XIX Notre Dame de Rodez
The cathedral at Rodez, whose diocese dates from the fifth century and whose first bishop was St. Amand, is, in a way, reminiscent—in its majesty of outline and dominant situation—of that at Albi.
It is not, however, after the same manner, but resembles it more particularly with respect to its west façade, which is unpierced in its lower stages by either doorway or window.
Here, too, the entrance is midway in its length, and its front presents that sheer flank of walled barrier which is suggestive of nothing but a fortification.
This great church—for it is truly great, pure and simple—makes up in width what it lacks in length. Its nave and aisles are just covered by a span of one hundred and twenty feet,—a greater dimension than is possessed by Chartres or Rouen, and nearly as great as Paris or Amiens.
Altogether Notre Dame de Rodez is a most pleasing church, though conglomerate as to its architecture, and as bad, with respect to the Renaissance gable of its façade, as any contemporary work in the same style.
Rodez lacks, however, the great enfolding tower central of Albi.
This mellow and warm-toned cathedral, from its beginnings in the latter years of the thirteenth century to the time when the Renaissance cast its dastardly spell over the genius who inspired its original plan, was the result of the persevering though intermittent work of three centuries, and even then the two western towers were left incomplete.
This perhaps was fortunate; otherwise they might have been topped with such an excrescence as looms up over the doorless west façade.
The Gascon compares the pyramidal roofs which cap either tower—and with some justness, too—to the pyramids of Egypt, and for that reason the towers are, to him, the most wonderful in the universe. Subtle humour this, and the observer will have little difficulty in tracing the analogy.
Still, they really are preferable, as a decorative feature, to the tomb-like headboard which surmounts the central gable which they flank. The ground-plan is singularly uniform, with transepts scarcely defined—except in the interior arrangements—and yet not wholly absent.
The elaborate tower, called often and with some justification the beffroi, which flanks, or rather indicates, the northerly transept, is hardly pure as to its Gothic details, but it is a magnificent work nevertheless.
It dates from 1510, is two hundred and sixty-five feet high, and is typical of most of the late pointed work of its era. The final stage is octagonal and is surmounted by a statue of the Virgin surrounded by the Evangelists. This statue may or may not be a worthy work of art; it is too elevated, however, for one to decide.
The decorations of the west front, except for the tombstone-like Renaissance gable, are mainly of the same period as the north transept tower, and while perhaps ultra-florid, certainly make a fine appearance when viewed across the Place d’Armes.
This west front, moreover, possesses that unusual attribute of a southern church, an elaborate Gothic rose window; and, though it does not equal in size or design such magnificent examples as are seen in the north, at Reims, Amiens, or Chartres, is, after all, a notable detail of its kind.
The choir, chevet, and apside are of massive building, though not lacking grace, in spite of the absence of the arcs-boutants of the best Gothic.
Numerous grotesque gargoyles dot the eaves and gables, though whether of the spout variety or mere symbols of superstition one can hardly tell with accuracy when viewed from the ground level.
The north and south portals of the transepts are of a florid nature, after the manner of most of the decorations throughout the structure, and are acceptable evidence of the ingenious craft of the stone-carver, if nothing more.
The workmanship of these details, however, does not rise to the heights achieved by the architect who outlined the plan and foundation upon which they were latterly imposed. They are, too, sadly disfigured, the tympanum in the north portal having been disgracefully ravished.
The interior arrangements are doubly impressive, not only from the effect of great size, but from the novel colour effect—a sort of dull, glowing pink which seems to pervade the very atmosphere, an effect which contrasts strangely with the colder atmosphere of the Gothic churches of the north. A curious feature to be noted here is that the sustaining walls of the vault rest directly on piers sans capitals; as effective, no doubt, as the conventional manner, but in this case hardly as pleasing.
Two altars, one at either end of nave and choir, duplicate the arrangement seen at Albi.
The organ buffet, too, is of the same massiveness and elaborateness, and is consequently an object of supreme pride to the local authorities.
It seems difficult to make these useful and necessary adjuncts to a church interior of the quality of beauty shared by most other accessories, such as screens, altars, and choir-stalls, which, though often of the contemporary Renaissance period, are generally beautiful in themselves. The organ-case, however, seems to run either to size, heaviness, or grotesqueness, or a combination of all. This is true in this case, where its great size, and plentifully besprinkled rococo ornament, and unpleasantly dull and dingy “pipes” are of no æsthetic value whatever. The organ, moreover, occupies the unusual position—in a French church—of being over the western doorway.
The nave is of extreme height, one hundred and ten feet, and is of unusual width, as are also the aisles.
The rose window, before remarked, shows well from the inside, though its glass is not notable.
A series of badly arched lancets in the choir are ungraceful and not in keeping with the other constructive details. The delicately sculptured and foliaged screen or jubé at the crossing is a late fifteenth-century work.
In one of the chapels is now to be seen, in mutilated fragments, the ancient sixteenth-century clôture du chœur. It was a remarkable and elaborate work of bizarre stone-carving, which to-day has been reconstructed in some measure approaching its former completeness by the use of still other fragments taken from the episcopal palace. The chief feature as to completeness and perfection is the doorway, which bears two lengthy inscriptions in Latin. The facing of the clôture throughout is covered with a range of pilasters in Arabesque, but the niches between are to-day bare of their statues, if they ever really possessed them.
The choir-stalls and bishop’s throne in carved wood are excellent, as also an elaborately carved wooden grille of a mixed Arabesque and Gothic design.
There are four other chapel or alcove screens very nearly as elaborate; all of which features, taken in conjunction one with the other, form an extensive series of embellishments such as is seldom met with.
Two fourteenth-century monuments to former prelates are situated in adjoining chapels, and a still more luxurious work of the same period—the tomb of Gilbert de Cantobre—is beneath an extensive altar which has supposedly Byzantine ornament of the tenth century.
Rodez was the seat of a bishop (St. Amand) as early as the fifth century.
Then, as now, the diocese was a suffragan of Albi, whose first bishop, St. Clair, came to the mother-see in the century previous.