, II. Laurens, 1914); Paul Berret, Le Dauphiné (Collection, Provinces françaises), (Paris, II. Laurens).
[162] About thirty miles to the north of Lyons lies Bourg-en-Bresse, in whose suburbs is the church of Brou. The eighteen windows of the school of Lyons were installed when the church was finished in 1536. Marguerite of Austria built it in fulfillment of a vow of her mother-in-law, a Bourbon princess, Marguerite herself being daughter of Mary of Burgundy, a line, like the Bourbous, that gloried in sumptuous mausoleums. She intrusted the work to the Lyons master, Jean Perréal, who called on his aged friend, Michel Colombe, for the imagery of the tombs. Colombe designed Duke Philibert’s gisant and the six winged genii, executed later, with liberties, by Conrad Meyt, and his brother (artists trained at Lyons), and some Italians. Disagreements rose, and Perréal was superseded by Loys van Boghem, who erected a bastard Gothic church of the same heavy Flemish type popular then at Toledo and Burgos. The three rich overcharged tombs are in the choir. Marguerite almost became the wife of Charles VIII, late-Gothic builder, and for a short time was married to the only son of Isabelle and Ferdinand, whose tomb is a boast of Avila. When the early death of the Duke of Savoy left her a widow she governed the Netherlands for her nephew, the Emperor Charles V. Her father’s tomb at Innsbruck is one of the noted ones of the world, and the heraldic tombs of her mother and her grandfather (Charles le Téméraire of Burgundy) are in Bruges.
[162] About thirty miles north of Lyon is Bourg-en-Bresse, where you can find the church of Brou in its suburbs. The eighteen windows of the Lyon school were put in when the church was completed in 1536. Marguerite of Austria built it to honor a vow made by her mother-in-law, a Bourbon princess. Marguerite herself was the daughter of Mary of Burgundy, a family known for their grand tombs, just like the Bourbons. She assigned the project to the Lyon master, Jean Perréal, who enlisted his elderly friend, Michel Colombe, for the tomb imagery. Colombe designed Duke Philibert’s gisant and the six winged genies, which were later executed, with some adjustments, by Conrad Meyt, his brother (artists trained in Lyon), and some Italians. Disagreements arose, leading to Perréal being replaced by Loys van Boghem, who created a mixed Gothic church of the heavy Flemish style that was popular at the time in Toledo and Burgos. The three lavish tombs are located in the choir. Marguerite almost married Charles VIII, a late-Gothic builder, and was briefly married to the only son of Isabelle and Ferdinand, whose tomb is a highlight in Avila. Following the early death of the Duke of Savoy, which left her a widow, she governed the Netherlands for her nephew, Emperor Charles V. Her father’s tomb in Innsbruck is one of the most famous in the world, and the heraldic tombs of her mother and grandfather (Charles the Bold of Burgundy) can be found in Bruges.
If the traveler hopes to find flat, suburban Brou as described by Matthew Arnold, “mid the Savoy mountain valleys, far from town or haunt of man,” he will be disappointed. Moreover, no reflections fall from ancient glass, owing to the patina or coating added by time to its exterior surface. Poetic license is allowed, and “The Church of Brou” adds to this heavy votive monument the charm it needs:
If the traveler expects to see the flat, suburban Brou that Matthew Arnold described, “in the Savoy mountain valleys, far from towns or human presence,” they will be let down. Additionally, no reflections come from the ancient glass, due to the patina or layer that time has added to its outer surface. Poetic license is granted, and “The Church of Brou” gives this imposing monument the charm it requires:
Or, if you wake, let it be then, when fair On the intricately carved western front, a flood of light Streams from the setting sun, and bright colors,
Prophets, transformed saints, and courageous martyrs,
In the large western windows of the main area; And on the pavement around the Tomb, it shines. A patterned design of shining sapphire colors,
And amethyst, and ruby—then open Your eyelids on the stone where you rest,
... And gazing at the warm pink shades
Which checker, at your feet, the lit-up stones,
Say: ‘What is this? We are in bliss— forgiven.
"Look at the pavement of the courts of Heaven."
V. Nodet, L’église de Brou (Collection, Petites Monographics), (Paris, H. Laurens); C.J. Dufay, L’église de Brou et ses tombeaux (Lyon, 1879); Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe et la sculpteur française de son temps (Paris, 1901), p. 365; Dupasquier et Didron, Monographie de Notre Dame de Brou (Paris, 1842), in 4º et atlas in fol.
V. Nodet, The Church of Brou (Collection, Small Monographs), (Paris, H. Laurens); C.J. Dufay, The Church of Brou and Its Tombs (Lyon, 1879); Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe and the French Sculpture of His Time (Paris, 1901), p. 365; Dupasquier and Didron, Monograph of Our Lady of Brou (Paris, 1842), in 4º and atlas in fol.
[163] In the XV century the dukes of Bourbon filled their capital of Moulins with art treasures, and Souvigny’s abbatial, close by, was their necropolis. The present choir of Moulins Cathedral, originally the chapel of their palace, was begun by Agnes of Burgundy, daughter of Jean sans Peur, and finished by her sons, Jean II de Bourbon and Pierre II sire de Beaujeu, who in 1475 wedded the daughter of Louis XI and governed France with his wife during the minority of Charles VIII. Jeanne of France and her husband are portrayed on the folding doors of the splendid triptych (1488-1503), by some unknown French primitif now in the sacristy of Moulins Cathedral, and again in one of the three windows—warm in color and with fine, clear portrait work—in the square east wall of the chevet, glass that belongs to the transition from Gothic to Renaissance as the XV century merged in the XVI. Fifteenth-century windows are comparatively rare, so the twelve possessed by Moulins’ chief church are precious. Cardinal Charles de Bourbon, who beautified Lyons Cathedral, also appears in the Bourbon dukes’ window with his two brothers. The nave of Moulins Cathedral, in black-and-white Volvic stone, is a modern rendering by Lassus and Millet of the Primary Gothic of the region.
[163] In the 15th century, the dukes of Bourbon filled their capital, Moulins, with art treasures, and the nearby abbey of Souvigny served as their burial site. The current choir of Moulins Cathedral, which was originally the chapel of their palace, was started by Agnes of Burgundy, the daughter of Jean sans Peur, and completed by her sons, Jean II de Bourbon and Pierre II sire de Beaujeu, who married Louis XI's daughter in 1475 and governed France with her during the minority of Charles VIII. Jeanne of France and her husband are depicted on the folding doors of the beautiful triptych (1488-1503), created by an unknown French artist now located in the sacristy of Moulins Cathedral, and again in one of the three windows—vibrant in color and featuring fine, clear portraits—on the square east wall of the choir. This glass represents the transition from Gothic to Renaissance as the 15th century gave way to the 16th. Fifteenth-century windows are relatively rare, so the twelve in Moulins' main church are invaluable. Cardinal Charles de Bourbon, who enhanced the beauty of Lyons Cathedral, is also seen in the Bourbon dukes’ window alongside his two brothers. The nave of Moulins Cathedral, made of black-and-white Volvic stone, is a modern interpretation by Lassus and Millet of the region's early Gothic style.
Souvigny was a Cluniac priory, in which died the two great Cluny abbots, St. Majolus (d. 994), who brought to France the noted William of Volpiano, the organizer of the Romanesque renaissance of architecture, and St. Odilo (d. 1049). In 1095 Urban II stayed in Souvigny, and so did Paschal II in 1106. The XII-century church was largely reconstructed in the late-Gothic day when the prior Dom Geoffrey Chollet wished to house fittingly the splendid new Bourbon tombs. That of Louis II (comrade in arms of Dugueselin) has been attributed without proof to Jean de Cambrai, who made the Berry tomb at Bourges. M. Guigue has ably assigned to Jacques Morel the tomb of Charles I and Agnes of Burgundy. The Bourbon line, direct in descent from St. Louis, mounted the French throne with Henry IV.
Souvigny was a Cluniac priory, where two great Cluny abbots died: St. Majolus (d. 994), who brought the famous William of Volpiano to France, the organizer of the Romanesque architecture renaissance, and St. Odilo (d. 1049). In 1095, Urban II stayed in Souvigny, and so did Paschal II in 1106. The 12th-century church was largely rebuilt in the late Gothic period when the prior, Dom Geoffrey Chollet, wanted to appropriately house the magnificent new Bourbon tombs. The tomb of Louis II (a comrade in arms of Dugueselin) has been attributed, without evidence, to Jean de Cambrai, who created the Berry tomb at Bourges. M. Guigue has skillfully assigned the tomb of Charles I and Agnes of Burgundy to Jacques Morel. The Bourbon line, which directly descends from St. Louis, took the French throne with Henry IV.
Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 1, Chanoine Joseph Clémat; p. 182, Doshoulières; J. Locquin, Nevers et Moulins (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, II. Laurens); H. Aucouturier, Moulins (1914); R. de Quirielle, Guide archéologique dans Moulins (1893); Abbé Requin, “Jacques Morel et son neveu Antoine le Moiturier,” in Revue des Soc. des Beaux-Arts des Départements (Paris, 1890); L. Courajod, “Jacques Morel, sculpteur bourguignon,” in Gazelle archéol, 1885, p. 236; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, 1914); L. du Broe de Segange, Hist. et description de la cathédrale de Moulins (Paris, 1885), vol. 2, Inventaire des richesses d’art de la France; L. Desrosiers, La cathédrale de Moulins, ancienne collégiale (Moulins, 1871); H. Faure, Histoire de Moulins (Moulins, 1900), 2 vols.; G. Depeyre, Les ducs de Bourbon (Toulouse, Privat, 1897).
Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 1, Canon Joseph Clémat; p. 182, Doshoulières; J. Locquin, Nevers et Moulins (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, II. Laurens); H. Aucouturier, Moulins (1914); R. de Quirielle, Archaeological Guide to Moulins (1893); Abbé Requin, “Jacques Morel and His Nephew Antoine le Moiturier,” in Review of the Soc. of Fine Arts of the Departments (Paris, 1890); L. Courajod, “Jacques Morel, Burgundian Sculptor,” in Archaeological Gazette, 1885, p. 236; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, 1914); L. du Broe de Segange, History and Description of the Cathedral of Moulins (Paris, 1885), vol. 2, Inventory of the Art Treasures of France; L. Desrosiers, The Cathedral of Moulins, Former Collegiate Church (Moulins, 1871); H. Faure, History of Moulins (Moulins, 1900), 2 vols.; G. Depeyre, The Dukes of Bourbon (Toulouse, Privat, 1897).
[164] Congrès Archéologique, 1860, 1863, 1871, 1878, and 1910, p. 267, on the cathedral; p. 280, on Le Mans’ two Benedictine churches; Abbé A. Ledru et G. Fleury, La cathédrale St. Julien du Mans (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1900), folio; Gabriel Fleury, La cathédrale du Mans (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Étude historique et archéol. sur la nef de la cathédrale du Mans (1889); Abbé A. Ledru, Histoire des églises du Mans (Paris, Plon-Nourrit, 1905-07); R. Triger, Le Mans à travers les âges (Le Mans, 1898); E. Hucher, Vitraux peints de la cathédrale du Mans (Paris, Didron, 1865), folio and supplement claques; A. Echivard, Les vitraux de la cathédrale du Mans (Mamers, 1913): Bulletin Monumental, studies on Le Mans, in vol. 7, p. 359; vol. 14, p. 348 (Hueher); vol. 26, on the Geoffrey Plantagenet enamel; also vol. 31, p. 789; vol. 37, p. 704; vol. 39, p. 483 (Dion); vol. 44, p. 373; vol. 45, p. 63 (Esnault); and vol. 72, 1908, p. 155 (Pascal V. Lefèvre-Pontalis); De Wismes, Le Maine et l’Anjou, historique, archéologique et pittoresque (Paris, A. Bry), 2 vols., folio; Guénet, Le Maine illustré (Le Mans, 1902); Abbé R. Charles, Guide illustré du Mans et dans la Sarthe (Le Mans, 1886); Kate Norgate, England Under the Angevin Kings (London, 1887), 2 vols.; Mrs. J. R. Green, Henry II (London, 1888); see also Davis (London, 1905); Robert Latouche, Histoire du comté du Maine pendant le Xe et XIe siècle (Paris, H. Champion, 1910); H. Prentout, Le Maine (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf); Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 11, p. 250, “Hildebert de Lavardin”; p. 177, “Geoffrey, abbé de Vendôme” (Paris, 1759); on Hildebert, see A. Dieudonne (1898) and P. Déservellers.
[164] Congrès Archéologique, 1860, 1863, 1871, 1878, and 1910, p. 267, about the cathedral; p. 280, about Le Mans' two Benedictine churches; Abbé A. Ledru and G. Fleury, La cathédrale St. Julien du Mans (Mamers, Fleury et Dangin, 1900), folio; Gabriel Fleury, La cathédrale du Mans (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Étude historique et archéologique sur la nef de la cathédrale du Mans (1889); Abbé A. Ledru, Histoire des églises du Mans (Paris, Plon-Nourrit, 1905-07); R. Triger, Le Mans à travers les âges (Le Mans, 1898); E. Hucher, Vitraux peints de la cathédrale du Mans (Paris, Didron, 1865), folio and supplement sections; A. Echivard, Les vitraux de la cathédrale du Mans (Mamers, 1913): Bulletin Monumental, studies on Le Mans, in vol. 7, p. 359; vol. 14, p. 348 (Hueher); vol. 26, on the Geoffrey Plantagenet enamel; also vol. 31, p. 789; vol. 37, p. 704; vol. 39, p. 483 (Dion); vol. 44, p. 373; vol. 45, p. 63 (Esnault); and vol. 72, 1908, p. 155 (Pascal V. Lefèvre-Pontalis); De Wismes, Le Maine et l’Anjou, historique, archéologique et pittoresque (Paris, A. Bry), 2 vols., folio; Guénet, Le Maine illustré (Le Mans, 1902); Abbé R. Charles, Guide illustré du Mans et dans la Sarthe (Le Mans, 1886); Kate Norgate, England Under the Angevin Kings (London, 1887), 2 vols.; Mrs. J. R. Green, Henry II (London, 1888); see also Davis (London, 1905); Robert Latouche, Histoire du comté du Maine pendant le Xe et XIe siècle (Paris, H. Champion, 1910); H. Prentout, Le Maine (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf); Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 11, p. 250, “Hildebert de Lavardin”; p. 177, “Geoffrey, abbé de Vendôme” (Paris, 1759); on Hildebert, see A. Dieudonne (1898) and P. Déservellers.
[165] The abbey church of the Trinité has in its transept walls parts of the edifice dedicated in 1040. At the beginning of the XIII century that transept was vaulted in the eight-rib Plantagenet way, the keystones being well carved. The ambulatory and radiating chapels are early-Gothic; the choir is late XIII century; the easternmost bays of the nave are of the XIV, and its westernmost bays of the XV century. The façade is a gem of Flamboyant Gothic. There are also windows of the XIII and XV centuries, and some well-known carved choir stalls. The Merveille of Vendôme, its tower of 1140, prototype for the Primary Gothic ones at Chartres and Rouen, stands free of the church. From the earlier abbatial was saved a famous XII-century window of the St. Denis school, a Byzantinesque Madonna.
[165] The abbey church of the Trinité has parts of the building from 1040 in its transept walls. In the early 13th century, that transept was vaulted in the eight-rib Plantagenet style, with well-carved keystones. The ambulatory and radiating chapels are early Gothic; the choir is from the late 13th century; the easternmost sections of the nave date to the 14th century, and the westernmost sections are from the 15th century. The façade is a stunning example of Flamboyant Gothic. There are also windows from the 13th and 15th centuries, along with some famous carved choir stalls. The Merveille of Vendôme, its tower from 1140, served as a model for the early Gothic towers at Chartres and Rouen, and stands separate from the church. From the earlier abbey, a famous 12th-century window from the St. Denis school, depicting a Byzantine-style Madonna, was preserved.
Congrès Archéologique, 1872; Abbé Plat, Notes pour servir à l’histoire monumental de la Trinité (Vendôme, 1907); La Martellière, Guide dans le Vendômois (Vendôme, 1883).
Congrès Archéologique, 1872; Abbé Plat, Notes for the Monumental History of the Trinity (Vendôme, 1907); La Martellière, Guide to the Vendômois (Vendôme, 1883).
[166] W. H. Goodyear, “Architectural Refinements in French Cathedrals,” in Architectural Record, 1904-05, vols. 16, 17; ibid., “Architectural Refinements, a reply to Mr. Bilson,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3d series, 1907, vol. 15, p. 17; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Les irrégularités de plan dans les églises,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, p. 135.
[166] W. H. Goodyear, “Architectural Details in French Cathedrals,” in Architectural Record, 1904-05, vols. 16, 17; ibid., “Architectural Details, a response to Mr. Bilson,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3rd series, 1907, vol. 15, p. 17; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Plan Irregularities in Churches,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, p. 135.
Professor Goodyear’s theory of intentional asymmetry in mediæval buildings—such irregularities as curves of alignment, vertical curves, want of parallelism in walls and piers, deflection of axis—has not found favor with various French and English archæologists, but much of what he has noted may some day be accepted as self-evident.
Professor Goodyear’s theory of intentional asymmetry in medieval buildings—such irregularities as alignment curves, vertical curves, lack of parallelism in walls and piers, and axis deflection—has not gained approval from various French and English archaeologists, but much of what he has observed may eventually be seen as obvious.
[167] In Le Mans are two Benedictine churches of archæological interest. De Cultura Dei is now Notre-Dame-de-la-Couture. When the church was rebuilt after a fire in 1180, big Plantagenet Gothic vaults, each section with eight ribs, were flung over the wide nave, which originally had possessed side aisles. Vestiges of a Carolingian church, built a decade before 1000, are in the crypt and the lower walls of choir and transept, where alternance of stone and brick work appears. The chevet is the oldest example now extant of an ambulatory and radiating chapel. In the XII century the upper choir was rebuilt, and again it was retouched during the XIII and XV centuries. The façade and the well-sculptured portal are late XIII century. A charming XVI-century Virgin, by Germain Pilon, on a pier opposite the pulpit, is to be classed with the prolongation of the Region-of-the-Loire school of sculpture whose center was Tours. Across the Sarthe lies the other Benedictine church, the former St. Julien-du-Pré, a Romanesque edifice of the XI and XII centuries, revaulted in the Flamboyant Gothic day.
[167] In Le Mans, there are two Benedictine churches of archaeological interest. De Cultura Dei is now known as Notre-Dame-de-la-Couture. After the church was rebuilt following a fire in 1180, impressive Plantagenet Gothic vaults, each section supported by eight ribs, were constructed over the wide nave, which originally had side aisles. Traces of a Carolingian church built around the year 1000 can be found in the crypt and the lower walls of the choir and transept, where you can see a mix of stone and brick work. The chevet is the oldest remaining example of an ambulatory and radiating chapel. In the 12th century, the upper choir was rebuilt, and it was further renovated during the 13th and 15th centuries. The façade and the beautifully sculpted portal date back to the late 13th century. A lovely 16th-century Virgin by Germain Pilon, located on a pier opposite the pulpit, belongs to the continuation of the Loire Valley school of sculpture, which was centered in Tours. Across the Sarthe river is the other Benedictine church, the former St. Julien-du-Pré, a Romanesque building from the 11th and 12th centuries, which was vaulted in the Flamboyant Gothic style.
[169] De la Tremblay, Dom Coutil, L’église abbatiale de Solesmes (Solesmes, Imprimerie St. Pierre, 1892), folio; Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe et la sculpture française de son temps (Paris, 1901); Dom Guépin, Description des deux églises abbatiales de Solesmes, and also his Solesmes et Dom Guéranger (Le Mans, 1876); Dom Guéranger, l’Année Liturgique (Paris, 1888), 12 vols., tr. Worcester, England, The Liturgical Year, and also his Études historiques de l’abbaye de Solesmes; Cagni et Mocquereau, Plain chant and Solesmes (tr. London, 1902).
[169] De la Tremblay, Dom Coutil, The Abbey Church of Solesmes (Solesmes, St. Pierre Press, 1892), folio; Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe and French Sculpture of His Time (Paris, 1901); Dom Guépin, Description of the Two Abbey Churches of Solesmes, and also his Solesmes and Dom Guéranger (Le Mans, 1876); Dom Guéranger, The Liturgical Year (Paris, 1888), 12 vols., tr. Worcester, England, The Liturgical Year, and also his Historical Studies of the Abbey of Solesmes; Cagni and Mocquereau, Plain Chant and Solesmes (tr. London, 1902).
Among those who have taken part in the discussion as to who made the sculptural groups at Solesmes are L. Palustre, Girardet, Charles and Louis de Grandmaison, Benj. Fillon, Célestin Port, Lambin de Lignin, E. Cartier, A. Salmon, and Abbé Bossebœuf.
Among those who have participated in the discussion about who created the sculptural groups at Solesmes are L. Palustre, Girardet, Charles and Louis de Grandmaison, Benj. Fillon, Célestin Port, Lambin de Lignin, E. Cartier, A. Salmon, and Abbé Bossebœuf.
[170] The church of St. Elizabeth, in Marburg, is one of the earliest Gothic monuments in Germany, 1235-83. The saint was linked with the new system of building. For the king of Hungary, Villard de Honnecourt built Kassovic church. Her aunt was the gentle Agnes of Méran, married to Philippe-Auguste. Her half sister, Yolande, wedded that other builder of churches, Jaime el Conquistador, from whom sprang Yolande of Aragon, King René’s mother, also a builder. St. Elizabeth’s niece, daughter of the king of Hungary, married Charles II d’Anjou, who began the best Gothic church in Provence, at St. Maximin.
[170] The church of St. Elizabeth in Marburg is one of the earliest Gothic structures in Germany, built from 1235 to 1283. The saint was associated with the new architectural style. For the king of Hungary, Villard de Honnecourt constructed Kassovic church. Her aunt was the gentle Agnes of Méran, who was married to Philippe-Auguste. Her half-sister, Yolande, married another church builder, Jaime el Conquistador, who was the ancestor of Yolande of Aragon, King René’s mother, who also built churches. St. Elizabeth’s niece, the daughter of the king of Hungary, married Charles II d’Anjou, who started the best Gothic church in Provence, at St. Maximin.
[172] Amédée Boinet, St. Quentin (Paris, H. Laurens); Ch. Gomart, “Notice sur l’église de St. Quentin,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1856, p. 226; and 1870, p. 201; Pierre Bénard, Monographie de l’église de St. Quentin (Paris, 1867), 8vo; also his studies in the publication of the Société Académique ... de Soissons, 1864, p. 260; and 1874, p. 300; Lecocq, Histoire de la ville de St. Quentin (St. Quentin, 1875); J. B. A. Lassus, éd., L’album de Villard de Honacort (Paris, 1858; and London, tr. by Willis, 1859); Jules Quicheral, Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire (1886), vol. 2, on Villard de Honnecourt’s album; Camille Enlart, Hôtels de ville et beffrois du nord de la France (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); ibid. on Villard de Honnecourt, in Bibli. de l’École des chartes, 1895.
[172] Amédée Boinet, St. Quentin (Paris, H. Laurens); Ch. Gomart, “Notice on the church of St. Quentin,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1856, p. 226; and 1870, p. 201; Pierre Bénard, Monograph of the church of St. Quentin (Paris, 1867), 8vo; also his studies in the publication of the Société Académique ... de Soissons, 1864, p. 260; and 1874, p. 300; Lecocq, History of the town of St. Quentin (St. Quentin, 1875); J. B. A. Lassus, ed., The album of Villard de Honacort (Paris, 1858; and London, tr. by Willis, 1859); Jules Quicheral, Mixed Studies of Archaeology and History (1886), vol. 2, on Villard de Honnecourt’s album; Camille Enlart, City Halls and Belfries of Northern France (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); ibid. on Villard de Honnecourt, in Bibli. de l’École des chartes, 1895.
[174] J. Berthelé, “L’architecture plantagenet,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1903, p. 234; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “L’architecture plantagenet,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1910; Prosper Merimée, Notes d’un voyage dans l’Ouest de la France (1836); Choyer, “L’architecture des Plantagenets,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1871, p. 257; Célestin Port, Dictionnaire de Maine-et-Loire, 3 vols.; Abbé Bossebœuf, L’architecture plantagenet(Angers, Lachène, 1897).
[174] J. Berthelé, “The Plantagenet Architecture,” in Archaeological Congress, 1903, p. 234; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “The Plantagenet Architecture,” in Archaeological Congress, 1910; Prosper Merimée, Notes from a Trip in Western France (1836); Choyer, “The Architecture of the Plantagenets,” in Archaeological Congress, 1871, p. 257; Célestin Port, Dictionary of Maine-and-Loire, 3 vols.; Abbé Bossebœuf, The Plantagenet Architecture(Angers, Lachène, 1897).
[175] Saintes lies on the Charente, some fifty miles from Angoulême. In the venerable XII-century church of St. Eutrope cropped out one of the early sporadic uses of diagonals. Its crypt, which is one of the largest in France, is braced on heavy, semicircular arches. The exterior of the apse is decorated. Nothing is left of the original nave; the present one is transitional work. The choir and part of the transept are of the XV century. The superb tower, with corner-turret effects that rise from base to summit, was finished with a spire by 1480. It is said that John XXII, who promulgated the Angelus by his bull of 1318, had learned its usage from a custom of St. Eutrope. The church of St. Pierre, at Saintes, rebuilt in 1117, and again in 1450, has another Flamboyant Gothic tower of good design, which is now much wasted by decay. See Congrès Archéologique, 1894; 1912, pp. 195, 309; also Bulletin Monumental, 1907, vol. 71; J. Laferrière et G. Musset, L’art en Saintonge et en Aunis; Ch. Dangibeaud, L’école de sculpture romane saintongeaise (Paris, 1910).
[175] Saintes is located on the Charente River, about fifty miles from Angoulême. In the historic 12th-century church of St. Eutrope, we can see one of the early uses of diagonal structures. Its crypt, which is one of the largest in France, is supported by heavy, semicircular arches. The outside of the apse is decorated, but nothing remains of the original nave; the current one is a transitional design. The choir and part of the transept date back to the 15th century. The remarkable tower, featuring corner turrets that rise from the base to the top, was completed with a spire by 1480. It is said that John XXII, who introduced the Angelus with his bull in 1318, learned its practice from a tradition at St. Eutrope. The church of St. Pierre in Saintes, rebuilt in 1117 and again in 1450, boasts another well-designed Flamboyant Gothic tower, which has now significantly deteriorated. See Congrès Archéologique, 1894; 1912, pp. 195, 309; also Bulletin Monumental, 1907, vol. 71; J. Laferrière et G. Musset, L’art en Saintonge et en Aunis; Ch. Dangibeaud, L’école de sculpture romane saintongeaise (Paris, 1910).
[176] Congrès Archéologique, 1858, 1901, and 1910; Chanoine Roux, Monographie de St. Front de Périgueux (Périgueux, 1920); J. A. Brutails, “La question de St. Front,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1895, p. 125; 1906, p. 87; 1907, p. 517; Anthyme Saint-Paul, on St. Front, in Bulletin Monumental, 1888, p. 163; 1891, p. 321; 1906, p. 5; Félix de Verneilh, L’architecture byzantine en France, 1851; R. Michel-Dansac, De l’emploi des coupoles sur la nef dans le sud-ouest Aquitain; Corroyer, L’architecture romane, 1888; ibid., L’architecture gothique, 1899; Ch. H. Besnard, “Étude sur les coupoles et voûtes domicales du sud-ouest de la France,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1912, vol. 2, p. 118; Abbé Pécout, Périgueux; R. Phené Spiers, “St. Front de Périgueux et les assises à coupoles,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1897; 1907, p. 175.
[176] Archaeological Congress, 1858, 1901, and 1910; Canon Roux, Monograph of St. Front of Périgueux (Périgueux, 1920); J. A. Brutails, “The St. Front Question,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1895, p. 125; 1906, p. 87; 1907, p. 517; Anthyme Saint-Paul, on St. Front, in Monumental Bulletin, 1888, p. 163; 1891, p. 321; 1906, p. 5; Félix de Verneilh, Byzantine Architecture in France, 1851; R. Michel-Dansac, On the Use of Domes in the Naves of Southwest Aquitaine; Corroyer, Romanesque Architecture, 1888; ibid., Gothic Architecture, 1899; Ch. H. Besnard, “Study on Domes and Vaults in Southwest France,” in Archaeological Congress, 1912, vol. 2, p. 118; Abbé Pécout, Périgueux; R. Phené Spiers, “St. Front of Périgueux and the Dome Foundations,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1897; 1907, p. 175.
[177] The cathedral of Cahors was damaged by earthquake in 1303, after which its apse was rebuilt as Gothic, but not too much out of harmony with the rest of the church. The ancient frescoes are full of interest. At the north end of the transept is a now unused portal, whose sculpture belongs to the same Midi school as Moissac, but later and calmer work. The Christ of its tympanum is classed with Vézelay, Chartres, and Beaulieu—the supreme Christ images of Romanesque art. M. Forel praises the angels’ magnificent gesture of adoration. The XIV-century west front resembles those of the Brunswick churches whose façade and towers comprise one massive up to the roof. John XXII (1316-33), the second Avignon pope, was born in Cahors, where he founded the university, contributed toward the cathedral, and built a bridge over the Lot which is considered the handsomest of the Middle Ages. In the diocese of Cahors is Rocamadour, the most picturesque pilgrim shrine of Our Lady in France, visited by St. Louis. E. Rey, La cathédrale St. Étienne de Cahors (Cahors, J. Girma, 1911); Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 413; Alexis Forel, l’Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans, vol. 2, p. 52; “Le cloître de la cathédrale de Cahors,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1883, p. 110; E. Rupin, Roc-amadour (Paris, Baranger, 1904).
[177] The Cahors cathedral was damaged by an earthquake in 1303, after which its apse was rebuilt in a Gothic style that still matches the rest of the church. The ancient frescoes are very interesting. At the north end of the transept is an unused portal, with sculptures from the same Midi school as Moissac, but executed in a later and more subdued style. The Christ depicted in its tympanum is grouped with Vézelay, Chartres, and Beaulieu—the iconic Christ images of Romanesque art. M. Forel praises the angels’ magnificent gesture of worship. The 14th-century west front resembles those of the Brunswick churches, where the façade and towers form a single impressive structure that reaches up to the roof. John XXII (1316-33), the second pope from Avignon, was born in Cahors, where he founded a university, contributed to the cathedral, and built a bridge over the Lot that is regarded as the most beautiful of the Middle Ages. In the diocese of Cahors is Rocamadour, the most picturesque shrine of Our Lady in France, which was visited by St. Louis. E. Rey, La cathédrale St. Étienne de Cahors (Cahors, J. Girma, 1911); Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 413; Alexis Forel, l’Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans, vol. 2, p. 52; “Le cloître de la cathédrale de Cahors,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1883, p. 110; E. Rupin, Roc-amadour (Paris, Baranger, 1904).
[178] Congrès Archéologique, 1847, 1903, and 1912; Biais, La cathédrale d’Angoulême (Paris, H. Laurens); H. de la Mauvinière, Poitiers et Angoulême (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); J. George, La cathédrale d’Angoulême (Angoulême, Cha 1901-04); Michon, Histoire de l’Angoumois, 1846; ibid., Statistique monumentale de la Charente, 1844; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture (see article coupole); Sharpe, A Visit to the Domed Churches of Charente (London, 1876); J. A. Brutails and Spiers, “Les coupoles du Périgord et de l’Angoumois,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1895, 1897, 1906, and 1907.
[178] Archaeological Congress, 1847, 1903, and 1912; Biais, The Cathedral of Angoulême (Paris, H. Laurens); H. de la Mauvinière, Poitiers and Angoulême (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); J. George, The Cathedral of Angoulême (Angoulême, Cha 1901-04); Michon, History of Angoumois, 1846; ibid., Monumental Statistics of Charente, 1844; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionary of Architecture (see article dome); Sharpe, A Visit to the Domed Churches of Charente (London, 1876); J. A. Brutails and Spiers, “The Domes of Périgord and Angoumois,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1895, 1897, 1906, and 1907.
[179] Four miles from Angoulême is the curious octagonal church of St. Michel d’Entraignes (1137), built up to its big dome, as it were. Close to it is Fléae, whose three cupolas have no separate bases, but are pierced directly by the big arcades, which is more the Byzantine way of making a cupola than the French. Six miles from Angoulême are the ruins of La Couronne abbatial, where once was a Plantagenet Gothic choir; and ten miles away, at Roullet, is a remarkable sculptured façade. Aulnay’s fine church has a decorated front, well-cut capitals, and a ribbed cupola, without distinct pedestal. Pont l’Abbé possesses one of the best Romanesque façades in France. At Ruffec and at Civray are others. There is a church at Charroux with the curious plan of three aisles round a central octagon. Cupola churches are to be found at Plazzac, Bassac, Gensae, Cognac, Souillae, and Solignac, six miles from Limoges. Studies of these churches by E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, L. Serbat, and André Rhein are to be found in the Congrès Archéologique, 1912.
[179] Four miles from Angoulême is the interesting octagonal church of St. Michel d’Entraignes (1137), built up to its large dome, so to speak. Nearby is Fléae, whose three domes don’t have separate bases but are supported directly by the large arcades, which aligns more with the Byzantine style of constructing a dome than the French approach. Six miles from Angoulême are the ruins of La Couronne abbey, where a Plantagenet Gothic choir once stood; and ten miles away, in Roullet, is an impressive sculptured façade. Aulnay’s stunning church features a decorated front, well-crafted capitals, and a ribbed dome without a distinct pedestal. Pont l’Abbé boasts one of the finest Romanesque façades in France. There are more examples in Ruffec and Civray. A church in Charroux has the unique layout of three aisles surrounding a central octagon. Dome churches can be found in Plazzac, Bassac, Gensae, Cognac, Souillae, and Solignac, six miles from Limoges. Studies of these churches by E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, L. Serbat, and André Rhein can be found in the Congrès Archéologique, 1912.
[181] Congrès Archéologique, 1862 and 1910; L. Magne, “L’ancienne abbaye de Fontevrault,” in L’architecte, 1910, p. 60; A. de Caumont, “Fontevrault,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1867, p. 73; Bernard Palustre, “Les coupoles de Fontevrault,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1898, vol. 63, p. 500; Honorat Nicquet, Histoire de l’ordre de Fontevraud, 1642; G. Malifaud, L’abbaye de Fontevrault, notices historiques et archéologiques (Angers, 1866); Abbé Bossebœuf, Fontevrault, son histoire et ses monuments (Tours, 1867); Édouard, Fontevrault et ses monuments (Paris, 1874), 2 vols.; Joseph Joubert, “Les mausolées des Plantagenets à Fontevrault,” in Mém. de la Soc. d’arts d’Angers, 1903; and 1906, p. 61, Chanoine Urseau; Vietor Pavie, “Westminster et Fontevrault,” in Mém. de la Soc. d’arts d’Angers, 1866, p. 229; Histoire littéraire de la France (Paris, 1756), vol. 10, p. 153, “Robert d’Arbrissel.”
[181] Archaeological Congress, 1862 and 1910; L. Magne, “The Old Abbey of Fontevrault,” in The Architect, 1910, p. 60; A. de Caumont, “Fontevrault,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1867, p. 73; Bernard Palustre, “The Domes of Fontevrault,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1898, vol. 63, p. 500; Honorat Nicquet, History of the Order of Fontevraud, 1642; G. Malifaud, The Abbey of Fontevrault, Historical and Archaeological Notices (Angers, 1866); Abbé Bossebœuf, Fontevrault, Its History and Its Monuments (Tours, 1867); Édouard, Fontevrault and Its Monuments (Paris, 1874), 2 vols.; Joseph Joubert, “The Mausoleums of the Plantagenets at Fontevrault,” in Memoirs of the Society of Arts of Angers, 1903; and 1906, p. 61, Canon Urseau; Vietor Pavie, “Westminster and Fontevrault,” in Memoirs of the Society of Arts of Angers, 1866, p. 229; Literary History of France (Paris, 1756), vol. 10, p. 153, “Robert d’Arbrissel.”
[182] Louis Corroyer, L’architecture gothique (Paris, 1899), p. 1. “La coupole, sous sa forme symbolique, est l’œuf d’où est sorti un système architectonique qui a causé une révolution des plus fécondes dans le domaine de l’art.”
[182] Louis Corroyer, L’architecture gothique (Paris, 1899), p. 1. “The dome, in its symbolic form, is the egg from which an architectural system emerged that caused one of the most fruitful revolutions in the field of art.”
[184] Congrès Archéologique, 1910, the cathedral of Angers; p. 161, Chanoine Urseau; p. 182, St. Serge; p. 228, the château; p. 232, l’évêché; Louis de Farcy, Monographie de la cathédrale d’Angers (1910), 3 vols. and album; ibid., Les vitraux de la nef de la cathédrale d’Angers (1912); J. Denais, Monographie de la cathédrale d’Angers (Paris, 1899); John Bilson, “Angers Cathedral, the Vaults of the Nave,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 1911-12, p. 727; also in the Congrès Archéologique, 1910, vol. 2, p. 203; V. Godard-Faultrier, Répertoire archéologique de l’Anjou (1865); L. Halphen, Le comté d’Anjou au XIe siècle (Paris, Picard, 1906); Léon Palustre, La Renaissance en France (3 vols.), vol. 3, Anjou et Poitou (Paris, Quantin); H. Jouin, Les musées d’Angers (Paris, Plon, 1885), 4to; Péan de la Tuilerie, Le Maine et l’Anjou; Wismes, Le Maine et l’Anjou, historiques, archéol. e pittoresque (Paris), 2 vols., folio; E. Lelong, “Histoire et mon. d’Angers,” in Angers et l’Anjou (1903); Lecoy de la Marche, Le roy René, sa vie, son administration (Paris, 1875), 2 vols.; Kate Norgate, England Under the Angevin Kings (London, 1887), 2 vols.; De Solies, Foulques Nerra; Célestin Port, Dictionnaire historique, géographique, et biographique de Maine-et-Loire (Paris and Angers, 1874-78), 3 vols. also his Notes et notices angevins (Angers, 1879); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Sir J. H. Ramsay, The Angevin Empire, (London, 1903).
[184] Congrès Archéologique, 1910, the cathedral of Angers; p. 161, Canon Urseau; p. 182, St. Serge; p. 228, the château; p. 232, the bishopric; Louis de Farcy, Monographie de la cathédrale d’Angers (1910), 3 vols. and album; ibid., Les vitraux de la nef de la cathédrale d’Angers (1912); J. Denais, Monographie de la cathédrale d’Angers (Paris, 1899); John Bilson, “Angers Cathedral, the Vaults of the Nave,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 1911-12, p. 727; also in the Congrès Archéologique, 1910, vol. 2, p. 203; V. Godard-Faultrier, Répertoire archéologique de l’Anjou (1865); L. Halphen, Le comté d’Anjou au XIe siècle (Paris, Picard, 1906); Léon Palustre, La Renaissance en France (3 vols.), vol. 3, Anjou et Poitou (Paris, Quantin); H. Jouin, Les musées d’Angers (Paris, Plon, 1885), 4to; Péan de la Tuilerie, Le Maine et l’Anjou; Wismes, Le Maine et l’Anjou, historiques, archéologiques et pittoresques (Paris), 2 vols., folio; E. Lelong, “Histoire et monuments d’Angers,” in Angers et l’Anjou (1903); Lecoy de la Marche, Le roy René, sa vie, son administration (Paris, 1875), 2 vols.; Kate Norgate, England Under the Angevin Kings (London, 1887), 2 vols.; De Solies, Foulques Nerra; Célestin Port, Dictionnaire historique, géographique, et biographique de Maine-et-Loire (Paris and Angers, 1874-78), 3 vols.; also his Notes et notices angevins (Angers, 1879); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Sir J. H. Ramsay, The Angevin Empire, (London, 1903).
[185] Ch. H. Besnard, “La coupole nervée de la Tour St. Aubin d’Angers,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1910, vol. 2, p. 196; L. de Farcy, “Tour St. Aubin,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, p. 558.
[185] Ch. H. Besnard, “The Ribbed Dome of the St. Aubin Tower in Angers,” in Archaeological Congress, 1910, vol. 2, p. 196; L. de Farcy, “St. Aubin Tower,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1906, p. 558.
[186] Beginning with a Breton woodsman, five counts of Anjou ruled before Fulk III the Black (989-1040). He held Vendôme, Amboise, and Loches, where he founded Beaulieu Abbey, and he won Chinon, and Saumur, where he established St. Florent-les-Saumur. His grandfather, Fulk II the Good, a canon in St. Martin’s at Tours, and a poet, had said, “Rex illiteratus est asinus coronatus,” which Henry I of England was fond of repeating. The son of Fulk Nerra was Geoffrey Martel (d. 1060), who won Tours and Le Mans, but later lost the overlordship of the latter to William the Conqueror. He founded the Trinité at Vendôme. Geoffrey and Fulk, his two nephews, succeeded in turn, but Geoffrey was kept imprisoned in Chinon for almost thirty years by his unnatural brother Fulk Rechin, or the Quarreler, who had all the greed, subtlety, and turbulance of his line, without its genius for statesmanship. He is counted as the first historian of the Middle Ages. (See Hist. littér. de la France (Paris, 1750), vol. 9, p. 391.) Fulk Rechin’s son by the beautiful Bertrada de Montfort (who deserted him for the king of France) was Fulk V, who wedded the heiress of Maine. When later Fulk V won a second heiress in the East, he left Anjou and Maine to his son Geoffrey the Handsome, and reigned as king of Jerusalem (d. 1143). Geoffrey (d. 1151), nicknamed Plantagenet, married to the heiress of Normandy and England, always preferred Le Mans to Angers. His son became Henry II of England and a leader in Europe because of his territorial possessions on the Continent and his ability as a statesman.
[186] Starting with a Breton woodsman, five counts of Anjou ruled before Fulk III the Black (989-1040). He controlled Vendôme, Amboise, and Loches, where he founded Beaulieu Abbey, and captured Chinon and Saumur, establishing St. Florent-les-Saumur. His grandfather, Fulk II the Good, a canon at St. Martin’s in Tours and a poet, once said, “Rex illiteratus est asinus coronatus,” a phrase that Henry I of England liked to repeat. Fulk Nerra's son was Geoffrey Martel (d. 1060), who took Tours and Le Mans but eventually lost control of the latter to William the Conqueror. He established the Trinité at Vendôme. Geoffrey and Fulk, his two nephews, succeeded one another, but Geoffrey was imprisoned in Chinon for nearly thirty years by his ruthless brother Fulk Rechin, also known as the Quarreler, who had all the greed, cunning, and instability of their lineage, without its knack for governance. He is recognized as the first historian of the Middle Ages. (See Hist. littér. de la France (Paris, 1750), vol. 9, p. 391.) Fulk Rechin’s son by the beautiful Bertrada de Montfort (who left him for the king of France) was Fulk V, who married the heiress of Maine. Later, when Fulk V secured a second heiress in the East, he left Anjou and Maine to his son Geoffrey the Handsome and ruled as king of Jerusalem (d. 1143). Geoffrey (d. 1151), nicknamed Plantagenet, married the heiress of Normandy and England, but always preferred Le Mans over Angers. His son became Henry II of England and a key figure in Europe due to his landholdings on the Continent and his political skills.
[187] The abbatial of St. Nicolas-du-Ronceray is in a lamentable state; its nave serves as a hall for the Arts and Crafts school, the transept’s north arm is a laundry, and its south arm a roofless ruin. The dome at its crossing is without distinct pedestal. The nuns of this house erected at the side of their own sanctuary, the Trinité church for parish use. The present admirable Trinité was built after a fire in 1062. Its chevet and transept are the oldest parts, and then rose the nave, covered with First-Period Angevin vaults (c. 1170). Chapel-like niches are lost in the thickness of the walls.
[187] The abbey of St. Nicolas-du-Ronceray is in terrible shape; its nave is used as a hall for the Arts and Crafts school, the north arm of the transept is a laundry, and the south arm is a roofless ruin. The dome at the crossing doesn't have a distinct base. The nuns of this house built the Trinité church next to their own sanctuary for the parish. The current impressive Trinité was constructed after a fire in 1062. Its chevet and transept are the oldest parts, followed by the nave, which is covered with First-Period Angevin vaults (c. 1170). Chapel-like niches are lost in the thickness of the walls.
Angers’ abbatial of St. Martin contains Gallo-Roman, Merovingian, and Carolingian vestiges, and parts of the XI, XII, and XV centuries. Fulk Nerra rebuilt it on returning from one of his pilgrimages. Over its transept-crossing is a dome modeled on the one at Fontevrault, without separate pedestal. The church possesses one of the earliest eight-branch Gothic vaults extant; King René added the Flamboyant parts. Chanoine Pinier at his own expense is restoring the choir and transept.
Angers' abbey of St. Martin features remnants from the Gallo-Roman, Merovingian, and Carolingian periods, as well as parts from the 11th, 12th, and 15th centuries. Fulk Nerra rebuilt it after returning from one of his pilgrimages. Above its transept intersection is a dome inspired by the one at Fontevrault, without a separate base. The church has one of the oldest eight-branch Gothic vaults still in existence; King René added the Flamboyant sections. Chanoine Pinier is privately funding the restoration of the choir and transept.
Congrès Archéologique, 1910, vol. 1, p. 211, “St. Martin,” Chanoine Pinier; and vol. 2, p. 12, “St. Nicolas-du-Ronceray,” E. Lefèvre-Pontalis.
Congrès Archéologique, 1910, vol. 1, p. 211, “St. Martin,” Canon Pinier; and vol. 2, p. 12, “St. Nicolas-du-Ronceray,” E. Lefèvre-Pontalis.
[188] Bishop Ulger carried forward, too, the episcopal palace which stood on V-century walls over the Roman citadel and is connected with the cathedral’s transept. Its ancient façade is the finest civic monument in Angers (1101-49). The ground floor was used as a stable; over it rose Bishop Ulger’s synodal hall, and under the rafters was made a library in the XV century. Angers is exceptionally rich in late-Gothic and Renaissance mansions. G. d’Espinay, Angers et l’Anjou (Angers, 1903); ibid., Notices archéol., Les monuments d’Angers, Saumur et ses environs (Angers, 1875), 2 vols.
[188] Bishop Ulger also continued to develop the episcopal palace that stood on 5th-century walls above the Roman citadel and is linked to the cathedral’s transept. Its ancient façade is the most impressive civic monument in Angers (1101-49). The ground floor was used as a stable; above it was Bishop Ulger’s synodal hall, and a library was created in the 15th century under the rafters. Angers has a remarkable collection of late-Gothic and Renaissance mansions. G. d’Espinay, Angers et l’Anjou (Angers, 1903); ibid., Notices archéol., Les monuments d’Angers, Saumur et ses environs (Angers, 1875), 2 vols.
[189] The first line of Anjou’s counts came to an end when John Lackland did away with his nephew, Arthur of Brittany. The region of the Loire became then most willingly a part of Phillipe-Auguste’s royal domain. Anjou was given as an appanage to St. Louis’ brother Charles d’Anjou, whose first wife brought him Provence, and who by invitation and conquest became king of the Two Sicilies. His son, Charles II, built the church of St. Maximin in Provence. He left only one daughter, who married the Count of Valois, like herself of St. Louis’ direct line. The son of that union mounted the French throne as Philip VI. It was his son, Jean le Bon, who again detached Anjou from the French crown for his son Louis, who began the short-lived third line of Angevin princes.
[189] The first line of the Anjou counts ended when John Lackland got rid of his nephew, Arthur of Brittany. The Loire region then eagerly joined Philippe-Auguste’s royal territory. Anjou was given as an appanage to St. Louis' brother Charles d'Anjou, whose first wife brought him Provence and who became king of the Two Sicilies through invitation and conquest. His son, Charles II, built the church of St. Maximin in Provence. He only had one daughter, who married the Count of Valois, also a descendant of St. Louis. Their son became King Philip VI of France. It was his son, Jean le Bon, who separated Anjou from the French crown again for his son Louis, who started the short-lived third line of Angevin princes.
[190] That a portion of Angers’ palace walls dates from Gallo-Roman times is indicated by the courses of brick in the small stones. When such brick courses alternate with big material, the work was done after 1000. Of the red flint-stone castle built by Fulk Nerra only fragments remain. A fire in 1132 and later disasters wiped out the counts’ residence, to which Henry Plantagenet had added. L. de Farcy, “La chapelle du château d’Angers,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1902; Henri René, Le château d’Angers (Angers, 1908); H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumental, vol. 2, “Angers,” H. Jouin.
[190] A part of Angers’ palace walls is from Gallo-Roman times, as shown by the brick layers in the small stones. When these brick layers are mixed with larger stones, the work was done after 1000. Only fragments remain of the red flintstone castle built by Fulk Nerra. A fire in 1132 and subsequent disasters destroyed the counts’ residence, which Henry Plantagenet had expanded. L. de Farcy, “La chapelle du château d’Angers,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1902; Henri René, Le château d’Angers (Angers, 1908); H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumental, vol. 2, “Angers,” H. Jouin.
[191] The nave of St. Serge is a mediocre XV-century structure. In its transept walls are vestiges of earlier churches; the cordons of brick in the stonework date from Carolingian times. Congrès Archéologique, 1871 and 1910; V. Godard-Faultier, “Le cœur de St. Serge à Angers,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1866, vol. 32; J. Denais, “Histoire et description de l’église St. Serge à Angers,” in L’inventaire des richesses d’art de la France, vol. 4, p. 20, Province, monuments religieux (Paris, Plon).
[191] The nave of St. Serge is an average 15th-century building. In its transept walls, there are remnants of earlier churches; the brick bands in the stonework are from the Carolingian period. Congrès Archéologique, 1871 and 1910; V. Godard-Faultier, “Le cœur de St. Serge à Angers,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1866, vol. 32; J. Denais, “Histoire et description de l’église St. Serge à Angers,” in L’inventaire des richesses d’art de la France, vol. 4, p. 20, Province, monuments religieux (Paris, Plon).
[192] Congrès Archéologique, 1862 and 1910; Prosper Merimée, Notes d’un voyage dans l’Ouest de la France (Paris, 1836), pp. 345-358; G. d’Espinay, Notices archéologiques. Les monuments d’Angers, Saumur et ses environs (Angers, 1875), 2 vols.; Célestin Port, “Les stalles et les tapisseries de St. Pierre de Saumur,” in Revue des Sociétés savantes, 1868, p. 278; ibid., Dictionnaire historique, géographique, et biographique de Maine-et-Loire (Paris and Angers, 1874-78), 3 vols.; V. Godard-Faultrier, Monuments antiques de l’Anjou, arrondissement de Saumur (Angers, 1863); Jules Juiffrey, “Tapisserie du XVe siécle à l’église Notre Dame-de-Nantilly à Saumur,” in Revue de l’art ancien et moderne, 1897, vol. 4, p. 75; Eugène Müntz, Jules Juiffrey, Alex. Pinchart, Histoire générale de la tapisserie (Paris, 1879-84), 3 vols.
[192] Archaeological Congress, 1862 and 1910; Prosper Merimée, Notes from a Trip to the West of France (Paris, 1836), pp. 345-358; G. d’Espinay, Archaeological Notices: The Monuments of Angers, Saumur and its Surroundings (Angers, 1875), 2 vols.; Célestin Port, “The Stalls and Tapestries of St. Pierre de Saumur,” in Review of Learned Societies, 1868, p. 278; ibid., Historical, Geographical, and Biographical Dictionary of Maine-et-Loire (Paris and Angers, 1874-78), 3 vols.; V. Godard-Faultrier, Ancient Monuments of Anjou, Saumur District (Angers, 1863); Jules Juiffrey, “Tapestry from the 15th Century at Notre Dame de Nantilly Church in Saumur,” in Review of Ancient and Modern Art, 1897, vol. 4, p. 75; Eugène Müntz, Jules Juiffrey, Alex. Pinchart, General History of Tapestry (Paris, 1879-84), 3 vols.
[193] From Saumur, eight miles down the Loire, can be visited the magnificent Romanesque church at Cunault, XI and XII centuries. It has noticeable capitals, mural paintings, and Plantagenet vaults with sculptured keystones and figurines. Two miles below it lies Gennes, whose church has Angevin vaults of the First Period. To be reached, via Doué-la-Fontaine, are both Puy-Notre-Dame and Asnières, the latter called “the most beautiful ruin in Anjou.” Its square-ended XIII-century choir resembles St. Serge’s. Slender pillars divide that wide chevet into three aisles of equal height, composing one of the most graceful specimens of the school’s Third Period. One arm of the transept has heavy diagonals of the first phase, and over the other are the eight-branch type. The Huguenots wrecked Asnières in 1569. The present nave is a restitution. A society of artists saved the choir and transept from demolition.
[193] You can visit the stunning Romanesque church in Cunault, located eight miles down the Loire from Saumur, dating back to the 11th and 12th centuries. It features impressive capitals, mural paintings, and Plantagenet vaults with sculpted keystones and figures. Two miles downstream is Gennes, whose church boasts Angevin vaults from the First Period. You can reach Puy-Notre-Dame and Asnières through Doué-la-Fontaine; the latter is known as “the most beautiful ruin in Anjou.” Its square-ended 13th-century choir is similar to St. Serge’s. Slender pillars separate the wide chevet into three aisles of equal height, making it one of the most elegant examples of the school’s Third Period. One arm of the transept features heavy diagonals from the first phase, while the other has the eight-branch style. The Huguenots devastated Asnières in 1569, and the current nave is a reconstruction. An artist society rescued the choir and transept from being demolished.
The abbatial of Puy-Notre-Dame is very beautiful. Heavy diagonals of the First Period cover the transept’s south arm; eight-branch vaults cover the nave and the transept’s north limb; over the choir, which resembles St. Jean’s chevet at Saumur, is a much-ramified Plantagenet vault. The lofty side aisles and clustered piers make this interior one of the best of XIII-century Angevin works extant. At St. Germain-sur-Vienne (Indre-et-Loire), two miles from Candes, the choir has the complicated multiple-ribbed vault of the Third Period, with three lines of keystones.
The abbey of Puy-Notre-Dame is really beautiful. Sturdy diagonal ribs from the First Period span the south arm of the transept; intricate eight-part vaults cover the nave and the north side of the transept; above the choir, which is similar to St. Jean’s apse at Saumur, is a highly detailed Plantagenet vault. The tall side aisles and clustered columns make this interior one of the finest examples of XIII-century Angevin architecture still around. At St. Germain-sur-Vienne (Indre-et-Loire), just two miles from Candes, the choir features the complex multiple-ribbed vault of the Third Period, complete with three lines of keystones.
Congrès Archéologique, 1910, p. 128, Cunault and Gennes; p. 65, Puy-Notre-Dame and Asnières; E. de Lorière, “Asnières-sur-Vègre,” in Revue hist. et archéol. du Maine, 1904, p. 95.
Congrès Archéologique, 1910, p. 128, Cunault and Gennes; p. 65, Puy-Notre-Dame and Asnières; E. de Lorière, “Asnières-sur-Vègre,” in Revue hist. et archéol. du Maine, 1904, p. 95.
[194] At the battle of Jargeau, Jeanne reminded the duke of her promise. D’Alençon himself has related the episode: “Je lui fis observer que c’était aller bien vite en besogne que d’attaquer si promptement: ‘Soyez sans crainte,’ me dit-elle, ‘l’heure est bonne quand il plaît à Dieu, il faut besoigner quand s’est sa volonté: agissez, Dieu agira! Ah, gentil duc,’ me dit-elle quelques instants après, ‘aurais-tu peur? Ne sait-tu pas que j’ai promis à ta femme de te ramener sain et sauf?’” Alas, for the deterioration of character brought about in those troubled years of foreign invasion and misrule; Jeanne’s gentil duc was later to plot with the English and to be impeached.
[194] At the battle of Jargeau, Jeanne reminded the duke of her promise. D’Alençon himself recounted the moment: “I pointed out to her that it was hasty to attack so quickly: ‘Don't worry,’ she said to me, ‘the time is right when it pleases God; we must act when it is His will: take action, and God will act! Oh, kind duke,’ she told me a moment later, ‘are you afraid? Don't you know I've promised your wife to bring you back safe and sound?’” Sadly, the decline in character that happened during those chaotic years of foreign invasion and poor leadership; Jeanne’s kind duke would later conspire with the English and face impeachment.
At Chinon are specimens of Plantagenet Gothic (Bulletin Monumental, 1869). In the Loire-et-Cher department are some fourteen churches of the school. The other Plantagenet monuments usually seen by the traveler before his arrival in Angou are the eight-branch vaults at Vendôme, in the transept of the Trinité; the vault under the northwest tower of Tours Cathedral; and in Le Mans, the cathedral nave and the church of the Couture. At Mouliherne (Seine-et-Loire) every type of the Plantagenet development is present.
At Chinon, there are examples of Plantagenet Gothic (Bulletin Monumental, 1869). In the Loire-et-Cher department, there are about fourteen churches from this style. Other Plantagenet monuments that travelers usually see before reaching Angou include the eight-branch vaults at Vendôme, located in the transept of the Trinité; the vault beneath the northwest tower of Tours Cathedral; and in Le Mans, the cathedral nave and the church of the Couture. In Mouliherne (Seine-et-Loire), every type of Plantagenet development is represented.
Congrès Archéologique, 1910, vol. 1, p. 130, “St. Florent-les-Saumur,” André Rhein; vol. 2, “Les voûtes de l’église de Mouliherne,” André Rhein; p. 247, “Les influences angevines sur les églises gothiques du Blésois et du Vendômois,” F. Leseur.
Archaeological Congress, 1910, vol. 1, p. 130, “St. Florent-les-Saumur,” André Rhein; vol. 2, “The Vaults of the Church of Mouliherne,” André Rhein; p. 247, “The Angevins' Influences on Gothic Churches in the Blésois and Vendômois,” F. Leseur.
[195] Congres Archéologique, 1910, p. 33, André Rhein, on Candes; Abbé Bourassé, “Notice historique et archéologique sur l’église de Candes,” in Mémoires de la Soc. archéol. de Touraine, 1845, p. 141; Suppligeon, Notices sur la ville et la collégiale de Candes (Tours, 1885).
[195] Congres Archéologique, 1910, p. 33, André Rhein, on Candes; Abbé Bourassé, “Historical and Archaeological Note on the Church of Candes,” in Mémoires de la Soc. archéol. de Touraine, 1845, p. 141; Suppligeon, Notes on the City and the Collegiate Church of Candes (Tours, 1885).
[196] Congrès Archéologique, 1843, 1884, and 1903, “Poitiers,” André Rhein; H. L. de la Mauvinière, Poitiers et Angoulême (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); Abbé Auber, Histoire de la cathédrale de Poitiers (Poitiers, 1849), 2 vols.; ibid., Histoire civile, relig. et littéraire du Poitou (Poitiers, 1856), 8 vols.; J. Berthelé, Recherches pour servir à l’histoire des arts en Poitou; Alfred Richard, Histoire des comtes du Poitou, 788-1204 (Paris, Picard et fils, 1903), 2 vols.; Dreux-Duradier, Histoire littéraire du Poitou; Alexis Forel, Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Raynouard, Choix des poésies originales des troubadours (Paris, Didot, 1816), vol. 5, “Richard Cœur-de-Lion”; R. P. Largent, St. Hilaire de Poitiers (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre); J. Robuchon, Paysages et monuments du Poitou (Paris, 1890-1903), folio; (on Poitiers, Mgr. Barbier de Montault); Benj. Fillon, Poitou et Vendée; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Boissonnade, Le Poitou (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, Cerf, 1920).
[196] Archaeological Congress, 1843, 1884, and 1903, “Poitiers,” André Rhein; H. L. de la Mauvinière, Poitiers and Angoulême (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); Abbé Auber, History of the Cathedral of Poitiers (Poitiers, 1849), 2 vols.; ibid., Civil, Religious, and Literary History of Poitou (Poitiers, 1856), 8 vols.; J. Berthelé, Research to Contribute to the History of the Arts in Poitou; Alfred Richard, History of the Counts of Poitou, 788-1204 (Paris, Picard et fils, 1903), 2 vols.; Dreux-Duradier, Literary History of Poitou; Alexis Forel, Journey to the Land of Roman Sculptors (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Raynouard, Selected Original Poems of the Troubadours (Paris, Didot, 1816), vol. 5, “Richard the Lionheart”; R. P. Largent, St. Hilaire of Poitiers (Collection, The Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre); J. Robuchon, Landscapes and Monuments of Poitou (Paris, 1890-1903), folio; (on Poitiers, Mgr. Barbier de Montault); Benj. Fillon, Poitou and Vendée; A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan Company, 1914); Boissonnade, The Poitou (Collection, The Regions of France), (Paris, Cerf, 1920).
[197] The Vexilla regis prodeunt hymn is sung on Good Friday when the Blessed Sacrament is carried from the Repository to the main altar, and as a vesper hymn from the Saturday before Passion Sunday to Maundy Thursday. It has also been incorporated in the Roman Breviary for feasts of the Holy Cross. There have been a host of translations. In his Medieval Hymns and Sequences, London, 1813, Dr. J. M. Neale thus rendered the first quatrain:
[197] The Vexilla regis prodeunt hymn is sung on Good Friday when the Blessed Sacrament is processed from the Repository to the main altar, and it is also used as a vesper hymn from the Saturday before Passion Sunday until Maundy Thursday. Additionally, it has been included in the Roman Breviary for the feasts of the Holy Cross. Many translations exist. In his Medieval Hymns and Sequences, London, 1813, Dr. J. M. Neale translated the first quatrain as follows:
Where He in flesh, our flesh Who created,
"Our sentence is served, our ransom is paid."
[198] Montierneuf was founded in 1078 by Guillaume VIII (d. 1086). Only eight of the nave’s eleven bays remain. The chevet was rebuilt in the XIV century. The abbey was sacked in 1562. St. Porchaire’s tower is all that remains of an XI-century church, a contemporary of Notre Dame-la-Grande and Montierneuf. It was to be destroyed in 1843, but luckily some visiting archæologists saved it. From St. Porchaire’s belfry rang the summonses of Poitiers University. De Cherge, “Mémoire historique sur l’abbaye de Montierneuf de Poitiers,” in Mém. de la Soc. des antiquaires de l’Ouest, 1844; Deux étudiants de l’Université de Poitiers, Francis Bacon et René Descartes, 1867, p. 65.
[198] Montierneuf was founded in 1078 by Guillaume VIII (d. 1086). Only eight of the nave’s eleven bays still exist. The chevet was rebuilt in the 14th century. The abbey was destroyed in 1562. St. Porchaire’s tower is all that’s left of an 11th-century church, which was contemporary with Notre Dame-la-Grande and Montierneuf. It was set to be demolished in 1843, but fortunately, some visiting archaeologists rescued it. From St. Porchaire’s belfry, the calls of Poitiers University rang out. De Cherge, “Mémoire historique sur l’abbaye de Montierneuf de Poitiers,” in Mém. de la Soc. des antiquaires de l’Ouest, 1844; Deux étudiants de l’Université de Poitiers, Francis Bacon et René Descartes, 1867, p. 65.
[199] St. Savin lies thirty miles from Poitiers. Its choir and transept belong to the early part of the XII century, and its nave was erected about thirty years after. Its donjonlike tower was crowned later by a spire, the highest in southwest France with St. Michel’s at Bordeaux. Like Etruscan vase ornamentation are its unique frescoes giving Genesis, Exodus, and the Apocalypse. On the route from Poitiers to St. Savin lies Chauvigny, “the pearl of Poitou,” with the ruins of several castles. Its church of St. Pierre has a decorated apse and some eight-branch Plantagenet vaults; its church of Notre Dame possesses some XV-century frescoes.
[199] St. Savin is located thirty miles from Poitiers. Its choir and transept date back to the early 12th century, while its nave was built around thirty years later. Its tower, which resembles a keep, was later topped with a spire, making it the tallest in southwest France, alongside St. Michel’s in Bordeaux. Its distinctive frescoes, which depict Genesis, Exodus, and the Apocalypse, resemble Etruscan vase designs. On the way from Poitiers to St. Savin, you'll find Chauvigny, known as “the pearl of Poitou,” featuring the ruins of several castles. The church of St. Pierre has a beautifully decorated apse and some unique eight-branch Plantagenet vaults, while the church of Notre Dame contains some 15th-century frescoes.
Another of the chief Poitou-Romanesque churches is at St. Maixent, thirty miles from Poitiers, via Niort. The nave is XII century, the choir, Angevin Gothic, and the tower, Flamboyant; its crypt capitals are noticeable.
Another notable Poitou-Romanesque church is located in St. Maixent, thirty miles from Poitiers, via Niort. The nave is from the 12th century, the choir is Angevin Gothic, and the tower is Flamboyant; its crypt capitals stand out.
The abbey church at St. Jouin-de-Marnes, near Montcontour, has a good façade, a fine Romanesque tower, a transept of the end of the XI century, and a XII-century choir and nave, only three of whose vault sections, however, are the primitive ones. In the XIII century the present elaborate masonry roof was substituted. It belongs to the Third Period of the Plantagenet school, with three lines of keystones. Airvault abbey church, not far away, built a similar much-ramified vault, the prototype for that of Toussaint, at Angers.
The abbey church at St. Jouin-de-Marnes, near Montcontour, features an impressive façade, a beautiful Romanesque tower, a transept dating from the late 11th century, and a 12th-century choir and nave, although only three sections of its vault are original. In the 13th century, the current intricate masonry roof replaced the earlier one. This design is part of the Third Period of the Plantagenet style, characterized by three lines of keystones. Nearby, Airvault abbey church showcases a similarly complex vault, which served as the model for that of Toussaint in Angers.
Parthenay can be included in the trip from Poitiers to St. Jouin-de-Marnes. In its venerable church took place the scene when St. Bernard rose in majesty at the altar and compelled the giant sinner Guillaume X of Aquitaine to repent.
Parthenay can be included in the trip from Poitiers to St. Jouin-de-Marnes. In its historic church, the scene unfolded where St. Bernard stood majestically at the altar and made the giant sinner Guillaume X of Aquitaine repent.
Three miles from Poitiers lies St. Benoit’s Romanesque church, with a XIII-century spire, and five miles away is Ligugé, where St. Martin, under St. Hilary’s guidance, founded the first monastery in Gaul. Dom Prosper Guéranger restored Ligugé in 1864, and here J. K. Huysmans lived, as he has described in l’Oblat. The XV-century church was rebuilt by that prelate of the Renaissance, Geoffrey d’Estissac, whom Rabelais came to visit.
Three miles from Poitiers is St. Benoit’s Romanesque church, featuring a 13th-century spire, and five miles away is Ligugé, where St. Martin, under St. Hilary’s guidance, established the first monastery in Gaul. Dom Prosper Guéranger revitalized Ligugé in 1864, and this is where J. K. Huysmans lived, as he described in l’Oblat. The 15th-century church was rebuilt by the Renaissance prelate Geoffrey d’Estissac, whom Rabelais came to visit.
Congrès Archéologique, 1910, St. Savin; p. 119, Airvault; p. 108, St. Jouin-de-Marnes, and the latter also in the Congrès of 1903; Prosper Merimée, Les peintures de St. Savin (Paris, 1845), folio; Ch. Tranchant, Guide pour la visite des monuments de Chauvigny en Poitou (Paris, 1901).
Archaeological Congress, 1910, St. Savin; p. 119, Airvault; p. 108, St. Jouin-de-Marnes, and the latter also in the Congress of 1903; Prosper Merimée, The Paintings of St. Savin (Paris, 1845), folio; Ch. Tranchant, Guide for Visiting the Monuments of Chauvigny in Poitou (Paris, 1901).
[200] Probably because of the magistral window at Poitiers, the Byzantine tradition of the crucified Christ lingered long in the art of midland France. Over an altar of the chapel of Bourgonnière, in the parish of Bouzillé, in Angers diocese, is a remarkable XVI-century polychrome image of the Saviour, unwounded, robed, and awake, with arms wide outstretched against the Cross.
[200] Probably because of the impressive window in Poitiers, the Byzantine tradition of the crucified Christ continued to influence art in central France for a long time. Above an altar in the chapel of Bourgonnière, located in the parish of Bouzillé in the diocese of Angers, there is a remarkable 16th-century colorful depiction of the Savior, unharmed, dressed, and alert, with arms spread wide against the Cross.
[201] In 1106 gathered another council at Poitiers, a holy-war rally, but the war was to be waged on Christian Constantinople. The superb Bohemund, the new prince of Antioch, came to organize the expedition; he had gone on the First Crusade for booty, fierce as a Norman, astute as an Italian, in person like a Greek god, tall beyond man’s normal height, broad-shouldered, and lithe—so the Greek princess at Constantinople saw him. Philip I gave him his daughter, and on Tancred, his cousin, a true hero of the holy wars, not a buccaneer, the king of France bestowed his daughter by the fair Bertrada de Montfort.
[201] In 1106, another council met at Poitiers, a rally for the holy war, but this time the fight was to be against Christian Constantinople. The remarkable Bohemund, the new prince of Antioch, came to organize the mission; he had joined the First Crusade for plunder, fierce like a Norman, clever like an Italian, and in appearance, he resembled a Greek god—tall beyond the average man’s height, broad-shouldered, and agile, as noted by the Greek princess in Constantinople. Philip I married him to his daughter, and to Tancred, his cousin and a true hero of the holy wars, not a pirate, the king of France gave his daughter, the lovely Bertrada de Montfort.
[202] E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Étude archéologique de St. Hilaire de Poitiers (Caen, 1904); also in the Congrès Archéologique of 1903; De Longuemar, “Essai historique sur l’église Saint Hilaire-le-grand de Poitiers,” in Mémoires des antiquaires de l’Ouest, 1856.
[202] E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, Archaeological Study of St. Hilaire de Poitiers (Caen, 1904); also in the Archaeological Congress of 1903; De Longuemar, “Historical Essay on the Church of Saint Hilaire-le-grand de Poitiers,” in Memoirs of the Antiquarians of the West, 1856.
[203] De la Croix, Étude du baptistère de St. Jean de Poitiers (Poitiers, 1903); E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Les fouilles du R. P. de la Croix au baptistère de St. Jean à Poitiers,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1902, vol. 66, p. 529; Mgr. X. Barbier de Montault, Œuvres complètes (various studies on the monuments of Poitiers and its region), (Poitiers, Blais et Roy, 1899).
[203] De la Croix, Study of the Baptistery of St. John in Poitiers (Poitiers, 1903); E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Excavations by R. P. de la Croix at the Baptistery of St. John in Poitiers,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1902, vol. 66, p. 529; Mgr. X. Barbier de Montault, Complete Works (various studies on the monuments of Poitiers and its region), (Poitiers, Blais et Roy, 1899).
[204] Like other Greek works of the period the Minerva at Poitiers shows the influence of Egyptian art in its stiff, regal attitude. The proud, full chin is uplifted. The shapely back is molded by a leopard’s skin. The right arm is missing, but the left arm is honey-hued and as delicate as flesh in appearance. She bears the olive branch of peace, this wise Minerva.
[204] Like other Greek works from this period, the Minerva at Poitiers reflects the influence of Egyptian art in its stiff, regal stance. The proud, full chin is raised high. The shapely back is draped in a leopard’s skin. The right arm is missing, but the left arm is a warm honey color and has a delicate, flesh-like appearance. This wise Minerva holds the olive branch of peace.
[205] Lucien Magne, Le Palais de Justice de Poitiers.
[206] Congrès Archéologique, 1850 and 1895; Abbé Ph. Gobillot, La cathédrale de Clermont (Clermont-Ferrand, F. L. Bellet, 1912); H. du Ranquet, La cathédrale de Clermont-Ferrand (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., “Les architectes de la cathédrale de Clermont-Ferrand,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1912, vol. 76, p. 7; G. Desdevises du Dézert et L. Bréhier, Clermont-Ferrand, Royat et le Puy-de-Dôme (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Louis Bréhier, L’Auvergne (Collection, Les provinces françaises), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); ibid., in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1912, on the capitals of Notre Dame-du-Port; G. Fraipont, L’Auvergne (Collection, Montagnes de France), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Vimont, Les deux principales églises de Clermont; R. de Lasteyrie, L’architecture religieuse en France à l’époque romane (Paris, 1912); H. Stein, Les architectes des cathédrales gothiques (Paris, 1912); Prosper Mérimée, Notes d’un voyage en Auvergne (Paris, 1838); Alexis Forel, Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Saveron, Les origines de la ville de Clermont; Ambrose Tardieu, Histoire de la ville de Clermont; G. Desdevises du Dézert, Bibliographie du centenaire des croisades à Clermont-Ferrand (Clermont-Ferrand, 1895); D. Branche, Auvergne au moyen âge (Clermont-Ferrand, 1842); Paul Allard, St. Sidoine Apolinaire (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre); Taylor et Nodier, Voyage pittoresque dans l’ancienne France. Auvergne (Paris, Didot, 1829-33), 3 vols.
[206] Congrès Archéologique, 1850 and 1895; Abbé Ph. Gobillot, The Cathedral of Clermont (Clermont-Ferrand, F. L. Bellet, 1912); H. du Ranquet, The Cathedral of Clermont-Ferrand (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., “The Architects of the Cathedral of Clermont-Ferrand,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1912, vol. 76, p. 7; G. Desdevises du Dézert and L. Bréhier, Clermont-Ferrand, Royat and the Puy-de-Dôme (Collection, Cities of Famous Art), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Louis Bréhier, Auvergne (Collection, The French Provinces), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); ibid., in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1912, on the capitals of Notre Dame-du-Port; G. Fraipont, Auvergne (Collection, Mountains of France), (Paris, H. Laurens); E. Vimont, The Two Main Churches of Clermont; R. de Lasteyrie, Religious Architecture in France During the Romanesque Period (Paris, 1912); H. Stein, The Architects of Gothic Cathedrals (Paris, 1912); Prosper Mérimée, Notes from a Journey in Auvergne (Paris, 1838); Alexis Forel, Journey to the Land of Roman Sculptors (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Saveron, The Origins of the City of Clermont; Ambrose Tardieu, History of the City of Clermont; G. Desdevises du Dézert, Bibliography of the Centenary of the Crusades in Clermont-Ferrand (Clermont-Ferrand, 1895); D. Branche, Auvergne in the Middle Ages (Clermont-Ferrand, 1842); Paul Allard, St. Sidoine Apollinaire (Collection, The Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre); Taylor and Nodier, Picturesque Journey Through Ancient France. Auvergne (Paris, Didot, 1829-33), 3 vols.
[207] “Il est peu de constructions ogivales qui se présentent d’un façon plus dégagée et plus pittoresque. La sombre masse se détache de la ville aux rues tortueuses comme une haute statue de son piédestal. Les deux flèches hardies s’encadrent dans la cirque majestueux de montagnes volcaniques. Il semble que la cathédrale soit le Mont-Saint-Michel de cette baie aux lumières mouvantes. Tantôt silhouettée par de vigoureux éclairages, tantôt estompée par les vapeurs qui planent dans la vallée, et quelquefois, aux heures matinales émergeant de leur nappe grise, comme une haute mâture au-dessus de la mer tranquille, elle reste toujours fière, imposante, poétique.”—Louis Gonse, L’art gothique (Paris, 1891).
[207] “There are few Gothic structures that stand out as clearly and beautifully. The dark mass rises from the city with its winding streets like a tall statue from its pedestal. The two bold spires are framed by the majestic circle of volcanic mountains. It feels like the cathedral is the Mont-Saint-Michel of this bay with its shifting lights. Sometimes outlined by strong lighting, sometimes fading into the mists hovering in the valley, and occasionally, in the early hours, emerging from their gray blanket like a high mast above the calm sea, it remains always proud, impressive, and poetic.”—Louis Gonse, L’art gothique (Paris, 1891).
[208] The Chaise Dieu monastery, founded by St. Robert in 1043, was later affiliated with Cluny. The present church was begun in 1344 by Clement VI, who built the choir and four bays of the nave. The abbatial was completed, after 1370, by his nephew, Gregory XI. Clement had Avignon artists prepare his funeral monument, which originally possessed over forty statuettes representing his relatives, for he came of the great lines of Beaufort and Turenne. The Casa Dei abbatial, though possessed of grandeur, is dull and heavy. The aisles are as high as the principal span. The octagonal piers with uncut capitals lack elegance and lightness, the windows are the narrowest lancets, and there are no flying buttresses. Molds die away in the piers above the capitals—an early appearance of Flamboyant Gothic. The cloister (1378-1417) is frankly late-Gothic. The denuded church once was filled with the tombs of local magnates, among them those of the Lafayette family, precious pages of French history obliterated in 1562 and 1793. As if to shut out the funereal, humid aisles, the choir has been lined with tapestries (begun in 1492) unsurpassed in France. They reproduce the Mirror of Perfection and the Bible of the Poor, two books popular in the XIII and XIV centuries. Each episode of the Saviour’s life is accompanied by scenes of the Old Testament, prefiguring it. On the outer wall of the choir screen is a sketch, a Dance of Death, with the grim skeleton stalking in and out, touching with his chill finger pope, baron, burgher, page, field laborer, and little child. No XIII-century church had allowed so gruesome a theme on its walls. This lugubrious allegory came into vogue after the Black Death of 1348, when a third of Europe’s population perished. Congrès Archéologique, 1904, pp. 54, 402; E. Durand, La Chaise Dieu (1903); Maurice Fançon, L’église abbatiale de la Chaise Dieu en Auvergne; Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge (Paris, Colin, 1910).
[208] The Chaise Dieu monastery, founded by St. Robert in 1043, was later connected to Cluny. The current church started construction in 1344 under Clement VI, who built the choir and four sections of the nave. His nephew, Gregory XI, completed the abbatial after 1370. Clement had artists from Avignon create his funeral monument, which originally had over forty statuettes representing his family, as he came from the noble lines of Beaufort and Turenne. The Casa Dei abbatial, while grand, feels dull and heavy. The aisles match the height of the main span. The octagonal pillars with unrefined capitals lack grace and lightness, the windows are the narrowest lancets, and there are no flying buttresses. Molds fade from the pillars above the capitals—an early sign of Flamboyant Gothic. The cloister (1378-1417) is clearly late Gothic. The stripped church once housed the tombs of local elites, including members of the Lafayette family, significant figures in French history lost in the upheavals of 1562 and 1793. To block out the somber, damp aisles, the choir is lined with tapestries (started in 1492) that are unmatched in France. They depict the Mirror of Perfection and the Bible of the Poor, two popular books from the 13th and 14th centuries. Each scene from the life of the Savior is paired with depictions from the Old Testament that foreshadow it. On the outer wall of the choir screen, there is a sketch of the Dance of Death, featuring a grim skeleton moving in and out, touching with its cold finger a pope, baron, merchant, page, farmer, and little child. No 13th-century church had allowed such a macabre theme on its walls. This dark allegory became popular after the Black Death of 1348, which claimed a third of Europe's population. Congrès Archéologique, 1904, pp. 54, 402; E. Durand, La Chaise Dieu (1903); Maurice Fançon, L’église abbatiale de la Chaise Dieu en Auvergne; Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge (Paris, Colin, 1910).
[209] “Quiconque en a senti une fois la beauté forte et simple de ce vigoureux style roman-auvergnat, dont l’origine demeure mystérieuse, n’oublie plus ces églises, solides, trapues, ramassées, dont l’ordonnance extérieure, au lieu d’être un décor plaqué, reproduit en relief l’ordonnance intérieure. Vue du chevet surtout, avec l’hémicycle de leurs chapelles serrées, accolées contre la masse de l’édifice, elles donnent une saisissante impression d’aplomb et d’unité.”—Paul Bourget, Le demon du midi (Paris, Plon-Nourrit et Cie, 1913).
[209] “Anyone who has once experienced the strong and simple beauty of this robust Romanesque style from Auvergne, whose origins remain mysterious, never forgets these churches, solid, stocky, and compact, where the exterior arrangement, instead of being a superficial decoration, reflects the interior structure in relief. Especially when viewed from the apse, with the semicircle of their closely packed chapels against the bulk of the building, they create a striking impression of stability and unity.” —Paul Bourget, Le demon du midi (Paris, Plon-Nourrit et Cie, 1913).
The feast of Notre Dame-du-Port falls on May 15th, and the city is illuminated with myriads of little lamps.
The celebration of Notre Dame-du-Port takes place on May 15th, and the city is lit up with countless small lights.
[210] Polychrome decoration is to be found everywhere in Auvergne: Royat, Riom, Mozac, Saint-Saturnin, Orcival, Saint-Nectaire (where are some of the best carved capitals in the region), Issoire (observe La cène sculptured on one of its capitals), Le Puy, and Brioude. This latter is one of the most beautiful of XII-century churches, showing Burgundian traits as well as those of Auvergne and the Velay. The influence of the Romanesque school of Auvergne spread to Parthenay, Saintes, Nevers, Toulouse, Santiago, and Avila. Congrès Archéologique, 1904, p. 542, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, on Brioude; Congrès Archéologique, 1895, pp. 96, 238, 292, on Saint-Nectaire; and p. 177, “École romane d’Auvergne,” H. du Ranquet; Bulletin Monumental, 1909, vol. 73, p. 213, “Saint-Nectaire,” Abbé G. Rochias.
[210] Polychrome decoration can be found all over Auvergne: Royat, Riom, Mozac, Saint-Saturnin, Orcival, Saint-Nectaire (home to some of the best-carved capitals in the region), Issoire (check out La cène sculpted on one of its capitals), Le Puy, and Brioude. The latter is one of the most stunning 12th-century churches, showcasing both Burgundian and Auvergne-Velay characteristics. The influence of the Auvergne Romanesque school spread to Parthenay, Saintes, Nevers, Toulouse, Santiago, and Avila. Congrès Archéologique, 1904, p. 542, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, on Brioude; Congrès Archéologique, 1895, pp. 96, 238, 292, on Saint-Nectaire; and p. 177, “École romane d’Auvergne,” H. du Ranquet; Bulletin Monumental, 1909, vol. 73, p. 213, “Saint-Nectaire,” Abbé G. Rochias.
[211] Those who visit Riom (which lies close to Clermont) should go to Aigueperse, eight miles away, to see Mantegna’s St. Sebastian and a Nativity by a brother of Ghirlandajo. As the lord of the region, a Bourbon-Montpensier—who died in 1496, had married the sister of the Gonzaga ruler of Mantua, these treasures probably came through that source. Congrès Archéologique, 1895; and 1913, p. 124, Mozac, Abbé Luzuy; p. 144, Riom, P. Gauchery; Paul Mantz, “Une tournée en Auvergne,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1886; Abbé R. Crégut, La vierge du Mathuret (Clermont-Ferrand, 1902); ibid., Les vitraux de la Sainte-Chapelle de Riom (1906); E. Clouard, Les gens d’autrefois aux XVe et XVIe siècles. (The controversy on the Madonna of the Bird is here summed up); Gondalon, Riom et ses environs (Riom, Jouvet, 1904); A. de Champeaux et P. Gauchery, Les travaux d’art exécutés pour Jean, duc de Berry (Paris, II. Champion, 1891); Camille Eulart, Le musée de sculpture comparée du palais du Trocadéro (on the vierge à l’oiseau), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913).
[211] If you're visiting Riom (which is near Clermont), make sure to check out Aigueperse, eight miles away, to see Mantegna’s St. Sebastian and a Nativity by a brother of Ghirlandajo. The region's lord, a Bourbon-Montpensier who died in 1496, was married to the sister of the Gonzaga ruler of Mantua, so it's likely these treasures came through that connection. Congrès Archéologique, 1895; and 1913, p. 124, Mozac, Abbé Luzuy; p. 144, Riom, P. Gauchery; Paul Mantz, “Une tournée en Auvergne,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1886; Abbé R. Crégut, La vierge du Mathuret (Clermont-Ferrand, 1902); ibid., Les vitraux de la Sainte-Chapelle de Riom (1906); E. Clouard, Les gens d’autrefois aux XVe et XVIe siècles. (The controversy on the Madonna of the Bird is here summed up); Gondalon, Riom et ses environs (Riom, Jouvet, 1904); A. de Champeaux et P. Gauchery, Les travaux d’art exécutés pour Jean, duc de Berry (Paris, II. Champion, 1891); Camille Eulart, Le musée de sculpture comparée du palais du Trocadéro (on the vierge à l’oiseau), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913).
[212] Congrès Archéologique, 1904, pp. 1, 403; Noël Thiollier et Félix Thiollier, L’architecture romane du diocèse du Puy (Le Puy, 1900); Félix Thiollier, Le Forez pittoresque et monumental; Mallay et Noël Thiollier, Monographie de la cathédrale du Puy (Le Puy, 1904); Prosper Merimée, Notes d’un voyage en Auvergne (Paris, 1838), p. 242; Alexis Forel, Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Paul Mantz, “Une tournée en Auvergne,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1887, vols. 35, 36; Louis Villat, Le Velay (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf); Mandet, Histoire de Velay (Le Puy, 1860), 6 vols.; De la Mure, Histoire des ducs de Bourbon et des comtes de Forez; Michel, Auvergne et le Velay (Moulins), 3 vols. and atlas; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 8, p. 467, “Adhémar de Monteil”; p. 514, “Urbain II” (Paris, 1747).
[212] Congrès Archéologique, 1904, pp. 1, 403; Noël Thiollier and Félix Thiollier, L’architecture romane du diocèse du Puy (Le Puy, 1900); Félix Thiollier, Le Forez pittoresque et monumental; Mallay and Noël Thiollier, Monographie de la cathédrale du Puy (Le Puy, 1904); Prosper Merimée, Notes d’un voyage en Auvergne (Paris, 1838), p. 242; Alexis Forel, Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Paul Mantz, “Une tournée en Auvergne,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1887, vols. 35, 36; Louis Villat, Le Velay (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf); Mandet, Histoire de Velay (Le Puy, 1860), 6 vols.; De la Mure, Histoire des ducs de Bourbon et des comtes de Forez; Michel, Auvergne et le Velay (Moulins), 3 vols. and atlas; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 8, p. 467, “Adhémar de Monteil”; p. 514, “Urbain II” (Paris, 1747).
[215] René Fage, La cathédrale de Limoges (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913); Abbé Arbellot, Monographie de la cathédrale de Limoges (Limoges, 1853); A. Petit, “Les six statues du jubé de la cathédrale de Limoges,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1912, vol. 62, p. 144. MM. Émile Mâle, André Michel, and Louis Gonse have written on the jubé; René Fage, “Le clocher limousin à l’époque romane,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1907, vol. 71, p. 262; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Archéologie limousin,” in L’Almanac limousin, 1885; Charles de Lasteyrie, L’abbaye de St. Martial de Limoges (Paris, Picard, 1901); A. Leroux, L’abbaye de St. Martial de Limoges (Toulouse, 1901); ibid., Géographie et histoire du Limousin (Limoges, 1892); Ernest Rupin, L’œuvre de Limoges (Paris, 1890); A. Meyer, L’art de l’émail de Limoges (Paris, 1896); P. Lavedan, Léonard Limosin et les émailleurs français (Collection, Les Grands Artistes), (Paris, H. Laurens). (The meeting for the Congrès Archéologique, 1921, is to be held at Limoges.)
[215] René Fage, The Cathedral of Limoges (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913); Abbé Arbellot, Monograph of the Cathedral of Limoges (Limoges, 1853); A. Petit, “The Six Statues of the Cathedral’s Jube,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1912, vol. 62, p. 144. MM. Émile Mâle, André Michel, and Louis Gonse have written about the jube; René Fage, “The Limousin Bell Tower in the Romanesque Period,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1907, vol. 71, p. 262; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “Limousin Archaeology,” in Limousin Almanac, 1885; Charles de Lasteyrie, The Abbey of St. Martial de Limoges (Paris, Picard, 1901); A. Leroux, The Abbey of St. Martial de Limoges (Toulouse, 1901); ibid., Geography and History of Limousin (Limoges, 1892); Ernest Rupin, The Work of Limoges (Paris, 1890); A. Meyer, The Art of Limoges Enamel (Paris, 1896); P. Lavedan, Leonard Limosin and French Enamelers (Collection, The Great Artists), (Paris, H. Laurens). (The meeting for the Archaeological Congress, 1921, is to be held at Limoges.)
[217] Inferno, xxviii:112-142.
[218] Congrès Archéologique, 1861; Charles Saunier, Bordeaux (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); J. A. Brutails, Les vieilles églises de la Gironde (Bordeaux, Feret et fils, 1912); ibid., “La cathédrale de Bordeaux,” in Le moyen âge, 1899-1901, vols. 12-14; H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale “Bordeaux,” L. de Foucaud, vol. 5, p. 105; Cirot de la Ville, Origines chrétiennes de Bordeaux, ou hist. et descript. de l’église de St. Seurin (Bordeaux, 1867); P. J. O’Reilly, Histoire de Bordeaux (Paris and Bordeaux, 1857), 6 vols.; C. Jullian, Histoire de Bordeaux (Bordeaux, 1895); L. Barron, La Gascogne (Collection, Régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf); ibid., La Garonne (Collection, Fleuves de France), (Paris, H. Laurens); P. Courteault, Histoire de Gascogne (Collection, Les vieilles provinces de France), (Paris, Boivin et Cie).
[218] Archaeological Congress, 1861; Charles Saunier, Bordeaux (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); J. A. Brutails, The Old Churches of Gironde (Bordeaux, Feret et fils, 1912); ibid., “The Cathedral of Bordeaux,” in The Middle Ages, 1899-1901, vols. 12-14; H. Havard, ed., Artistic and Monumental France “Bordeaux,” L. de Foucaud, vol. 5, p. 105; Cirot de la Ville, Christian Origins of Bordeaux, or History and Description of St. Seurin Church (Bordeaux, 1867); P. J. O’Reilly, History of Bordeaux (Paris and Bordeaux, 1857), 6 vols.; C. Jullian, History of Bordeaux (Bordeaux, 1895); L. Barron, Gascony (Collection, Regions of France), (Paris, L. Cerf); ibid., The Garonne (Collection, Rivers of France), (Paris, H. Laurens); P. Courteault, History of Gascony (Collection, The Old Provinces of France), (Paris, Boivin et Cie).
[219] In the nave of the cathedral is the neo-classic tomb of Cardinal de Cheverus, who died, archbishop of Bordeaux, in 1836. Driven out of France at the time of the Revolution, he founded the see of Boston, Massachusetts, in the United States of America.
[219] In the main part of the cathedral is the neo-classical tomb of Cardinal de Cheverus, who passed away as the archbishop of Bordeaux in 1836. Forced out of France during the Revolution, he established the diocese of Boston, Massachusetts, in the United States.
[220] The beautiful cloister of St. Bertrand-de-Comminges belongs to the XII century. In 1536 the Renaissance art prelate, Jean de Mauléon, presented the carved choir stalls. Congrès Archéologique, 1874, p. 249, J. de Laurière; and 1906, p. 79, Louis Serbat; Morel, Essai hist. sur St. Bertrand-de-Comminges; d’Agos, Description de l’église cathédrale de Comminges.
[220] The beautiful cloister of St. Bertrand-de-Comminges dates back to the 12th century. In 1536, the Renaissance art prelate, Jean de Mauléon, added the carved choir stalls. Congrès Archéologique, 1874, p. 249, J. de Laurière; and 1906, p. 79, Louis Serbat; Morel, Essai hist. sur St. Bertrand-de-Comminges; d’Agos, Description de l’église cathédrale de Comminges.
[221] The cathedral of Bayonne was begun about 1135 under Aliénor of Aquitaine’s father. The choir is of that century; the nave was finished about 1335, and some of its sculptures, showing the national crest with the arms of both England and France, recall the short sovereignty in France of Henry V and Henry VI. The cloister of Bayonne ranks with those of Elne and Arles. A transept is indicated merely by the spacing of bays. The XII-century tower was rebuilt from 1501 to 1544. The interior of the cathedral is more firm than it is graceful, owing to the piers being six feet square and to an excessive sobriety in ornamentation. Congrès Archéologique, 1888.
[221] The Bayonne Cathedral was started around 1135 during the reign of Aliénor of Aquitaine’s father. The choir dates back to that century; the nave was completed around 1335, and some of its sculptures, displaying the national crest with the arms of both England and France, reflect the brief rule of Henry V and Henry VI in France. The cloister of Bayonne is on par with those in Elne and Arles. The transept is only indicated by the spacing of the bays. The 12th-century tower was rebuilt between 1501 and 1544. The interior of the cathedral is sturdier than elegant, due to the piers being six feet square and an excessive simplicity in decoration. Congrès Archéologique, 1888.
[223] Congrès Archéologique, 1874 and 1906; H. Graillot, Toulouse et Carcassonne (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Jules de Lahondès, Toulouse chrétienne; l’église de St. Étienne, cathédrale de Toulouse; ibid., “Les chapiteaux de St. Sernin de Toulouse,” in Mém. de la Soc. archéol. du Midi de la France, 1897; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “St. Sernin,” in Album des monuments du Midi de la France, 1897; in Bulletin Monumental, 1899; and in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1905, vol. 48, p. 145; Abbé Lestrade, Histoire de l’art à Toulouse (Toulouse, 1907); H. L. Gillet, Histoire artistique des ordres mendiants (Paris, 1912); A. Marignan, Histoire de la sculpture en Languedoc des XIe et XIIIe siècles (Paris, Bouillon, 1902); Alexis Forel, Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Roschach, Le musée de Toulouse, “Inventoire des richesses d’art de la France: ministère de l’instruction publique” (vol. 8), (Paris, 1908), 4to; Martin, L’art roman en France (Paris, 1910); H. Revoil, L’architecture romane du Midi de la France (Paris, 1873-90), 3 vols.; R. de Lasteyrie, L’architecture religieuse en France à l’époque romane (Paris, 1912); Vie et Vaissette, supplemented by Du Mège, Molinier, and Roschach, Nouvelle histoire de Languedoc (Toulouse, Privat, 1872-92), 15 vols.
[223] Archaeological Congress, 1874 and 1906; H. Graillot, Toulouse and Carcassonne (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); Jules de Lahondès, Christian Toulouse; the church of St. Étienne, cathedral of Toulouse; ibid., “The capitals of St. Sernin de Toulouse,” in Memoirs of the Archaeological Society of the South of France, 1897; Anthyme Saint-Paul, “St. Sernin,” in Album of Monuments in the South of France, 1897; in Monumental Bulletin, 1899; and in Review of Christian Art, 1905, vol. 48, p. 145; Abbé Lestrade, History of Art in Toulouse (Toulouse, 1907); H. L. Gillet, Artistic History of the Mendicant Orders (Paris, 1912); A. Marignan, History of Sculpture in Languedoc in the 11th and 13th Centuries (Paris, Bouillon, 1902); Alexis Forel, Journey to the Land of Roman Sculptors (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.; Roschach, The Museum of Toulouse, “Inventory of Art Treasures in France: Ministry of Public Instruction” (vol. 8), (Paris, 1908), 4to; Martin, Romanesque Art in France (Paris, 1910); H. Revoil, Romanesque Architecture in the South of France (Paris, 1873-90), 3 vols.; R. de Lasteyrie, Religious Architecture in France during the Romanesque Period (Paris, 1912); Vie and Vaissette, supplemented by Du Mège, Molinier, and Roschach, New History of Languedoc (Toulouse, Privat, 1872-92), 15 vols.
[224] Frédéric Mistral, Poèmes (Paris, Charpentier-Fasquelle, 1912).
[226] From the Chapelle de Rieux at the Cordeliers came some curious statues which are now in the Museum of Toulouse. Their date is certain, 1324 to 1348, yet their realism is of the XV century. Again Languedoc proved precocious in sculpture. In the Museum is a XIV-century statue of Bishop Guillaume Durandus, author of Rationale.
[226] Some interesting statues from the Chapelle de Rieux at the Cordeliers can now be found in the Museum of Toulouse. They are definitely dated between 1324 and 1348, but their realistic style reflects that of the 15th century. Once again, Languedoc demonstrated an early mastery in sculpture. The Museum also has a 14th-century statue of Bishop Guillaume Durandus, the author of Rationale.
[227] When Moissac was affiliated with Cluny and reformed, its church was rebuilt by Abbot Durand, whose image adorns a pier of the cloister’s east gallery. The walls of the nave belong to the edifice consecrated in 1063. That church of three aisles was remade with cupolas and blessed in 1180, and of the same date are the fortified narthex and its tower. Owing to those defenses the celebrated portal is in the south wall of the porch, not in the church axis. The Gothic ribs beneath the tower are rectangular and three feet wide. In the XIV century the cupolas were replaced by diagonals. The cloisters were begun about 1100 under Abbot Ansquitil, who made the pier images, also the marble parts of the portal, its trumeau, and the Visitation. Abbot Roger (1115-31) finished the cloisters, inscribing the carved Scripture scenes of the capitals. During the first quarter of the XII century Moissac’s imagery passed from the squat, coarsely executed figures of the cloister piers to the appealing, etherealized types—“fluides créations du Languedoc”—the Annunciation group. Mr. A. Kingsley Porter thinks that door-jamb-figure sculpture was first used by Guglielmo at Modena Cathedral (c. 1100), and from Italy passed into southern France. The current of art flowed in the opposite direction, too, for the coupled colonnettes, typical of the Romanesque cloisters of Provence, Languedoc, and Spain, soon found their way across the Alps, where early examples are to be seen at Verona and Aosta, and at the cathedral door of Verona are Languedoc’s elongated figures with crossed feet. The Portico de la gloria at Santiago sets forth the vision of John the Beloved at Patmos quite as Moissac’s tympanum presents it. Congrès Archéologique, 1901, vol. 2, pp. 43, 303; E. Rupin, Abbaye et les cloîtres de Moissac (Paris, Picard, 1897); André Michel, “Sculpture romane de Moissac,” in Bull. de la Soc. Archéol. du Midi de la France, 1899 to 1901; Roger Peyre, Padoue et Vérone (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[227] When Moissac was linked to Cluny and underwent reform, its church was rebuilt by Abbot Durand, whose image decorates a pier in the cloister’s east gallery. The walls of the nave come from the building consecrated in 1063. This three-aisle church was redesigned with cupolas and blessed in 1180, and the fortified narthex and its tower date from the same time. Because of those defenses, the famous portal is located on the south wall of the porch, rather than along the church's axis. The Gothic ribs beneath the tower are rectangular and three feet wide. In the 14th century, the cupolas were replaced by diagonal supports. The cloisters began around 1100 under Abbot Ansquitil, who created the pier images, as well as the marble parts of the portal, its trumeau, and the Visitation. Abbot Roger (1115-31) completed the cloisters, carving biblical scenes into the capitals. During the early 12th century, Moissac’s artwork transitioned from the squat, roughly made figures of the cloister piers to more appealing, ethereal types—“fluides créations du Languedoc”—like the Annunciation group. Mr. A. Kingsley Porter suggests that door-jamb-figure sculpture was first used by Guglielmo at Modena Cathedral (c. 1100), and from Italy, this style spread to southern France. The flow of art also went the other way, as the paired colonnettes typical of Romanesque cloisters in Provence, Languedoc, and Spain soon made their way across the Alps, with early examples found in Verona and Aosta, and the cathedral door in Verona displaying Languedoc’s elongated figures with crossed feet. The Portico de la gloria at Santiago depicts the vision of John the Beloved at Patmos just as Moissac’s tympanum does. Congrès Archéologique, 1901, vol. 2, pp. 43, 303; E. Rupin, Abbaye et les cloîtres de Moissac (Paris, Picard, 1897); André Michel, “Sculpture romane de Moissac,” in Bull. de la Soc. Archéol. du Midi de la France, 1899 to 1901; Roger Peyre, Padoue et Vérone (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[228] The master of French iconography, M. Émile Mâle, is on the eve of publishing a work on XII-century imagery, of which he says, “The art of Languedoc undulates like a flame in the wind, that of Provence seems cast in bronze.”
[228] The expert in French iconography, M. Émile Mâle, is about to release a new book on 12th-century imagery, in which he remarks, “The art of Languedoc flows like a flame in the breeze, while that of Provence appears to be sculpted in bronze.”
[229] Paradiso, xii:70-73.
"Ben parve messo e familiari di Cristo.”
(“Dominic was he named; and I speak of him as of the husbandman whom Christ chose for his orchard to bring aid to it. Well did he show himself a messenger and a familiar of Christ.”)
(“His name was Dominic, and I speak of him as the farmer whom Christ chose for his orchard to give it support. He truly proved himself to be a messenger and a close companion of Christ.”)
[230] Douais, L’Inquisition, ses origines, sa procédure (Paris, 1906); A. Molinier, L’Inquisition dans le Midi de la France au XIIIe et au XIVe siècles (Paris, 1880); Vacandard, L’Inquisition; étude historique et critique sur le pouvoir coercitif de l’église (Paris, 1907), (tr. London and New York, Longmans, Green & Co., 1908); Jean Guiraud, Histoire patiale, histoire vraie (Paris, 1911); ibid., Questions d’histoire et d’archéologie chrétienne (Paris, 1906); ibid., St. Dominique (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1909), (tr. London, Washburne, 1913); C. M. Antony, In St. Dominic’s Country (London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1912); Mortier, Histoire des maîtres généraux de l’Ordre des Frères Prêcheurs (Paris, 1903), 5 vols.
[230] Douais, The Inquisition, Its Origins, Its Procedures (Paris, 1906); A. Molinier, The Inquisition in the South of France in the 13th and 14th Centuries (Paris, 1880); Vacandard, The Inquisition: A Historical and Critical Study of the Coercive Power of the Church (Paris, 1907), (tr. London and New York, Longmans, Green & Co., 1908); Jean Guiraud, True History, Real History (Paris, 1911); ibid., Issues of Christian History and Archaeology (Paris, 1906); ibid., St. Dominic (Collection, The Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1909), (tr. London, Washburne, 1913); C. M. Antony, In St. Dominic’s Country (London, Longmans, Green & Co., 1912); Mortier, History of the Masters General of the Order of Preachers (Paris, 1903), 5 vols.
[231] Jean Guiraud, Cartulaire de Notre Dame-de-Prouille (Paris, Picard, 1907), 2 vols. Vol. 1 is the ablest exposition of the Albigensian tenets; A. Molinier, “L’Albigeisme languedocien au XIIe et XIIIe siècles,” in Histoire de Languedoc, vol. 1 (Toulouse, Privat, 1872-92), 15 vols.; C. Douais, Les Albigeois; action de l’église au XIIIe siècle (Paris, 1889); A. Luchaire, Innocent III; la croisade des Albigeois (Paris, Hachette, 1905).
[231] Jean Guiraud, Cartulaire de Notre Dame-de-Prouille (Paris, Picard, 1907), 2 vols. Vol. 1 is the most comprehensive explanation of the Albigensian beliefs; A. Molinier, “L’Albigeisme languedocien au XIIe et XIIIe siècles,” in Histoire de Languedoc, vol. 1 (Toulouse, Privat, 1872-92), 15 vols.; C. Douais, Les Albigeois; action de l’église au XIIIe siècle (Paris, 1889); A. Luchaire, Innocent III; la croisade des Albigeois (Paris, Hachette, 1905).
[232] “Les vainqueurs mettent à sac toutes les maisons au nombre de 7000.... Si trouvèrent en la ville grant avoir; si en prisent donquel qu’ils veurent et le remanant ils ardirent. Là eut grant persécution d’hommes, de femmes et d’enfans, dont ce fut pitié.”—Froissart, book I, chap. lxxvi.
[232] “The victors plunder all the houses, about 7,000 in total.... They found great wealth in the city; they took whatever they wanted and burned the rest. There was a great persecution of men, women, and children, which was very sad.”—Froissart, book I, chap. lxxvi.
[233] Paul Fournier, St. Raymond de Pennafort (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre). St. Raymond’s life, from 1175 to 1275, covers one of the most vital centuries in history. He helped St. Peter Nolasco found the Order of Mercy to redeem Christian captives from Islam; he founded chairs for the study of Oriental languages; he reformed morals by his preaching. A voluntary teacher of philosophy at twenty, then a trained lawyer, it was not till he was touching the half-century limit that he entered the Dominican Order, of which he became the head. For fifty more years he gave himself up to works for humanity’s advancement.
[233] Paul Fournier, St. Raymond de Pennafort (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre). St. Raymond’s life, from 1175 to 1275, spans one of the most important centuries in history. He assisted St. Peter Nolasco in founding the Order of Mercy to rescue Christian captives from Islam; he established positions for the study of Eastern languages; and he improved moral standards through his preaching. A voluntary philosophy teacher at twenty, and later a trained lawyer, he didn't join the Dominican Order until he was nearly fifty, eventually becoming its leader. For another fifty years, he dedicated himself to advancing humanity.
[234] Congrès Archéologique, 1863; Jean Laran, La cathédrale d’Albi (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); H. Crozes, Monographie de la cathédrale de Ste. Cécile d’Albi, 1873; E. d’Auriac, Histoire de l’ancienne cathédrale et des évêques d’Albi (Paris, 1858); Abbé A. Aurial, “La voûte de Ste-Cécile d’Albi,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1913, p. 91; Prosper Merimée, Notes d’un voyage dans le Midi de la France (1835); B. L. de Rivières, “Les églises d’Albi,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1873, vol. 39, p. 194; Taylor et Nodier, Voyages pittoresques dans l’ancienne France. Languedoc (Paris, Didot, 1833-37), 2 vols.
[234] Archaeological Congress, 1863; Jean Laran, The Cathedral of Albi (Collection, Small Monographs), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); H. Crozes, Monograph of the Cathedral of St. Cecilia in Albi, 1873; E. d’Auriac, History of the Old Cathedral and the Bishops of Albi (Paris, 1858); Abbé A. Aurial, “The Vault of St. Cecilia in Albi,” in Review of Christian Art, 1913, p. 91; Prosper Merimée, Notes from a Trip in the South of France (1835); B. L. de Rivières, “The Churches of Albi,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1873, vol. 39, p. 194; Taylor and Nodier, Picturesque Travels in Ancient France. Languedoc (Paris, Didot, 1833-37), 2 vols.
[236] The cathedral of Auch, which can be visited from Toulouse, was rebuilt (1371) by a nephew of Innocent VI, and again, after a fire in 1483. It is quite devoid of capitals. The façade is neo-classic. The choir stalls (1520-29) are masterpieces; Italianate fawns and Bacchantes are placed beside sacred personages. The magnificent windows, of the transition between Flamboyant Gothic and Renaissance, were the work of Arnaud de Moles (1507-13); their portrait studies are like Holbein’s pictures. Abbé Canéto, Notice sur l’église metro. de Ste. Marie d’Auch and Congrès Archéologique, 1901.
[236] The cathedral of Auch, which you can visit from Toulouse, was rebuilt in 1371 by a nephew of Innocent VI, and again after a fire in 1483. It has no capitals. The façade is neo-classical. The choir stalls (1520-29) are masterpieces; Italian-style fawns and Bacchantes are placed next to sacred figures. The stunning windows, representing the transition between Flamboyant Gothic and Renaissance, were created by Arnaud de Moles (1507-13); their portrait studies resemble Holbein’s works. Abbé Canéto, Notice sur l’église metro. de Ste. Marie d’Auch and Congrès Archéologique, 1901.
The cathedral of Rodez, some fifty miles west from Albi, built its grand Flamboyant tower, la couronne, from 1510 to 1526, under the Blessed François d’Estaing. The Romanesque cathedral at Rodez was supplanted by the present one in 1277. The works flagged, however, and the nave was built as late-Gothic by Bishop Guillaume de la Tour d’Oliergues and a nephew who succeeded him. The west façade was left bare, since there the church overlooked the ramparts; to it were added later a rose window and a Flamboyant gallery. G. de Cogny, in Bulletin Monumental, 1874, vol. 39; Bion de Marlavagne, Cathédrale de Rodez (Paris, 1875).
The cathedral of Rodez, about fifty miles west of Albi, built its impressive Flamboyant tower, la couronne, between 1510 and 1526, under the guidance of Blessed François d’Estaing. The earlier Romanesque cathedral at Rodez was replaced by the current one in 1277. However, the construction slowed down, and the nave was completed in a late-Gothic style by Bishop Guillaume de la Tour d’Oliergues and a nephew who followed him. The west façade remained unfinished since it overlooked the ramparts; later on, a rose window and a Flamboyant gallery were added. G. de Cogny, in Bulletin Monumental, 1874, vol. 39; Bion de Marlavagne, Cathédrale de Rodez (Paris, 1875).
[237] Congrès Archéologique, 1868; and 1906, J. de Lahondès; Viollet-le-Duc, La cité de Carcassonne (Paris, 1858); H. Graillot, Toulouse et Carcassonne (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Fédié, Histoire de Carcassonne (Carcassonne, 1887); C. Douais, Soumission de la vicomté de Carcassonne par Simon de Montfort; Cros-Meyrevieille, Histoire des comtes de Carcassonne (1845), 2 vols.; Gaston Jourdanne, La cité de Carcassonne (1905).
[237] Archaeological Congress, 1868; and 1906, J. de Lahondès; Viollet-le-Duc, The City of Carcassonne (Paris, 1858); H. Graillot, Toulouse and Carcassonne (Collection, Famous Artistic Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); L. Fédié, History of Carcassonne (Carcassonne, 1887); C. Douais, The Submission of the Viscountcy of Carcassonne by Simon de Montfort; Cros-Meyrevieille, History of the Counts of Carcassonne (1845), 2 vols.; Gaston Jourdanne, The City of Carcassonne (1905).
[238] Louis Serbat, in Congrès Archéologique, 1868 and 1906; L. Narbonne, La cathédrale de Narbonne, 1901; Victor Mortet, “Notes historiques et archéologiques sur la cathédrale de Narbonne,” in Annales du Midi, vol. 10, p. 401; vol. 11, pp. 273 and 439—also printed separately (Toulouse, Privat, and Paris, Picard, 1899); F. Pradel, Mono, graphie de l’église St. Juste de Narbonne (Narbonne, Caillard, 1884); Ch. Lentheric, Les villes mortes du Golfe de Lyon: Narbonne, Maguelonne, Aigues-Mortes, Arles, Les Saintes-Mariés (Paris, Plon, 1883); “École gothique religieuse du Midi de la France,” in Positions des thèses soutenues par les élèves de l’École des chartes en 1909; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 32, p. 474, on Gilles Aycelin, archbishop of Narbonne and Rouen, Léopold Delisle.
[238] Louis Serbat, in Congrès Archéologique, 1868 and 1906; L. Narbonne, La cathédrale de Narbonne, 1901; Victor Mortet, “Historical and Archaeological Notes on the Cathedral of Narbonne,” in Annales du Midi, vol. 10, p. 401; vol. 11, pp. 273 and 439—also published separately (Toulouse, Privat, and Paris, Picard, 1899); F. Pradel, Monograph of the Church of St. Juste in Narbonne (Narbonne, Caillard, 1884); Ch. Lentheric, The Ghost Towns of the Gulf of Lyon: Narbonne, Maguelonne, Aigues-Mortes, Arles, Les Saintes-Mariés (Paris, Plon, 1883); “Gothic Religious School of the South of France,” in Positions of the Theses Presented by the Students of the École des Chartes in 1909; Literary History of France, vol. 32, p. 474, on Gilles Aycelin, archbishop of Narbonne and Rouen, Léopold Delisle.
[239] For the other churches at Narbonne, see the Congrès Archéologique, 1906. M. Lefèvre-Pontalis devotes a study to St. Paul Serge (p. 345), whose choir was built from 1229 to 1244. In the transept are vestiges of the primitive church. Two bays of the nave are of the XIV century, and the others are XII-century work redone in the XIII. To bind together the bulging walls, flat arches were thrown over the central vessel at the level of the pier arches. The church presents such peculiarities in the Midi as circulation passages at different levels round the edifice. There are false tribune arches, and over the pier arcade a passageway is maneuvered. Sergius Paulus was the first to preach Christianity in the city. In Narbonne’s valuable Museum are classic vestiges of the city’s great day under the Roman Empire. Many of the classic marble columns are to-day in the mosque at Cordova. Ch. E. Schmidt, Cordoue, Grenade (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[239] For the other churches in Narbonne, see the Congrès Archéologique, 1906. M. Lefèvre-Pontalis focuses on St. Paul Serge (p. 345), whose choir was built between 1229 and 1244. In the transept, there are remnants of the original church. Two bays of the nave date back to the 14th century, while the others are 12th-century work updated in the 13th century. To stabilize the bulging walls, flat arches were placed above the central nave at the level of the pier arches. The church features unique characteristics of the Midi, like circulation passages at different levels around the building. There are fake tribune arches, and a passageway runs above the pier arcade. Sergius Paulus was the first to spread Christianity in the city. Narbonne’s precious Museum houses classic remnants of the city’s glorious past during the Roman Empire. Many of the classic marble columns are now in the mosque in Cordova. Ch. E. Schmidt, Cordoue, Grenade (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[240] The Cistercian abbey of Fontfroide lies in a wild gorge some six miles from Narbonne. The church, begun in the middle of the XII century, was roofed with a pointed cradle vault. The cloister, like that at Tarragona, was covered with bombé vaults on eight ribs. Little marble columns support the Gothic masonry roof of the chapter house, which, like Poblet’s, opens by arcades on the cloister. Twelve monks from Fontfroide founded Poblet in 1150. The countess who ruled Narbonne for sixty years confirmed the abbey charter in 1157: ” I, Ermengarde, give to God and the Blessed Mary, to Abbot Vital and the present and future servants of God, the lands of Fontfroide,” runs her deed of gift. Doubly is a nation robbed when monastic lands are held by private individuals who assume no responsibility toward the public, as did a majority of the ancient houses, before royalty named its favorites as their abbots. Even as vast tracts were granted to nobles that they might perform gratis the military defense of a land, so monasteries were expected to give payment for their domains, by voluntary services to civilization. J. de Lahondès, in Congrès Archéologique, 1906, p. 61; Calvert, Études historiques sur Fontfroide (1875); G. Desdevises du Dézert, Barcelone et les grands sanctuaires d’art catalan (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[240] The Cistercian abbey of Fontfroide is located in a rugged gorge about six miles from Narbonne. The church, which started construction in the middle of the 12th century, features a pointed cradle vault for its roof. The cloister, similar to that in Tarragona, is topped with bombé vaults supported by eight ribs. Delicate marble columns hold up the Gothic masonry roof of the chapter house, which, like Poblet’s, opens onto the cloister through arcades. Twelve monks from Fontfroide established Poblet in 1150. The countess who governed Narbonne for sixty years confirmed the abbey's charter in 1157: “I, Ermengarde, give to God and the Blessed Mary, to Abbot Vital and the present and future servants of God, the lands of Fontfroide,” says her deed of gift. A nation is doubly robbed when monastic lands are owned by individuals who bear no responsibility to the public, as was the case with many ancient houses before royalty appointed their favorites as abbots. Just as large areas were granted to nobles so they could provide military defense for the land without charge, monasteries were expected to compensate for their domains by offering voluntary services to society. J. de Lahondès, in Congrès Archéologique, 1906, p. 61; Calvert, Études historiques sur Fontfroide (1875); G. Desdevises du Dézert, Barcelone et les grands sanctuaires d’art catalan (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[241] Perpignan’s aisleless cathedral of St. Jean was begun in 1324 and finished, as the century ended, under the kings of Majorca, who then ruled the Roussillon. The transept ends are apsidal below and pentagonal above. Beside it stands an older St. Jean, dedicated in 1025. The see originally was at Elne, where the cathedral was rebuilt in the XI century; lotus leaves are carved on the capitals of its lovely marble cloister (c. 1175). Congrès Archéologique, 1868; and 1906, p. 109, Perpignan; p. 135, Elne; E. de Barthélemy, ” Le cloître de la ville d’Elne,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1857, vol. 23; Bernard Palustre,” Perpignan et ses monuments,” in Revue d’hist. et d’archéol du Roussillon, 1905; Auguste Brutails, ” Notes sur l’art religieux du Roussillon,” in Bulletin archéol. du comité des traveaux hist. et scientifique, 1892, No. 4; 1893, No. 3; P. Vidal, Histoire de la ville de Perpignan (Paris, 1897); P. Vidal et J. Calmette, Le Roussillon (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf, 1909); J. de Gazanyola, Histoire de Roussillon (Perpignan, Alzinc, 1857); Isabel Savory, Romantic Roussillon (London, Unwin, 1919).
[241] Perpignan’s cathedral of St. Jean, which has no aisles, started construction in 1324 and was completed by the end of the century under the kings of Majorca, who governed Roussillon at that time. The ends of the transept are rounded below and five-sided above. Next to it is an older St. Jean, which was dedicated in 1025. The original seat of the bishopric was in Elne, where the cathedral was rebuilt in the 11th century; lotus leaves are carved on the capitals of its beautiful marble cloister (c. 1175). Congrès Archéologique, 1868; and 1906, p. 109, Perpignan; p. 135, Elne; E. de Barthélemy, ” Le cloître de la ville d’Elne,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1857, vol. 23; Bernard Palustre,” Perpignan et ses monuments,” in Revue d’hist. et d’archéol du Roussillon, 1905; Auguste Brutails, ” Notes sur l’art religieux du Roussillon,” in Bulletin archéol. du comité des traveaux hist. et scientifique, 1892, No. 4; 1893, No. 3; P. Vidal, Histoire de la ville de Perpignan (Paris, 1897); P. Vidal et J. Calmette, Le Roussillon (Collection, Les régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf, 1909); J. de Gazanyola, Histoire de Roussillon (Perpignan, Alzinc, 1857); Isabel Savory, Romantic Roussillon (London, Unwin, 1919).
[242] Eugène Müntz, Les constructions du pope Urbain V à Montpellier, 1364-70 (Paris, 1900); Jean Guiraud, Les fondations du pape Urbain V à Montpellier (Montpellier, 1899), 3 vols.; G. E. Lefenestre, Le musée de Montpellier (vol. 1, p. 189, “Inventaire des richesses d’art de la France: ministère de l’instruction publique”), (Paris, 1878); Émile Bonnet, Antiquités et monuments du département de l’Hérault (Montpellier, 1908); Abbé M. Chaillon, Le bienheureux Urbain V, 1310-70 (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1911); A Germain, Maguelonne, étude historique et archéologique; A Fabrége, Histoire de Maguelonne (Montpellier, 1900), 2 vols.
[242] Eugène Müntz, The Constructions of Pope Urban V in Montpellier, 1364-70 (Paris, 1900); Jean Guiraud, The Foundations of Pope Urban V in Montpellier (Montpellier, 1899), 3 vols.; G. E. Lefenestre, The Museum of Montpellier (vol. 1, p. 189, “Inventory of the Artistic Treasures of France: Ministry of Public Instruction”), (Paris, 1878); Émile Bonnet, Antiquities and Monuments of the Hérault Department (Montpellier, 1908); Abbé M. Chaillon, Blessed Urban V, 1310-70 (Collection, The Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1911); A Germain, Maguelonne, Historical and Archaeological Study; A Fabrége, History of Maguelonne (Montpellier, 1900), 2 vols.
[244] To the northwest of Montpellier, near Aniane, is St. Guilhem-le-Désert, with blind niches in its exterior apse wall that derive from such Lombard churches as S. Ambrogio at Milan. Lombard towers, arched corbel tables, and mural arcaded bands passed from northern Italy into Languedoc. The early intersecting ribs here were exceptional for the Midi in being profiled. The nave and aisles are of the first half of the XI century, the chevet and transept of the early XII, as is the cloister, which once had a second story. The narthex was built from 1165 to 1199. The first duke of Aquitaine, Aliénor’s ancestor, died here, a monk. Congrès Archéologique, 1906, p. 384; “L’église abbatiale de St. Guilhem-le-Désert,” Émile Bonnet; Joseph Bédier, Les légendes épiques, vol. 1, “St. Guillaume de Gellone” (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.
[244] To the northwest of Montpellier, near Aniane, is St. Guilhem-le-Désert, featuring blind niches in its outer apse wall that are influenced by Lombard churches like S. Ambrogio in Milan. Lombard towers, arched corbel tables, and mural arcaded bands made their way from northern Italy into Languedoc. The early intersecting ribs here were noteworthy for the Midi due to their profiling. The nave and aisles date back to the first half of the 11th century, while the chevet and transept are from the early 12th century, as is the cloister, which once had a second story. The narthex was constructed between 1165 and 1199. The first duke of Aquitaine, an ancestor of Aliénor, passed away here as a monk. Congrès Archéologique, 1906, p. 384; “L’église abbatiale de St. Guilhem-le-Désert,” Émile Bonnet; Joseph Bédier, Les légendes épiques, vol. 1, “St. Guillaume de Gellone” (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.
[245] Innocent III was the best type of the theory, enunciated by Boniface VIII as the XIII century closed, that civil rulers derive their power from religious authority. Leo XIII, in the encyclical Immortale Dei, November, 1885, set aside that claim. Each should keep to its own sphere, he said, one is not subordinate to the other; civil authorities are to attend to human affairs, and spiritual authorities to divine things. With every monarch in Europe appealing to him for his arbitration, it is little wonder that Innocent III should have held the views he did.
[245] Innocent III was the perfect example of the theory laid out by Boniface VIII as the 13th century came to an end, which stated that civil rulers get their power from religious authority. Leo XIII, in the encyclical Immortale Dei, published in November 1885, rejected that idea. He argued that each should stick to its own area; neither is subordinate to the other. Civil authorities should manage human affairs, while spiritual authorities should handle divine matters. With every monarch in Europe seeking his arbitration, it’s no surprise that Innocent III held these views.
[246] Mende lies in the mountains of western Languedoc. Its cathedral was begun (1365) under the auspices of Urban V, whose statue stands in the square close by. Practically it is a XV-century church, without capitals, flying buttresses, or transept. During twelve years the architect was Pierre Juglar, an associate, at Riom, of those Flamboyant Gothic masters, the Dammartin brothers. The cathedral was finished with its two towers in 1512. From 1286 to 1296 the bishop of Mende was Guillaume Durandus, author of Rationale, the famous book on church symbolism. He was governor under the popes of the marches of Ancona and the Romagna, and led the papal forces in battle. The Italian city of Castel Duranti was named after him. When he died at Rome in 1296, Giovanni Cosmati made his tomb, a masterpiece in the only Gothic church of Rome, Santa-Maria-sopra-Minerva. Urban V was generous also to St. Flour (which lies south of Mende), whose abbatial was rebuilt in the XIV century; John XXII had raised it to cathedral rank in 1317. Congrès Archéologique, 1857, Mende.
[246] Mende is located in the mountains of western Languedoc. The construction of its cathedral began in 1365, sponsored by Urban V, whose statue stands in the nearby square. Essentially, it is a 15th-century church, lacking capitals, flying buttresses, or a transept. The architect for twelve years was Pierre Juglar, an associate in Riom of the Flamboyant Gothic masters, the Dammartin brothers. The cathedral was completed with its two towers in 1512. From 1286 to 1296, the bishop of Mende was Guillaume Durandus, the author of Rationale, the well-known book on church symbolism. He served as governor under the popes in the marches of Ancona and the Romagna and commanded the papal forces in battle. The Italian city of Castel Duranti was named after him. When he passed away in Rome in 1296, Giovanni Cosmati created his tomb, a masterpiece in Rome's only Gothic church, Santa-Maria-sopra-Minerva. Urban V was also generous to St. Flour (located south of Mende), which had its abbey rebuilt in the 14th century; John XXII elevated it to cathedral status in 1317. Congrès Archéologique, 1857, Mende.
[247] Nothing now at St. Victor’s, Marseilles, is earlier than the XI century. A pre-Gothic use of diagonal ribs (with Lombard rectangular profiles) cropped out here, yet when the upper church was remodeled in the XIII century, Romanesque vaulting was used. Urban V rebuilt the transept, made the square apse, and raised the battlemented towers. When he visited Marseilles in 1373 every man in the city ceased his work to welcome him. As it was his desire to be buried in his former abbey, his remains were brought hither in 1372, and his successor, Gregory XI, raised a sumptuous Gothic monument forty feet in height. Abbé A. d’Agnel, “L’abbaye de St. Victor de Marseilles,” in Bulletin historique et philosophique, 1906, p. 364; Eugène Müntz, “St. Victor, Marseilles,” in Gazette Archéol., 1884.
[247] Nothing at St. Victor’s in Marseilles dates earlier than the 11th century. A pre-Gothic style using diagonal ribs (with Lombard rectangular profiles) is evident here, but when the upper church was remodeled in the 13th century, Romanesque vaulting was employed. Urban V rebuilt the transept, created the square apse, and raised the battlemented towers. When he visited Marseilles in 1373, every man in the city stopped working to welcome him. Since he wanted to be buried in his former abbey, his remains were brought here in 1372, and his successor, Gregory XI, erected an elaborate Gothic monument that stands forty feet tall. Abbé A. d’Agnel, “L’abbaye de St. Victor de Marseilles,” in Bulletin historique et philosophique, 1906, p. 364; Eugène Müntz, “St. Victor, Marseilles,” in Gazette Archéol., 1884.
[248] In his short time in Rome Urban V gave commissions for art works to Giottino and the sons of Taddeo Gaddi, and he had made the precious shrine for the relics of St. Peter and St. Paul in the Lateran. (See Eugène Müntz in the Cronique des Arts for 1880.)
[248] During his brief time in Rome, Urban V commissioned art pieces from Giottino and the sons of Taddeo Gaddi, and he created the beautiful shrine for the relics of St. Peter and St. Paul in the Lateran. (See Eugène Müntz in the Cronique des Arts for 1880.)
[250] Congrès Archéologique, 1909, p. 183; J. Ch. Roux, Aigues-Mortes (Paris, Bloud et Cie, 1910); F. Em. di Pietro, Histoire d’Aigues-Mortes (Paris, 1849); Marius Topin, Aigues-Mortes (Nîmes, 1865); Abbé H. Aigon, Aigues-Mortes, ville de St. Louis (1908); H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 3, p. 145; Ch. Lenthéric, Le littoral d’Aigues-Mortes au XIIIe et au XIVe siècles (Nîmes, 1870); Vie. (Dom) et Vaissette (Dom), Histoire de Languedoc, vol. 7, p. 107, 3d éd.; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 1, pp. 378, 390; vol. 9, p. 182.
[250] Congrès Archéologique, 1909, p. 183; J. Ch. Roux, Aigues-Mortes (Paris, Bloud et Cie, 1910); F. Em. di Pietro, Histoire d’Aigues-Mortes (Paris, 1849); Marius Topin, Aigues-Mortes (Nîmes, 1865); Abbé H. Aigon, Aigues-Mortes, ville de St. Louis (1908); H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 3, p. 145; Ch. Lenthéric, Le littoral d’Aigues-Mortes au XIIIe et au XIVe siècles (Nîmes, 1870); Vie. (Dom) et Vaissette (Dom), Histoire de Languedoc, vol. 7, p. 107, 3d éd.; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 1, pp. 378, 390; vol. 9, p. 182.
[252] Congrès Archéologique, 1897, p. 98; and 1909, p. 168, L. H. Labande; J. Ch. Roux, St. Gilles, sa légende, son abbaye, ses coutumes (Paris, Lemerre, 1910), 4to; J. Hubidos, Histoire et décoration de l’église abbatiale de St. Gilles (Nîmes, 1906); De Lasteyrie, Étude sur la sculpture française au moyen áge (Paris, 1902); A. Marignan, L’école de sculpture de Provence du XIIe au XIIIe siècle; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 19, p. 268, Clement IV (Paris, 1838); Forel, Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols; W. Vöge, Die Anfänge des monumentalen Styls.
[252] Congrès Archéologique, 1897, p. 98; and 1909, p. 168, L. H. Labande; J. Ch. Roux, St. Gilles, its legend, its abbey, its customs (Paris, Lemerre, 1910), 4to; J. Hubidos, History and decoration of the abbatial church of St. Gilles (Nîmes, 1906); De Lasteyrie, Study on French sculpture in the Middle Ages (Paris, 1902); A. Marignan, The sculpture school of Provence from the 12th to the 13th century; Literary history of France, vol. 19, p. 268, Clement IV (Paris, 1838); Forel, Journey to the land of Roman sculptors (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols; W. Vöge, The beginnings of monumental style.
[254] Les Saintes-Maries is a desolate village of the Camargue, on the sea by the “Rhone of St. Gilles,” six miles to the west of the big Rhone. The crenelated fortress-church replaced, in the XII century, one destroyed by Saracens. Its eastern end rises in three stories; below, in the crypt, is the shrine of Sara, the dark handmaiden; above is the high altar; and crowning all is the shrine (placed in St. Michael’s care) in which Mary Jacobi and Mary Salome are honored. Their chapel opens on the church over the entrance to the Mass chapel. The sculpture resembles that of St. Trophime, at Arles; perhaps the much-eroded marble lions came from some monument of antiquity. Twice a year there are popular pilgrimages to Les Saintes-Maries, that of May being frequented by the gypsies. Monseigneur Duchesne, “La légende Sainte-Marie-Madeleine,” in Annales du Midi, 1903, vol. 5; Georges de Manteyer, “Les légendes saintes de Provence,” in Mélanges d’archéol. et d’hist.: École de Rome, 1897, vol. 17; Faillon, L’apostolat des Saintes-Maries en Provence. (This latter gives the Midi loyalists’ point of view.) (1848, 2 vols.)
[254] Les Saintes-Maries is a barren village in the Camargue, by the sea on the “Rhone of St. Gilles,” six miles west of the main Rhône. The fortified church, built in the 12th century, replaced one that was destroyed by Saracens. Its east end has three levels; below, in the crypt, is the shrine of Sara, the dark servant; above is the high altar; and crowning it all is the shrine (protected by St. Michael) dedicated to Mary Jacobi and Mary Salome. Their chapel opens into the church above the entrance to the Mass chapel. The sculpture is similar to that of St. Trophime in Arles; possibly the weathered marble lions came from some ancient monument. Twice a year, there are popular pilgrimages to Les Saintes-Maries, with the May pilgrimage being particularly popular with the gypsies. Monseigneur Duchesne, “La légende Sainte-Marie-Madeleine,” in Annales du Midi, 1903, vol. 5; Georges de Manteyer, “Les légendes saintes de Provence,” in Mélanges d’archéol. et d’hist.: École de Rome, 1897, vol. 17; Faillon, L’apostolat des Saintes-Maries en Provence. (This last one presents the perspective of the Midi loyalists.) (1848, 2 vols.)
[255] Congrès Archéologique, 1897, pp. 95, 291, Tarascon; pp. 92, 333, Beaucaire; and 1909, p. 262, Tarascon. The church of St. Martha at Tarascon was dedicated in 1197, but reconstructed in the XIV century. The south portal, with its curious little gallery, is of the XIII century. The honored relics are in the crypt in a heavy tomb of 1650. The simpler sarcophagus that once held them now stands by the side wall. All over France the defeat of paganism by Christian bishop or saint was symbolized by a dragon, and in the course of time the people often took the symbol for reality. The legend of St. Martha’s Tarasque, or dragon, may be of this origin. Louis II d’Anjou began the castle of Tarascon, which was decorated by good King René. At Beaucaire, across the Rhone, is a tower built by St. Louis. The international fair of Beaucaire was famous. “Aucassin was of Beaucaire, of a goodly castle there”:
[255] Congrès Archéologique, 1897, pp. 95, 291, Tarascon; pp. 92, 333, Beaucaire; and 1909, p. 262, Tarascon. The church of St. Martha in Tarascon was dedicated in 1197 but rebuilt in the 14th century. The south portal, with its interesting little gallery, dates back to the 13th century. The revered relics are located in the crypt within a solid tomb from 1650. The simpler sarcophagus that once contained them now stands against the side wall. Throughout France, the victory of Christianity over paganism, represented by a bishop or saint, was symbolized by a dragon, and over time, many people began to take this symbol literally. The legend of St. Martha’s Tarasque, or dragon, might originate from this. Louis II d’Anjou started the construction of the castle in Tarascon, which was decorated by the benevolent King René. Across the Rhône in Beaucaire stands a tower built by St. Louis. The international fair in Beaucaire was quite famous. “Aucassin was from Beaucaire, from a fine castle there”:
The song is charming, and the story is graceful,
And politeness and good manners.
No man is in such trouble,
Such pain or exhaustion,
Sick with such an illness, But he will, if he hears this, Get back all his happiness,
So sweet it is!
Turn to that cante-fable of the XIII century, and live again the Midi’s days of chivalry. Turn to that XIX-century masterpiece of satirical generous humor, Tartarin de Tarascon, more likely to survive than many a more pretentious tale, so gay it is.
Turn to that cante-fable from the 13th century, and relive the days of chivalry in the Midi. Turn to that 19th-century masterpiece of satirical generous humor, Tartarin de Tarascon, which is more likely to endure than many more pretentious tales, because it’s so lively.
F. W. Bourillon, éd. and tr. of Aucassin et Nicolette (Oxford, 1896).
F. W. Bourillon, editor and translator of Aucassin et Nicolette (Oxford, 1896).
[256] Congrès Archéologique, 1876; and 1909, p. 213, L. H. Labande; L. H. Labande, “Étude historique et archéologique sur St. Trophime d’Arles,” in Bulletin Archéologique, 1904, p. 459; J. de Louvière, “St. Trophime d’Arles,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1876, vol. 42, p. 741; Abbé Bernard, La basilique primatiale de St. Trophime d’Arles, 2 vols., 8vo; Roger Peyre, Nîmes, Arles, Orange (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1904); Georges de Manteyer, La Province du Ie au XIIe siècle (1908); F. Beissier, Le pays d’Arles (1889); Abbé Pougnet, Étude analytique sur l’architecture de la Provence au moyen âge (1867); H. Revoil, L’architecture romane du Midi de la France (Paris, Morel et Cie, 1873), 3 vols.; Martin, L’art roman en France (Paris, 1910); Rebatu, Antiquités d’Arles (1876); J. B. de Rossi, “Le cimétière des Arlescamps et sa basilique de St. Pierre,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1875, vol. 41, p. 170; E. Leblant, Les sarcophages chrétien de la Gaule (1886); Alexis Forel, Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans, vol. 1, chap. 1, “Arles-la-grecque” (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.
[256] Congrès Archéologique, 1876; and 1909, p. 213, L. H. Labande; L. H. Labande, “Historical and Archaeological Study on St. Trophime of Arles,” in Bulletin Archéologique, 1904, p. 459; J. de Louvière, “St. Trophime of Arles,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1876, vol. 42, p. 741; Abbé Bernard, The Primatial Basilica of St. Trophime of Arles, 2 vols., 8vo; Roger Peyre, Nîmes, Arles, Orange (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1904); Georges de Manteyer, The Province from the 1st to the 12th Century (1908); F. Beissier, The Land of Arles (1889); Abbé Pougnet, Analytical Study of Architecture in Provence during the Middle Ages (1867); H. Revoil, Romane Architecture of the South of France (Paris, Morel et Cie, 1873), 3 vols.; Martin, Romanesque Art in France (Paris, 1910); Rebatu, Antiquities of Arles (1876); J. B. de Rossi, “The Cemetery of Arlescamps and its Basilica of St. Peter,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1875, vol. 41, p. 170; E. Leblant, Christian Sarcophagi of Gaul (1886); Alexis Forel, Journey to the Land of Roman Sculptors, vol. 1, chap. 1, “Arles-the-Greek” (Paris and Geneva, 1913), 2 vols.
[257] “Saint-Trophime, humide et écrasé, dit une louange irrésistible â la solitude et s’offre comme un refuge contre la vie.... Arles, où rien n’est vulgaire.”—Maurice Barrès, Le jardin de Bérénice (Paris, Charpentier, 1894).
[257] “Saint-Trophime, damp and oppressive, offers an irresistible praise to solitude and serves as a refuge from life.... Arles, where nothing is vulgar.”—Maurice Barrès, Le jardin de Bérénice (Paris, Charpentier, 1894).
[258] There is another cloister at Montmajour, four miles from Arles. Its transverse ribs are caught along the wall on corbels carved with grotesques. Nothing at Montmajour pre-dates A.D. 1000. In the monastery church appeared (in the transept) some early diagonals; the crypt (middle of the XII century) is of a peculiar plan: a circular chapel in the middle of its apse with chapels radiating from the passage round it. From each arm of the transept projects an apse chapel. Under a hillock is a small shrine remade in the XIII century. In 1369 a tower of defense was added to the abbey. The curious chapel of the Holy Cross, in a meadow near by, is not of the time of its foundation, 1019, but a reconstruction of the XII century, probably intended for the chapel of a graveyard. Montmajour once rose from the sea marshes that for centuries came up to the gates of Arles. J. M. Trichaud, Les ruines de l’abbaye de Montmajour-lès-Arles (Arles, 1854); Congrès Archéologique, 1876, p. 362; and 1909, p. 154; Chantelon (Dom), Histoire de Montmajour (1890); L. Royer, L’abbaye de Montmajour-lès-Arles (Abbeville, Paillart, 1910).
[258] There’s another cloister at Montmajour, four miles from Arles. Its transverse ribs are supported on corbels carved with grotesques. Nothing at Montmajour dates back before A.D. 1000. In the monastery church, some early diagonal elements can be seen in the transept; the crypt (from the middle of the XII century) features a unique layout: a circular chapel in the middle of its apse with chapels branching off from the surrounding passage. Each arm of the transept has an apse chapel extending from it. Under a small hillock, there’s a shrine that was rebuilt in the XIII century. In 1369, a defensive tower was added to the abbey. The unusual chapel of the Holy Cross, in a nearby meadow, is not from the time of its founding in 1019, but rather a reconstruction from the XII century, likely meant for a graveyard chapel. Montmajour once rose from the sea marshes that for centuries reached the gates of Arles. J. M. Trichaud, Les ruines de l’abbaye de Montmajour-lès-Arles (Arles, 1854); Congrès Archéologique, 1876, p. 362; and 1909, p. 154; Chantelon (Dom), Histoire de Montmajour (1890); L. Royer, L’abbaye de Montmajour-lès-Arles (Abbeville, Paillart, 1910).
[259] “Sur cette terre élégante, au dessin si précis et si pur, sous cette lumière pénétrante, sur ces champs rouges où l’ovilier verse son ombre fine et grise, sur ces bords que la mer antique bat de sa flot court et rythmé, subsistent des œuvres et des souvenirs qui ne dépareraient pas la Grèce elle-même, mère de toute beauté. Le Pont du Gard, la Maison Carrée, les Arènes de Nîmes et d’Arles, Saint Trophime, Montmajour, Les Saintes-Maries, Les Baux, le Château des Papes à Avignon, les remparts de Saint Louis à Aigues-Mortes, le Peyrou à Montpellier, le canal du Midi, sont les monuments de cette activité séculaire qui recueillit l’héritage de Rome, et l’entretint tout le long de cette vallée du Rhône qui, à ses deux extrémités, comme deux phares, porte deux villes, deux républiques qui n’ont rien de supérieur par l’antiquité, l’activité, et l’éclat: Lyon et Marseilles.”’—Gabriel Hanotaux.
[259] "On this elegant land, with its precise and pure design, under this penetrating light, on these red fields where the olive tree casts its fine, gray shadow, on these shores that the ancient sea beats with its short, rhythmic waves, exist works and memories that wouldn't be out of place in Greece itself, the mother of all beauty. The Pont du Gard, the Maison Carrée, the Arenas of Nîmes and Arles, Saint Trophime, Montmajour, the Saintes-Maries, Les Baux, the Palace of the Popes in Avignon, the ramparts of Saint Louis at Aigues-Mortes, the Peyrou in Montpellier, the Canal du Midi, are the monuments of this centuries-old activity that preserved the heritage of Rome, and maintained it all along this Rhône valley which, at its two ends, like two lighthouses, carries two cities, two republics that have nothing superior in terms of antiquity, activity, and brilliance: Lyon and Marseille."—Gabriel Hanotaux.
[260] L. Rostan, Monographie du couvent de St. Maximin, 1874; Abbé Albanès, Le courent royal de St. Maximin; Monseigneur Duchesne, “La légende de Ste. Marie Madeleine,” in Annales du Midi, 1893, vol. 5; L. G. Pélissier, La Provence (Régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf).
[260] L. Rostan, Monographie du couvent de St. Maximin, 1874; Abbé Albanès, Le courent royal de St. Maximin; Monseigneur Duchesne, “The Legend of St. Mary Magdalene,” in Annales du Midi, 1893, vol. 5; L. G. Pélissier, Provence (Regions of France), (Paris, L. Cerf).
[261] Rationale divinorum officiorum, translated by Neale and Webb (Camden Society) as The Symbolism of Churches and Church Ornament (Leedes, Green, 1843).
[261] Rationale divinorum officiorum, translated by Neale and Webb (Camden Society) as The Symbolism of Churches and Church Ornament (Leeds, Green, 1843).
[262] His son, St. Louis d’Anjou, died archbishop of Toulouse, having resigned his heirsships after captive years in Spain proved to him the futility of grandeur. Giotto painted him on the walls of Santa Croce, Florence. His chasuble, a masterpiece of embroidery, was preserved by the solid wardrobes of St. Maximin’s XIV-century sacristy.
[262] His son, St. Louis d’Anjou, passed away as the archbishop of Toulouse, having given up his inheritances after years of captivity in Spain showed him the emptiness of greatness. Giotto painted him on the walls of Santa Croce in Florence. His chasuble, a stunning piece of embroidery, was kept safe by the sturdy wardrobes in St. Maximin’s 14th-century sacristy.
[263] L. H. Labande, “St. Sauveur d’Aix-en-Provence,” in Bulletin archéological du comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques (Paris, 1912), p. 289; Abbé E. F. Maurin, Notice historique et description de l’église métropolitaine St. Sauveur d’Aix (Aix-en-Provence, 1837); Prosper de St. Paul, “La cathédrale d’Aix-en-Provence,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1875, vol. 41, p. 442; J. Ch. Roux, Aix-en-Provence (Paris, Bloud et Cie, 1907); L. Dimier, Les primitifs français (Collection, Les Grands Artistes), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[263] L. H. Labande, “St. Sauveur d’Aix-en-Provence,” in Archaeological Bulletin of the Committee for Historical and Scientific Works (Paris, 1912), p. 289; Abbé E. F. Maurin, Historical Notice and Description of the Metropolitan Church St. Sauveur d’Aix (Aix-en-Provence, 1837); Prosper de St. Paul, “The Cathedral of Aix-en-Provence,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1875, vol. 41, p. 442; J. Ch. Roux, Aix-en-Provence (Paris, Bloud et Cie, 1907); L. Dimier, The French Primitives (Collection, The Great Artists), (Paris, H. Laurens).
[264] Congrès Archéologique, 1882; 1897, p. 113; and 1909, L. H. Labande; André Hallays, Avignon el le Comtat-Venaissin (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); F. Digonnet, Le palais des papes d’Avignon (after R. P. Ehrle, S. J.), 1907; L. Duhamel, Les origines du palais des papes d’Avignon (Tours, 1882); L. H. Labande, “L’église de N.-D.-des-Doms à Avignon,” in Bulletin Archéologique, 1906; A. Penjon, Avignon la ville, et le palais des papes (1905); Léon Palustre, “Les peintures du palais des papes à Avignon,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1874, vol. 40, p. 665; Eugène Müntz, “Les tombeaux des papes en France,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1887, vol. 36, pp. 275, 367; ibid., “Les sources de l’histoire des arts dans la ville d’Avignon pendant le XIVe siècle,” in Bulletin Archéologique, 1887, p. 249; Verlaque, Jean XXII, sa vie, ses œuvres (Paris, 1883); Robert André-Michel, “Les fresques de la garde-robe au palais des papes à Avignon,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1914-16, vol. 56, p. 293. (This study of the frescoes, discovered in 1909, was the author’s last work. He fell in battle at Crouy-sur-Ourcq in 1914); Louis Guérard, R. P., Les papes d’Avignon (Paris, Lecoffre, 1910); Jean Guiraud, L’église et les origines de la Renaissance (chap. 2, on thé Avignon popes). (Paris, Lecoffre, 1902).
[264] Congrès Archéologique, 1882; 1897, p. 113; and 1909, L. H. Labande; André Hallays, Avignon and the Comtat-Venaissin (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); F. Digonnet, The Palace of the Popes in Avignon (after R. P. Ehrle, S. J.), 1907; L. Duhamel, The Origins of the Palace of the Popes in Avignon (Tours, 1882); L. H. Labande, “The Church of N.-D.-des-Doms in Avignon,” in Bulletin Archéologique, 1906; A. Penjon, Avignon the City, and the Palace of the Popes (1905); Léon Palustre, “The Paintings of the Palace of the Popes in Avignon,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1874, vol. 40, p. 665; Eugène Müntz, “The Tombs of the Popes in France,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1887, vol. 36, pp. 275, 367; ibid., “The Sources of the History of Arts in the City of Avignon during the 14th Century,” in Bulletin Archéologique, 1887, p. 249; Verlaque, Jean XXII, His Life, His Works (Paris, 1883); Robert André-Michel, “The Frescoes of the Wardrobe in the Palace of the Popes in Avignon,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1914-16, vol. 56, p. 293. (This study of the frescoes, discovered in 1909, was the author’s last work. He fell in battle at Crouy-sur-Ourcq in 1914); Louis Guérard, R. P., The Popes of Avignon (Paris, Lecoffre, 1910); Jean Guiraud, The Church and the Origins of the Renaissance (chap. 2, on the Avignon popes). (Paris, Lecoffre, 1902).
[265] While the popes ruled in Avignon, churches rose from end to end of the city. In St. Didier (XIV century) is the bas-relief N. D.-du-spasme made for King René in 1476 by Francisco Laurana, one of the earliest Renaissance sculptors to work in France. He made the tomb for King René’s brother in Le Mans Cathedral. The Gothic-Renaissance façade (1512) of St. Pierre is of singular grace; the date of its carved doors is 1551. There is a XV-century pulpit, and a retablo (1461) by Antoine Le Moiturier, born in Avignon, who finished the celebrated tomb of Jean Sans Peur now in Dijon’s Museum. Congrès Archéologique, 1909, p. 17; A. Chaillot, Les œuvres d’art dans les églises et chapelles d’Avignon; G. Bayle, Notes historiques sur l’église de St. Pierre d’Avignon (Avignon, 1899).
[265] While the popes were in Avignon, churches sprang up all over the city. In St. Didier (14th century) is the bas-relief N. D.-du-spasme created for King René in 1476 by Francisco Laurana, one of the first Renaissance sculptors to work in France. He also made the tomb for King René’s brother in Le Mans Cathedral. The Gothic-Renaissance façade (1512) of St. Pierre is uniquely graceful; the carved doors date back to 1551. There is a 15th-century pulpit and a retablo (1461) by Antoine Le Moiturier, who was born in Avignon and completed the famous tomb of Jean Sans Peur, now in Dijon’s Museum. Congrès Archéologique, 1909, p. 17; A. Chaillot, Les œuvres d’art dans les églises et chapelles d’Avignon; G. Bayle, Notes historiques sur l’église de St. Pierre d’Avignon (Avignon, 1899).
[266] Congrès Archéologique, 1897, p. 280; and 1909, p. 144, Villeneuve-lès-Avignon; Jules Formigé, Rapport sur la Chartreuse de Villeneuve-lès-Avignon (Gard), (Paris, 1909); Robert André-Michel, “Le tombeau du Pope Innocent VI à Villeneuve-lès-Avignon,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1911, p. 204.
[266] Archaeological Congress, 1897, p. 280; and 1909, p. 144, Villeneuve-lès-Avignon; Jules Formigé, Report on the Charterhouse of Villeneuve-lès-Avignon (Gard), (Paris, 1909); Robert André-Michel, “The Tomb of Pope Innocent VI in Villeneuve-lès-Avignon,” in Review of Christian Art, 1911, p. 204.
[267] Congrès Archéologique, 1907 and 1913; A. Kleinclausz, La Bourgogne (Collection, Régions de la France), (Paris, L. Cerf, 1905); ibid., Histoire de Bourgogne (Paris, 1909); Dom. Urbain Plancher, Histoire générale de Bourgogne (1739-81), 4 vols.; Claude Courtépée, Description du duché de Bourgogne (1775-85); De Barente, Histoire des ducs de Bourgogne de la maison de Valois (Paris, 1825), 12 vols.; Ernest Petit, Histoire des ducs de Bourgogne de la race capétienne (Dijon, 1905), 9 vols.; A. de Caumont, “Rapport sur une excursion archéol. en Bourgogne,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1852, vol. 18, p. 225; J. Calmette et H. Drouot, La Bourgogne (Collection, Provinces Françaises), (Paris, H. Laurens); A. Perrault-Dabot, L’art en Bourgogne (1897); J. L. Bazin, “La Bourgogne sous les ducs de la maison de Valois, 1361-1478,” in Mémoires de la Soc. Éduenne, 1901, vol. 29, p. 33; Taylor et Nodier, Voyages pittoresques et romantiques dans l’ancienne France, La Bourgogne (Paris, Didot, 1863), 2 vols., folio; W. S. Purchon, “An architectural Tour in Central France and Burgundy,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 1913-14, 3d series, vol. 21, p. 557.
[267] Archaeological Congress, 1907 and 1913; A. Kleinclausz, Burgundy (Collection, Regions of France), (Paris, L. Cerf, 1905); ibid., History of Burgundy (Paris, 1909); Dom. Urbain Plancher, General History of Burgundy (1739-81), 4 vols.; Claude Courtépée, Description of the Duchy of Burgundy (1775-85); De Barente, History of the Dukes of Burgundy from the House of Valois (Paris, 1825), 12 vols.; Ernest Petit, History of the Dukes of Burgundy from the Capetian Line (Dijon, 1905), 9 vols.; A. de Caumont, “Report on an Archaeological Excursion in Burgundy,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1852, vol. 18, p. 225; J. Calmette and H. Drouot, Burgundy (Collection, French Provinces), (Paris, H. Laurens); A. Perrault-Dabot, Art in Burgundy (1897); J. L. Bazin, “Burgundy under the Dukes of the House of Valois, 1361-1478,” in Memoirs of the Éduenne Society, 1901, vol. 29, p. 33; Taylor and Nodier, Pictorial and Romantic Travels in Ancient France, Burgundy (Paris, Didot, 1863), 2 vols., folio; W. S. Purchon, “An Architectural Tour in Central France and Burgundy,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 1913-14, 3rd series, vol. 21, p. 557.
[268] From Luxeuil derived Jumièges, St. Wandrille, Fécamp, St. Malo, St. Valéry, St. Bertin, Corbie, St. Riquier, Péronne, Lure, Rebais, Jouarre, Faremoutier, Remiremont, Dissentir, St. Gall, and Bobbio. St. Columbanus was born in Leinster in 543, the year that St. Benedict died at Monte Cassino. It is said that there was something supernatural in his appearance. Because of his comeliness he embraced the monastic life to flee temptation, entering the abbey of Bangor, a center of letters in what is now Ulster. All his life Columbanus was a lover of the classics; from his library at Bobbio was recovered Cicero’s De Republica. At thirty came the call to missionize in Gaul. Ireland, on the outer verge of Europe, had escaped the Barbarian’s wrecking so that her culture was intact. With twelve monks, among them his nephew, St. Gall (future founder of the noted Swiss abbey), Columbanus crossed to France. The king of Burgundy, a grandson of Clovis, gave him the region of Luxeuil, which the late invasions had turned into a desert. In twenty years Columbanus made it the center of spiritual life in Gaul. He was exiled in 610 because of his strictures on the evil living of Burgundy’s rulers. After many wanderings he founded Bobbio, between Genoa and Milan, which abbey became another seat of learning. There he died in 615. Martin, St. Columban (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1909); Healy, Ireland’s Ancient Schools and Scholars (Dublin, 1890); Ch. de Montalembert, Monks of the West (translated, London, 1896); Dalgairns, Apostles of Europe (London, 1876), vol. 1; Besse, Les moines de l’ancienne France (Paris, 1906).
[268] Jumièges, St. Wandrille, Fécamp, St. Malo, St. Valéry, St. Bertin, Corbie, St. Riquier, Péronne, Lure, Rebais, Jouarre, Faremoutier, Remiremont, Dissentir, St. Gall, and Bobbio all trace their origins back to Luxeuil. St. Columbanus was born in Leinster in 543, the same year St. Benedict passed away in Monte Cassino. People say there was something supernatural about his appearance. Due to his attractiveness, he chose the monastic life to avoid temptation, entering the abbey of Bangor, which was a center of learning in what is now Ulster. Throughout his life, Columbanus was passionate about the classics; from his library in Bobbio, Cicero’s De Republica was recovered. At thirty, he received a call to spread the faith in Gaul. Ireland, located at the edge of Europe, had remained untouched by the Barbarian invasions, preserving its culture. Accompanied by twelve monks, including his nephew St. Gall (who would later found the famous Swiss abbey), Columbanus crossed over to France. The king of Burgundy, a grandson of Clovis, granted him the area of Luxeuil, which had been devastated by the recent invasions. In twenty years, Columbanus transformed it into the heart of spiritual life in Gaul. He was exiled in 610 for criticizing the immoral behavior of Burgundy’s rulers. After much wandering, he established Bobbio, located between Genoa and Milan, which also became a center of learning. He died there in 615. Martin, St. Columban (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1909); Healy, Ireland’s Ancient Schools and Scholars (Dublin, 1890); Ch. de Montalembert, Monks of the West (translated, London, 1896); Dalgairns, Apostles of Europe (London, 1876), vol. 1; Besse, Les moines de l’ancienne France (Paris, 1906).
[269] “On peut dire que vers le Xe siècle, le genre humain en Europe, était devenu fou. Du mélange de la corruption romaine avec le férocité des barbares qui avaient inondé l’empire, il était enfin resulté un état de choses que, heureusement peut-être, on ne reverra plus. La férocité et la débauche, l’anarchie et la pauvreté étaient dans tous les états. Jamais l’ignorance ne fut plus universelle. Le chaire pontificale était opprimée, deshonorée, et sanglante.”—Joseph de Maistre.
[269] “By the 10th century, humanity in Europe had gone a bit mad. The mix of Roman corruption and the ferocity of the barbarians who had flooded the empire resulted in a situation that, thankfully, we probably won't see again. Brutality and debauchery, chaos and poverty were everywhere. Never had ignorance been so widespread. The papal authority was oppressed, dishonored, and bloody.” —Joseph de Maistre.
[270] Congrès Archéologique, 1899, p. 48; 1913, p. 65, Jean Virey; Millénaire de Cluny (Mâcon, 1910), 2 vols.; Jean Virey, L’architecture romane dans l’ancien diocèse de Mâcon (Paris, 1892), 2 vols.; ibid., L’abbaye de Cluny (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); Chanoine L. Chaumont, Histoire de Cluny (Paris, 1911); Migne, Dictionnaire des abbayes (Paris, 1856); Ch. de Montalembert, Monks of the West (trans. London, 1896); H. Pignot, Histoire de l’ordre de Cluny depuis la fondation de l’abbaye jusqu’à la mort de Pierre le Vénérable (Autun et Paris, 1868), 3 vols.; F. L. Bruel, Cluny, 910-1910. Album historique et archéologique (Mâcon, 1910), 4to; Ponzet, in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1912, on the capitals of Cluny’s abbatial; David, Grands abbayes de l’occident (Paris, 1909); Lecestre, Abbayes en France (Paris, 1902); G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture, vol. 2, p. 104, Cluny; p. 112, Tournus. Tr. by G. McN. Rushforth (London and New York, 1910); Demimuid, Pierre le Vénérable et la vie monastique au XIIe siècle (Paris, 1895); A. Penjon, Cluny, la ville et l’abbaye (Cluny, 1884); ibid., “Abélard et Pierre le Vénérable d’après Dom Gervaise,” in Annales de l’Acad. de Mâcon, 1910, p. 393; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 7, p. 318, “Le bienheureux Guillaume, abbé de St. Bénigne”; p. 399, “Raoul Glaber”; p. 414, “St. Odilon” (Paris, 1746); vol. 9, p. 465, “St. Hugues”; p. 526, “Abbé Jarenton” (Paris, 1750); vol. 14, p. 211, “Pierre le Vénérable”; p. 129, “St. Bernard” (Paris, 1764).
[270] Congrès Archéologique, 1899, p. 48; 1913, p. 65, Jean Virey; Millénaire de Cluny (Mâcon, 1910), 2 vols.; Jean Virey, L’architecture romane dans l’ancien diocèse de Mâcon (Paris, 1892), 2 vols.; ibid., L’abbaye de Cluny (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); Chanoine L. Chaumont, Histoire de Cluny (Paris, 1911); Migne, Dictionnaire des abbayes (Paris, 1856); Ch. de Montalembert, Monks of the West (trans. London, 1896); H. Pignot, Histoire de l’ordre de Cluny depuis la fondation de l’abbaye jusqu’à la mort de Pierre le Vénérable (Autun et Paris, 1868), 3 vols.; F. L. Bruel, Cluny, 910-1910. Album historique et archéologique (Mâcon, 1910), 4to; Ponzet, in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1912, on the capitals of Cluny’s abbatial; David, Grands abbayes de l’occident (Paris, 1909); Lecestre, Abbayes en France (Paris, 1902); G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture, vol. 2, p. 104, Cluny; p. 112, Tournus. Tr. by G. McN. Rushforth (London and New York, 1910); Demimuid, Pierre le Vénérable et la vie monastique au XIIe siècle (Paris, 1895); A. Penjon, Cluny, la ville et l’abbaye (Cluny, 1884); ibid., “Abélard et Pierre le Vénérable d’après Dom Gervaise,” in Annales de l’Acad. de Mâcon, 1910, p. 393; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 7, p. 318, “Le bienheureux Guillaume, abbé de St. Bénigne”; p. 399, “Raoul Glaber”; p. 414, “St. Odilon” (Paris, 1746); vol. 9, p. 465, “St. Hugues”; p. 526, “Abbé Jarenton” (Paris, 1750); vol. 14, p. 211, “Pierre le Vénérable”; p. 129, “St. Bernard” (Paris, 1764).
[271] Dr. John Mason Neale, éd., Rhythm of Bernard of Morlaix (London, 1858). Dr. Neale has here rendered his translation like the XII-century original, dactylic hexameters divided into three parts.
[271] Dr. John Mason Neale, ed., Rhythm of Bernard of Morlaix (London, 1858). Dr. Neale has translated this work in a way that mirrors the 12th-century original, using dactylic hexameters split into three sections.
[272] “Ah! ce Cluny!... ce fut vraiment l’idéal du labeur divin, l’idéal rêvé! Ce fut, lui, qui réalisa le couvent d’art, la maison du luxe pour Dieu.”—J. K. Huysmans, L’Oblat (Paris, Plon-Nourrit et Cie).
[272] “Ah! Cluny!... it was truly the ideal of divine labor, the dreamt ideal! It was he who created the monastery of art, the luxurious house for God.”—J.K. Huysmans, L’Oblat (Paris, Plon-Nourrit et Cie).
[273] Some of the French houses affiliated with Cluny were Vézelay, the Trinité at Vendôme, the Trinité at Fécamp, St. Martin-des-Champs and St. Germain-des-Prés at Paris, St. Denis, the Caen abbatials, St. Ouen at Rouen, Jumièges, St. Wandrille, St. Remi at Rheims, Notre Dame at Châlons-sur-Marne, St. Bénigne at Dijon, Tournus, St. Maixent, St. Savin, Ste. Foy at Conques, Moissac, St. Sernin at Toulouse, and St. Eutrope at Saintes.
[273] Some of the French churches associated with Cluny included Vézelay, the Trinité in Vendôme, the Trinité in Fécamp, St. Martin-des-Champs and St. Germain-des-Prés in Paris, St. Denis, the Caen abbeys, St. Ouen in Rouen, Jumièges, St. Wandrille, St. Remi in Rheims, Notre Dame in Châlons-sur-Marne, St. Bénigne in Dijon, Tournus, St. Maixent, St. Savin, Ste. Foy in Conques, Moissac, St. Sernin in Toulouse, and St. Eutrope in Saintes.
[274] The church of Notre Dame built in Cluny by St. Hugues was burned in 1233, and immediately reconstructed as Burgundian Gothic; the lower walls and some of the capitals are of St. Hugues’ time. Consoles, sculptured with heads, such as those under the lantern, are frequent in the province, but a central tower is exceptional. In the XVIII century the narthex was destroyed. St. Marcel’s church was rebuilt after a fire in 1159 by the abbot of Cluny, who was a great-nephew of William the Conqueror. The octagonal tower, capped by a XIII-century spire, is of exceptionally lovely proportions. Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 68. St. Hugues also founded the Charité-sur-Loire, whose church was dedicated by his pupil. Paschal II, in 1107, at which ceremony assisted Suger, then a monk at St. Denis. Only the transept and absidioles are of that time, for the choir, nave, and tower are Burgundian Romanesque of the second half of the XII century; the Lady chapel rose two centuries later. Once the abbatial was four hundred feet long, but a fire, in 1559, damaged it and only four bays of the nave remain. Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 374, Louis Serbat; André Philippe, “Charité-sur-Loire,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1905, vol. 69, p. 469.
[274] The Notre Dame church built in Cluny by St. Hugues was burned in 1233 and was immediately rebuilt in the Burgundian Gothic style; the lower walls and some of the capitals date back to St. Hugues' time. Consoles adorned with heads, like those under the lantern, are common in the region, but a central tower is rare. In the 18th century, the narthex was destroyed. St. Marcel’s church was reconstructed after a fire in 1159 by the abbot of Cluny, who was the great-nephew of William the Conqueror. The octagonal tower, topped by a 13th-century spire, has exceptionally beautiful proportions. Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 68. St. Hugues also established the Charité-sur-Loire, where the church was dedicated by his student, Paschal II, in 1107, with Suger, who was a monk at St. Denis, in attendance. Only the transept and absidioles are from that time, as the choir, nave, and tower are Burgundian Romanesque from the second half of the 12th century; the Lady chapel was added two centuries later. Once, the abbatial was four hundred feet long, but a fire in 1559 damaged it, leaving only four bays of the nave intact. Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 374, Louis Serbat; André Philippe, “Charité-sur-Loire,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1905, vol. 69, p. 469.
[276] Héloïse as a girl, in the convent of Argenteuil, studied Greek, Latin, Hebrew, philosophy, and theology; the women of that age were as eager for learning as the men. In 1817 her body and that of Abélard were removed to the cemetery of Père la Chaise at Paris. Le Roux de Lincy, Les femmes célèbres de l’ancienne France (Paris, Leroi, 1848), 2 vols. For Abélard, see de Rémusat (Paris, 1855) and E. Vacandard (Paris, 1881).
[276] As a girl in the convent of Argenteuil, Héloïse studied Greek, Latin, Hebrew, philosophy, and theology; women at that time were just as eager to learn as men. In 1817, her body and Abélard's were moved to the cemetery of Père la Chaise in Paris. Le Roux de Lincy, Les femmes célèbres de l’ancienne France (Paris, Leroi, 1848), 2 vols. For Abélard, see de Rémusat (Paris, 1855) and E. Vacandard (Paris, 1881).
[277] Congrès Archéologique, 1899; and 1913, p. 63, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; Abbé Cucherat, Monographie de la basilique du Sacré Cœur à Paray-le-Monial, 1884; N. de Nicolai, Générale description du Bourbonnais.
[277] Archaeological Congress, 1899; and 1913, p. 63, E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; Abbé Cucherat, Monograph on the Basilica of the Sacred Heart at Paray-le-Monial, 1884; N. de Nicolai, General Description of Bourbonnais.
[278] John Mason Neale, Collected Hymns, Sequences, and Carols (London, Hodden & Stoughton, 1914), p. 199, a translation of the XII-century poem of Bernard de Morlaix.
[278] John Mason Neale, Collected Hymns, Sequences, and Carols (London, Hodden & Stoughton, 1914), p. 199, a translation of the 12th-century poem by Bernard de Morlaix.
[279] Congrès Archéologique, 1899, p. 62; and 1907, p. 32, Joseph Déchelette; also p. 537; H. de Fonteray and A. de Charmasse, Autun et ses monuments (1889); Abbé Devoncoux, Description de l’église cathédrale d’Autun (1845); Claude Courtépée, Description de la duché de Bourgogne, vol. 6; H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 5, p. 49, L. Paté, on Autun; Paul Vitry, in Revue Archéol., 1899, p. 188; Montegut, Souvenirs de Bourgogne.
[279] Archaeological Congress, 1899, p. 62; and 1907, p. 32, Joseph Déchelette; also p. 537; H. de Fonteray and A. de Charmasse, Autun and Its Monuments (1889); Abbé Devoncoux, Description of the Cathedral Church of Autun (1845); Claude Courtépée, Description of the Duchy of Burgundy, vol. 6; H. Havard, ed., Artistic and Monumental France, vol. 5, p. 49, L. Paté, on Autun; Paul Vitry, in Archaeological Review, 1899, p. 188; Montegut, Memories of Burgundy.
[280] The abbey of St. Andoche, Saulieu, was named for a companion of St. Benignus, a Greek missionary sent to evangelize Gaul, perhaps by St. Polycarp of Smyrna. The church was rebuilt early in the XII century, and of that period is the nave whose capitals present sculpture of different epochs: the barbaric earlier grotesques censured by St. Bernard, then a few acanthus leaves and medallions, and, finally, naturalistic work. Calixtus II dedicated Saulieu’s abbey church in 1119. In 1339 the English sacked the choir and transept, which were rebuilt in 1704. That true son of Burgundy, Vauban, the celebrated engineer of Louis XIV, was born in a château near Saulieu in 1633: “The most honest man of his century, the simplest, truest, and bravest,” according to St. Simon. He covered France with defenses whose worth was proved in 1914. One can comprehend qualities in a region’s architecture by a knowledge of regional characters. Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 103, Pierre de Truchis, on Saulieu. The architect Soufflot, of M. Lefèvre-Pontalis’ family, was a Burgundian.
[280] The Abbey of St. Andoche in Saulieu is named after a companion of St. Benignus, a Greek missionary who was likely sent to spread Christianity in Gaul, possibly by St. Polycarp of Smyrna. The church was rebuilt in the early 12th century, and from that time period comes the nave, featuring capitals with sculptures representing different styles: the earlier barbaric grotesques criticized by St. Bernard, some acanthus leaves and medallions, and eventually more naturalistic designs. Calixtus II dedicated the abbey church in Saulieu in 1119. In 1339, the English attacked and looted the choir and transept, which were rebuilt in 1704. The true son of Burgundy, Vauban, the famous engineer for Louis XIV, was born in a château near Saulieu in 1633: “The most honest man of his century, the simplest, truest, and bravest,” as described by St. Simon. He fortified France with defenses that were proven valuable in 1914. Understanding the qualities of a region's architecture requires knowledge of its local characteristics. Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 103, Pierre de Truchis, on Saulieu. The architect Soufflot, from the family of M. Lefèvre-Pontalis, was also from Burgundy.
[281] The cathedral of Langres in ancient Burgundy resembles Autun in its channeled pilaster strips and its acanthus-leaf sculpture. Its choir was rebuilt in 1100, using simultaneously groin vaulting and diagonals. The façade is neo-classic.
[281] The cathedral of Langres in what was once ancient Burgundy looks similar to Autun with its carved pilaster strips and acanthus-leaf sculptures. The choir was reconstructed in 1100, incorporating both groin vaulting and diagonal elements at the same time. The façade has a neoclassical style.
[282] Congrès Archéologique, 1899, p. 68; A. Kleinclausz, Dijon et Beaune (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Alphonse Germain, Les Néerlandais en Bourgogne (Bruxelles, 1909); Arsène Périer, Un chancelier au XVe siècle, Nicolas Rolin (Paris, Plon, 1904); H. Chabeuf, in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1900, p. 193, on the tapestries of Beaune; Abbé Bavard, Histoire de l’Hôtel Dieu de Beaune (Beaune, 1881); André Michel, éd., Histoire de l’art, vol. 3, première partie, “La tapisserie aux quatorzième et quinzième siècles,” Jules Guiffrey.
[282] Archaeological Congress, 1899, p. 68; A. Kleinclausz, Dijon and Beaune (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); Alphonse Germain, The Dutch in Burgundy (Brussels, 1909); Arsène Périer, A Chancellor in the 15th Century, Nicolas Rolin (Paris, Plon, 1904); H. Chabeuf, in Review of Christian Art, 1900, p. 193, about the tapestries of Beaune; Abbé Bavard, History of the Hôtel Dieu de Beaune (Beaune, 1881); André Michel, ed., History of Art, vol. 3, part one, “Tapestry in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries,” Jules Guiffrey.
[284] Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 4, Avallon, Charles Porée, and p. 129, G. Fleury; p. 97, Montréal, Charles Porée; p. 49, Flavigny, P. de Truchis; E. Petit, Avallon et l’Avallonnais (Auxerre, Gallot, 1867); R. Vallery-Radot, Un Coin de Bourgogne; Avallon; Abbé Villetard, “Les statues du portail de l’église St. Lazare d’Avallon,” in Bull. de la Société d’études d’Avallon, 1899, 1900, and 1901; E. Petit, “Collégiale de Montréal,” in L’Annuaire de l’Yonne, 1861, p. 121; G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture (tr. London and New York, 1910), vol. 2, on the crypt of Flavigny; L. Bondot et J. Galimard, Restes de l’ancienne basilique de Flavigny (1906); Claude Courtépée, Description du duché de Bourgogne, vol. 3, on Flavigny; Lucien Bégule, L’abbaye de Fontenay et l’architecture cistercienne (Lyon, 1912). There is also a study by Bégule of Fontenay in the Petites Monographies series published by H. Laurens; J. B. Corbolin, Monographie de l’abbaye de Fontenay (Cîteaux, 1882).
[284] Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 4, Avallon, Charles Porée, and p. 129, G. Fleury; p. 97, Montréal, Charles Porée; p. 49, Flavigny, P. de Truchis; E. Petit, Avallon et l’Avallonnais (Auxerre, Gallot, 1867); R. Vallery-Radot, Un Coin de Bourgogne; Avallon; Abbé Villetard, “Les statues du portail de l’église St. Lazare d’Avallon,” in Bull. de la Société d’études d’Avallon, 1899, 1900, and 1901; E. Petit, “Collégiale de Montréal,” in L’Annuaire de l’Yonne, 1861, p. 121; G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture (tr. London and New York, 1910), vol. 2, on the crypt of Flavigny; L. Bondot et J. Galimard, Restes de l’ancienne basilique de Flavigny (1906); Claude Courtépée, Description du duché de Bourgogne, vol. 3, on Flavigny; Lucien Bégule, L’abbaye de Fontenay et l’architecture cistercienne (Lyon, 1912). There is also a study by Bégule of Fontenay in the Petites Monographies series published by H. Laurens; J. B. Corbolin, Monographie de l’abbaye de Fontenay (Cîteaux, 1882).
[285] Discours de réception de M. Louis Pasteur à l’Académie Française, 1882. Pasteur was born at Dôle (Jura), once a part of ancient Burgundy. A grandson, Robert Vallery-Radot, is one of the younger generation that comprehends the spiritual essence of the Middle Ages. He has written of the potency of his prayer in the church dedicated to holy Lazarus in his native Avallon. Another grandson, Jean Vallery-Radot, is a rising member of the school of mediæval archæology.
[285] Speech of Welcome by Mr. Louis Pasteur at the French Academy, 1882. Pasteur was born in Dôle (Jura), which was once part of ancient Burgundy. His grandson, Robert Vallery-Radot, is one of the younger generation who understands the spiritual essence of the Middle Ages. He has written about the power of his prayers in the church dedicated to Saint Lazarus in his hometown of Avallon. Another grandson, Jean Vallery-Radot, is an emerging member of the medieval archaeology community.
[286] Jean de Chastellux, Travels in America, 1780-1782. He was the first to have himself inoculated with smallpox in order to give confidence to the people. The heir of Chastellux was a hereditary first canon in Auxerre Cathedral, privileged to sit in its choir with a falcon on his wrist.
[286] Jean de Chastellux, Travels in America, 1780-1782. He was the first person to get himself vaccinated against smallpox to inspire confidence in the community. The heir of Chastellux held a hereditary title as the first canon in Auxerre Cathedral, with the privilege of sitting in its choir while having a falcon on his wrist.
[287] Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 199; Abbé Henry, Histoire de l’abbaye de Pontigny (Avallon, 1839); Chaillon des Barres, L’abbaye de Pontigny (Paris, 1844); Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 11, p. 213, “St. Étienne, troisième abbé de Cîteaux” (Paris, 1759).
[287] Archaeological Congress, 1907, p. 199; Abbé Henry, History of the Abbey of Pontigny (Avallon, 1839); Chaillon des Barres, The Abbey of Pontigny (Paris, 1844); Literary History of France, vol. 11, p. 213, “St. Étienne, third abbot of Cîteaux” (Paris, 1759).
[288] “The long prospect of nave and choir ends with a sort of graceful smallness in a chevet of seven closely packed, narrow bays. It is like a nun’s church, or like a nun’s coif.”—Walter Pater, on Pontigny, in Miscellaneous Studies (London, The Macmillan Company, 1895).
[288] “The lengthy view of the nave and choir concludes with a beautifully small chevet featuring seven closely packed, narrow bays. It resembles a nun’s church or a nun’s coif.”—Walter Pater, on Pontigny, in Miscellaneous Studies (London, The Macmillan Company, 1895).
[289] J. C. Robertson, ed., Material for the History of Thomas Becket. Rolls series, 7 vols.; vols. 1 to 4 contain the lives written by John of Salisbury, Herbert of Bosham, etc. Other studies of St. Thomas of Canterbury are Morris (London, 1885); Kate Norgate (Dictionary of National Biography); L. Huillier (Paris, 1891), 2 vols.
[289] J. C. Robertson, ed., Material for the History of Thomas Becket. Rolls series, 7 vols.; vols. 1 to 4 include the lives written by John of Salisbury, Herbert of Bosham, etc. Other studies on St. Thomas of Canterbury include Morris (London, 1885); Kate Norgate (Dictionary of National Biography); and L. Huillier (Paris, 1891), 2 vols.
[290] Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 27; Charles Porée, L’abbaye de Vézelay (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); H. Havard, éd., La France artisque et monumentale, vol. 4, Vézelay; De George, “L’église abbatiale de Vézelay,” in L’Architecture, 1905; L. E. Lefèvre, “Le portail de l’abbaye de Vézelay,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1906, p. 253; also, 1904, vol. 54, p. 448, G. Sanoner; Crosnier, “Iconographie de l’abbaye de Vézelay,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1847, p. 219; V. Flandin, “Vézelay,” in Annuaire statistique du département de l’Yonne, 1841-45; A. Chérest, Études historiques sur Vézelay (Auxerre, 1868); Gally, Vézelay monastique (Tonnerre, 1888); Camille Enlart, Le musée de sculpture comparée du Trocadéro (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913); A. Thierry, Lettres sur l’histoire de France, chaps. 22-24; Joseph Bédier, Les légendes épiques, vol. 1, “La légende de Girard de Roussillon” (Paris, H. Champion, 1908), 4 vols.
[290] Archaeological Congress, 1907, p. 27; Charles Porée, The Abbey of Vézelay (Collection, Small Monographs), (Paris, H. Laurens); H. Havard, ed., France: Artistic and Monumental, vol. 4, Vézelay; De George, “The Abbey Church of Vézelay,” in Architecture, 1905; L. E. Lefèvre, “The Portal of the Abbey of Vézelay,” in Review of Christian Art, 1906, p. 253; also, 1904, vol. 54, p. 448, G. Sanoner; Crosnier, “Iconography of the Abbey of Vézelay,” in Archaeological Congress, 1847, p. 219; V. Flandin, “Vézelay,” in Statistical Yearbook of the Department of Yonne, 1841-45; A. Chérest, Historical Studies on Vézelay (Auxerre, 1868); Gally, Monastic Vézelay (Tonnerre, 1888); Camille Enlart, The Museum of Comparative Sculpture of Trocadéro (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913); A. Thierry, Letters on the History of France, chaps. 22-24; Joseph Bédier, The Epic Legends, vol. 1, “The Legend of Girard de Roussillon” (Paris, H. Champion, 1908), 4 vols.
[292] Louis Gonse, L’Art Gothique (Paris, Quantin, 1891).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Louis Gonse, Gothic Art (Paris, Quantin, 1891).
[293] St. Père-sous-Vézelay, below the hill, occupies the site where Girard de Roussillon’s foundation was first established. The present church is a typical Burgundian Gothic edifice, partly of the XII and partly of the XIII century. Carved corbels catch the fall of certain diagonals, and in place of a triforium is an interior passageway that passes through the shafts. In the opening years of the XIV century was added the narthex, a noble porch of two bays whose capitals have foliage in little bunches set in two rows. The façade is decorated by big statues like that of the Madeleine church, a mile away, and at the corners of the tower, a landmark for the valley, are sculptured angels blowing trumpets. The choir of St. Père-sous-Vézelay was wrecked during the English wars, and was in large part rebuilt as late-Gothic. Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 16; Abbé Pissier, “Notice historique sur Saint-Père-sous-Vézelay,” in Bull. de la Soc. des Sciences de l’Yonne, 1902, vol. 56, pp. 33, 275.
[293] St. Père-sous-Vézelay, at the base of the hill, is located where Girard de Roussillon first established his foundation. The current church is a typical Burgundian Gothic structure, partly from the 12th century and partly from the 13th century. Carved corbels support certain diagonal lines, and instead of a triforium, there is an interior walkway that runs through the shafts. In the early 14th century, a narthex was added, featuring a grand entrance with two bays whose capitals are adorned with clusters of foliage arranged in two rows. The façade is embellished with large statues similar to those at the Madeleine church, which is a mile away, and at the corners of the tower, a landmark for the valley, are sculpted angels playing trumpets. The choir of St. Père-sous-Vézelay was damaged during the English wars and was largely reconstructed in the late Gothic style. Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 16; Abbé Pissier, “Notice historique sur Saint-Père-sous-Vézelay,” in Bull. de la Soc. des Sciences de l’Yonne, 1902, vol. 56, pp. 33, 275.
[295] The Huguenot leader, Théodore de Béze, was born in the bourg of Vézelay. His brother, a canon in the church of St. Lazare at Avallon, espoused the opposite side with equal zest.
[295] The Huguenot leader, Théodore de Béze, was born in the town of Vézelay. His brother, a canon at the church of St. Lazare in Avallon, supported the opposing side with just as much enthusiasm.
[296] Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 64, Pierre de Truchis; Abbé Bouzerand, Mémoirs sur l’église Notre Dame de Semur, 1864; ibid., Histoire générale de Semur-en-Auxois; Ledeuil, Notice sur Semur-en-Auxois (Semur-en-Auxois, 1886); Taylor et Nodier, Voyage pittoresque et romantique dans l’ancienne France. Bourgogne (Paris, Didot, 1863), folio; Max Quantin, Répertoire archéol. du département de l’Yonne (Paris, 1908); Eugène Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Les caractères distinctifs des écoles gothique de la Champagne et de la Bourgogne,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 546.
[296] Archaeological Congress, 1907, p. 64, Pierre de Truchis; Abbé Bouzerand, Memoirs on the Church of Notre Dame de Semur, 1864; ibid., General History of Semur-en-Auxois; Ledeuil, Notice on Semur-en-Auxois (Semur-en-Auxois, 1886); Taylor and Nodier, Picturesque and Romantic Journey through Ancient France. Burgundy (Paris, Didot, 1863), folio; Max Quantin, Archaeological Repertoire of the Department of Yonne (Paris, 1908); Eugène Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Distinctive Characteristics of the Gothic Schools of Champagne and Burgundy,” in Archaeological Congress, 1907, p. 546.
[297] Congrès Archéologique, 1850, p. 22; and 1907, p. 167, Charles Porée; p. 599, Camille Enlart, on the sculptured doors of Auxerre Cathedral: Camille Enlart, La cathédrale d’Auxerre (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens): A. Chérest, La cathédrale d’Auxerre. Conferences d’Auxerre (Auxerre, 1868); Émile Lambin, “La cathédrale d’Auxerre,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1897, vol. 47, p. 383; Charles Porée, “Le chœur de la cathédrale d’Auxerre,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 251; Louise Pillion, “Sculpture de la cathédrale d’Auxerre,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1905, p. 278; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 4, p. 131, on construction; vol. 9, p. 447, on vitrail; Victor Petit, “Description des villes et campagnes du département de l’Yonne” (Auxerre, 1876). In the Annuaire de l’Yonne, earlier studies on Auxerre are, 1841, p. 38, F. de Lasteyrie; 1843, p. 128, V. Petit; 1846, p. 207, and 1847, p. 141, Challe; 1872, p. 161, and 1873. p. 3, Daudin; André Philippe, “L’architecture religieuse au XIe et au XIIe siècle dans l’ancien diocèse d’Auxerre,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1904, vol. 68, passim. Other notices on Auxerre in the Bulletin Monumental are, 1847, vol. 13, p. 153, and 1849, vol. 15, p. 145, Victor Petit; 1872, vol. 38, pp. 494, 744, Victor Petit; Abbé Lebeuf, Histoire d’Auxerre; E. Moulton, La guerre au XVIe siècle (Paris, H. Laurens).
[297] Congrès Archéologique, 1850, p. 22; and 1907, p. 167, Charles Porée; p. 599, Camille Enlart, on the sculpted doors of Auxerre Cathedral: Camille Enlart, La cathédrale d’Auxerre (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens): A. Chérest, La cathédrale d’Auxerre. Conferences d’Auxerre (Auxerre, 1868); Émile Lambin, “La cathédrale d’Auxerre,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1897, vol. 47, p. 383; Charles Porée, “Le chœur de la cathédrale d’Auxerre,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, p. 251; Louise Pillion, “Sculpture de la cathédrale d’Auxerre,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1905, p. 278; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 4, p. 131, on construction; vol. 9, p. 447, on stained glass; Victor Petit, “Description des villes et campagnes du département de l’Yonne” (Auxerre, 1876). In the Annuaire de l’Yonne, earlier studies on Auxerre are, 1841, p. 38, F. de Lasteyrie; 1843, p. 128, V. Petit; 1846, p. 207, and 1847, p. 141, Challe; 1872, p. 161, and 1873 p. 3, Daudin; André Philippe, “L’architecture religieuse au XIe et au XIIe siècle dans l’ancien diocèse d’Auxerre,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1904, vol. 68, passim. Other mentions of Auxerre in the Bulletin Monumental are, 1847, vol. 13, p. 153, and 1849, vol. 15, p. 145, Victor Petit; 1872, vol. 38, pp. 494, 744, Victor Petit; Abbé Lebeuf, Histoire d’Auxerre; E. Moulton, La guerre au XVIe siècle (Paris, H. Laurens).
[298] St. Germain’s abbatial is less pure Gothic than the cathedral’s choir. Beneath its sanctuary are two superimposed crypts, the lower one of the IX century, and that above it belonging to the XIII-century reconstruction of the abbey church. Conflagrations wiped out several early churches of the monastery. In the XII century rose the Romanesque tower—one of the best in France; until 1820 it was attached to the nave. A total reconstruction of the abbatial was necessary in 1277, but after the upper crypt and the choir were undertaken there came a pause. The abbot here (1309-39), who erected the crenelated inclosure walls of the monastery, resumed the church as Rayonnant Gothic. Urban V, the greatest of the Avignon patrons of art and letters, had been abbot of St. Germain (1352), and his arms were cut on a keystone of the new nave, to which he contributed, as did his successor, Gregory XI. Soon after the church was completed it was pillaged during the religious wars. Napoleon turned the establishment into a hospital, which it still is. Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 182, C. Porée; p. 627, Jules Tillet; Abbé V. B. Henry, Histoire de l’abbaye de St. Germain d’Auxerre (Auxerre, Gallot, 1853); Victor Petit, “Les cryptes de St. Germain d’Auxerre,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1872, vol. 38, p. 494; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’Architecture, vol. 3, p. 377.
[298] St. Germain’s abbey church isn’t as purely Gothic as the cathedral’s choir. Below its sanctuary are two overlapping crypts, the lower one dating back to the 9th century, and the one above it from the 13th-century renovations of the abbey church. Several early churches of the monastery were destroyed in fires. In the 12th century, the Romanesque tower was built—it's considered one of the best in France; it was attached to the nave until 1820. A complete reconstruction of the abbey church was needed in 1277, but after the upper crypt and choir were started, progress stalled. The abbot during 1309-39, who built the crenelated walls around the monastery, continued work on the church in the Rayonnant Gothic style. Urban V, the most significant patron of art and literature during the Avignon papacy, had been the abbot of St. Germain (1352), and his coat of arms was carved on a keystone of the new nave, which he helped fund, along with his successor, Gregory XI. Shortly after the church was finished, it was looted during the religious wars. Napoleon converted the site into a hospital, which it still serves as today. Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 182, C. Porée; p. 627, Jules Tillet; Abbé V. B. Henry, Histoire de l’abbaye de St. Germain d’Auxerre (Auxerre, Gallot, 1853); Victor Petit, “Les cryptes de St. Germain d’Auxerre,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1872, vol. 38, p. 494; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’Architecture, vol. 3, p. 377.
[299] At her trial in Rouen Jeanne spoke of Auxerre Cathedral: “En route, je traversai Auxerre, où j’entendis la messe dans la principale église.... Alors, j’avais fréquemment mes voix.” Marius Sepet, Au temps de la Pucelle, récits et tableaux (Paris, P. Téqui, 1905).
[299] During her trial in Rouen, Jeanne talked about Auxerre Cathedral: “On my way, I passed through Auxerre, where I heard mass in the main church.... At that time, I frequently heard my voices.” Marius Sepet, Au temps de la Pucelle, récits et tableaux (Paris, P. Téqui, 1905).
[300] The abbey church at St. Eusèbe is of archæological interest. The octagonal tower over its altar, forming internally a lantern, is of the XII century, as are the piers and their arches. A pause came between the making of the nave’s lower and upper parts, for the church did not follow the usual custom of advancing bay by bay, but was constructed story by story. The west front is full Gothic, and the ambulatory of the XIII century. The original choir was in large part replaced by the present well-built Flamboyant Gothic one, finished by 1530. What used to be the episcopal palace of Auxerre is to-day the Prefecture. It shows, in its wall on the river side, the Romanesque gallery built by Bishop Hugues de Châlons (1116-36). Its hall, with pignons alike at both ends, was erected by Bishop Guillaume de Mello (1247-70). Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 188; Corberon, Auxerre, ses monuments; Lescuyer, “Notice sur l’église de St. Eusèbe,” in l’Annuaire de l’Yonne, 1839, p. 318; 1845, p. 103, “St. Eusèbe,” Max Quantin.
[300] The abbey church at St. Eusèbe is of archaeological interest. The octagonal tower above its altar, which serves as a lantern inside, dates back to the 12th century, along with the piers and arches. There was a pause between the construction of the nave’s lower and upper parts, as the church did not follow the usual practice of building bay by bay, but was constructed story by story. The west front is purely Gothic, while the ambulatory is from the 13th century. The original choir has largely been replaced by the current well-constructed Flamboyant Gothic one, completed by 1530. What used to be the episcopal palace of Auxerre is now the Prefecture. It features the Romanesque gallery built by Bishop Hugues de Châlons (1116-36) on the riverside wall. Its hall, which has gables at both ends, was constructed by Bishop Guillaume de Mello (1247-70). Congrès Archéologique, 1907, p. 188; Corberon, Auxerre, ses monuments; Lescuyer, “Notice sur l’église de St. Eusèbe,” in l’Annuaire de l’Yonne, 1839, p. 318; 1845, p. 103, “St. Eusèbe,” Max Quantin.
[301] The west apse of Nevers’ Cathedral, dedicated to St. Juliette, mother of the child martyr, St. Cyr, formed, with its crypt and transept, part of the XII-century Romanesque edifice. Late in the XIII century was built a Gothic nave, which was reconstructed after a fire in 1308, and again its outer walls were reconstructed in the Flamboyant Gothic day. The present choir dates from the XIV century. The fine tower at the transept’s southern façade was built 1506 to 1528. Nevers’ former ducal palace, of the XV century, stands on a park overlooking the Loire. The Romanesque abbey church of St. Étienne, founded, tradition says, by St. Columbanus, combines the schools of Auvergne and Burgundy, and is important to archæologists because the date of its building, 1063 to 1097, is certain. The expense of constructing it caused the Count of Nevers to forego the First Crusade. Bishop Ives of Chartres consecrated the church in 1097. Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 300, Louis Serbat; Gaston Congny, Bourges et Nevers; J. Locquin, Nevers et Moulins (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Monseigneur Crosnier, Monographie de la cathédrale de Nevers (1854); Abbé Sery, Les deux apsides de la cathédrale de Nevers (1899); Morellet, Barat, et Bussière, Le Nivermois (1840), 2 vols.; Paul Meunier, Nevers historique et pittoresque (1901).
[301] The west apse of Nevers’ Cathedral, dedicated to St. Juliette, mother of the child martyr St. Cyr, is part of the 12th-century Romanesque structure, along with its crypt and transept. In the late 13th century, a Gothic nave was added, which was rebuilt after a fire in 1308, and its outer walls were later reconstructed in the Flamboyant Gothic style. The current choir dates back to the 14th century. The beautiful tower on the southern façade of the transept was constructed between 1506 and 1528. The former ducal palace of Nevers, dating from the 15th century, is set in a park that overlooks the Loire. The Romanesque abbey church of St. Étienne, traditionally said to have been founded by St. Columbanus, blends the architectural styles of Auvergne and Burgundy and is significant to archaeologists because its construction dates, from 1063 to 1097, are well-documented. The cost of building it led the Count of Nevers to miss the First Crusade. Bishop Ives of Chartres consecrated the church in 1097. Congrès Archéologique, 1913, p. 300, Louis Serbat; Gaston Congny, Bourges et Nevers; J. Locquin, Nevers et Moulins (Collection, Villes d’art célébres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Monseigneur Crosnier, Monographie de la cathédrale de Nevers (1854); Abbé Sery, Les deux apsides de la cathédrale de Nevers (1899); Morellet, Barat, et Bussière, Le Nivermois (1840), 2 vols.; Paul Meunier, Nevers historique et pittoresque (1901).
[302] “Because the pearly white surfaces of the grisaille would make the adjacent colored surfaces appear heavy and opaque, they introduced, into these latter, limpid blues and yellows, very light reds, whites with a greenish or rosy tint. In the high windows of the cathedral of Auxerre they first tried this method, and here the grisaille is chased with a large and firm design that offsets the transparency of the colorless surfaces. Notice how the pedestal and the canopy, both very light, bind together the bands of grisaille on either side, while the latter is heavily painted with a trellis and rich ornaments. In Auxerre, the grisaille is found only in the lateral windows which are seen obliquely. The apse windows, meant to be seen, in face and from a distance, are filled with color. The lateral windows are sufficiently opaque to prevent the solar rays which pass through them from lighting the colored windows on the reverse side. At certain hours the luminous rays throw a pearly light on the colored windows, imparting to them a transparency of tone and a delicacy impossible to describe. The opalescent light from the lateral windows makes a sort of veil of extreme transparency under the lofty vaults, and is pierced by the brilliant tones of the apse windows, producing the sparkle of jewels. Solid outlines then seem to waver like objects seen through a sheet of limpid water. Distance changes values and gains a depth in which the eye loses itself. Hourly during the day these effects are modified, and always with new harmonies of which one never wearies trying to understand.”
[302] “Because the bright white surfaces of the grisaille would make the nearby colored surfaces look heavy and opaque, they incorporated clear blues and yellows, very light reds, and whites with a greenish or pinkish tint into these areas. They first tried this approach in the high windows of the cathedral in Auxerre, where the grisaille features a large and solid design that balances the transparency of the colorless surfaces. Notice how the pedestal and the canopy, both very light, tie together the grisaille bands on either side, while those areas are richly painted with a trellis and ornate decorations. In Auxerre, the grisaille is only found in the side windows that are viewed at an angle. The apse windows, designed to be seen directly and from a distance, are filled with color. The side windows are opaque enough to keep the sunlight that passes through them from illuminating the colored windows on the opposite side. At certain times, the bright rays cast a pearly light on the colored windows, giving them a tone transparency and delicacy that’s hard to describe. The opalescent light from the side windows creates a kind of veil of extreme transparency beneath the tall vaults, pierced by the vivid tones of the apse windows, producing a jewel-like sparkle. Solid outlines then appear to shimmer like objects seen through clear water. Distance alters values and adds depth where the eye can get lost. Throughout the day, these effects shift, always revealing new harmonies that one never grows tired of trying to understand.”
—Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 9, p. 447.
—Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 9, p. 447.
[303] John Mason Neale, translator of “The Rhythm of Bernard of Morlaix” (e. 1140), in Collected Hymns, Sequences, and Carols (London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1914), p. 19.
[303] John Mason Neale, who translated “The Rhythm of Bernard of Morlaix” (c. 1140), in Collected Hymns, Sequences, and Carols (London, Hodder & Stoughton, 1914), p. 19.
[304] “Je donne la palme à Jacques Amyot sur tout nos écrivains français.”—Montaigne.
[304] “I give the prize to Jacques Amyot above all our French writers.”—Montaigne.
“Quand il s’agit d’une jolie et gracieuse naïveté de langage, on dit aussitôt pour le définir: C’est de la langue d’Amyot.”—Sainte-Beuve.
"Whenever it comes to a charming and graceful naivety of expression, people immediately say to define it: It's the language of Amyot."—Sainte-Beuve.
[305] Congrès Archéologique, 1907, on Dijon, Charles Porée; p. 546, “Les caractères distinctifs des écoles gothiques de la Champagne et de la Bourgogne,” E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; A. Kleinclausz, Dijon et Beaune (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., “L’art funéraire de la Bourgogne,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1901-02; ibid., Claus Sluter et la sculpture bourguignonne au XVe siècle (Paris, 1906); Abbé L. Chomton, Histoire de l’église St. Bénigne de Dijon (Dijon, 1900), folio; G.T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture, vol. 2, chap. 1, on St. Bénigne (tr. London and New York, 1910); Chanoine Thomas, Épigraphie de Notre Dame de Dijon (1904); H. Chabeuf, “Tête sculptée à Notre Dame de Dijon,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1900, vol. 43, p. 472; ibid., Dijon, monuments et souvenirs (Dijon, Damudot, 1894); H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumental, vol. 6, p. 26, Cunisset-Carnot; Alphonse Germain, Les Néerlandais en Bourgogne, 1909; Raymond Koechlin, La sculpture belge et les influences françaises au XIIIe siècle (Paris, 1903); Louis Courajod, Leçons professées à l’École du Louvre, 1887-96. Vol. 2, Origines de la Renaissance (Paris, Picard et fils, 1901), 3 vols. On the sculpture at Dijon, see MM. Paul Vitry, Louis Gonse, Léon Palustre, André Michel; A. Humbert, Sculpture en Bourgogne (Paris, H. Laurens); Ernest Petit, Hist. des ducs de Bourgogne de la race capétienne (Dijon, 1905), 9 vols.; B. de Barante, Hist. des ducs de Bourgogne de la maison de Valois (Paris, 1825), 12 vols.; Petit-Dutaillis, Charles VII, Louis XI, et les premières années de Charles VIII (Paris, Hachette, 1902); Abbé Chevalier, Le vénérable Guillaume, abbé de St. Bénigne (Dijon, 1875).
[305] Archaeological Congress, 1907, in Dijon, Charles Porée; p. 546, “The Distinctive Features of the Gothic Schools in Champagne and Burgundy,” E. Lefèvre-Pontalis; A. Kleinclausz, Dijon and Beaune (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., “Funerary Art of Burgundy,” in Gazette of Fine Arts, 1901-02; ibid., Claus Sluter and Burgundian Sculpture in the 15th Century (Paris, 1906); Abbé L. Chomton, History of the St. Bénigne Church in Dijon (Dijon, 1900), folio; G.T. Rivoira, Lombard Architecture, vol. 2, chap. 1, on St. Bénigne (tr. London and New York, 1910); Canon Thomas, Epigraphy of Notre Dame de Dijon (1904); H. Chabeuf, “Sculpted Head at Notre Dame de Dijon,” in Review of Christian Art, 1900, vol. 43, p. 472; ibid., Dijon, Monuments and Memories (Dijon, Damudot, 1894); H. Havard, ed., Artistic and Monumental France, vol. 6, p. 26, Cunisset-Carnot; Alphonse Germain, The Dutch in Burgundy, 1909; Raymond Koechlin, Belgian Sculpture and French Influences in the 13th Century (Paris, 1903); Louis Courajod, Lectures Given at the Louvre School, 1887-96. Vol. 2, Origins of the Renaissance (Paris, Picard et fils, 1901), 3 vols. For information on the sculpture in Dijon, see MM. Paul Vitry, Louis Gonse, Léon Palustre, André Michel; A. Humbert, Sculpture in Burgundy (Paris, H. Laurens); Ernest Petit, History of the Dukes of Burgundy from the Capetian Line (Dijon, 1905), 9 vols.; B. de Barante, History of the Dukes of Burgundy from the House of Valois (Paris, 1825), 12 vols.; Petit-Dutaillis, Charles VII, Louis XI, and the Early Years of Charles VIII (Paris, Hachette, 1902); Abbé Chevalier, The Venerable William, Abbot of St. Bénigne (Dijon, 1875).
[306] “La gloire de Bossuet est devenue l’une des religions de la France; on la reconnaît, on la proclame, on s’honore soi-même en y apportant chaque jour un nouveau tribut. Bossuet, c’est le génie hébreu, étendu, fécondé par le Christianisme, et ouvert à toutes les acquisitions de l’intelligence, mais retenant quelque chose de l’interdiction souveraine. Il est la voix éloquente par excellence, la plus simple, la plus forte, la plus brusque, la plus familière, la plus soudainement tonnante.”—Sainte-Beuve.
[306] “The glory of Bossuet has become one of the religions of France; it is recognized, proclaimed, and we take pride in contributing a new offering to it every day. Bossuet represents the Hebrew genius, broadened and enriched by Christianity, and open to all the gains of intelligence, while still holding on to some aspect of sovereign prohibition. He is the quintessential eloquent voice, the simplest, the strongest, the most abrupt, the most familiar, and the most suddenly thunderous.” —Sainte-Beuve.
No city has been more prolific in notable sons than Dijon, where, as Voltaire said, “le mérite de l’esprit semble être un des caractères des citoyens.” Among them are Rameau, the musician (1683-1764), who founded French opera and discovered important laws in harmony; he and his descendants were exempted from tithes by their native city; Dubois, the sculptor (1626-94), whose Assumption and the high altar of Notre Dame, Dijon, are his best works; the critic and philologist, La Monnaye (b. 1641); the playwright, Crébillon (d. 1762); Piron, the witty epigrammatist (d. 1773); the learned Président de Brosse (1709-77), whose Lettres d’Italie are full of Burgundian vivacity and salt, and whose friend, Buffon, the naturalist (1707-88), though born at Montbard, was educated in Dijon, where his father was counselor in the parliament. The grandmother of Madame de Sévigné, St. Jeanne Françoise de Chantal, founder of the Visitation Order, was born at 17 rue Jeannin, 1572. Her father was a president of Dijon’s parliament. The sculptor Rude was a son of Dijon (d. 1855), and in this same city that had produced St. Bernard and Bossuet, the most eloquent preacher of the XIX century, Lacordaire, spent his childhood and youth, as his mother came of an old legal family here. Léon Deshairs, Dijon, architecture des XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles (Paris, 1910).
No city has produced more remarkable individuals than Dijon, where, as Voltaire noted, “the merit of spirit seems to be one of the traits of the citizens.” Among them are Rameau, the musician (1683-1764), who established French opera and uncovered significant principles of harmony; he and his descendants were exempt from tithes by their hometown; Dubois, the sculptor (1626-94), known for his Assumption and the high altar of Notre Dame in Dijon, which are his finest works; the critic and philologist La Monnaye (b. 1641); the playwright Crébillon (d. 1762); Piron, the clever epigrammist (d. 1773); the knowledgeable Président de Brosse (1709-77), whose Lettres d’Italie are filled with Burgundian liveliness and wit, and whose friend, Buffon, the naturalist (1707-88), although born in Montbard, was educated in Dijon, where his father was a counselor in the parliament. The grandmother of Madame de Sévigné, St. Jeanne Françoise de Chantal, founder of the Visitation Order, was born at 17 rue Jeannin in 1572. Her father served as president of Dijon’s parliament. The sculptor Rude was also from Dijon (d. 1855), and in this same city that gave rise to St. Bernard and Bossuet, the most eloquent preacher of the 19th century, Lacordaire spent his childhood and youth, as his mother came from an old legal family there. Léon Deshairs, Dijon, architecture des XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles (Paris, 1910).
[307] Tournus abbey (Saône-et-Loire), when founded, was affiliated with the Columban tradition. From 946 to 980 the church was rebuilt, and again from 1008 to 1028, under the auspices of William of Volpiano, abbot of St. Bénigne. On its outer walls are Lombard mural arcaded bands. The massive forechurch, or narthex of three bays, has two stories of different dates, the lower one about 950, and the upper about 980. The vault of the latter—a cradle carried on brackets—is the earliest example extant in France of a wide-span masonry roof at such a height. Tournus exemplified the militant spirit of Burgundy’s Romanesque school by experimenting with every kind of vault, cradle, half cradle, transverse cradle, and groin. The pier arcades of the main church are of William of Volpiano’s time. The transept and choir are early XII century, and in that same period the reconstructed nave was covered by an experiment in stone roofing which never made a school; it had been used in Persia in the VI century. A series of half barrels borne on lintels were placed side by side across the wide nave, from north to south, instead of one long tunnel vault from east to west. The system allowed for the better lighting of the upper church, and as each barrel vault was buttressed by the one next it, only at the east and west ends of the edifice was abutment required. Congrès Archéologique, 1899, pp. 223, 236; and 1909; Clement Heaton, in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3d series, 1909.
[307] Tournus Abbey (Saône-et-Loire) was founded as part of the Columban tradition. The church underwent rebuilding from 946 to 980, and again from 1008 to 1028, under the leadership of William of Volpiano, the abbot of St. Bénigne. Its outer walls feature Lombard mural arcaded bands. The massive forechurch, or narthex, has three bays and two stories from different periods: the lower story dates to around 950, and the upper one to around 980. The vault of the upper story—a cradle supported by brackets—is the earliest surviving example in France of a wide-span masonry roof at such a height. Tournus embodied the combative spirit of Burgundy’s Romanesque school by experimenting with various types of vaults, including cradle, half cradle, transverse cradle, and groin. The pier arcades of the main church date back to the time of William of Volpiano. The transept and choir were built in the early 12th century, and during that same time, the reconstructed nave was covered with a novel stone roofing technique that never became widespread; it had been used in Persia in the 6th century. A series of half barrels positioned side by side across the wide nave, from north to south, replaced a single long tunnel vault from east to west. This system improved the lighting of the upper church, and since each barrel vault was supported by the next, only the east and west ends of the building required additional supports. Congrès Archéologique, 1899, pp. 223, 236; and 1909; Clement Heaton, in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 3d series, 1909.
[308] Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’Architecture, vol. 4, pp. 131-147; Huysmans, L’Oblat, chap. 5, on Notre Dame of Dijon. In his story, which is the continuation of En Route and La Cathédrale, Huysmans described the closing of the Burgundian monastery of Val des Saints near Dijon. His theory is that by such acts the balance of good and evil in the world is destroyed, since no longer is propitiatory self-sacrifice and prayer offered to heaven for the sins being committed on earth: “Il faut s’attendre à ce que le Bon Dieu tombe sur nous ... pour remettre les choses en place, et vous savez comment il procède, dans ces cas là, il vous accable d’infirmités et d’épreuves.”
[308] Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’Architecture, vol. 4, pp. 131-147; Huysmans, L’Oblat, chap. 5, on Notre Dame of Dijon. In his story, which continues from En Route and La Cathédrale, Huysmans describes the closure of the Burgundian monastery of Val des Saints near Dijon. His theory is that these actions disrupt the balance of good and evil in the world, as there is no longer any propitiatory self-sacrifice and prayer offered to heaven for the sins being committed on earth: “You should expect the Good Lord to come down on us ... to set things right, and you know how He does this, in these cases, He overwhelms you with afflictions and trials.”
[309] A clockmaker named Jacquemart made such works, hence their name. Originally only one figure struck the hours on the big bell. Then a wife, Jacqueleine, was given to the bell-knocker, and after a local wit had rallied the couple on their childless state, first one child, Jacquelinet, was added, and then another, Jacquelinette, and the industrious children now ring the quarter hours on the little bells.
[309] A clockmaker named Jacquemart created these works, which is how they got their name. At first, just one figure struck the hours on the big bell. Then, a wife, Jacqueleine, was introduced to the bell ringer, and after a local jokester teased the couple about not having kids, they added a child, Jacquelinet, followed by another, Jacquelinette. Now, the busy children ring the quarter hours on the small bells.
[310] Works of St. Bernard, edited by Mabillon (Paris, 1669-90), tr. by Eales and Hodges (London, 1889), 4 vols.; E. Vacandard, Vie de Saint Bernard (Paris, Lecoffre, 1895), 2 vols.; other studies of the saint, by Eales (London, 1890) and R. P. Ratisbonne; De Dion, Étude sur les églises de l’ordre de Cîteaux; Arbois de Jubainville, Étude sur l’état intérieur des abbayes cisterciennes et principalement de Clairvaux au XII siècle (Paris, 1858); Lucien Bégule, L’abbaye de Fontenay et l’architecture cistercienne (Lyon, 1912); Camille Enlart, L’architecture gothique en Italie (Paris, 1893); ibid., En Espagne et en Portugal (Paris, 1894); ibid., “Villard de Honnecourt et lex Cisterciens,” in Biblio. de l’École des chartes, 1895; Bulletin Monumental, 1904, André Philippe, on Cistercian churches; John Bilson, The Architecture of the Cistercians; Their Earliest Churches in England (London, 1909); also in the Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 1909; Marcel Aubert, on Cistercian churches in Germany.
[310] Works of St. Bernard, edited by Mabillon (Paris, 1669-90), translated by Eales and Hodges (London, 1889), 4 volumes; E. Vacandard, Life of Saint Bernard (Paris, Lecoffre, 1895), 2 volumes; other studies on the saint by Eales (London, 1890) and R. P. Ratisbonne; De Dion, Study on the Churches of the Cistercian Order; Arbois de Jubainville, Study on the Inner State of Cistercian Abbeys and Mainly Clairvaux in the 12th Century (Paris, 1858); Lucien Bégule, The Abbey of Fontenay and Cistercian Architecture (Lyon, 1912); Camille Enlart, Gothic Architecture in Italy (Paris, 1893); ibid., In Spain and Portugal (Paris, 1894); ibid., “Villard de Honnecourt and the Cistercians,” in Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1895; Bulletin Monumental, 1904, André Philippe, on Cistercian churches; John Bilson, The Architecture of the Cistercians: Their Earliest Churches in England (London, 1909); also in the Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, 1909; Marcel Aubert, on Cistercian churches in Germany.
[311] The castle of Fontaine-lès-Dijon was held by Bernard’s lineage till the XV century. To-day the site is covered by an unfinished commemorative church. The village church is of the XVI century.
[311] The castle of Fontaine-lès-Dijon was owned by Bernard’s family until the 15th century. Today, the location is occupied by an unfinished memorial church. The village church dates back to the 16th century.
[312] As at Cîteaux, scarcely an ancient vestige remains at Clairvaux. The XII-century monastic storehouse now serves as a house of detention. All trace of St. Bernard’s tomb has been lost. The Revolution finished what the Huguenot wars and the absentee commendatory abbots began.
[312] At Clairvaux, like at Cîteaux, hardly anything from the past remains. The 12th-century monastic storage building now functions as a detention center. Any sign of St. Bernard’s grave has completely vanished. The Revolution completed what the Huguenot wars and the absent commendatory abbots had started.
[313] M. Enlart calls Fossanuova, on the Appian Way between Rome and Naples, the first Gothic church in Italy, begun in 1187 by Burgundian Cistercians. Mr. Porter thinks that the infiltration had begun thirty years earlier through various channels. In 1208 Innocent III dedicated Fossanuova; in 1274 St. Thomas Aquinas died there, en route to the Council at Lyons. The same plain Burgundian plan was followed at Casamari (1217), and a daughter house of the latter was S. Galgano (1218), from which went monks who are cited as the masters-of-works of Siena Cathedral, the best Gothic edifice of the peninsula. Monks from French Clairvaux built the three Chiaravalle churches of Italy, and monks from Pontigny raised S. Martino near Viterbo. Later, Italy felt the influence of different French schools; thus the Naples churches are Gothic of Provence because southern French architects accompanied Charles d’Anjou, count of Provence, when he became king of the Two Sicilies. At Assisi the church of S. Francesco shows the Gothic traits of Burgundy, Provence, and Champagne. The Cistercians introduced the torus profile of diagonals, but they long clung to round-headed windows. The Provence masters introduced pointed arched windows. In Spain, Cîteaux found a rival in the monks of Cluny for the dissemination of the new art. In the XII century a large number of Spanish bishoprics were filled by Cluny monks. Sometimes they built according to their own native architecture, as in Lugo Cathedral, San Vincente at Avila, and churches in Seville, which are Burgundian Romanesque. Sigüenza Cathedral is Burgundian both in its Romanesque and Gothic parts. Zamora Cathedral, consecrated 1174, and the old cathedral of Salamanca, show traits of Aquitaine; both sees were occupied by Bishop Jerome, who came from Périgieux. The Cistercians of Spain did not confine themselves, as in Italy, to typically Burgundian Gothic churches. Poblet and Santa-Creus (1157) derive from the early Gothic of Midi France, as well as from Burgundy. Las Huelgas, the Cistercian house for nuns near Burgos, finished about 1180, shows slight Burgundian and much Plantagenet Gothic influence. The foundress was the daughter of Henry II and Aliénor of Aquitaine. In Spain, as in Italy, the later Gothic monuments conformed to the standards of northern French Gothic. Portugal was more exclusively a Cistercian field of art. In 1148, Alcobaça monastery was founded by the son of a Burgundian prince, progenitor of Portugal’s royal line. While it shows Angevin Gothic traits, its plan is the sober Cistercian Burgundian type. In the military Orders of Spain and Portugal the Cistercian Rule was used. The king of Sweden, in 1143, obtained Cistercian missionaries from Clairvaux; in Denmark the abbey church of Sorö is Burgundian Gothic. Camille Enlart, Les origines de l’architecture gothique en Espagne et en Portugal (Paris, 1894); ibid., L’architecture gothique en Italie (Paris, 1893); ibid., Notes archéologiques sur les abbayes cisterciennes de Scandinavie (Paris, 1894); ibid., “Villard de Honnecourt et les Cisterciens,” in Biblio. de l’École des chartes, 1895; ibid., L’art gothique ... en Chypre (Paris, 1899), 2 vols.
[313] M. Enlart refers to Fossanuova, located on the Appian Way between Rome and Naples, as the first Gothic church in Italy, which was started in 1187 by Burgundian Cistercians. Mr. Porter believes that the influence had begun twenty years earlier through various means. In 1208, Innocent III dedicated Fossanuova; in 1274, St. Thomas Aquinas passed away there while on his way to the Council at Lyons. The same simple Burgundian design was used at Casamari (1217), and a branch house from there was S. Galgano (1218), from which monks are noted as the builders of Siena Cathedral, the finest Gothic structure in the peninsula. Monks from French Clairvaux constructed the three Chiaravalle churches in Italy, and monks from Pontigny built S. Martino near Viterbo. Later, Italy experienced the influence of different French schools; thus, the churches in Naples are Gothic in the style of Provence because southern French architects accompanied Charles d’Anjou, Count of Provence, when he became king of the Two Sicilies. At Assisi, the church of S. Francesco exhibits Gothic characteristics from Burgundy, Provence, and Champagne. The Cistercians introduced the torus profile for diagonals, but they held on to round-headed windows for a long time. The Provence masters brought in pointed arched windows. In Spain, Cîteaux had a rival in the monks of Cluny for spreading the new art. In the 12th century, many Spanish bishoprics were filled by Cluny monks. Occasionally, they constructed buildings according to their native architectural styles, as seen in Lugo Cathedral, San Vicente at Avila, and churches in Seville, which reflect Burgundian Romanesque style. Sigüenza Cathedral features Burgundian styles in both its Romanesque and Gothic elements. Zamora Cathedral, consecrated in 1174, and the old cathedral of Salamanca show characteristics of Aquitaine; both dioceses were occupied by Bishop Jerome, who came from Périgieux. The Cistercians in Spain did not limit themselves, as they did in Italy, to typical Burgundian Gothic churches. Poblet and Santa-Creu (1157) derive from the early Gothic of Midi France, along with influences from Burgundy. Las Huelgas, the Cistercian convent for nuns near Burgos, completed around 1180, shows slight Burgundian influence and a significant amount of Plantagenet Gothic influence. The founder was the daughter of Henry II and Aliénor of Aquitaine. In Spain, as in Italy, later Gothic monuments aligned with the standards of northern French Gothic. Portugal was predominantly a Cistercian landscape for art. In 1148, the Alcobaça monastery was established by the son of a Burgundian prince, an ancestor of Portugal’s royal line. While it features Angevin Gothic characteristics, its layout is the modest Cistercian Burgundian type. The military Orders of Spain and Portugal followed the Cistercian Rule. In 1143, the king of Sweden obtained Cistercian missionaries from Clairvaux; in Denmark, the abbey church of Sorö represents Burgundian Gothic. Camille Enlart, Les origines de l’architecture gothique en Espagne et en Portugal (Paris, 1894); ibid., L’architecture gothique en Italie (Paris, 1893); ibid., Notes archéologiques sur les abbayes cisterciennes de Scandinavie (Paris, 1894); ibid., “Villard de Honnecourt et les Cisterciens,” in Biblio. de l’École des chartes, 1895; ibid., L’art gothique ... en Chypre (Paris, 1899), 2 vols.
[314] Congrès Archéologique, 1908; V. Ruprich-Robert, L’architecture normande aux XIe et XIIe siècles (Paris, 1897), 2 vols.; A. de Caumont et Ch. de Beaurepaire, Mémoires historiques sur la Normandie: antiquités, monuments, histoire (1827-36); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, Calvados, Eure, Orne, Manche (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie), 8 vols, folio; Léon le Cordier, “L’architecture de la Normandie au XIIIe siècle,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1863, vol. 29, p. 513; Chanoine Porée, L’art normand (Paris, 1914); Taylor et Nodier, Voyages pittoresques ... dans l’ancienne France. Normandie (Paris, Didron, 1825), 2 vols., folio; Henri Prentout, La Normandie (Collection, Les provinces françaises), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Lechandé d’Anisy, Les anciennes abbayes de Normandie (1834), 2 vols, and atlas; Ordericus Vitalis, The Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy (London, Bohn Library, 1856), 4 vols.; Albert Sorel, Pages normandes (Paris, Plon, 1907).
[314] Congrès Archéologique, 1908; V. Ruprich-Robert, L’architecture normande aux XIe et XIIe siècles (Paris, 1897), 2 vols.; A. de Caumont et Ch. de Beaurepaire, Mémoires historiques sur la Normandie: antiquités, monuments, histoire (1827-36); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, Calvados, Eure, Orne, Manche (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie), 8 vols, folio; Léon le Cordier, “L’architecture de la Normandie au XIIIe siècle,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1863, vol. 29, p. 513; Chanoine Porée, L’art normand (Paris, 1914); Taylor et Nodier, Voyages pittoresques ... dans l’ancienne France. Normandie (Paris, Didron, 1825), 2 vols., folio; Henri Prentout, La Normandie (Collection, Les provinces françaises), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1910); Lechandé d’Anisy, Les anciennes abbayes de Normandie (1834), 2 vols, and atlas; Ordericus Vitalis, The Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy (London, Bohn Library, 1856), 4 vols.; Albert Sorel, Pages normandes (Paris, Plon, 1907).
On Normandy’s history, see Stubbs, Freeman, Palgrave, H. W. C. Davis, G. B. Adams, Sir J. H. Ramsay, Miss Kate Norgate, Mrs. J. R, Green, etc. A. Thierry in his Conquête de l’Angleterre gives details of the oppression of the Anglo-Saxons by their Norman conquerors.
On Normandy’s history, see Stubbs, Freeman, Palgrave, H. W. C. Davis, G. B. Adams, Sir J. H. Ramsay, Miss Kate Norgate, Mrs. J. R. Green, etc. A. Thierry in his Conquête de l’Angleterre gives details of the oppression of the Anglo-Saxons by their Norman conquerors.
[316] Chanoine Porée, Histoire de l’abbaye du Bec (Évreux, impri. de Hérissey, 1901); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque Eure, vol. 2, p. 221, “Bec,” Chanoine Porée (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie, 1895); Ragey, Histoire de Saint Anselm (Paris, 1889); Martin Rule, Life and Times of St. Anselm (London, 1883).
[316] Chanoine Porée, History of the Abbey of Bec (Évreux, printed by Hérissey, 1901); Monumental and Picturesque Normandy: Eure, vol. 2, p. 221, "Bec," Chanoine Porée (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie, 1895); Ragey, History of Saint Anselm (Paris, 1889); Martin Rule, Life and Times of St. Anselm (London, 1883).
Other studies of St. Anselm by Rémusat (Paris, 1853); R. W. Church (London, 1870); J. M. Rigg (London, 1896), and in Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury (London, 1860-75); Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 8, p. 260, “Lanfranc” (Paris, 1749); vol. 9, p. 398, “St. Anselm”; p. 369, “Gondulfe, évêque de Rochester” (Paris, 1750).
Other studies of St. Anselm by Rémusat (Paris, 1853); R. W. Church (London, 1870); J. M. Rigg (London, 1896), and in Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury (London, 1860-75); Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 8, p. 260, “Lanfranc” (Paris, 1749); vol. 9, p. 398, “St. Anselm”; p. 369, “Gondulfe, évêque de Rochester” (Paris, 1750).
[317] V. Ruprich-Robert, L’architecture normande aux XIe et XIIIe siècles (Paris, 1885-87); G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture, vol. 2, on Normandy (London and New York, 1910), translated from Le origini dell’architettura lombarda (Milano, 1908); Canoine Porée, L’art normand (Paris, 1914); Camille Enlart, Manuel d’archéologie française (Paris, Picard et fils, 1904), 2 vols.; R. de Lasteyrie, L’architecture religieuse en France à l’époque romane (Paris, 1912); John Bilson, “The Beginnings of Gothic Architecture,” in the Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, Third series, 1898-99, vol. 6, pp. 289, 322, 345; 1901-02, vol. 9, p. 350; René Fage, “La décoration géométrique dans l’école romane de Normandie,” in Congrès Archéol., 1908, vol. 2, p. 614; Louis Engerand, “La sculpture romane en Normandie,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1904, vol. 68, p. 405; Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, vol. 1, pp. 285 to 332, gives the chief Norman Romanesque monuments (New York and London, 1907); ibid., Lombard Architecture (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1917), 3 vols. and atlas.
[317] V. Ruprich-Robert, The Architecture of Normandy in the 11th and 13th Centuries (Paris, 1885-87); G. T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture, vol. 2, on Normandy (London and New York, 1910), translated from The Origins of Lombard Architecture (Milan, 1908); Canoine Porée, Norman Art (Paris, 1914); Camille Enlart, Manual of French Archaeology (Paris, Picard et fils, 1904), 2 vols.; R. de Lasteyrie, Religious Architecture in France During the Romanesque Period (Paris, 1912); John Bilson, “The Beginnings of Gothic Architecture,” in the Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, Third series, 1898-99, vol. 6, pp. 289, 322, 345; 1901-02, vol. 9, p. 350; René Fage, “Geometric Decoration in the Romanesque School of Normandy,” in Archaeological Congress, 1908, vol. 2, p. 614; Louis Engerand, “Romanesque Sculpture in Normandy,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1904, vol. 68, p. 405; Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, vol. 1, pp. 285 to 332, details the main Norman Romanesque monuments (New York and London, 1907); ibid., Lombard Architecture (New Haven, Yale University Press, 1917), 3 vols. and atlas.
[319] Normandy’s Millénaire of 1911 was celebrated fitly. Among the books it called forth are: Gabriel Monod, Le rôle de la Normandie dans l’histoire de France (Paris, 1911); H. Prentout, Essai sur les origines et la fondation du duché de Normandy (Paris, 1911); A. Albert, Petit histoire de Normandie (Paris, 1912). In 1915 appeared Charles Homer Haskins, The Normans in European History (Boston, Houghton Mifflin).
[319] Normandy’s Millénaire of 1911 was celebrated appropriately. Among the books it inspired are: Gabriel Monod, Le rôle de la Normandie dans l’histoire de France (Paris, 1911); H. Prentout, Essai sur les origines et la fondation du duché de Normandy (Paris, 1911); A. Albert, Petit histoire de Normandie (Paris, 1912). In 1915, Charles Homer Haskins published The Normans in European History (Boston, Houghton Mifflin).
[320] E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Les influences normandes au XIe et au XIIe siècle dans le nord de la France,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906. vol. 70; Camille Enlart, L’influence extérieure de l’art normand au moyen âge; F. Chalandon, Histoire de la domination normande en Italie et en Sicile (Paris, 1907); Ch. Diehl, Palerme et Syracuse (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1907); Émile Bertaud, L’art dans l’Italie méridionale.
[320] E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “The Norman Influences in the 11th and 12th Century in Northern France,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1906. vol. 70; Camille Enlart, The External Influence of Norman Art in the Middle Ages; F. Chalandon, History of Norman Rule in Italy and Sicily (Paris, 1907); Ch. Diehl, Palermo and Syracuse (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1907); Émile Bertaud, Art in Southern Italy.
[321] Roger Martin du Gard, L’abbaye de Jumièges, étude archéol. des ruines (Montdidier, 1909); ibid., “Jumièges,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1909, vol. 73, p. 34; John Bilson, on “Jumièges,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901, p. 454; F. Lot, Études critiques sur l’abbaye de Saint-Wandrille (Paris 1913); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, p. 219, “Jumièges,” Alfred Darcel; p. 353, “St. Wandrille,” Abbé Sauvage (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie); Abbé Julien Loth, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de St. Pierre de Jumièges (Rouen, 1882-85), 3 vols.; David, Les grandes abbayes de l’Occident (Lille, 1907); Lefèvre-Pontalis, Les influences normandes au XIe et au XIIe siècle dans le nord de la France (1906), also in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70.
[321] Roger Martin du Gard, The Abbey of Jumièges: An Archaeological Study of the Ruins (Montdidier, 1909); ibid., “Jumièges,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1909, vol. 73, p. 34; John Bilson, on “Jumièges,” in Review of Christian Art, 1901, p. 454; F. Lot, Critical Studies on the Abbey of Saint-Wandrille (Paris 1913); Monumental and Picturesque Normandy. Seine-Inférieure, p. 219, “Jumièges,” Alfred Darcel; p. 353, “St. Wandrille,” Abbé Sauvage (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie); Abbé Julien Loth, History of the Royal Abbey of St. Peter of Jumièges (Rouen, 1882-85), 3 vols.; David, The Great Abbeys of the West (Lille, 1907); Lefèvre-Pontalis, Norman Influences in the 11th and 12th Centuries in Northern France (1906), also in Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70.
[322] Congrès Archéologique, 1883 and 1908; H. Prentout, Caen et Bayeux (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1909); V. Ruprich-Robert, L’église Ste. Trinité et l’église St. Étienne de Caen (Caen, 1864); E. de Beaurepaire, Caen illustré, son histoire, ses monuments (Caen, 1896), folio; Bouet, Analyse architecturale de l’abbaye de St. Étienne de Caen (1868); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Calvados, pp. 1, 49; Arcisse de Caumont, Statistique monumentale du Calvados (Caen, F. Le Blanc-Hardal, 1898), 6 vols.; Camille Enlart, Manuel d’archéologie française (Paris, Picard, 1902), 2 vols.; John Bilson, “The Beginnings of Gothic Architecture,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, Third series, 1898-99, vol. 6, pp. 289, 322, 345, and p. 259, his answer to M. de Lasteyrie. Reprinted in part in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901, vol. 44, pp. 369, 462.
[322] Congrès Archéologique, 1883 and 1908; H. Prentout, Caen et Bayeux (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1909); V. Ruprich-Robert, L’église Ste. Trinité et l’église St. Étienne de Caen (Caen, 1864); E. de Beaurepaire, Caen illustré, son histoire, ses monuments (Caen, 1896), folio; Bouet, Analyse architecturale de l’abbaye de St. Étienne de Caen (1868); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Calvados, pp. 1, 49; Arcisse de Caumont, Statistique monumentale du Calvados (Caen, F. Le Blanc-Hardal, 1898), 6 vols.; Camille Enlart, Manuel d’archéologie française (Paris, Picard, 1902), 2 vols.; John Bilson, “The Beginnings of Gothic Architecture,” in Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects, Third series, 1898-99, vol. 6, pp. 289, 322, 345, and p. 259, his response to M. de Lasteyrie. Reprinted in part in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1901, vol. 44, pp. 369, 462.
In the excellent public library of Caen are to be found the Congrès Archéologique, the Bulletin Monumental, and other archæological publications. Also the Catalogue des ouvrages normande de la Bibliothèque municipale de Caen (Caen, 1910-12).
In the great public library of Caen, you'll find the Congrès Archéologique, the Bulletin Monumental, and other archaeological publications. There's also the Catalogue des ouvrages normande de la Bibliothèque municipale de Caen (Caen, 1910-12).
[324] An old chronicle related how the young widow of the lord of La Roche-Guyon “mieux aimer s’en aller denuée de tous bien, avec ses trois enfants, que de rendre hommage au roi d’outre mer et de se mettre ès mains des anciens ennemies du royaume.” Anthyme Saint-Paul, L’architecture française et la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, 1910); Siméon Luce, La France pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, Hachette, 1893); H. Dénifle, La désolation des églises, monastères, et hôpitaux en France pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, Picard, 1899); H. Martin, La guerre au XVe siècle (Paris, H. Laurens); G. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Épisodes de l’invasion anglaise. La guerre de partisans dans la Haute-Normandie” (1424-29), in Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1893 to 1895, vols. 54, 55, 56.
[324] An old chronicle tells how the young widow of the lord of La Roche-Guyon “preferred to leave without any possessions, along with her three children, than to pay homage to the king across the sea and put herself in the hands of the kingdom's old enemies.” Anthyme Saint-Paul, L’architecture française et la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, 1910); Siméon Luce, La France pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, Hachette, 1893); H. Dénifle, La désolation des églises, monastères, et hôpitaux en France pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, Picard, 1899); H. Martin, La guerre au XVe siècle (Paris, H. Laurens); G. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Épisodes de l’invasion anglaise. La guerre de partisans dans la Haute-Normandie” (1424-29), in Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, 1893 to 1895, vols. 54, 55, 56.
[325] A. de Caumont, “Les tours d’églises dans le Calvados,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1847, vol. 23, p. 362; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “Les clochers du Calvados,” in Congrès Archéologique, 1908, vol. 2, p. 652; G. Bouet, “Clochers du diocèse de Bayeux,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1872, vol. 38, p. 517; Abbé Édeline, Norrey et son histoire; La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Calvados, p. 231, “Norrey,” G. Lavalley; p. 349, “Secqueville”; Congrès Archéologique, 1908, p. 193, “Bernières”; p. 338, “Norrey”; p. 349, “Secqueville.”
[325] A. de Caumont, “The Church Towers in Calvados,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1847, vol. 23, p. 362; E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, “The Bell Towers of Calvados,” in Archéological Congress, 1908, vol. 2, p. 652; G. Bouet, “Bell Towers of the Diocese of Bayeux,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1872, vol. 38, p. 517; Abbé Édeline, Norrey and Its History; Pictorial and Monumental Normandy. Calvados, p. 231, “Norrey,” G. Lavalley; p. 349, “Secqueville”; Archéological Congress, 1908, p. 193, “Bernières”; p. 338, “Norrey”; p. 349, “Secqueville.”
[326] In the abbatial of St. Pierre-sur-Dives there is XII-century work in the ambulatory walls, in the piers and side walls of the nave, and in the lower parts of the façade towers. To the XIII century belong most of the choir’s piers and the apsidal chapels, also the beautiful chapter house. The transept then was put into harmony with the nave, and its tower built, which latter now is braced by clumsy obstructions within the church. In the XIV century rose the west façade, and the north tower was rebuilt. The XV century rehandled the high vaulting and clearstory, where appear die-away moldings and flamelike tracery. The abbey was founded by Richard II (d. 1020) and his beautiful duchess, Judith of Brittany. Its Romanesque abbatial was dedicated in 1067 by Archbishop Maurille in the presence of the Conqueror and Matilda. In 1107 the abbatial was burned by Henry I of England, who accused the abbot of siding with his elder brother, with whom he was at war, but in atonement the king contributed toward the reconstruction of the church; Congrès Archéologique, 1861, 1862, and 1908, p. 278; J. Pépin, Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives (Caen, 1879); Abbé Denis, Église de Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives en 1145 (Caen, 1869); Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, vol. 21, p. 120, gives Abbot Haimon’s letter, which also was published in Rouen, 1851, by L. de Glanville.
[326] At the abbey of St. Pierre-sur-Dives, there is 12th-century work in the walls of the ambulatory, the piers and side walls of the nave, and in the lower parts of the façade towers. Most of the choir’s piers and the apsidal chapels belong to the 13th century, along with the beautiful chapter house. The transept was then aligned with the nave, and its tower was built, which is now supported by awkward reinforcements inside the church. In the 14th century, the west façade was constructed and the north tower was rebuilt. The 15th century saw the high vaulting and clearstory redone, featuring faded moldings and flame-like tracery. The abbey was founded by Richard II (d. 1020) and his beautiful duchess, Judith of Brittany. Its Romanesque abbey was dedicated in 1067 by Archbishop Maurille in the presence of the Conqueror and Matilda. In 1107, the abbey was set on fire by Henry I of England, who accused the abbot of supporting his older brother, with whom he was at war, but in atonement, the king helped finance the reconstruction of the church; Congrès Archéologique, 1861, 1862, and 1908, p. 278; J. Pépin, Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives (Caen, 1879); Abbé Denis, Église de Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives en 1145 (Caen, 1869); Bibliothèque de l’École des chartes, vol. 21, p. 120, provides Abbot Haimon’s letter, which was also published in Rouen, 1851, by L. de Glanville.
[327] Congrès Archéologique, 1908; A. Besnard, Monographie de l’église et de l’abbaye Saint Georges de Boscherville (Paris, Lechevailier, 1899); J. A. Deville, Essai historique et descriptive sur l’église et l’abbaye de St. Georges de Boscherville (Rouen, 1827); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, p. 235, Abbé A. Tougard.
[327] Congrès Archéologique, 1908; A. Besnard, Monographie de l’église et de l’abbaye Saint Georges de Boscherville (Paris, Lechevailier, 1899); J. A. Deville, Essai historique et descriptive sur l’église et l’abbaye de St. Georges de Boscherville (Rouen, 1827); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, p. 235, Abbé A. Tougard.
[328] Congrès Archéologique, 1908; Doctor Coutan, La Trinité de Fécamp (Caen, 1907). He also describes the Trinité in La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, p. 465; the churches at Dieppe, p. 279; the church of Harfleur, p. 393; Le Havre, p. 381; Carville, p. 177, and Notre Dame at Caudebec-en-Caux, of which Abbé Sauvage has published a separate monograph (1876); A. Leport, Description de l’église de la Trinité de Fécamp (Fécamp, 1879); Leroux de Lincy, Essai historique sur l’abbaye de Fécamp; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 7, p. 318, “Le bienheureux Guillaume, abbé de St. Bénigne de Dijon” (Paris, 1746); vol. 10, p. 265, “Herbert Lozinga, évêque de Norwich” (Paris, 1756).
[328] Congrès Archéologique, 1908; Doctor Coutan, La Trinité de Fécamp (Caen, 1907). He also talks about the Trinité in La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, p. 465; the churches at Dieppe, p. 279; the church of Harfleur, p. 393; Le Havre, p. 381; Carville, p. 177, and Notre Dame at Caudebec-en-Caux, for which Abbé Sauvage has published a separate monograph (1876); A. Leport, Description de l’église de la Trinité de Fécamp (Fécamp, 1879); Leroux de Lincy, Essai historique sur l’abbaye de Fécamp; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 7, p. 318, “Le bienheureux Guillaume, abbé de St. Bénigne de Dijon” (Paris, 1746); vol. 10, p. 265, “Herbert Lozinga, évêque de Norwich” (Paris, 1756).
[329] The abbatial of Bernay (Eure), to-day a corn exchange on the market place, shows in its transept the earliest instance of an arcaded wall passage, the feature that, when placed at the clearstory level, became one of the most frequent characteristics of Anglo-Norman architecture, both Romanesque and Gothic. Bernay was founded between 1013 and 1019 by Richard II and Judith of Brittany, the same who invited to their duchy the Lombard, William of Volpiano. William is known to have worked on the Bernay abbatial, which shows resemblances to Burgundian churches at Auxerre and Nevers, and he may have brought to Normandy the Lombard trait of absidal chapels projecting from the eastern wall of the transept. Bernay, however, did not use the Lombard alternance of ground supports. Mr. Bilson thinks that the tall attached stripes were intended for a vaulted, not for a timber roof. The nave’s side walls and piers are of Abbot William’s time; two bays of the choir belong to later years of the XI century. William the Conqueror is said to have finished the church. It was grievously sacked during the religious wars. The church of Ste. Croix in Bernay, begun, 1373, enlarged 1497, contains tombs from Bec, of former abbots there. Congrès Archéologique, 1908, vol. 2, p. 588, Chanoine Porée; Bulletin Monumental, 1911, vol. 75, p. 396, Chanoine Porée, and p. 403, John Bilson; G.T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture, translated by G. Mc. N. Rushford (London and New York, 1910); Chanoine Porée, Bernay (Caen, H. Delesques, 1912).
[329] The abbey of Bernay (Eure), now a grain market in the town square, features in its transept the earliest example of an arcaded wall passage, a characteristic that, when situated at the clearstory level, became one of the most common traits of Anglo-Norman architecture, both Romanesque and Gothic. Bernay was established between 1013 and 1019 by Richard II and Judith of Brittany, who also invited the Lombard William of Volpiano to their duchy. William is known to have worked on the Bernay abbey, which shares similarities with Burgundian churches in Auxerre and Nevers, and he may have brought the Lombard style of projecting absidal chapels from the eastern wall of the transept into Normandy. However, Bernay did not adopt the Lombard alternation of ground supports. Mr. Bilson believes that the tall attached stripes were meant for a vaulted roof rather than a timber one. The side walls and piers of the nave date back to Abbot William's era; two bays of the choir were constructed in the later years of the 11th century. It is said that William the Conqueror completed the church. It suffered significant damage during the religious wars. The church of Ste. Croix in Bernay, which began construction in 1373 and was expanded in 1497, houses tombs from Bec, of former abbots there. Congrès Archéologique, 1908, vol. 2, p. 588, Chanoine Porée; Bulletin Monumental, 1911, vol. 75, p. 396, Chanoine Porée, and p. 403, John Bilson; G.T. Rivoira, Lombardic Architecture, translated by G. Mc. N. Rushford (London and New York, 1910); Chanoine Porée, Bernay (Caen, H. Delesques, 1912).
[330] Congrès Archéologique, 1895; Abbé A. Legris, L’église d’Eu (1913); Desiré Le Beuf, La ville d’Eu (1884); Doctor Coutan, in La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, vol. 1, p. 333; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, vol. 1, p. 198; vol. 2, p. 364; vol. 5, p. 359; Gonse, L’art gothique, p. 210 (Paris, Quantin, 1891).
[330] Archaeological Congress, 1895; Father A. Legris, The Church of Eu (1913); Desiré Le Beuf, The City of Eu (1884); Dr. Coutan, in Monumental and Picturesque Normandy. Seine-Inférieure, vol. 1, p. 333; Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionary of Architecture, vol. 1, p. 198; vol. 2, p. 364; vol. 5, p. 359; Gonse, Gothic Art, p. 210 (Paris, Quantin, 1891).
[331] Paul Gout, Le Mont-Saint-Michel (Paris, Colin, 1910), 2 vols.; Ch. H. Besnard, Mont-Saint-Michel (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); Ch. de Beaurepaire, Curieuses recherches sur le Mont-Saint-Michel (Rouen, 1873); Ed. Corroyer, Description de l’abbaye du Mont-Saint-Michel et de ses abords (Paris, 1877); Dubouchet, L’abbaye de Mont-Saint-Michel (Paris, 1895); Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (London and New York, 1916), chap. 1; Henry Adams, Chartres and Mont-Saint-Michel (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1913); Léopold Delisle, éd., Cronique de Robert de Torigni (Paris, Soc. de l’histoire de Normandie, 1872-75), 2 vols. On Robert de Torigny see Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 14, p. 362 (Paris, 1817); Siméon Luce, éd., Cronique de Mont-Saint-Michel: la défence nationale (1879-86); O. de Poli, Les défenseurs du Mont-Saint-Michel, 1417-50, (Paris, 1895); Huynes, Histoire générale de Mont-Saint-Michel (Rouen, 1872); Brin, St. Michel et le Mont-Saint-Michel dans l’histoire et la littérature (Paris, 1880).
[331] Paul Gout, Le Mont-Saint-Michel (Paris, Colin, 1910), 2 vols.; Ch. H. Besnard, Mont-Saint-Michel (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1911); Ch. de Beaurepaire, Curieuses recherches sur le Mont-Saint-Michel (Rouen, 1873); Ed. Corroyer, Description de l’abbaye du Mont-Saint-Michel et de ses abords (Paris, 1877); Dubouchet, L’abbaye de Mont-Saint-Michel (Paris, 1895); Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (London and New York, 1916), chap. 1; Henry Adams, Chartres and Mont-Saint-Michel (Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1913); Léopold Delisle, ed., Cronique de Robert de Torigni (Paris, Soc. de l’histoire de Normandie, 1872-75), 2 vols. For Robert de Torigny, see Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 14, p. 362 (Paris, 1817); Siméon Luce, ed., Cronique de Mont-Saint-Michel: la défense nationale (1879-86); O. de Poli, Les défenseurs du Mont-Saint-Michel, 1417-50, (Paris, 1895); Huynes, Histoire générale de Mont-Saint-Michel (Rouen, 1872); Brin, St. Michel et le Mont-Saint-Michel dans l’histoire et la littérature (Paris, 1880).
[332] From the Chanson de Roland, édition Léon Gautier (Tours, Mâme et fils, 1895).
[332] From the Chanson de Roland, Léon Gautier edition (Tours, Mâme et fils, 1895).
Il y a plusieurs choses à se rappeler ;
Of all the lands that the bear has conquered,
From sweet France, of the scents of your lines,
De Carlemagne, his lord, who nurtures him,
No poet mourns or sighs. But he himself does not want to be put in oblivion; Cleimet is to blame, if God deserves thanks:
’Viere parent, who never forgets,
Since Lazarus was raised from the dead E Daniel des leuns quaresis,
Guards of May, I have the world of all dangers. For the sins that I have committed in my life!
Sun destre gant à Deu en puroffrit,
And with his own hand, Gabriel took it. Desur sun braz teneit le chef enclin:
It is with great difficulty that he has reached his end.
God, I send this angel cherub,
Seinz Raphael, seinz Michiel de l’Péril,
Group of the ten Gabriels and twenty,
"The glove of the Count carries in Paris."
He faced Spain as a conqueror,
From many things, the memory returned vividly,
The many places he had conquered in battle,
Thoughts of beautiful France and his heritage,
About Charlemagne, his lord, who raised him; Tears and heavy sighs came as the memories flooded back.
Nor did he want to forget himself. Seeking God's grace, he confessed his sins:
‘Our true Father, who has never lied,
Who from the grave brought Blessed Lazarus back to life,
Who Daniel rescued from lions, save my soul.
"Forgive the sins that I have tarnished it with!"
He raised his right-hand gauntlet toward God, The Archangel Gabriel took it from his hand.
Then his head gradually rested on his arm, With hands clasped in prayer, his spirit moved on. God sent his angel cherubim to him,
Archguardian Michael, known as the Guardian of Danger,
St. Raphael came along with St. Gabriel. "And took the Count’s soul directly to Paradise.”)
[333] Léon Gautier, Les épopées françaises (Paris, V. Palme, 1878-94), 4 vols.; Joseph Bédier, Les légends épiques, recherches sur la formation des chansons de geste, vol. 3, “La légende de Roland” (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.
[333] Léon Gautier, French Epics (Paris, V. Palme, 1878-94), 4 vols.; Joseph Bédier, Epic Legends, Research on the Formation of Chansons de Geste, vol. 3, “The Legend of Roland” (Paris, H. Champion, 1908-13), 4 vols.
[334] “Il y a des provinces qui ont le doit de se dire françaises par excellence.... La Normandie et la Picardie sont de celles-là.... Elles ont apportés, dans le cours des siècles, à la vieille Ile-de-France, leur aînée, le concours loyal de leur bras, de leur courage, de leur génie.”—Gabriel Hanotaux, “La Normandie dans l’unité française,” in Société normande de géographie, 1900, vol 22.
[334] “There are provinces that can rightfully call themselves quintessentially French.... Normandy and Picardy are among them.... Over the centuries, they have contributed their strength, bravery, and talent to the old Ile-de-France, their elder.”—Gabriel Hanotaux, “Normandy in the French Unity,” in Norman Geographical Society, 1900, vol 22.
[335] The court at Rouen asked Jeanne at the fourth interrogation, February 27, 1431: “Whose was the first voice you heard when you were about thirteen?” Jeanne replied: “It was St. Michael’s. I saw him before my eyes; he was not alone, but was encircled by angels of heaven. I saw him with my bodily eyes as clearly as I see you. When they left me, I wept; right gladly would I have gone with them, that is—my soul.” At the seventh interrogation, March 15, 1431, when asked how she knew it was St. Michael, Jeanne replied: “Par le parler et le langage des anges.... He told me I was a good child and that God would aid me, and to come to the aid of the king of France. He related to me the grand pitié qui était au royaume de France.”—E. O’Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation et la sentence de réhabilitation, de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, Plon, 1808), 2 vols.
[335] The court in Rouen asked Jeanne during her fourth questioning on February 27, 1431: “Whose voice did you hear first when you were about thirteen?” Jeanne responded: “It was St. Michael’s. I saw him right in front of me; he wasn't alone, but surrounded by angels from heaven. I saw him with my physical eyes as clearly as I see you. When they left me, I cried; I would have happily gone with them, that is—my soul.” During the seventh questioning on March 15, 1431, when asked how she knew it was St. Michael, Jeanne replied: “By the speech and language of the angels.... He told me I was a good child and that God would help me, and to assist the king of France. He told me about the great pity that was in the kingdom of France.”—E. O'Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation et la sentence de réhabilitation, de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, Plon, 1808), 2 vols.
[336] Le procès Jeanne d’Arc, eighth interrogation, March 17, 1431. When asked by her judges if God hated the English, Jeanne replied: “Of the love or the hate which God has for the English, or of what He will do with their souls, I know nothing. But this I know: that they one and all will be driven out of France, except those who here die, and that God will send victory to the French against the English.”
[336] The Trial of Joan of Arc, eighth interrogation, March 17, 1431. When her judges asked if God hated the English, Joan replied: “I don’t know anything about God’s love or hatred for the English, or what He will do with their souls. But I do know this: they will all be driven out of France, except for those who die here, and that God will grant victory to the French over the English.”
[338] Congrès Archéologique, 1859 and 1868; Abbé Loisel et Jean Lafond. La cathédrale de Rouen (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913): Loisel et Alline, La cathédrale de Rouen avant l’incendie de 1200 (Rouen, Lecerf fils, 1904); Louise Pillion, Les portails lateraux de la cathédrale de Rouen (Paris, Picard et fils, 1907); A. Deville, Tombeaux de la cathédrale de Rouen (Paris, Levy, 1881), folio; Camille Enlart, Rouen (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1904); Émile Lambin, “La cathédrale de Rouen,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1900; Abbé Julien Loth, La cathédrale de Rouen (1879).
[338] Archaeological Congress, 1859 and 1868; Abbé Loisel and Jean Lafond. The Cathedral of Rouen (Collection, Small Monographs), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1913): Loisel and Alline, The Cathedral of Rouen Before the Fire of 1200 (Rouen, Lecerf fils, 1904); Louise Pillion, The Side Portals of the Cathedral of Rouen (Paris, Picard et fils, 1907); A. Deville, Tombs of the Cathedral of Rouen (Paris, Levy, 1881), folio; Camille Enlart, Rouen (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1904); Émile Lambin, “The Cathedral of Rouen,” in Review of Christian Art, 1900; Abbé Julien Loth, The Cathedral of Rouen (1879).
Other descriptions of Rouen’s monuments can be found in the general works of Henri Havard, André Michel, Louis Gonse, Émile Mâle, Paul Vitry.
Other descriptions of Rouen’s monuments can be found in the general works of Henri Havard, André Michel, Louis Gonse, Émile Mâle, and Paul Vitry.
Cheruel, Histoire de Rouen sous la domination anglaise au XVe siècle (Rouen, 1840); A. Fallue, Histoire de l’église métropolitaine et du diocèse de Rouen (Rouen, 1850), 4 vols.; Ch. de Beaurepaire, Notes historiques et archéol. concernaut le département de la Seine-Inférieure (Rouen, Cagniard, 1883); ibid., Dernières mélanges historiques et archéol. Seine-Inférieure (Rouen, 1909); Cook, The Story of Rouen (London, 1899); Perkins, The Churches of Rouen (London, 1900).
Cheruel, Histoire de Rouen sous la domination anglaise au XVe siècle (Rouen, 1840); A. Fallue, Histoire de l’église métropolitaine et du diocèse de Rouen (Rouen, 1850), 4 vols.; Ch. de Beaurepaire, Notes historiques et archéol. concernant le département de la Seine-Inférieure (Rouen, Cagniard, 1883); ibid., Dernières mélanges historiques et archéol. Seine-Inférieure (Rouen, 1909); Cook, The Story of Rouen (London, 1899); Perkins, The Churches of Rouen (London, 1900).
[339] St. Ouen derived its name from the bishop who succeeded St. Romanus and governed Rouen for forty years in the VII century, aiding the founders of Jumièges, Fécamp, and St. Wandrille. He had been blessed as a child in his father’s castle near Braine by a passing guest, the Irish missionary, St. Columbanus, and he loved to trace thence his vocation. So rich grew the abbey of St. Ouen that it ruled half the city as temporal lord. In the XV century the English expelled Abbot Jean Richard, a builder of the present nave, to substitute a prelate docile to themselves who sat as judge at Jeanne’s trial. But the pope restored Jean Richard in 1434, and he lived to entertain Charles VII in his monastery when that king came as victor to Rouen in 1449. Vacandard, Vie de St. Ouen (Paris, 1902).
[339] St. Ouen got its name from the bishop who took over after St. Romanus and led Rouen for forty years in the 7th century, helping to establish the monasteries at Jumièges, Fécamp, and St. Wandrille. As a child, he was blessed in his father's castle near Braine by a traveling guest, the Irish missionary St. Columbanus, and he often credited that moment with shaping his calling. The abbey of St. Ouen grew so prosperous that it became the temporal lord over half the city. In the 15th century, the English ousted Abbot Jean Richard, who built the current nave, replacing him with a prelate loyal to them, who acted as judge in Jeanne's trial. However, the pope reinstated Jean Richard in 1434, and he welcomed Charles VII to his monastery when the king returned as a victor to Rouen in 1449. Vacandard, Vie de St. Ouen (Paris, 1902).
[340] To a Romanesque abbatial of St. Ouen, burned in 1136, belonged the two-storied chapel called the Chambre-aux-Clercs, now set against the northern limb of the transept. In 1318 Abbot Jean Roussel, called Marc d’Argent, began the present abbatial, making its choir and transept in twenty years, as well as one bay of the nave. After a pause, two more bays were finished by 1390. Another cessation of work came during the Hundred Years’ War. Alexander Berneval set up the transept’s south rose (1439), made the pretty southern portal (1441) called after the marmosets decorating it; his son put up the north rose. Both architects repose in the same tomb in the church. Many hold the central lantern (c. 1490) to be a prime success of Flamboyant art. Flame tracery appeared in the XV-century windows, but the Rayonnant first plan was adhered to for the chief lines, so that the church, whose building extended over two centuries, is homogeneous. The abbatial was finished under Abbot Bohier (1491-1515). The Huguenots stripped it of its tombs, and lighted bonfires in the church. In the XIX century was added the mediocre west façade.
[340] The two-story chapel known as the Chambre-aux-Clercs, part of the Romanesque abbey of St. Ouen that burned down in 1136, is now located on the northern side of the transept. In 1318, Abbot Jean Roussel, also known as Marc d’Argent, began the current abbey, completing the choir and transept in twenty years, along with one bay of the nave. After a break, two more bays were finished by 1390. Work paused again during the Hundred Years’ War. Alexander Berneval completed the south rose of the transept in 1439 and created the attractive southern portal in 1441, named after the marmosets adorning it; his son installed the north rose. Both architects are buried in the same tomb within the church. Many consider the central lantern, created around 1490, to be a prime example of Flamboyant art. Flame tracery appeared in the 15th-century windows, but the original Rayonnant plan was maintained for the main lines, making the church, built over two centuries, cohesive. The abbey was completed under Abbot Bohier (1491-1515). The Huguenots stripped it of its tombs and set bonfires inside the church. In the 19th century, a mediocre west façade was added.
La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure, p. 105, “St. Ouen”; p. 129, “St. Maclou”; H. Havard, éd., La France artistique et monumentale, vol. 2, p. 79, “St. Ouen,” L. de Foucaud; p. 85, “St. Maclou”; Dom. Pommeraye, Histoire de l’abbaye royale de St. Ouen (Rouen, 1662), folio; Jules Quicherat, “Documents inédits sur la construction de St. Ouen de Rouen,” in Biblio. de l’École des chartes, 1852, vol. 3, p. 454; H. de la Bunodière, Notice sur l’église St. Ouen de Rouen (Paris, 1895); Camille Enlart, “L’architecture gothique au XIV siècle,” in Histoire de l’Art (éd., André Michel), vol. 2, partie 2 (Paris, Colin, 1914).
Monumental and Picturesque Normandy. Seine-Inférieure, p. 105, “St. Ouen”; p. 129, “St. Maclou”; H. Havard, ed., Artistic and Monumental France, vol. 2, p. 79, “St. Ouen,” L. de Foucaud; p. 85, “St. Maclou”; Dom. Pommeraye, History of the Royal Abbey of St. Ouen (Rouen, 1662), folio; Jules Quicherat, “Unpublished Documents on the Construction of St. Ouen of Rouen,” in Library of the School of Charters, 1852, vol. 3, p. 454; H. de la Bunodière, Notice on the Church of St. Ouen of Rouen (Paris, 1895); Camille Enlart, “Gothic Architecture in the 14th Century,” in History of Art (ed., André Michel), vol. 2, part 2 (Paris, Colin, 1914).
[341] Henry II, the first Plantagenet, made for his own residence the chapel of St. Julien in a faubourg of Rouen, Petit-Quevilly. Simultaneously Romanesque and Gothic, the small edifice is one of the most elegant specimens of Normandy’s XII-century architecture. Only the choir bay has retained the polychrome decoration which once covered the interior. St. Julien’s sexpartite vault has been replaced by a wooden roof.
[341] Henry II, the first Plantagenet, built the chapel of St. Julien for his own residence in a suburb of Rouen, Petit-Quevilly. Combining Romanesque and Gothic styles, this small building is one of the most elegant examples of 12th-century architecture in Normandy. Only the choir bay still has the polychrome decoration that once adorned the interior. The sexpartite vault of St. Julien has been replaced with a wooden roof.
Doctor Contan, Monographie de St. Julien, Petit-Quevilly, and his account, p. 239, in La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure; Duchemin, Le Petit-Querilly et le prieuré de Saint Julien.
Doctor Contan, Monographie de St. Julien, Petit-Quevilly, and his account, p. 239, in La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Seine-Inférieure; Duchemin, Le Petit-Querilly et le prieuré de Saint Julien.
[342] The church of St. Sauveur in Petit-Andely, begun in 1215, finished in 1245, contains excellent XIII-century glass. Of the same date are the façade, nave, and square-ended choir of Notre Dame at Grand-Andely. Its central tower is of the XV century; the transept is a gem of Flamboyant Gothic. The most brilliant of its windows date from 1540 to 1616. Above the smaller Andely stands Château Gaillard, the “Saucy Castle,” which Richard the Lion-hearted built in a year. Its capture in 1204 by Philippe-Auguste ended the English resistance in Normandy at that period. Five miles away are the remains of the magnificent château of Gaillon, where every master of the Renaissance in France was employed. Begun in 1454 by Cardinal d’Estouteville, it was carried forward by Cardinal George I d’Amboise and Cardinal de Bourbon. Its bas-relief of St. George and the dragon is one of the three authenticated works of Michel Colombe. A façade of Gaillon is now in the courtyard of the Beaux-Arts at Paris. Abbé Porée, Guide historique et descriptive aux Andelys; Congrès Archéologique, 1853; La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Eure 1, pp. 147, 163 (Le Havre, 1895); E. A. Didron, “Les vitraux du Grand-Andely,” in Annales Archéol., vol. 22.
[342] The church of St. Sauveur in Petit-Andely, started in 1215 and completed in 1245, features incredible 13th-century stained glass. The same era saw the construction of the façade, nave, and square-ended choir of Notre Dame at Grand-Andely. Its central tower is from the 15th century, while the transept is a masterpiece of Flamboyant Gothic style. The finest of its windows were made between 1540 and 1616. Overlooking the smaller Andely is Château Gaillard, the “Saucy Castle,” which Richard the Lion-hearted built in just one year. Its capture in 1204 by Philippe-Auguste marked the end of English resistance in Normandy at that time. Five miles away are the ruins of the stunning château of Gaillon, where every major Renaissance artist in France was commissioned. It began in 1454 under Cardinal d’Estouteville and was continued by Cardinal George I d’Amboise and Cardinal de Bourbon. Its bas-relief of St. George and the dragon is one of only three verified works by Michel Colombe. A façade from Gaillon now resides in the courtyard of the Beaux-Arts in Paris. Abbé Porée, Guide historique et descriptive aux Andelys; Congrès Archéologique, 1853; La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Eure 1, pp. 147, 163 (Le Havre, 1895); E. A. Didron, “Les vitraux du Grand-Andely,” in Annales Archéol., vol. 22.
[343] Opposite the tomb of the d’Amboise cardinals (1513-25), predominantly Gothic in character, is the purely Renaissance monument of Louis de Brézé (1536-44), seneschal of Normandy, son of the daughter of Charles VII and Agnes Sorel. The kneeling figure on the tomb is the notorious Diane de Poitiers, his widow. The critics say that if the De Brézé mausoleum is not the work of Jean Goujon, Diane’s favorite sculptor, then there must have been living here an unknown XVI-century master of the first order. Jean Goujon was in Rouen, making the wooden doors of St. Maclou, at that time.
[343] Across from the tomb of the d’Amboise cardinals (1513-25), which is mostly Gothic in style, stands the purely Renaissance monument of Louis de Brézé (1536-44), the seneschal of Normandy and the son of Charles VII's daughter and Agnes Sorel. The kneeling figure on the tomb is the infamous Diane de Poitiers, his widow. Critics argue that if the De Brézé mausoleum wasn't created by Jean Goujon, Diane’s favorite sculptor, then it must have been made by an unknown master of the highest caliber from the 16th century. At that time, Jean Goujon was in Rouen working on the wooden doors of St. Maclou.
Paul Vitry, Jean Goujon (Collection, Les Grandes Artistes), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); Louis Gonse, La sculpture française depuis le XIVe siècle (Paris, 1895); Léon Palustre, La Renaissance en France, vol. 1 (Paris, Quantin, 1888), 3 vols.
Paul Vitry, Jean Goujon (Collection, Les Grandes Artistes), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1908); Louis Gonse, La sculpture française depuis le XIVe siècle (Paris, 1895); Léon Palustre, La Renaissance en France, vol. 1 (Paris, Quantin, 1888), 3 vols.
[344] Camille Enlart, on the origin of Flamboyant Gothic, in the Archæological Journal, 1886, and in Histoire de l’Art (éd. A. Michel), vol. 3, 1ère partie (Paris, Colin, 1914); Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, pp. 38, 483, 511, the controversy between M. Saint-Paul and M. Enlart, on the origin of Flamboyant Gothic; Anthyme Saint-Paul, L’architecture française et la Guerre de Cent Ans (1910); ibid., Les origines du gothique flamboyant en France (Caen, 1907).
[344] Camille Enlart, regarding the origins of Flamboyant Gothic, in the Archæological Journal, 1886, and in Histoire de l’Art (ed. A. Michel), vol. 3, 1ère partie (Paris, Colin, 1914); Bulletin Monumental, 1906, vol. 70, pp. 38, 483, 511, the debate between M. Saint-Paul and M. Enlart, on the origins of Flamboyant Gothic; Anthyme Saint-Paul, L’architecture française et la Guerre de Cent Ans (1910); ibid., Les origines du gothique flamboyant en France (Caen, 1907).
[346] St. Maclou, says Mr. F. M. Simpson, expresses the joie de vivre, even as the stiff angular lines of a contemporary style—the English Perpendicular—show the gloom that prevailed in England after the War of the Roses. Cardinal Guillaume d’Estouteville contributed toward St. Maclou, which was dedicated only in 1521, by Cardinal Georges II d’Amboise. Jean Goujon probably made the richly chiseled doors. St. Maclou has XV-century windows; its rose windows are of the XVI century. There is Le Prince glass in the late-Gothic church of St. Vincent, and other XVI-century windows in St. Patrice. Abbé Ouin-Lacroix. Histoire de l’église et de la paroisse de St. Maclou de Rouen (1846); Edmond Renaud, L’église St. Vincent de Rouen (1885); Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, vol. 2, pp. 389 to 416, “Flamboyant Gothic Monuments.”
[346] St. Maclou, according to Mr. F. M. Simpson, showcases the joie de vivre, even though the rigid, angular lines of a contemporary style—the English Perpendicular—reflect the somber atmosphere in England after the War of the Roses. Cardinal Guillaume d’Estouteville had a role in the development of St. Maclou, which was only dedicated in 1521 by Cardinal Georges II d’Amboise. Jean Goujon likely crafted the intricately carved doors. St. Maclou features 15th-century windows; its rose windows are from the 16th century. There is Le Prince glass in the late-Gothic church of St. Vincent, along with other 16th-century windows in St. Patrice. Abbé Ouin-Lacroix. Histoire de l’église et de la paroisse de St. Maclou de Rouen (1846); Edmond Renaud, L’église St. Vincent de Rouen (1885); Arthur Kingsley Porter, Medieval Architecture, vol. 2, pp. 389 to 416, “Flamboyant Gothic Monuments.”
[347] Notre Dame at Caudebec-en-Caud, called by Henry IV “the most beautiful chapel of my kingdom of France,” has its “tiara” united to its shaft by flying buttresses. Other Flamboyant Gothic monuments in Normandy are Louviers’ lacelike portal (1493); churches at Dieppe; the transept of Évreux Cathedral; St. Jacques at Lisieux; St. Pierre at Coutances; Les Andelys, Elbeuf, Gisors, and the joyous festival of stone of Notre Dame at Alençon, where the shady north side of the nave is adorned with Old Testament scenes, and the sun-lit southern wall opened by spacious Flamboyant traceries that frame the New Testament; its Jesse tree is unusual. Notre Dame at St. Lô (which has a Becket window) shows Perpendicular traits. Its west portals are strangely dissimilar, as are its monumental towers. Near Fécamp, the Estouteville family founded Valmont abbatial (1116) now unroofed save its Lady chapel, in which are splendid tombs, a reredos of the Annunciation that is a gem of XVI-century realism, and a window that inspired Eugène Delacroix’s palette.
[347] Notre Dame at Caudebec-en-Caud, referred to by Henry IV as “the most beautiful chapel of my kingdom of France,” features its “tiara” joined to its shaft by flying buttresses. Other Flamboyant Gothic structures in Normandy include Louviers’ intricate portal (1493); churches in Dieppe; the transept of Évreux Cathedral; St. Jacques in Lisieux; St. Pierre in Coutances; Les Andelys, Elbeuf, Gisors, and the delightful stonework of Notre Dame at Alençon, where the shady north side of the nave is decorated with Old Testament scenes, and the sunlit southern wall is enhanced by spacious Flamboyant traceries that frame the New Testament; its Jesse tree is quite unique. Notre Dame at St. Lô (which features a Becket window) exhibits Perpendicular characteristics. Its west portals are oddly different, as are its monumental towers. Near Fécamp, the Estouteville family established Valmont abbey (1116), which is now roofless except for its Lady chapel, housing stunning tombs, a beautiful reredos of the Annunciation that showcases 16th-century realism, and a window that inspired Eugène Delacroix’s color palette.
[349] Flaubert, born in Rouen, 1821, died near the city, at Croisset, in his ancient house that formerly belonged to the monks of St. Ouen. The increased river activities during the World War have encroached on his property. His pupil, Guy de Maupassant, born near Dieppe, was associated with his mother’s city, Rouen, where stands his statue (1853-93). The house of the great Corneille (1636-1709) is near Rouen’s Old Market. Other sons of Rouen were La Salle, the explorer (d. 1687), and the painter Géricault (1791-1824). Nicholas Poussin (1594-1665) was born at Les Andelys; Jean-François Millet, near Cherbourg (1814-74); Auber, the composer (1782-1871), at Caen, as was the poet Malherbes (1555-1628). Mézerai, whose history is considered the best account of the XVI-century religious struggle in France, and his brother, Jean Eudes, founder of the Eudists, were born near Caen. The great seamen, Tourville (1642-1701) and Du Quesne (1610-88), were Normans; so were Laplace, the mathematician (1749-1827), Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-59), Bernardin de Saint-Pierre (1736-1814), Octave Feuillet (1821-90), Léon Gautier (1832-97), Barbey d’Aurevilly (1808-89), and savants such as Simeon Luce (d. 1892), Gabriel Monod (d. 1912), Albert Sorel, Paul Allard, Leopold Delisle (d. 1910). The latter was led to decipher ancient manuscripts by C. de Gerville, who, with that other Norman, Arcisse de Caumont, was a pioneer in mediæval archeology.
[349] Flaubert, born in Rouen in 1821, died near the city at Croisset in his old house that used to belong to the monks of St. Ouen. The river activities during World War have encroached on his property. His student, Guy de Maupassant, born near Dieppe, had ties to his mother’s city, Rouen, where his statue stands (1853-93). The home of the great Corneille (1636-1709) is located near Rouen’s Old Market. Other notable figures from Rouen include explorer La Salle (d. 1687) and painter Géricault (1791-1824). Nicholas Poussin (1594-1665) was born in Les Andelys; Jean-François Millet was born near Cherbourg (1814-74); composer Auber (1782-1871) came from Caen, as did poet Malherbes (1555-1628). Mézerai, whose history offers the best account of the 16th-century religious struggle in France, and his brother, Jean Eudes, who founded the Eudists, were born near Caen. The great sailors Tourville (1642-1701) and Du Quesne (1610-88) were Normans, as were mathematician Laplace (1749-1827), Alexis de Tocqueville (1805-59), Bernardin de Saint-Pierre (1736-1814), Octave Feuillet (1821-90), Léon Gautier (1832-97), Barbey d’Aurevilly (1808-89), and scholars like Simeon Luce (d. 1892), Gabriel Monod (d. 1912), Albert Sorel, Paul Allard, and Leopold Delisle (d. 1910). The latter was inspired to decipher ancient manuscripts by C. de Gerville, who, along with fellow Norman Arcisse de Caumont, was a pioneer in medieval archaeology.
[350] Jules Quicherat, the archæologist, was the first to place before the public the records of Jeanne d’Arc’s two trials. He printed (1841-49) five volumes in Latin for the Société de l’histoire de France. Accounts of Jeanne have been written by Wallon (Paris, 1877); Marius Sepet (Tours, 1885); Ayroles, S. J. (Paris, 1902), who dwells much on the nefarious part played by Paris University in her condemnation: Siméon Luce; G. Hanotaux (Paris, 1911); Petit de Julleville (Les Saints Collection, Paris, Lecoffre, 1907); Andrew Lang (London, 1908): Mrs. Oliphant (Leaders of the Nation Series, New York); D. Lynch, S. J. (New York, 1919); Sarrazin, Jeanne d’Arc et la Normandie au XVe siècle (Rouen, 1896); F. Poulaine, Jeanne d’Arc à Rouen (Paris, 1899); Ch. Lemire, Jeanne d’Arc en Picardie et en Normandie (Paris, 1903); Le P. Denifle et Chatelain, Le procès Jeanne d’Arc et l’université de Paris (Paris); U. Chevalier, L’abjuration de Jeanne d’Arc; C. de Maleissye, “La prétendue abjuration de St. Ouen,” in Revue des Deux Mondes, February, 1911, p. 610. The study of Anatole France on Jeanne d’Arc is written from the rationalist standpoint that considers hers a case of hysteria fitted for medical science. No book on Jeanne equals the contemporary records. The report of her two trials in Rouen, and the testimony gathered from end to end of France to vindicate her memory in 1456, have been marshaled and clarified in a skilled legal manner by a magistrate of Rouen: E. O’Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation ... et la sentence de réhabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, Pion, 1868), 2 vols. This masterly work should be translated into English. It is an example of the right way to write history. For Charles VII see Thomas Basin and Vallet de Viriville.
[350] Jules Quicherat, the archaeologist, was the first to present to the public the records of Jeanne d’Arc’s two trials. He published (1841-49) five volumes in Latin for the Société de l’histoire de France. Various accounts of Jeanne have been written by Wallon (Paris, 1877); Marius Sepet (Tours, 1885); Ayroles, S. J. (Paris, 1902), who emphasizes the harmful role played by Paris University in her condemnation; Siméon Luce; G. Hanotaux (Paris, 1911); Petit de Julleville (Les Saints Collection, Paris, Lecoffre, 1907); Andrew Lang (London, 1908); Mrs. Oliphant (Leaders of the Nation Series, New York); D. Lynch, S. J. (New York, 1919); Sarrazin, Jeanne d’Arc et la Normandie au XVe siècle (Rouen, 1896); F. Poulaine, Jeanne d’Arc à Rouen (Paris, 1899); Ch. Lemire, Jeanne d’Arc en Picardie et en Normandie (Paris, 1903); Le P. Denifle et Chatelain, Le procès Jeanne d’Arc et l’université de Paris (Paris); U. Chevalier, L’abjuration de Jeanne d’Arc; C. de Maleissye, “La prétendue abjuration de St. Ouen,” in Revue des Deux Mondes, February, 1911, p. 610. Anatole France’s study on Jeanne d’Arc takes a rationalist perspective, viewing her case as hysteria suitable for medical analysis. No book on Jeanne matches the contemporary records. The report of her two trials in Rouen and the testimonies collected from all over France to clear her name in 1456 have been organized and clarified in a skilled legal fashion by a magistrate from Rouen: E. O’Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation ... et la sentence de réhabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, Pion, 1868), 2 vols. This excellent work should be translated into English. It serves as a prime example of how to write history correctly. For Charles VII, see Thomas Basin and Vallet de Viriville.
[351] Boisguillaume, second clerk of the Rouen court in 1431, Manchon’s assistant, testified before the three inquests for Jeanne’s rehabilitation. He drew attention to the fact that all who had been culpable of the Maid’s death had come to a swift or shameful end. Estivet was found dead in a gutter at the gates of Rouen; Loyseleur, the false confessor, was struck down suddenly; Cauchon expired ignominiously. “I call you to judgment before God for what you have done,” rang out Jeanne’s words to these unworthy churchmen on her last day. Nicolas Midi, of the Paris Parliament, who drew up the odious twelve accusations, and who sermonized Jeanne in the Old Market, was stricken with leprosy. A year after the execution died the young Duchess of Bedford, who had inflicted a gross outrage on Jeanne, and her death detached from the English cause her brother, the Duke of Burgundy. Her husband, John of Lancaster, regent-duke, brother of Henry V, died in full youth, three years later, and was buried in Rouen Cathedral. His nephew, Henry VI, was dispossessed of his English crown, imprisoned, and murdered.
[351] Boisguillaume, the second clerk of the Rouen court in 1431 and Manchon’s assistant, testified during the three inquiries for Jeanne’s rehabilitation. He pointed out that everyone responsible for the Maid’s death met a quick or disgraceful end. Estivet was found dead in a gutter at the gates of Rouen; Loyseleur, the false confessor, died suddenly; Cauchon passed away in shame. “I call you to judgment before God for what you have done,” Jeanne's words echoed to these unworthy churchmen on her last day. Nicolas Midi, from the Paris Parliament, who created the vile twelve accusations and preached against Jeanne in the Old Market, was struck with leprosy. A year after the execution, the young Duchess of Bedford, who had grossly wronged Jeanne, died, which alienated her brother, the Duke of Burgundy, from the English cause. Her husband, John of Lancaster, regent-duke and brother of Henry V, died in his twenties three years later and was buried in Rouen Cathedral. His nephew, Henry VI, was dethroned in England, imprisoned, and murdered.
[352] “‘Si j’y suis, Dieu m’y tienne; si je n’y suis, Dieu m’y veuille mettre: j’aimerais mieux mourir que de ne pas avoir l’amour de Dieu!’ A cette réponse, les juges restèrent stupéfaits et rompirent sur-le-champ.”—Testimony of the second clerk of the court, Boisguillaume, in 1450, before the inquest for the rehabilitation.
[352] “‘If I’m there, may God keep me there; if I’m not, may God put me there: I would rather die than not have God’s love!’ At this response, the judges were astonished and broke off immediately.”—Testimony of the second clerk of the court, Boisguillaume, in 1450, before the inquest for the rehabilitation.
[353] The Norman, Siméon Luce, has written of Jeanne: “La Pucelle n’est pas seulement le type le plus achevé du patriotisme, elle est encore l’incarnation de notre pays dans ce qu’il a de meilleur. Il y a dans la physionomie de l’héroïne du XVe siècle, des traits qui la rattachent à la France de tous les temps, l’entrain belliqueux, la grâce légère, la gaieté prisesantière, l’esprit mordant, l’ironie méprisante en face de la force, la pitié pour les petits, les faibles, les malheureux, la tendresse pour les vaincus. De tels dons appartiennent à notre tradition nationale, et la libératrice d’Orléans les a possédés à un si haut degré que cette face de son génie a frappé tous ses admirateurs.”
[353] The Norman, Siméon Luce, has written about Jeanne: “The Maid of Orléans is not just the ultimate symbol of patriotism; she is also the embodiment of our country at its best. In the features of the 15th-century heroine, there are qualities that connect her to France throughout history: the warrior spirit, light grace, joyful exuberance, sharp wit, scornful irony in the face of power, compassion for the small, the weak, the unfortunate, and tenderness for the defeated. Such traits are part of our national tradition, and the liberator of Orléans possessed them to such a high degree that this aspect of her genius has amazed all her admirers.”
[354] The Duke d’Alençon testified, in 1455, concerning Jeanne: “I have heard captains who took part in the siege of Orléans declare that what passed there touched on the miraculous, that it was no human work. Apart from things of war Jeanne was a simple young girl; but for things of war, wielding the lance, massing the army, preparing the battle, arranging the artillery, she was remarkably skilled. All marveled that she should show the ability and foresight of a captain who had warred for thirty years. Especially in her control of artillery was she admirable.”
[354] The Duke d’Alençon testified, in 1455, about Jeanne: “I've heard captains who participated in the siege of Orléans say that what happened there was miraculous, beyond human effort. Aside from military matters, Jeanne was just a simple young girl; but when it came to warfare—handling the lance, gathering the troops, preparing for battle, organizing the artillery—she was incredibly skilled. Everyone was amazed that she displayed the ability and insight of a captain who had fought for thirty years. Her control of artillery was particularly impressive.”
Equally convincing is the testimony, in 1455, of the bastard of Orléans, the great Dunois: “I believe that Jeanne was sent of God and that her conduct in war was more a divine than a human act.... I heard the seneschal of Beaucaire, whom the king had appointed to watch over Jeanne in the wars, say that he believed there never was a woman more chaste. I heard Jeanne say to the king one day: ‘When I am distressed that credence is not given that it is Heaven has sent me to your aid, I withdraw to a quiet place and I pray and complain to God, and, my prayer finished, I hear a voice saying, “Fille Dè, va, va, va! Je serai à ton ayde, va!” ‘And in repeating what the voice said, Jeanne was—an extraordinary thing—in a marvelous ravishment, in a sort of ecstasy, her eyes lifted to heaven.” E. O’Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation et la sentence de réhabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, Plon, 1868), vol. 1, pp. 153, 156, 200, 214, 2 vols.
Equally compelling is the testimony from 1455 by the bastard of Orléans, the great Dunois: “I believe that Jeanne was sent by God and that her actions in battle were more divine than human.... I heard the seneschal of Beaucaire, whom the king had assigned to oversee Jeanne in the wars, say that he believed there never was a woman more chaste. I heard Jeanne say to the king one day: ‘When I feel troubled that people don't believe that it is Heaven that has sent me to your aid, I go to a quiet place and I pray and express my concerns to God, and when my prayer is finished, I hear a voice saying, “Fille Dè, va, va, va! Je serai à ton ayde, va!”’ And while repeating what the voice said, Jeanne was—remarkably—in a wonderful rapture, in a sort of ecstasy, her eyes lifted to heaven.” E. O’Reilly, Les deux procès de condamnation et la sentence de réhabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, Plon, 1868), vol. 1, pp. 153, 156, 200, 214, 2 vols.
[355] Testimony of Isambeau de la Pierre, in 1450, before the inquest for the rehabilitation: “Je la vis éplorée, son visage plein de larmes, défigurée et outragée en telle sorte que j’en eus pitié et compassion.”
[355] Testimony of Isambeau de la Pierre, in 1450, before the inquest for the rehabilitation: “I saw her weeping, her face full of tears, disfigured and assaulted in such a way that I felt pity and compassion for her.”
[356] Congrès Archéologique, 1858, 1870, and 1908, p. 300, Louis Serbat; Abbé V. Hardy, La cathédrale St. Pierre de Lisieux (Paris, Impri. Fazier-Saye, 1917); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Calvados, pp. 91, 103, “Lisieux,” Abbé Marie (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie, 1875); Ch. Vasseur, Études historiques et archéologiques sur la cathédrale de Lisieux (Caen, 1891); Émile Lambin, “La cathédrale de Lisieux,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1898, vol. 45, p. 448; A. de Caumont, Statistique monumentale du Calvados (Caen, 1867), vol. 5, p. 200; V. Ruprich-Robert, L’architecture normande au XIe et XIIe siècles (Paris, 1897), 2 vols.; H. de Formeville, Histoire de l’ancien évêche-comté de Lisieux (Lisieux, 1873), 2 vols.; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 14, p. 304, “Arnoul, évêque de Lisieux” (Paris, 1817); A. Sarrazin, Pierre Cauchon, juge de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, 1901). Other studies of the judges of Jeanne d’Arc, by Fabre (Paris, 1915), and Ch. Engelhard (Le Havre, 1905).
[356] Congrès Archéologique, 1858, 1870, and 1908, p. 300, Louis Serbat; Abbé V. Hardy, La cathédrale St. Pierre de Lisieux (Paris, Impri. Fazier-Saye, 1917); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Calvados, pp. 91, 103, “Lisieux,” Abbé Marie (Le Havre, Lemale et Cie, 1875); Ch. Vasseur, Études historiques et archéologiques sur la cathédrale de Lisieux (Caen, 1891); Émile Lambin, “La cathédrale de Lisieux,” in Revue de l’art chrétien, 1898, vol. 45, p. 448; A. de Caumont, Statistique monumentale du Calvados (Caen, 1867), vol. 5, p. 200; V. Ruprich-Robert, L’architecture normande au XIe et XIIe siècles (Paris, 1897), 2 vols.; H. de Formeville, Histoire de l’ancien évêche-comté de Lisieux (Lisieux, 1873), 2 vols.; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 14, p. 304, “Arnoul, évêque de Lisieux” (Paris, 1817); A. Sarrazin, Pierre Cauchon, juge de Jeanne d’Arc (Paris, 1901). Other studies of the judges of Jeanne d’Arc, by Fabre (Paris, 1915), and Ch. Engelhard (Le Havre, 1905).
[357] The murdered Duke of Orléans, a son of the art-loving Valois king, Charles V, built the châteaux of La Ferté-Milon, on the Oureq, and Pierrefonds, in the forest of Compiègne, in the courtyard of which latter stands his equestrian statue. His sons were the poet-duke, Charles d’Orléans, and Dunois, his acknowledged bastard, the chief instrument in ridding France of her invaders. Two grandsons of the builder of Pierrefonds ascended the French throne, Louis XII and Francis I, and those who undertake an architectural journey over France will soon become familiar with the porcupine of the one and the salamander of the other. Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (New York and London, 1916); Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, on Pierrefonds.
[357] The murdered Duke of Orléans, a son of the art-loving Valois king, Charles V, built the châteaux of La Ferté-Milon, on the Oureq, and Pierrefonds, in the forest of Compiègne, where his equestrian statue stands in the courtyard. His sons were the poet-duke, Charles d’Orléans, and Dunois, his acknowledged illegitimate son, who played a key role in freeing France from invaders. Two grandsons of the builder of Pierrefonds became French kings, Louis XII and Francis I, and those who take an architectural tour across France will quickly recognize the porcupine of one and the salamander of the other. Sir Theodore Andreas Cook, Twenty-five Great Houses of France (New York and London, 1916); Viollet-le-Duc, Dictionnaire de l’architecture, on Pierrefonds.
[358] A professor in a Norman college, Joseph Lotte, who fell on the field of honor at Arras, in December, 1914, thus apostrophized the “Little Flower” of Lisieux: “Enrôlez-nous, petite sœur céleste! Enrôlez-nous sous vos bannières. Nous avons battu bien des pays, couru bien des aventures, dissipé bien des dons: il nous reste la fidélité. Nous serons derrière vous les vieux routiers qui escortaient Jeanne d’Arc. Notre France ne veut pas mourir. Apprenez-nous à aimer. Il faut qu’un tel amour monte de nous à Dieu qu’il tourne à nouveau sa face vers notre terre de France et, retrouvant son peuple, décide de le sauver. Mais ne l’a-t-il pas déjà décidé, puisqu’il vous a envoyée?” P. Pacary, Un compagnon de Péguy, Joseph Lotte; pages choisies (Paris, J. Gabalda, 1916).
[358] A professor at a college in Normandy, Joseph Lotte, who died heroically at Arras in December 1914, addressed the “Little Flower” of Lisieux: “Enlist us, little heavenly sister! Enlist us under your banners. We have conquered many lands, faced many adventures, wasted many gifts: all we have left is our loyalty. We will be behind you, the seasoned travelers who accompanied Joan of Arc. Our France does not want to die. Teach us to love. We need such love to rise from us to God, so that He turns His face back toward our land of France and, finding His people again, decides to save them. But hasn’t He already decided, since He sent you?” P. Pacary, Un compagnon de Péguy, Joseph Lotte; pages choisies (Paris, J. Gabalda, 1916).
[359] Congrès Archéologique, 1864, 1889, and 1908; Abbé Jules Fossey, Monographie de la cathédrale d’Évreux (Évreux, 1898); Abbé Forée, Les clôtures des chapelles de la cathédrale d’Évreux (Évreux, Hérissey, 1890); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan, 1914); N. H. J. Westlake, A History of Design in Painted Glass (London, Parker & Co., 1881); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Eure, vol. 1, p. 1, Évreux; p. 31, Conches; p. 61, Verneuil; p. 89, Tillières; p. 93, Nonancourt; p. 119, Vernon; p. 147, Les Andelys; p. 191, Gisors; vol. 2, p. 1, Louviers; p. 23, Gaillon; p. 97, Pont-Audemer; p. 63, Pont-de-l’Arche: p. 183, Bernay; p. 221, Bec-Hellouin; p. 245, Beaumont-le-Roger. In most of these churches the colored windows are remarkable.
[359] Congrès Archéologique, 1864, 1889, and 1908; Abbé Jules Fossey, Monographie de la cathédrale d’Évreux (Évreux, 1898); Abbé Forée, Les clôtures des chapelles de la cathédrale d’Évreux (Évreux, Hérissey, 1890); A. J. de H. Bushnell, Storied Windows (New York, Macmillan, 1914); N. H. J. Westlake, A History of Design in Painted Glass (London, Parker & Co., 1881); La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Eure, vol. 1, p. 1, Évreux; p. 31, Conches; p. 61, Verneuil; p. 89, Tillières; p. 93, Nonancourt; p. 119, Vernon; p. 147, Les Andelys; p. 191, Gisors; vol. 2, p. 1, Louviers; p. 23, Gaillon; p. 97, Pont-Audemer; p. 63, Pont-de-l’Arche; p. 183, Bernay; p. 221, Bec-Hellouin; p. 245, Beaumont-le-Roger. In most of these churches, the stained glass windows are remarkable.
[360] The son of that union was the trouvère poet, Thibaut IV of Champagne and I of Navarre, of which latter domain he was chosen king in 1234, on the death of his mother’s brother, Sancho, the chief victor of Las Navas de Toloso. His niece, Jeanne, inheriting both Champagne and Navarre, united them with the royal domain by her marriage to Philippe le Bel. Three of her sons ruled successively as kings of France, and then the Valois branch—sprung from a brother of Philippe le Bel—came to the throne. Whereupon the Navarrese elected, as their ruler, the Count of Évreux, who had married a daughter of Jeanne’s. His son was Charles the Wicked (1319-87), Count of Évreux, king of Navarre, who in turn was succeeded by his son, Charles the Noble (1387-1425). One and all of them were linked with the architectural story of France: at Troyes, Provins, Meaux, Mantes, and Évreux Cathedral.
[360] The son of that union was the trouvère poet, Thibaut IV of Champagne and I of Navarre, who became king of Navarre in 1234 after the death of his mother’s brother, Sancho, the key victor of Las Navas de Toloso. His niece, Jeanne, inherited both Champagne and Navarre, uniting them with the royal domain through her marriage to Philippe le Bel. Three of her sons ruled successively as kings of France, followed by the Valois branch, which was descended from a brother of Philippe le Bel, coming to the throne. Then, the people of Navarre chose the Count of Évreux, who had married one of Jeanne’s daughters, as their ruler. His son was Charles the Wicked (1319-87), Count of Évreux and king of Navarre, who was succeeded by his son, Charles the Noble (1387-1425). All of them were connected to the architectural history of France: at Troyes, Provins, Meaux, Mantes, and Évreux Cathedral.
[361] In Normandy, glass of the XIV century is to be found in the cathedrals of Séez and Coutances, at Carentan, Pont-de-l’Arche, Nesle-St.-Saire, and in Rouen’s big abbatial. Elsewhere in France there are XIV-century windows at Mantes, Beauvais, Amiens, Dol, Limoges, Toulouse, Bordeaux, Narbonne, Béziers, Carcassonne (in St. Nazaire), Chartres (in St. Pierre), and Poitiers (in Ste. Radégonde). In St. Urbain’s at Troyes is some of the earliest glass of this century.
[361] In Normandy, 14th-century glass can be found in the cathedrals of Séez and Coutances, at Carentan, Pont-de-l’Arche, Nesle-St.-Saire, and in Rouen’s large abbey. Other places in France that have 14th-century windows include Mantes, Beauvais, Amiens, Dol, Limoges, Toulouse, Bordeaux, Narbonne, Béziers, Carcassonne (in St. Nazaire), Chartres (in St. Pierre), and Poitiers (in Ste. Radégonde). The St. Urbain’s in Troyes features some of the earliest glass from this century.
[362] Normandy’s XV-century glass, besides that of Évreux’ Lady chapel, can be studied at Rouen, in the cathedral, and the churches of St. Ouen and St. Maclou, at Caudebec, Bernay, Vereuil, Beaumont-le-Roger, St. Lô, Carentan, Falaise, Pont-Audemer, Bayeux, and Coutances. Elsewhere in France glass of this period can be seen in Amiens Cathedral, in the Vendôme chapel of Chartres, in the choir of Moulins, in the north transept of Le Mans, and the windows presented to Bourges Cathedral by the Duke of Berry and Jacques Cœur. There is also XV-century glass at Clermont-Ferrand, Eymoutiers, Riom, in some of the churches of Paris, such as St. Sévérin, and in Brittany, at Dinan, Plélan, Les Iffs, and in Quimper Cathedral. Windows of the XVI century abound in Normandy. The most imposing array is near Évreux, at Conches, whose church of Ste. Foi is on no account to be missed. Aldégrevier, a pupil of Albert Dürer, designed the seven tall apse windows, about 1520. There are eighteen other lights (1540-53), very Raphaelesque in type; the Pressoir window and the apotheosis of the Virgin are typical of that heated hour of controversy. Andre Michel, éd., Histoire de l’art, vol. 4, 2{ème} partie, “Le vitrail français au XV{e} et au XVI{e} siècle,” Émile Mâle; A. Bouillet, L’église Ste. Foi de Couches (Eure) et ses vitraux (Caen, H. Delesque, 1889).
[362] You can explore 15th-century glass from Normandy, along with the glass in the Lady Chapel of Évreux, at Rouen in the cathedral, and at the churches of St. Ouen and St. Maclou, as well as in Caudebec, Bernay, Vereuil, Beaumont-le-Roger, St. Lô, Carentan, Falaise, Pont-Audemer, Bayeux, and Coutances. Other examples of glass from this period can be found in Amiens Cathedral, in the Vendôme chapel of Chartres, in the choir of Moulins, in the north transept of Le Mans, and in the windows donated to Bourges Cathedral by the Duke of Berry and Jacques Cœur. There’s also 15th-century glass at Clermont-Ferrand, Eymoutiers, Riom, in some churches in Paris like St. Sévérin, and in Brittany at Dinan, Plélan, Les Iffs, and Quimper Cathedral. 16th-century windows are plentiful in Normandy, with the most impressive collection located near Évreux, at Conches, where the church of Ste. Foi is a must-see. Aldégrevier, a student of Albert Dürer, created the seven tall apse windows around 1520. There are eighteen other lights (1540-53) that are very reminiscent of Raphael’s style; the Pressoir window and the apotheosis of the Virgin exemplify that intense period of controversy. Andre Michel, éd., Histoire de l’art, vol. 4, 2{ème} partie, “Le vitrail français au XV{e} et au XVI{e} siècle,” Émile Mâle; A. Bouillet, L’église Ste. Foi de Couches (Eure) et ses vitraux (Caen, H. Delesque, 1889).
[363] V. Ruprich-Robert, La cathédrale de Séez (Paris, Morel, 1885); Abbé L. V. Dumaine, La cathédrale de Séez, son histoire et ses beautés (Séez, 1894); H. Tournouër, “La cathédrale de Séez,” in Bulletin de la Soc. hist. et archéol. de l’Orne, 1897; Marais et Beaudouin, Essai hist. sur le cathédrale et le chapitre de Séez (Alençon, 1878); Robert Triger, “La cathédrale de Séez,” in Revue hist. et archéol. du Maine, 1900, vol. 47, p. 287; De la Sicotière et Poulet-Malassis, Le département de l’Orne, archéol. et pittoresque (Laigle, Beuzelin, 1845), folio; La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Orne, p. 101, on Séez, Abbé Barret; p. 1, St. Germain at Argentan, with a central lantern and elaborate late-Gothic porch; p. 41, Notre Dame at Alençon; p. 77, St. Évroult-de-Montfort, a late-XI century abbatial; p. 245, the monastery of La Trappe, in Séez diocese, established in 1122, and reformed in 1662 by the noted Abbé de Rancy.
[363] V. Ruprich-Robert, The Cathedral of Séez (Paris, Morel, 1885); Abbé L. V. Dumaine, The Cathedral of Séez, Its History and Its Beauty (Séez, 1894); H. Tournouër, “The Cathedral of Séez,” in Bulletin of the Historical and Archaeological Society of Orne, 1897; Marais and Beaudouin, Historical Essay on the Cathedral and Chapter of Séez (Alençon, 1878); Robert Triger, “The Cathedral of Séez,” in Historical and Archaeological Review of Maine, 1900, vol. 47, p. 287; De la Sicotière and Poulet-Malassis, The Department of Orne, Archaeological and Picturesque (Laigle, Beuzelin, 1845), folio; Monumental and Picturesque Normandy. Orne, p. 101, about Séez, Abbé Barret; p. 1, St. Germain at Argentan, featuring a central lantern and intricate late-Gothic porch; p. 41, Notre Dame at Alençon; p. 77, St. Évroult-de-Montfort, a late-11th century abbey; p. 245, the monastery of La Trappe, in Séez diocese, founded in 1122, and reformed in 1662 by the famous Abbé de Rancy.
[364] St. Gervais, at Falaise, has a good Romanesque tower consecrated in the presence of Henry I of England. The nave’s southern pier arcade is Romanesque, but the arches on the north side were reconstructed as Gothic at the same time that the vaults were redone during the XIII century. See Congrès Archéologique, 1848, 1864, and 1908, p. 367; Louis Régnier, “Falaise et la vallée d’Auge,” in Annuaire normand, 1892; Langevin, Recherches historiques sur Falaise; Meriel, Hist. de Falaise (1889); Black, Normandy and Picardy, Their Castles, Churches, and Footprints of William the Conqueror.
[364] St. Gervais, in Falaise, has a beautiful Romanesque tower that was consecrated in the presence of Henry I of England. The southern pier arcade of the nave is Romanesque, but the arches on the north side were rebuilt in the Gothic style at the same time the vaults were renovated during the 13th century. See Congrès Archéologique, 1848, 1864, and 1908, p. 367; Louis Régnier, “Falaise et la vallée d’Auge,” in Annuaire normand, 1892; Langevin, Recherches historiques sur Falaise; Meriel, Hist. de Falaise (1889); Black, Normandy and Picardy, Their Castles, Churches, and Footprints of William the Conqueror.
[365] Congrès Archéologique, 1853 and 1908, vol. 1, p. 145; Henri Prentout, Caen et Bayeux (Collection. Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens); Abbé Lelieve, Bayeux, la cathédrale, les églises (Bayeux, Deslandes, 1907); Jean Vallery-Radot, La cathédrale de Bayeux, Thèse: École des chartes (1911); De Dion et Lesvignes, La cathédrale de Bayeux (Paris, A. Morel et Cie, 1861); Rev. R. S. Mylne, The Cathedral of Bayeux (London, 1904); Chigonesnel, Histoire de Bayeux (1867); Paul de Farcy, Abbayes du diocèse de Bayeux (Laval, 1886-88), 3 vols, (on Cerisy-la-Forêt, etc.); Arcisse de Caumont, Statistique monumentale du Calvados (Caen, F. Le Blanc-Hardel, 1898); G. Bouet, “Clochers du diocèse de Bayeux,” in Bulletin Monumental, vol. 17, p. 196; vol. 23, p. 362; vol. 25, 1859, p. 165; vol. 49, p. 465; Engerand, “La sculpture romane en Normandie,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1904; Histoire littéraire de la France, vol. 13, p. 518, “Robert Wace, chanoine de Bayeux, historien-poète”; V. Bourrienne, in Revue catholique de Normandie, on the bishops Odo de Conteville and Philippe d’Harcourt, vii to x, xviii to xxiii.
[365] Archaeological Congress, 1853 and 1908, vol. 1, p. 145; Henri Prentout, Caen and Bayeux (Collection. Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens); Abbé Lelieve, Bayeux, the Cathedral, the Churches (Bayeux, Deslandes, 1907); Jean Vallery-Radot, The Cathedral of Bayeux, Thesis: École des Chartes (1911); De Dion and Lesvignes, The Cathedral of Bayeux (Paris, A. Morel et Cie, 1861); Rev. R. S. Mylne, The Cathedral of Bayeux (London, 1904); Chigonesnel, History of Bayeux (1867); Paul de Farcy, Abbeys of the Diocese of Bayeux (Laval, 1886-88), 3 vols, (on Cerisy-la-Forêt, etc.); Arcisse de Caumont, Monumental Statistics of Calvados (Caen, F. Le Blanc-Hardel, 1898); G. Bouet, “Towers of the Diocese of Bayeux,” in Monumental Bulletin, vol. 17, p. 196; vol. 23, p. 362; vol. 25, 1859, p. 165; vol. 49, p. 465; Engerand, “Romanesque Sculpture in Normandy,” in Monumental Bulletin, 1904; Literary History of France, vol. 13, p. 518, “Robert Wace, Canon of Bayeux, Historian-Poet”; V. Bourrienne, in Catholic Review of Normandy, on Bishops Odo de Conteville and Philippe d’Harcourt, vii to x, xviii to xxiii.
[366] The term Romanesque was put into usage by the archaeologist, Arcisse de Caumont (1802-73), to whom Bayeux has erected a statue. He also originated the useful term “Flamboyant.” His Norman Society of Antiquarians was a pioneer in the study of mediæval monuments. Another son of Bayeux, honored by a statue, is the poet, Alain Chartier (1386-1449), who lived to see his master, Charles VII, the conqueror of Normandy.
[366] The term Romanesque was introduced by the archaeologist Arcisse de Caumont (1802-73), in whose honor a statue has been erected in Bayeux. He also coined the term “Flamboyant.” His Norman Society of Antiquarians was a pioneer in the study of medieval monuments. Another son of Bayeux, also honored with a statue, is the poet Alain Chartier (1386-1449), who lived to see his master, Charles VII, conquer Normandy.
[367] A. Levé, La tapisserie de Bayeux (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); Hilaire Belloc, The Bayeux Tapestry (London and New York, 1914); J. R. Fowke, The Bayeux Tapestry (London, G. Bell, 1898); Lefebvre des Mouettes, in Bulletin Monumental, 1912, p. 213; 1903, p. 84.
[367] A. Levé, The Bayeux Tapestry (Paris, H. Laurens, 1919); Hilaire Belloc, The Bayeux Tapestry (London and New York, 1914); J. R. Fowke, The Bayeux Tapestry (London, G. Bell, 1898); Lefebvre des Mouettes, in Monumental Bulletin, 1912, p. 213; 1903, p. 84.
[368] Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, “Prologue.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, “Prologue.”
[369] Congrès Archéologique, 1883; and 1908, p. 247, “La cathédrale de Coutances,” E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, also published separately by H. Delesques, Caen, 1910; Abbé E. H. Pigéon, Histoire de la cathédrale de Coutances (Coutances, Salette fils, 1876); Alfred Ramée, “Cathédrale de Coutances,” in Revue des Soc. Savantes, 1880, p. 94; A. de Dion, in Bulletin Monumental, 1884, vol. 50, p. 620; 1865, p. 509, G. Bouet; 1872, p. 19, Regnault; Gabriel Fleury, in Revue ... archéol. du Maine, 1909, on the architect, Thomas Toustain; Regnault, Revue monumentale et historique de l’arrondissement de Coutances (St. Lô, 1860); C. de Gerville, “Recherches sur les abbayes de la Manche,” in Mém. de la Soc. des Antiquaires de Normandie, vol. 2, p. 77; ibid., Études géographiques et historiques sur le département de la Manche (Cherbourg, 1854).
[369] Congress on Archaeology, 1883; and 1908, p. 247, “The Cathedral of Coutances,” E. Lefèvre-Pontalis, also published separately by H. Delesques, Caen, 1910; Abbé E. H. Pigéon, History of the Cathedral of Coutances (Coutances, Salette sons, 1876); Alfred Ramée, “Cathedral of Coutances,” in Review of Learned Societies, 1880, p. 94; A. de Dion, in Monumental Bulletin, 1884, vol. 50, p. 620; 1865, p. 509, G. Bouet; 1872, p. 19, Regnault; Gabriel Fleury, in Review ... archaeological of Maine, 1909, on the architect, Thomas Toustain; Regnault, Monumental and Historical Review of the Coutances District (St. Lô, 1860); C. de Gerville, “Research on the Abbeys of La Manche,” in Memoirs of the Society of Antiquaries of Normandy, vol. 2, p. 77; ibid., Geographical and Historical Studies on the Department of La Manche (Cherbourg, 1854).
[370] Near Hauteville-sur-mer are the ruins of Hambye Abbey, whose destruction was an irreparable loss for art, since its church was Primary Gothic. On the road from Coutances to Cherbourg is the abbatial of Lessay (a contemporary of St. Étienne at Caen), said by M. Arcisse de Caumont to be one of the purest models of Norman Romanesque, an austere monument of the XI-century type. Differences in the pier’s profiles show where, in the nave, the XII century resumed work. In this latter period Gothic ribs were prepared for from the planting of the piers, but the actual diagonals of the nave were built in the XIII century. Mr. John Bilson claims that the Gothic ribs of the two sections preceding the apse are of the XI century, which again brings up the controversy of priority in the use of diagonals.
[370] Close to Hauteville-sur-mer are the ruins of Hambye Abbey, whose destruction was a huge loss for art, as its church represented Primary Gothic architecture. Along the route from Coutances to Cherbourg stands the abbey of Lessay (a contemporary of St. Étienne in Caen), described by M. Arcisse de Caumont as one of the finest examples of Norman Romanesque, a stark monument from the 11th century. Variations in the pier profiles indicate where, in the nave, work resumed in the 12th century. During this latter period, Gothic ribs were prepared with the placement of the piers, but the actual diagonal structures of the nave were built in the 13th century. Mr. John Bilson argues that the Gothic ribs in the two sections before the apse are from the 11th century, reigniting the debate over which came first in the use of diagonals.
The Cistercian church of La Blanche at Mortain was another abbatial of the Manche, dedicated in 1206. At Cerisy-la-Forêt the abbey church was begun (c. 1130) by the Fécamp school of William of Volpiano, continued by Duke Robert the Magnificent, and finished by his son William the Conqueror. The nave was built from west to east in the last quarter of the XI century, the apse slightly after 1100, the actual vaulting a century later. The religious wars and the Revolution sacked the abbatial; in 1811 its demolition was still going on.
The Cistercian church of La Blanche in Mortain was another abbey in Manche, dedicated in 1206. At Cerisy-la-Forêt, the abbey church was started around 1130 by the Fécamp school under William of Volpiano, continued by Duke Robert the Magnificent, and completed by his son William the Conqueror. The nave was built from west to east in the last quarter of the 11th century, the apse was constructed shortly after 1100, and the actual vaulting was added a century later. The religious wars and the Revolution looted the abbey; by 1811, its demolition was still in progress.
Congrès Archéologique, 1908, p. 242, “Lessay,” Lefèvre-Pontalis; p. 553, “Cerisy-la-Forêt,” André Rhein; Congrès Archéologique, 1860, on Cherbourg; La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Manche, p. 173, “Lessay”; p. 1, “St. Lô”; p. 51, “Carentan”; p. 73, “Cerisy-la-Forêt”; p. 153, “Hambye”; R. Le Conte, Études hist. et archéol. sur les abbayes bénédictines en général, et sur celle de Hambye en particulier (Bernay, 1890).
Congrès Archéologique, 1908, p. 242, “Lessay,” Lefèvre-Pontalis; p. 553, “Cerisy-la-Forêt,” André Rhein; Congrès Archéologique, 1860, on Cherbourg; La Normandie monumentale et pittoresque. Manche, p. 173, “Lessay”; p. 1, “St. Lô”; p. 51, “Carentan”; p. 73, “Cerisy-la-Forêt”; p. 153, “Hambye”; R. Le Conte, Études hist. et archéol. sur les abbayes bénédictines en général, et sur celle de Hambye en particulier (Bernay, 1890).
[371] Camille Enlart, L’influence extérieure de l’art normand au moyen âge; ibid., Origines françaises de l’architecture gothique en Italie (Paris, Thorin, 1894); Ch. Diehl, Palerme et Syracuse (Collection, Villes d’art célèbres), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1907); Miss C. Waern, Medieval Sicily (London, 1910); Émile Bertaud, L’art dans l’Italie méridionale; F. Chalandon, Histoire de la domination normande en Italie et en Sicile (Paris, 1907); E. Curtis, Roger of Sicily (New York, 1912).
[371] Camille Enlart, The External Influence of Norman Art in the Middle Ages; ibid., French Origins of Gothic Architecture in Italy (Paris, Thorin, 1894); Ch. Diehl, Palermo and Syracuse (Collection, Famous Art Cities), (Paris, H. Laurens, 1907); Miss C. Waern, Medieval Sicily (London, 1910); Émile Bertaud, Art in Southern Italy; F. Chalandon, History of Norman Rule in Italy and Sicily (Paris, 1907); E. Curtis, Roger of Sicily (New York, 1912).
[373] Anatole Le Braz, La Bretagne (Collection, Les provinces françaises), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., Histoire de Bretagne (Collection, Les vieilles provinces de France), (Paris, Bouvin); ibid., Au pays des pardons (translated, London, Methuen, 1906); Abbé J. M. Abgrall, Architecture bretonne; études des monuments du diocèse de Quimper (Quimper, 1904); ibid., Paysages et monuments des Côtes-du-Nord; Gautier du Mottay, Répertoire archéol. des Côtes-du-Nord; H. du Cleuziou, Bretagne artistique et pittoresque (Paris, 1886); Bulletin de la Soc. archéol. du Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 264, “Le vieux Morlaix”; and 1902, vol. 30, p. 24, “Le vieux Quimperlé”; A. de Lorme, “L’art breton du XIIIe au XVIIe siècle,” in Bulletin de la Soc. archéol. du Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 264; Taylor et Nodier, Voyages pittoresque ... dans l’ancienne France, La Bretagne (Paris, Didron, 1845-46), 2 vols.; André, La verrerie et les vitraux peint dans l’ancienne province de Bretagne (1878); Léon Palustre, La Renaissance en France, vol. 2, “La Bretagne” (Paris, Quantin, 1885), 3 vols., folio; De la Borderie, Histoire de Bretagne, vol. 3, from 995 to 1364, and vol. 4, from 1364 to 1522 (Rennes, 1896-1900); ibid., Mosaïque bretonne (Rennes, Plihon et Hervé); De la Villemarqué, éd., Barzas-Breiz; chants populaires de la Bretagne, ninth edition (1892), 2 vols.; F. M. Luzel, Gwerziou Briez-Izel (epics) and Soniou (lyrics), (Lorient, 1868-74), 3 vols.; Siméon Luce, Histoire de Bertrand Duguesclin et de son épogue (1883); Leroux de Lincy, Vie de la reine Anne de Bretagne (1860); A. Robida, La veille France, Bretagne (Paris, 1891).
[373] Anatole Le Braz, Brittany (Collection, French Provinces), (Paris, H. Laurens); ibid., History of Brittany (Collection, Old Provinces of France), (Paris, Bouvin); ibid., In the Land of Pardons (translated, London, Methuen, 1906); Abbé J. M. Abgrall, Breton Architecture: Studies of the Monuments of the Diocese of Quimper (Quimper, 1904); ibid., Landscapes and Monuments of the Côtes-du-Nord; Gautier du Mottay, Archaeological Directory of the Côtes-du-Nord; H. du Cleuziou, Artistic and Picturesque Brittany (Paris, 1886); Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 264, “Old Morlaix”; and 1902, vol. 30, p. 24, “Old Quimperlé”; A. de Lorme, “Breton Art from the 13th to the 17th Century,” in Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 264; Taylor and Nodier, Picturesque Travels ... in Ancient France, Brittany (Paris, Didron, 1845-46), 2 vols.; André, The Glassmaking and Stained Glass of the Former Province of Brittany (1878); Léon Palustre, The Renaissance in France, vol. 2, “Brittany” (Paris, Quantin, 1885), 3 vols., folio; De la Borderie, History of Brittany, vol. 3, from 995 to 1364, and vol. 4, from 1364 to 1522 (Rennes, 1896-1900); ibid., Breton Mosaic (Rennes, Plihon et Hervé); De la Villemarqué, ed., Barzas-Breiz; Popular Songs of Brittany, ninth edition (1892), 2 vols.; F. M. Luzel, Gwerziou Briez-Izel (epics) and Soniou (lyrics), (Lorient, 1868-74), 3 vols.; Siméon Luce, History of Bertrand Duguesclin and His Time (1883); Leroux de Lincy, Life of Queen Anne of Brittany (1860); A. Robida, Old France, Brittany (Paris, 1891).
[375] A son of Morlaix, Émile Souvestre (1806-54), has written lovingly of Brittany: “Il y a quelque chose de bien supérieure à la louange; la conscience que l’on a été compris et que l’on est aimé pour son œuvre. Aimé pour son œuvre! Je sais mieux que personne ce qui manque à ce que j’écris. Il faut quelque chose d’ondoyant. J’appartiens à cette terre Celtique où les monuments sont des pierres non taillées.”
[375] A son of Morlaix, Émile Souvestre (1806-54), has written with great affection about Brittany: “There’s something far greater than praise; it’s the realization that you’ve been understood and that you’re loved for your work. Loved for your work! I know better than anyone what’s missing from what I write. It needs something fluid. I belong to this Celtic land where the monuments are uncarved stones.”
[376] “Campagnes bretonnes, qu’on dirait toujours recueillies dans le passé ... grandes pierres qui couvrent les lichens gris ... plaines où le granit affleure le sol antique.... Ce sont des impressions de tranquillité, d’apaisement, que m’apporte ce pays; c’est aussi une aspiration vers un repos plus complet sous la mousse.”
[376] “Breton countryside, which always seems to belong to the past... large stones covered with gray lichen... plains where granite pokes through the ancient soil... These evoke feelings of calm and peace for me; it’s also a longing for a deeper rest beneath the moss.”
—Pierre Loti, Mon frère Yves.
—Pierre Loti, My brother Yves.
[377] The men of St. Malo have been pioneers under one aspect or another, sea rovers, like Duguay-Trouin, Surcouf, or Jacques Cartier, who, in 1535, knelt in the cathedral, where an inscription marks the pavement, to receive episcopal blessing before he sailed to discover Canada. Other sons of St. Malo have been the astronomer, Maupertius (1698-1756); Lamennais (1782-1854); and Chateaubriand (1768-1848), who chose for his burial the barren island of Grand Bé, offshore.
[377] The people of St. Malo have been pioneers in various ways, like sea adventurers such as Duguay-Trouin, Surcouf, or Jacques Cartier, who, in 1535, knelt in the cathedral—where there’s a plaque on the floor—to receive a bishop’s blessing before he set sail to discover Canada. Other notable figures from St. Malo include the astronomer Maupertius (1698-1756); Lamennais (1782-1854); and Chateaubriand (1768-1848), who chose the desolate island of Grand Bé, offshore, for his burial.
[379] André Rhein, “La cathédrale de Dol,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1910, vol. 74, p. 367; A. Ramé, “La cathédrale de Dol; tombeau de l’évêque Thomas James,” in Mélanges d’archéologie bretonne, 1858, vol. 2, p. 10; T. Gautier, La cathédrale de Dol; Ch. Robert, Guide de tourist archéologique à Dol (Dol-de-Bretagne, 1892); Léon Palustre, La Renaissance en France, vol. 2, “La Bretagne,” p. 87, on Dol (Paris, Quantin, 1885); Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe et la sculpture française de son temps (Paris, 1901); A. de Montaiglon, “La sculpture française à la Renaissance: la famille des Juste en France,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1875, vol. 12, p. 394.
[379] André Rhein, “The Cathedral of Dol,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1910, vol. 74, p. 367; A. Ramé, “The Cathedral of Dol; Tomb of Bishop Thomas James,” in Mélanges d’archéologie bretonne, 1858, vol. 2, p. 10; T. Gautier, The Cathedral of Dol; Ch. Robert, Archaeological Tourist Guide to Dol (Dol-de-Bretagne, 1892); Léon Palustre, The Renaissance in France, vol. 2, “Brittany,” p. 87, on Dol (Paris, Quantin, 1885); Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe and French Sculpture of His Time (Paris, 1901); A. de Montaiglon, “French Sculpture in the Renaissance: the Juste Family in France,” in Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1875, vol. 12, p. 394.
[380] Congrès Archéologique, 1856 and 1886; Guilhermy, “Monuments des bords de la Loire; Nantes,” in Annales archéol., 1845, vol. 2, p. 87; J. Montfort, “La crypte de la cathédrale de Nantes,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1884, vol. 50, pp. 368, 449; Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe et la sculpture française de son temps (Paris, 1901); Lambin de Lignum, Recherches historiques sur l’origine et des ouvrages de Michel Colombe; Benj. Fillon, Poitou et Vendée (1846); Travers, Histoire ... du comté de Nantes, 3 vols.
[380] Congrès Archéologique, 1856 and 1886; Guilhermy, “Monuments des bords de la Loire; Nantes,” in Annales archéol., 1845, vol. 2, p. 87; J. Montfort, “La crypte de la cathédrale de Nantes,” in Bulletin Monumental, 1884, vol. 50, pp. 368, 449; Paul Vitry, Michel Colombe et la sculpture française de son temps (Paris, 1901); Lambin de Lignum, Recherches historiques sur l’origine et des ouvrages de Michel Colombe; Benj. Fillon, Poitou et Vendée (1846); Travers, Histoire ... du comté de Nantes, 3 vols.
[381] Félix Soleil, La danse-macabre de Kermaria-an-Isquit (St. Brieuc, 1882); Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France, chap. 2, “La danse macabre” (Paris, Colin, 1910); Lucien Bégule, La chapelle de Kermaria Nisquit et la danse des morts (Paris, 1911); Abbé J. M. Abgrall, Le mobilier artistique des églises bretonnes (Quimper, Cotonnec, 1898).
[381] Félix Soleil, The Dance of Death at Kermaria-an-Isquit (St. Brieuc, 1882); Émile Mâle, Religious Art of the Late Middle Ages in France, chap. 2, “The Dance of Death” (Paris, Colin, 1910); Lucien Bégule, The Chapel of Kermaria Nisquit and the Dance of the Dead (Paris, 1911); Abbé J. M. Abgrall, The Artistic Furnishings of Breton Churches (Quimper, Cotonnec, 1898).
[382] R. F. Le Men, Monographie de la cathédrale de Quimper (Quimper, 1877); Abbé J. M. Abgrall, “Autour du vieux Quimper,” in Bulletin de la Soc. archéol. du Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 79; ibid., L’architecture bretonne, étude des monuments du diocèse de Quimper (1882); Thomas, La cathédrale de Quimper (1892); P. Peyron, “Les églises et chapelles du diocèse de Quimper,” in Bulletin de la Soc. archéol. du Finistère, vol. 20, pp. 129, 451; vol. 31, pp. 18, 216, 304; vol. 32, p. 183.
[382] R. F. Le Men, Monograph of the Cathedral of Quimper (Quimper, 1877); Abbé J. M. Abgrall, “Around Old Quimper,” in Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 79; ibid., Breton Architecture, a Study of the Monuments of the Diocese of Quimper (1882); Thomas, The Cathedral of Quimper (1892); P. Peyron, “The Churches and Chapels of the Diocese of Quimper,” in Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of Finistère, vol. 20, pp. 129, 451; vol. 31, pp. 18, 216, 304; vol. 32, p. 183.
[383] L. Th. Lecureur, La cathédrale de St. Pol-de-Léon (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); Ch. Chassepied, “Notes sur la cathédrale de St. Pol-de-Léon,” in Bulletin de la Soc. archéol. du Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 304; Abbé J. M. Abgrall, Au pays des clochers à jour (Paris, 1902).
[383] L. Th. Lecureur, La cathédrale de St. Pol-de-Léon (Collection, Petites Monographies), (Paris, H. Laurens); Ch. Chassepied, “Notes on the Cathedral of St. Pol-de-Léon,” in Bulletin of the Archaeological Society of Finistère, 1901, vol. 28, p. 304; Abbé J. M. Abgrall, In the Land of Daylit Bell Towers (Paris, 1902).
[384] Congrès Archéologique, 1883, on Tréguier; Ch. de la Ronsiere, Saint Yves (Collection, Les Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1901); Ernest Renan, Souvenirs d’enfance (1883).
[384] Archaeological Congress, 1883, on Tréguier; Ch. de la Ronsiere, Saint Yves (Collection, The Saints), (Paris, Lecoffre, 1901); Ernest Renan, Childhood Memories (1883).
[385] Émile Mâle, L’art religieux au XIIIe siècle en France, p. 442 (Paris, Colin, 1908). (Trans. by Dora Mussey, London, Dent & Sons, New York, Dutton, 1913).
[385] Émile Mâle, Religious Art in 13th Century France, p. 442 (Paris, Colin, 1908). (Trans. by Dora Mussey, London, Dent & Sons, New York, Dutton, 1913).
[386] “Un tel art ne pouvait être effleuré par le doute. L’art et la poésie qui émeuvent sortent du cœur et d’une région obscure où la raison n’a pas accès. L’artiste qui examine, juge, critique, doute, concilie, a déjà perdu la moitié de la force créatrice.”—Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France (Paris, Colin, 1910).
[386] "Such art could not be touched by doubt. The art and poetry that move us come from the heart and a dark place where reason can't reach. The artist who analyzes, judges, criticizes, doubts, and reconciles has already lost half of their creative power."—Émile Mâle, L’art religieux de la fin du moyen âge en France (Paris, Colin, 1910).
“Art addresses not pure sense, still less the pure intellect, but the imaginative reason through the senses.”—Walter Pater.
“Art doesn’t just engage our senses or our intellect in a straightforward way; instead, it reaches the imaginative part of our reasoning through our senses.” —Walter Pater.
[387] “Hier, pendant son congé de vingt-quatre heures, j’ai rencontré le fils d’une pauvre femme de la campagne, un ouvrier que j’aime bien depuis longtemps. Quand je l’ai quitté, et que je lui ai dit: ‘Bonne chance, Marcel,’ il m’a regardé de ses yeux sans reproche, et il m’a répondu: ‘D’un côté ou de l’autre, je ne crains rien.’ Et cela voulait dire: la vie la mort? Qu’importe! je suis prêt. Qu’est ce que tout cela. C’est la chanson de geste qui continue: c’est la croisade qui n’est point finie, c’est Dieu transparaissant à travers la France purifiée.”—An episode to the World War, 1914: René Bazin, Les Preux.
[387] “Here, during his twenty-four hour leave, I met the son of a poor woman from the countryside, a worker I’ve liked for a long time. When I said goodbye to him and told him, ‘Good luck, Marcel,’ he looked at me with his unaccusing eyes and replied, ‘Either way, I fear nothing.’ And that meant: life, death? What does it matter! I’m ready. What is all this? It’s the ongoing epic; it’s the crusade that isn’t finished; it’s God shining through the purified France.” —An episode to the World War, 1914: René Bazin, Les Preux.
| Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: |
|---|
| Magdeburg is a Primary Gothic cathedral=> Magdeburg is a Primary Gothic cathedral {pg 2} |
| builder of Sausages Cathedral=> builder of Soissons Cathedral {pg 6} |
| To point a rose-colored picture=> To paint a rose-colored picture {pg 41} |
| blood of the Carolingian line=> blood of the Carolingian line {pg 86} |
| Germans’ stategic retreat=> Germans’ strategic retreat {pg 112} |
| contributing members of Rheims Cathedral=> counterbutting members of Rheims Cathedral {pg 117} |
| congrégation because existé=> congrégation qui a existé {pg 118-(note 66)} |
| Les churches de l’Ile-de-France=> Les églises de l’Ile-de-France {pg 126 (note 71)} |
| Chronicle des évêques de Meaux=> Chronique des évêques de Meaux {pg 165 (note 100)} |
| its sanctuary is a gem=> its sanctuary is a gem {pg 172 (note 107)} |
| They are the patriarchs=> They are the patriarchs {pg 182} |
| Quelle delicious église!=> Quelle délicieuse église! {pg 237} |
| Through Crestien=> Through Crestien {pg 245} |
| l'oyage au pays des sculpteurs romans=> l’Voyage au pays des sculpteurs romans {pg 288 (note 177)} |
| tantôt overwhelmed=> tantôt estompée {pg 332 (note 207)} |
| the tenets of Catharism=> the tenets of Catharism {pg 365} |
| vestige of the city ramparts=> vestige of the city ramparts {pg 385} |
| fit into our category=> fit into our category {pg 405} |
| Gregory XI—Count Roger de Beaufort, a nephew of Clement VI—went back definitely in 1177 to the Holy City=> Gregory XI—Count Roger de Beaufort, a nephew of Clement VI—went back definitely in 1377 to the Holy City {pg 409} |
| Celui qui proclaim l’existence de l’infini=> Celui qui proclame l’existence de l’infini {pg 428} |
| et de la democratic moderne=> et de la démocratie moderne {pg 428} |
| Sacracen inroads=> Saracen inroads {pg 436} |
| more romantically ideal=> more romantically ideal {pg 441} |
| XI-century-Notre Dame at Semur=> XI-century Notre Dame at Semur {pg 443} |
| nos writers français=> nos écrivains français {pg 451 (note 304)} |
| et vous savez comment il procède=> et vous savez comment il procède {pg 460 (note 308)} |
| the Cartharis heresy=> the Catharist heresy {pg 466} |
| Lanfranc had been teaching at Avranches=>Lanfranc had been teaching at Avranches {pg 474} |
| a chronicle mass=>a chonicle mass a conicle mass {pg 500} |
| besieged and burned=> besieged and burned {pg 546} |
| joie de viore=> joie de vivre {pg 517} |
| La vault de la cathédrale de Nantes=> La crypte de la cathédrale de Nantes {pg 565 (note 380)} |
| was married, in 1199, to Louis XII.=> was married, in 1499, to Louis XII. {pg 566} |
| place of honor is give to the Saviour=> place of honor is given to the Saviour {pg 567} |
| Tarentaise, Pierre de (Innocent IV), 268.=> Tarentaise, Pierre de (Innocent IV), 268. {index} |
| Viffart (Aisne), 45.=> Viffort (Aisne), 45. {index} |
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