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The valley of the Saône above Dijon is a paradise of old fiefs of counts and dukes. Almost every kilometre of its ample course bears a local name allied with some seigneur of feudal days. The whole watershed is historic, romantic ground. Mantoche was the site of a Cité Romain; Apremont gave birth to one of the most prolific of romancers, Xavier de Montepin, a litterateur who wrote mostly for concierges and shop girls of a couple of generations ago, but a name famous in the annals of French literature nevertheless.
Leaving the country of the minor counts the Saône enters into Basse Bourgogne, taking on at various stages of its career the name of Petite Saône, Saône Supérieur or Grande Saône. All told it has a navigable length of nearly four hundred kilometres, making it one of France’s mightiest chemins qui marche, to borrow Napoleon’s phrase.
The entire heart of old Burgundy above Dijon, the plain that is, is most curiously sown with cultures of a variety that one would hardly expect to find.
Here and there a chateau de commerce, as the French distinguish the “wine-chateaux” from the purely domestic establishments and the “monuments historiques” of which the French government is so justly proud, crops up surrounded by its vineyards, with its next door neighbour, perhaps, an exploitation of hops, the principal ingredient of beer, as the grape is of wine. The paradox is as inexplicable, as is the fact that Dijon is famous for mustard when not a grain of it is grown nearer the Côte d’Or than India.
It is true that Dijon is noted quite as much for its mustard and its gingerbread as for its sculpture. The École Dijonnais is supreme in all three specialties. The historic figure, “mustardmaker to the Pope,” has caused many a “rire bourguignon”; nevertheless the preparing of Dijon mustard is a good deal of a secret still, as all who know the subtleness of this particular condiment recognize full well.
The mustard pots of Dijon, even those of commonest clay, are veritable works of art. It would pay some one to collect them. The “Fontaine de Jouvence,” which one may buy for thirty sous at the railway buffet, is indeed a gem; another, blazoned with the arms of Burgundy, and the legend “Moult me tarde,” followed by “d’y gouster” is no less.
CHAPTER IX
DIJON, THE CITY OF THE DUKES
Of no city of France are there more splendid ducal memories than of Dijon. To the French historians it has ever been known as “the city of the glorious dukes.” It is one of the cities which has best conserved its picturesque panoramic silhouette in Europe. Certainly no other of the cities of modern France can approach it in this respect. Its strikingly mediæval skyline serrated with spires, donjon and gables innumerable gives it a cachet all its own. Its situation, too, is remarkable, lying as it does snugly wrapped between the mountain and the plain by the flanks of the gently rolling coteaux round about. Dijon is still a veritable reminder of the moyen-age in spite of the fact that countless of its palaces, towers and clochers have disappeared with the march of time and the insistent movement of progress.
This was less true a generation or so ago. Then the city’s old ramparts were intact. To-day not more than a scant area of house front or garden wall suggests the one time part that the same stones played in the glory of war and siege. Nearby, too, the contemplation of Dijon evokes the same emotions in spite of a monotonous modernity to be seen in the new quarters of the town, where all is a dull drab in strong contrast to the liveliness of the colouring of the older parts. Dijon, take it all in all, is indeed a museum of architectural splendours.
“Nous allions admirant clochers, portails et tours,
Et les vielles maisons dans les arrière cours.”
Thus said Saint-Beauve, and any who come this way to-day, and linger long enough in the city of the dukes, may well take it for their text.
After many and diverse fortunes Dijon became the capital of the Duché de Bourgogne in 1015 under Duc Robert, the first of the line of Burgundian dukes, known as the dukes of the première race royale. This particular Robert was the grandson of Hugues Capet. Twelve princes in succession (until 1349) ruled the destinies of the dukedom from the capital, and showered upon its inhabitants benefits galore. At this time Philippe de Rouvres came into the control of the duchy, under the tutelage of his mother, Jeanne de Bourgogne.
One reads in the “Rôle des Dépenses” of 1392 unmistakable facts which point to the luxury which surrounded the court of Burgundy in the fourteenth century. Particularly is this so with regard to the garde-robe of Philippe-le-Hardi, wherein all his costumes, including the trappings of his horses, were garnished with real gold. Many other attributes went to make up the gorgeous properties of this admirable stage setting. There was an elaborate “chaine à porter reliques” and “la bonne ceinture de Monseigneur Saint Louis” to be counted among the tresor of the court.
Amid all this sumptuousness there was a notable regard for the conservation and safeguarding of governmental funds and property. This is to be remarked the more because of the fact that the overlord generally took for his own, and that of his heirs, all that came within his immediate presence. The Burgundian dukes at Dijon administered their rule with prudence and good judgment in all particulars until the Duché and the neighbouring Comté (afterwards the Franche Comté) stood almost alone among the European states of their time in not being obliged to own to a profligate hierarchy of administrators.
In all phases of their history the Dijonnais have ever been jealous of their personal liberties. François Premier, a prisoner at Madrid, had ceded Burgundy as a part of unwillingly given ransom to Charles Quint, who had already acquired the Franche Comté. The Dijon parliament would hear nothing of such a project, and energetically refused to ratify the treaty, sending their deputies to Cognac, to the convention which had been called, in protest.
Dijon’s chateau was first built by Louis XI to hold in leash his “bonne ville de Dijon.” The edifice was only completed in 1572, under Louis XII. It was in its prime, judging from historical descriptions, a most curious example of fifteenth century military architecture. The Dijonnais of late years demanded the suppression, and the clearing away, of the débris of this old royal chateau, believing (wrongly of course) that the ducal palace was sufficient to sustain the glory of their city. Accordingly, there remains nothing to-day of the chateau of the Louis but a scant funeral pile built up from the stones of the former chateau merely as a historical guide post, or rather, memorial of what has once been. Historical enthusiasm and much palavering on the part of a certain body of local antiquarians against the popular wave of feeling, could accomplish no more of a restoration. For the past fifty years the ruin has been, it is true, something of an eye-sore, an ill-kept, badly guarded, encumbering ruin, and unless it may be better taken care of, it would be as well to have it removed.
In form this chateau was a perfectly rectangular tower, sustained at each corner by a round tower of lesser proportions. As a whole it was one of the most massive works of its era in these parts. Its defence towards the north was a great horse-shoe shaped redoubt, a most unusual and most efficient rampart. Towards the city it was defended by a moat over which one entered the chateau proper by the traditional drawbridge.
The vast monumental pile at Dijon which bears the name of Hôtel de Ville to-day has been variously known as the Palais des Ducs, the Logis du Roi and the Palais des États. It has served all three purposes and served them well and with becoming dignity.
The exact origin of the structure has been left behind in the dim distance, but it is certain that it was the outgrowth of some sort of a foundation which existed as early as the tenth century, a period long before the coming of the so-called chateau.
In the twelfth century Hugues III built the Sainte Chapelle, all vestiges of which, save certain decorative elements built into the eastern wall of the Palais des Ducs, have now disappeared.
Philippe-le-Hardi, in 1366, almost entirely rebuilt the palace as it then existed, and Philippe-le-Bon actually did complete the work in 1420, when the great square Tour de la Terrasse, of a height of nearly fifty metres, was built. There is still existing another minor tower, the Tour de Bar, so named from the fact that for three years it was the prison of René d’Anjou, the Duc de Bar. In 1407 and 1502 this tower was nearly destroyed by fire, which carried away as well a great part of the main structure of that time.
The edifice is to-day occupied by many civic departments, including the Musée, the Archives and the École des Beaux Arts, but the Salle des Gardes and the “Cuisines des Ducs” still remain, as to their general outlines of walls and ceilings, as they were when they served the dukes themselves.
The present edifice, in spite of being known as the Ducal Palace, was not inhabited by any of the nobles of the first race; there is no part which dates from so early a period as that of the end even of their régime. The most ancient of the elements which formerly made up the collective block of buildings was the Sainte Chapelle, which was demolished in 1802, and the rez-de-chaussee of the Tour de Bar, which still exists. The lower part of this tower dates from the thirteenth century, the upper portions from the fourteenth.
From the ducal account books it appears that the portions known as the “Cuisines” – actually housing the Musée Lapidaire to-day – were constructed in 1445, and it is this part of the old palace which is the most interesting because it best illustrates the manner of building hereabouts at that period.
The Burgundian court attached great importance to the service at table, and during the fifteenth century there was not in all of Europe a line of princes who were better fed or got more satisfaction from the joys of the table. This is historic fact, not mere conjecture! The descriptions of the festins which were given by the Ducs de Bourgogne and described in the “Mémoires d’Olivier de la Marche” make interesting reading to one who knows anything of, and has any liking for, the chronicles of gastronomy.
For such a bountiful serving at table as was habitual with the dukes, kitchens of the most ample proportions were demanded. It is recounted that on many occasions certain of the mets were cooked in advance, but a prodigious supply of soups, ragouts and sauces, of fish, volaille, and rotis were of necessity to be prepared at the moment of consumption. To produce these in their proper order and condition was the work of an army of cooks supported by a numerous “batterie de cuisine;” necessarily they required an ample room in which to work. The modern French cook demands the same thing to-day. Details in this line do not change so rapidly in this “land of good cooks” as elsewhere, for the French chef is still supreme and cares not for labour or time-saving appliances.
The “Cuisines,” as to their ground plan, form a perfect square, the roof being borne aloft by eight columns, which on three sides of the apartment serve as supporters also for the great twin-hooded chimneys. Two potagers, or braisers, where the pots might be kept simmering, were at B on the plan, and the oven, or foyer ardente was at C. D was a well, and E its means of access. The windows were at F and G, and H was a great central smoke-pipe, or opening in the roof, which served the same functions as the hole in the roof of the Indian’s wigwam. K was a serving table, made also of stone, to receive the dishes after being cooked; and, that they might not become literally stone cold before being finally served, this table had a sort of subterranean heating arrangement.
The conglomerate structure of to-day which serves its civic functions so well is an outgrowth of all these varied components which made up the ducal residence of old. It was midway in its career that it became the Parliament House of the États de Bourgogne, so it took naturally to its new function when it came to uphold merely civic dignity.
The apartment where sat the Burgundian Parliament, the Salle des États, has been recently restored and decorated with a series of wall paintings depicting the glories of Burgundy. It is a seemingly appropriate decoration and in every way admirably executed, though the name attached thereto may not be as famous as that of an Abbey or a Sargent.
In general the character of the great pile of buildings to-day, on account of the heterogeneous aspect of the mass, forbids any strict estimate applicable to its artistic merits. The most that can be ventured is to comment on that which is definitely good.
At many times during its career it has been remodelled and added to by many able hands. As a result there are naturally many worthy bits which may be discovered by close observation that in general run a fair chance of being overlooked. Two pupils of Mansart worked upon the remodelling of the structure, and Mansart himself designed the colonnade and the vestibule of the Salle des États. Twelve principal buildings surrounding the main courtyard came into being from time to time, and in one form or another they are all there to-day, though in the scantiest of fragments in some instances. An old-time iron gateway, or grille, still exists midway between the two principal façades of the Doric order. The effect of this façade is heavy, but ornate: frankly it is bad architecture, but it is imposing. It is bad because it is a manifest Italian interpolation with little or nothing in common with other decorative details to be seen, details which are of the transplanted French variety of Renaissance, and that in truth is far and away ahead of anything in Italy or any rank copy of anything of Italian origin.
The old Place Royale opened out fan-like before the building and gave a certain spectacular effect which saved it from ultra bad taste at that period. The Place d’Armes, before the present Hotel de Ville (which now occupies the principal part of the old ducal palace), and the Place des Ducs, at the rear, lend the same artistic aid which was performed by the Place Royale in its time.
Of the interior arrangements but little remains as it was of old save a range of vaulted rooms on the lower floor, the Salle des Gardes, the apartments of the Tour de Bar and the “Cuisines.” The public functions which have been performed by the structure in late years have nearly swept away the old glamour of romance and chivalry which might otherwise have hung about the place for ages, so that to-day it is, like many edifices of its class in France, simply a hive of office-holders and little-worked authorities of the state and civic administrations. It is difficult to see any romance in the visage of a modern town-clerk or a sergeant-at-arms.
This old palace of the dukes was chiefly the work of Dijon craftsmen, at least those portions which were built in the sixteenth century or immediately after. This is the more to be remarked because the gables and roof-tops are not unlike that Flemish-Gothic of the Hospice de Beaune which was built by alien hands.
At Dijon the northern portal was designed by Brouhée and the roofing of the Grande Salle was made from the plans of Sambin and Chambrette, as was the doorway from the street to the chapel. The Chambre Dorée has a most beautiful ceiling of the time of François Premier, and the boiseries and the grisaille of the same apartment date from the period of Louis XIII.
There are two other notable ceilings in the edifice, those of the Bibliothèque and the Salle d’Assises.
Dijon has ever been noted down by those who know as a city of a distinctly local and a really great and celebrated art. The École de Dijon was a unique thing which had no counterpart elsewhere. Under the liberally encouraging patronage of the Ducs de Bourgogne numerous habile artists banded together and constituted the local “École de Dijon.” It was a body of artists and craftsmen whose careers burned brilliantly throughout the best period of the Renaissance, indeed up to its end, for the Hôtel de Vogué at Dijon, of a very late period, shows the distinct local manner of building at its best.
Hugues Sambin, who designed the Palace of the Burgundian Parliament, was the best known of these Dijon craftsmen – best known perhaps because of his architectural writings (1572), for his work was not indeed superior to that of his fellows. His dwelling exists to-day at Dijon, in the Rue de la Vannerie, somewhat disfigured and not at all reminiscent of the great capabilities of his art which he so freely bestowed on the more magnificent structures of his clients. A tower, presumably a part of the house itself, rises close beside, and on its vaulting one sees the devise “Tout par Compas,” the same that may be seen in the Hôtel de Vogué, though it is declared that there is no other connection between the two save that Sambin had a hand in the construction of both. The motto is undeniably a good one for an architect.
The local Museum contains one of the most important provincial collections in France. It occupies the ancient Salle des Gardes of the Palais and encloses the tombs of Jean-Sans-Peur and Philippe-le-Hardi. As examples of the sculptures of the Burgundian school of the fifteenth century these ornate tombs are in the very first category. They were brought from the Chartreux de Dijon in 1795. How they escaped Revolutionary desecration is a marvel, but here they are to-day in all the glory of their admirable design and execution. If Sargent’s frieze of the prophets in the Boston Public Library was not inspired by these cowled figures surrounding the ducal tombs at Dijon, it must be a dull critic indeed who will not at least admit the suggestion of similarity.
The mausoleum of Philippe-le-Hardi has a single recumbent effigy on the slab above, whilst that of Jean-Sans-Peur is accompanied by another, that of his wife, Marguerite de Bavière. The tiny statuettes in the niches of the arcade below, and surrounding each of the tombs, are similar; finely chiselled, weeping, mourning figures, most exquisitely sculptured and disposed.
The tomb of Philippe-le-Hardi is the older, and is the work of Claus Sluter and Claus de Werve; that of Jean-Sans-Peur was conceived (half a century later) by Jehan de la Heurta and Antoine Moiturier. A statue of Anne de Bourgogne, the Duchess of Bedford, the daughter of Jean-Sans-Peur, stands between these two royal tombs.
It is worthy to note that the robe of the statue of Marguerite de Bavière is sown with that particular species of field daisy which we have come to know as the marguerite, so named from the predilection of the princess in question for that humble flower.
Dijon’s Maison de Saint François-de-Sales may well be given passing consideration for reasons stated below. It dates from 1541 and thus belongs to an epoch when the art of the Renaissance was at its height. It is an elaborately conceived edifice and, judging from the escutcheons of its façade, was the habitation, at one time or another, of some of the royal family of France. In spite of this the authorities have little definite to say with regard to its founders.
On the svelt tourelle at the side one notes that the lead épi, or weather-vane, is intact, a remarkable fact when one considers that it has endured for nearly five centuries. All things considered, this dainty habitation is one of the most pleasing and ornate structures of its class. If it were at Azay-le-Rideau in Touraine, or at Beaugency on the Loire, it would be heralded far and wide as one of the flowers of the Renaissance. To rank it in any place but as one of the most charming hôtels privés, or small town chateaux, of Burgundy would be a grave error.
Dijon possesses as well a most curious and little known structure, at least not known to the usual hurly burly world of tourists. It is near the Palais de Justice, enclosed behind a high protecting wall, through which easy access is to be had by a gateway opened on request. The edifice is mysteriously called the Hôtel de Venus, and is a diminutive edifice with its entire outer wall garlanded with flowers and emblems cut deep into its rather crumbly stones. Just what the significance of this strange building was, and who, or what, were its antecedents, is in great doubt.
Dijon’s Bibliothèque occupies a part of the great town house built by Odinet Godran in 1681. The Departmental Archives occupy the restored city dwelling of Nicolas Rollin, the Chancellor of the first Burgundian Parliament. It is a reconstruction now of the eighteenth century, but originally came into being in the fifteenth. The principal apartment owns to a richly sculptured chimney-piece and an elaborate plafond à caissons, each the work of Rancurelle, a seventeenth century sculptor of Dijon.
In the Rue des Forges are numerous old Renaissance houses, many of them of a grandeur which entitles them to a higher rank than a mere maison bourgeoise. Many of them indeed bear the proud names of the old Burgundian noblesse. One is called the Maison des Ambassadeurs d’Espagne, though just why, history is dark. One can readily surmise however, for it certainly is a luxuriously appointed dwelling in spite of the fact that it lacks a definite history.
Near the Eglise Notre Dame are the Maison Milsand, the old Hôtel des Ambassadeurs d’Angleterre; the Hôtel du Vogué is in the Rue Chaudronnerie, and also the Maison des Cariatides. All are admirable examples of the Burgundian Renaissance, which tells its history in its stones. And what history!
The old Hôtel des Ambassadeurs d’Angleterre was the residence of the Duke of Bedford when he married, in 1423, Anne de Bourgogne. The alleys and the “park,” supposedly designed by the famous “Le Notre, the man of gardens,” who was responsible for those of Versailles and Vaux, are little changed to-day from what they were in the century of Louis XIV.
