XVI St. Bertrand de Comminges
To-day St. Bertrand de Comminges, the ancient Lugdunum Convenarum (through which one traces its communistic foundation), is possessed of something less than six hundred inhabitants. Remains of the Roman ramparts are yet to be seen, and its ci-devant cathedral,—of the twelfth to fourteenth centuries—suppressed in 1790, still dominates the town from its heights. Arthur Young, writing in the eighteenth century, describes its situation thus: “The mountains rise proudly around and give their rough frame to this exquisite little picture.”
The diocese grew out of the monkish community which had settled here in the sixth century, when the prelate Suavis became its first bishop. To-day the nearest bishop’s seat is at Tarbes, in the archbishopric of Auch.
As to architectural style, the cathedral presents what might ordinarily be called an undesirable mixture, though it is in no way uninteresting or even unpleasing.
The west front has a curious Romanesque doorway, and there is a massiveness of wall and buttress which the rather diminutive proportions of the general plan of the church make notably apparent. Otherwise the effect, from a not too near view-point, is one of a solidity and firmness of building only to be seen in some of the neighbouring fortress-churches.
A tower of rather heavy proportions is to-day capped with a pyramidal slate or timbered apex after the manner of the western towers at Rodez. From a distance, this feature has the suggestion of the development of what may perhaps be a local type of clocher. Closer inspections, when its temporary nature is made plain, disabuses this idea entirely. It is inside the walls that the great charm of this church lies. It is elaborately planned, profuse in ornament,—without being in any degree redundant,—and has a warmth and brilliancy which in most Romanesque interiors is wanting.
This interior is representative, on a small scale, of that class of structure whose distinctive feature is what the French architect calls a nef unique, meaning, in this instance, one of those great single-chambered churches without aisles, such as are found at Perpignan, new Carcassonne, Lodève, and in a still more amplified form at Albi.
There are of course no aisles; and for a length of something over two hundred feet, and a breadth of fifty-five, the bold vault—in the early pointed style—roofs one of the most attractive and pleasing church interiors it is possible to conceive.
Of the artistic accessories it is impossible to be too enthusiastic. There are sixty-six choir-stalls, most elaborately carved in wood—perhaps mahogany—of a deep rich colouring seldom seen. Numerous other sculptured details in wood and stone set off with unusual effect the great and well-nigh windowless side walls.
The organ buffet of Renaissance workmanship—as will naturally be inferred—is a remarkably elaborate work, much more to be admired than many of its contemporaries.
Among the other decorative features are an elaborately conceived “tree of Jesse,” an unusually massive rood-loft or jube, and a high-altar of much magnificence.
The choir is surrounded by eleven chapels, showing in some instances the pure pointed style, and in the latter ones that of the Renaissance.
A fourteenth-century funeral monument of Bishop Hugh de Castillione is an elaborate work in white marble; while a series of paintings on the choir walls,—illustrating the miracles of St. Bertrand,—though of a certain crudity, tend to heighten the interest without giving that effect of the over-elaboration of irrelative details not unfrequently seen in some larger churches.
At St. Bertrand de Comminges and the cathedrals at Arles, Cavaillon, and Aix-en-Provence, Elne-en-Roussillon, and Le Puy-en-Velay are conserved—in a more or less perfect state of preservation—a series of delightful twelfth-century cloisters. These churches possess this feature in common with the purely monastic houses, whose builders so frequently lavished much thought and care on these enclosed and cloistered courtyards.
As a mere detail—or accessory, if you will,—an ample cloister is expressive of much that is wanting in a great church which lacks this contributory feature.
Frequently this part was the first to succumb to the destroying influence of time, and leave a void for which no amount of latter-day improvement could make up. Even here, while the cloister ranks as one of the most beautiful yet to be seen, it is part in a ruinous condition.