IV Notre Dame de Bayonne
“Distant are the violet Pyrenees, wonderful and regal in their grandeur. The sun is bright, and laughs joyously at the Béarnais peasant.”
—Jean Rameau.
Bayonne is an ancient town, and was known by the Romans as Lapurdum. As a centre of Christianity, it was behind its neighbours, as no bishopric was founded here until Arsias Rocha held the see in the ninth century. No church-building of remark followed for at least two centuries, when the foundations were laid upon which the present cathedral was built up.
Like the cities and towns of Rousillon, at the opposite end of the Pyrenean chain, Bayonne has for ever been of mixed race and characteristics. Basques, Spaniards, Béarnese, and “alien French”—as the native calls them—went to make up its conglomerate population in the past, and does even yet in considerable proportions.
To the reader of history, the mediæval Béarn and Navarre, which to-day forms the Department of the Basses-Pyrénées in the southwest corner of France, will have the most lively interest, from the fact of its having been the principality of Henri Quatre, the “good king” whose name was so justly dear. The history of the Béarnese is a wonderful record of a people of which too little is even yet known.
Bayonne itself has had many and varied historical associations, though it is not steeped in that antiquity which is the birthright of many another favoured spot.
Guide-books and the “notes-and-queries columns” of antiquarian journals have unduly enlarged upon the fact that the bayonet—to-day a well-nigh useless appendage as a weapon of war—was first invented here. It is interesting as a fact, perhaps, but it is not of æsthetic moment.
The most gorgeous event of history connected with Bayonne and its immediate vicinity—among all that catalogue, from the minor Spanish invasions to Wellington’s stupendous activities—was undoubtedly that which led up to the famous Pyrenean Treaty made on the Isle du Faisan, close beside the bridge, in the river Bidassoa, on the Spanish frontier.
The memory of the parts played therein by Mazarin and De Haro, and not less the gorgeous pavilion in which the function was held, form a setting which the writers of “poetical plays” and “historical romances” seem to have neglected.
This magnificent apartment was decorated by Velasquez, who, it is said, died of his inglorious transformation into an upholsterer.
The cathedral at Bayonne is contemporary with those at Troyes, Meaux, and Auxerre, in the north of France. It resembles greatly the latter as to general proportions and situation, though it possesses two completed spires, whereas St. Etienne, at Auxerre, has but one.
In size and beauty the cathedral at Bayonne is far above the lower rank of the cathedrals of France, and in spite of extensive restorations, it yet stands forth as a mediæval work of great importance.
From a foundation of the date of 1140, a structure was in part completed by 1213, at which time the whole existing fabric suffered the ravages of fire. Work was immediately undertaken again, commencing with the choir; and, except for the grand portal of the west front, the whole church was finished by the mid-sixteenth century.
Restoration of a late date, induced by the generosity of a native of the city, has resulted in the completion of the cathedral, which, if not a really grand church to-day, is an exceedingly near approach thereto.
The fine western towers are modern, but they form the one note which produces the effect of ensemble, which otherwise would be entirely wanting.
The view from the Quai Bergemet, just across the Adour, for picturesqueness of the quality which artists—tyros and masters alike—love to sketch, is reminiscent only of St. Lo in Normandy.
Aside from the charm of its general picturesqueness of situation and grouping, Notre Dame de Bayonne will appeal mostly by its interior arrangements and embellishments.
The western portal is still lacking the greatness which future ages may yet bestow upon it, and that of the north transept, by which one enters, is, though somewhat more ornate, not otherwise remarkable.
A florid cloister of considerable size attaches itself on the south, but access is had only from the sacristy.
The choir and apse are of the thirteenth century, and immediately followed the fire of 1213.
Neither the transepts nor choir are of great length; indeed, they are attenuated as compared with those of the more magnificent churches of the Gothic type, of which this is, in a way, an otherwise satisfying example.
The patriotic Englishman will take pride in the fact that the English arms are graven somewhere in the vaulting of the nave. He may not be able to spy them out,—probably will not be,—but they likely enough existed, as a mid-Victorian writer describes them minutely, though no modern guides or works of local repute make mention of the feature in any way. The triforium is elegantly traceried, and is the most worthy and artistic detail to be seen in the whole structure.
The clerestory windows contain glass of the fifteenth century; much broken to-day, but of the same excellent quality of its century, and that immediately preceding. The remainder of the glass, in the clerestory and choir, is modern.
In the sacristy is a remarkable series of perfectly preserved thirteenth-century sculptures in stone which truthfully—with the before-mentioned triforum—are the real “art treasures” of the cathedral. The three naves; the nave proper and its flanking aisles; the transepts, attenuated though they be; and the equally shallow choir, all in some way present a really grand effect, at once harmonious and pleasing.
The pavement of the sanctuary is modern, as also the high-altar, but both are generously good in design. These furnishings are mainly of Italian marbles, hung about with tapestries, which, if not of superlative excellence, are at least effective.
Modern mural paintings with backgrounds in gold decorate the abside chapels.
There are many attributes of picturesque quality scattered throughout the city: its unique trade customs, its shipping, its donkeys, and, above any of these, its women themselves picturesque and beautiful. All these will give the artist many lively suggestions.
Not many of the class, however, frequent this Biscayan city; which is a loss to art and to themselves. A plea is herein made that its attractions be better known by those who have become ennuied by the “resorts.”