{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22718/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22718","id":"gutenberg_22718","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22718","summary":null,"tags":["Architecture","Category: Architecture","Category: Art","Category: History - European","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Travel Writing","Cathedrals -- France","France","France -- Description and travel"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Marcia Brooks and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\nCATHEDRALS AND CLOISTERS OF THE SOUTH OF FRANCE\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: _Rodez._\n\n\"Sheer and straight the pillars rise, ... and arch after arch is lost on\nthe shadows of the narrow vaulting of the side-aisle.\"]\n\n\n\n\nCATHEDRALS\n_and_ CLOISTERS\nOF THE\nSOUTH OF FRANCE\n\nBY\n\nELISE WHITLOCK ROSE\n\nWITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL PHOTOGRAPHS\n\nBY\n\nVIDA HUNT FRANCIS\n\n\n_IN TWO VOLUMES_\n\n_VOLUME I._\n\nG. P. PUTNAM'S SONS\nNEW YORK AND LONDON\nThe Knickerbocker Press\n1906\n\n\n\n\nCopyright, 1906\nby\nG. P. PUTNAM'S SONS\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nFor years the makers of this book have spent the summer time in\nwandering about the French country; led here by the fame of some old\nmonument, or there by an incident of history. They have found the real,\nunspoiled France, often unexplored by any except the French themselves,\nand practically unknown to foreigners, even to the ubiquitous maker of\nguide-books. For weeks together they have travelled without meeting an\nEnglish-speaking person. It is, therefore, not surprising that they were\nunable to find, in any convenient form in English, a book telling of the\nCathedrals of the South which was at once accurate and complete. For the\nCathedrals of that country are monuments not only of architecture and\nits history, but of the history of peoples, the psychology of the\nchristianising and unifying of the barbarian and the Gallo-Roman, and\nmany things besides, epitomised perhaps in the old words, \"the struggle\nbetween the world, the flesh, and the devil.\" In French, works on\nCathedrals are numerous and exhaustive; but either so voluminous as to\nbe unpractical except for the specialist--as the volumes of\nViollet-le-Duc,--or so technical as to make each Cathedral seem one in\nan endless, monotonous procession, differing from the others only in\nsize, style, and age. This is distinctly unfair to these old churches\nwhich have personalities and idiosyncrasies as real as those of\nindividuals. It has been the aim of the makers of this book to\nintroduce, in photograph and in story,--not critically or exhaustively,\nbut suggestively and accurately,--the Cathedral of the Mediterranean\nprovinces as it exists to-day with its peculiar characteristics of\narchitecture and history. They have described only churches which they\nhave seen, they have verified every fact and date where such\nverification was possible, and have depended on local tradition only\nwhere that was all which remained to tell of the past; and they will\nfeel abundantly repaid for travel, research, and patient exploration of\ntowers, crypts, and archives if the leisurely traveller on pleasure bent\nshall find in these volumes but a hint of the interest and fascination\nwhich the glorious architecture, the history, and the unmatched climate\nof the Southland can awaken.\n\nFor unfailing courtesy and untiring interest, for free access to private\nas well as to ecclesiastical libraries, for permission to photograph and\ncopy, for unbounding hospitality and the retelling of many an old\nlegend, their most grateful thanks are due to the Catholic clergy, from\nArchbishop to Cure and Vicar. For rare old bits of information, for\nhistorical verification, and for infinite pains in accuracy of printed\nmatter, they owe warm thanks to Mrs. Wilbur Rose, to Miss Frances Kyle,\nand to Mrs. William H. Shelmire, Jr. For criticism and training in the\nart of photographing they owe no less grateful acknowledgment to Mr.\nJohn G. Bullock and Mr. Charles R. Pancoast.\n\nE. W. R.\n\nV. H. F.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                          PAGE\nTHE SOUTH OF FRANCE\n\n  I. THE SOUTH OF FRANCE                                     3\n\n II. ARCHITECTURE IN PROVENCE, LANGUEDOC, AND GASCONY       29\n\n\nPROVENCE\n\n  I. THE CATHEDRALS OF THE SEA                              55\n     Marseilles--Toulon--Frejus--Antibes--Nice\n\n II. CATHEDRALS OF THE HILL-TOWNS                           72\n     Carpentras--Digne--Forcalquier--Vence--Grasse\n\nIII. RIVER-SIDE CATHEDRALS                                 101\n     Avignon--Vaison--Arles--Entrevaux--Sisteron\n\n IV. CATHEDRALS OF THE VALLEYS                             178\n     Orange--Cavaillon--Apt--Riez--Senez--Aix\n\n\nLANGUEDOC\n\n  I. CATHEDRALS OF THE CITIES                              237\n     Nimes--Montpellier--Beziers--Narbonne--Perpignan--\n     Carcassonne--Castres--Toulouse--Montauban\n\n\n\n\nIllustrations\n\n\n                                                                    Page\nRODEZ                                                     _Frontispiece_\n    \"Sheer and straight the pillars rise, ... and arch\n     after arch is lost on the shadows of the narrow vaulting\n     of the side-aisle.\"\n\n\"CARCASSONNE, THE INVULNERABLE\"                                        5\n\n\"THE TOWER OF AN EARLY MARITIME CATHEDRAL\"--_Agde_                    10\n\n\"A NAVE OF THE EARLIER STYLE\"--_Arles_                                15\n\n\"A NAVE OF THE LATER STYLE\"--_Rodez_                                  19\n\n\"THE DELICATE CHOIR OF SAINT-NAZAIRE\"--_Carcassonne_                  23\n\n\"A CLOISTER OF THE SOUTH\"--_Elne_                                     27\n\n\"A ROMANESQUE AISLE\"--_Arles_                                         31\n\n\"THE SCULPTURED PORTALS OF SAINT-TROPHIME\"--_Arles_                   33\n\n\"A GOTHIC AISLE\"--_Mende_                                             35\n\n\"CORRESPONDING DIFFERENCES IN STYLE\"--_Carcassonne_                   39\n\n\"FORTIFIED GOTHIC BUILT IN BRICK\"--_Albi_                             43\n\n\"A CHURCH FORTRESS\"--_Maguelonne_                                     45\n\n\"STATELY GOTHIC SPLENDOUR\"--_Condom_                                  47\n\nENTREVAUX                                                             52\n    \"People gather around the mail-coach as it makes its\n     daily halt before the drawbridge.\"\n\n\"THE NEW CATHEDRAL\"--_Marseilles_                                     57\n\n\"THE DESECRATION OF THE LITTLE CLOISTER\"--_Frejus_                    65\n\n\"THE MILITARY OMEN--THE TOWER\"--_Antibes_                             70\n\n\"THE INTERIOR OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-BOURG\"--_Digne_                        77\n\n\"THE INTERIOR HAS NEITHER CLERESTORY NOR TRIFORIUM\"--_Digne_          81\n\n\"A LARGE SQUARE TOWER SERVED AS A LOOKOUT\"--_Forcalquier_             86\n\n\"A SUGGESTIVE VIEW FROM THE SIDE-AISLE\"--_Forcalquier_                87\n\n\"THE OLD ROUND ARCH OF THE BISHOP'S PALACE\"--_Vence_                  92\n\n\"THE LOW, BROAD ARCHES, AND THE GREAT SUPPORTING PILLARS\"--_Vence_    93\n\n\"HIGHER THAN THEM ALL STANDS THE CATHEDRAL\"--_Grasse_                 97\n\n\"THE PONT D'AVIGNON\"                                                  99\n\n\"THE INTERIOR HAS A SHALLOW, GRACEFULLY BALUSTRADED\nBALCONY\"--_Avignon_                                                  103\n\n\"THE PORCH, SO CLASSIC IN DETAIL\"--AVIGNON                           107\n     From an old print\n\n\"NOTRE-DAME-DES-DOMS\"--_Avignon_                                     111\n\n\"THE TOWER OF PHILIP THE FAIR\"--_Villeneuve-les-Avignon_             114\n\n\"THE GREAT PALACE\"--_Avignon_                                        119\n\n\"ON THE BANKS OF A PLEASANT LITTLE RIVER IS VAISON\"                  123\n\n\"THE RUINED CASTLE OF THE COUNTS OF TOULOUSE\"--_Vaison_              125\n\n\"THE WHOLE APSE-END\"--_Vaison_                                       127\n\n\"THE SOUTH WALL, WHICH IS CLEARLY SEEN FROM THE ROAD\"--_Vaison_      129\n\n\"TWO BAYS OPEN TO THE GROUND\"--_Vaison_                              131\n\n\"THE GREAT PIERS AND SMALL FIRM COLUMNS\"--_Vaison_                   133\n\n\"IN THE MIDST OF THE WEALTH OF ANTIQUE RUINS\"--_Arles_               135\n\n\"THE FACADE OF SAINT-TROPHIME\"--_Arles_                              137\n\n\"RIGHT DETAIL--THE PORTAL\"--_Arles_                                  141\n\n\"LEFT DETAIL--THE PORTAL\"--_Arles_                                   145\n\n\"THROUGH THE CLOISTER ARCHES\"--_Arles_                               147\n\n\"A NAVE OF GREAT AND SLENDER HEIGHT\"--_Arles_                        149\n\n\"THE BEAUTY OF THE WHOLE\"--_Arles_                                   151\n\n\"THE GOTHIC WALK\"--Cloister--_Arles_                                 153\n\n\"THIS INTERIOR\"--_Entrevaux_                                         156\n\n\"THE ROMANESQUE WALK\"--Cloister--_Arles_                             157\n\n\"ONE OF THE THREE SMALL DRAWBRIDGES\"--_Entrevaux_                    159\n\n\"THE PORTCULLIS\"--_Entrevaux_                                        160\n\n\"A FORT THAT PERCHES ON A SHARP PEAK\"--_Entrevaux_                   161\n\n\"A TRUE 'PLACE D'ARMES'\"--_Entrevaux_                                163\n\n\"THE LONG LINE OF WALLS THAT ZIGZAG DOWN THE HILLSIDE\"--_Entrevaux_  165\n\n\"THE CHURCH TOWER STOOD OUT AGAINST THE ROCKY PEAK\"--_Entrevaux_     169\n\n\"THE CATHEDRAL IS NEAR THE HEAVY ROUND TOWERS OF\nTHE OUTER RAMPARTS\"--_Sisteron_                                      172\n\n\"THE BRIDGE ACROSS THE DURANCE\"--_Sisteron_                          173\n\n\"ENTRANCES TO TWO NARROW STREETS\"--_Sisteron_                        176\n\n\"IT WAS A LOW-VAULTED, SOMBRE LITTLE CLOISTER\"--_Cavaillon_          182\n\n\"THE CATHEDRAL'S TOWER AND TURRET\"--_Cavaillon_                      187\n\n\"THE MAIN BODY OF THE CHURCH\"--_Apt_                                 191\n\n\"THE VIRGIN AND SAINT ANNE--BY BENZONI\"--_Apt_                       194\n\n\"SAINT-MARTIN-DE-BROMES WITH ITS HIGH SLIM TOWER\"                    197\n\n\"THE FORTIFIED MONASTERY OF THE TEMPLARS\"--_near Greoux_             199\n\n\"THE TOWER OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-SIEGE\"--_Riez_                           201\n\n\"NOTHING COULD BE MORE QUAINTLY OLD AND MODEST THAN\nTHE BAPTISTERY\"--_Riez_                                              202\n\n\"BETWEEN THE COLUMNS AN ALTAR HAS BEEN PLACED\"--Baptistery, _Riez_   203\n\n\"THE BEAUTIFUL GRANITE COLUMNS\"--_Riez_                              207\n\n\"THE MAIL-COACH OF SENEZ\"                                            211\n\n\"THE OPEN SQUARE\"--_Senez_                                           213\n\n\"THE PALACE OF ITS PRELATES\"--_Senez_                                214\n\n\"THE CATHEDRAL\"--_Senez_                                             215\n\n\"THE CATHEDRAL\"--_Senez_                                             218\n\n\"TAPESTRIES BEAUTIFY THE CHOIR-WALLS\"--_Senez_                       219\n\n\"BETWEEN BRANCHES FULL OF APPLE-BLOSSOMS--THE\nCHURCH AS THE CURE SAW IT\"--_Senez_                                  221\n\n\"THE SOUTH AISLE\"--_Aix_                                             224\n\n\"THE ROMANESQUE PORTAL\"--_Aix_                                       225\n\n\"THE CLOISTER\"--_Aix_                                                227\n\n\"THE CATHEDRAL\"--_Aix_                                               231\n\n\"AN AMPHITHEATRE WHICH RIVALS THE ART OF THE COLISEUM\"--_Nimes_      238\n\n\"THE GENERAL EFFECT IS SOMEWHAT THAT OF A\nPORT-COCHERE\"--_Montpellier_                                         244\n\n\"THE FINEST VIEW IS THAT OF THE APSE\"--_Montpellier_                 245\n\n\"THE CLOCK TOWER IS VERY SQUARE AND THICK\"--_Beziers_                248\n\n\"THE QUAINT AND PRETTY FOUNTAIN\"--_Beziers_                          250\n\n\"THE DOOR OF THE CLOISTER\"--_Narbonne_                               255\n\n\"THIS IS A PLACE OF DESERTED SOLITUDE\"--_Narbonne_                   257\n\n\"THESE FLYING-BUTTRESSES GIVE TO THE EXTERIOR ITS\nMOST CURIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL EFFECT\"--_Narbonne_                       261\n\n\"ALL THE OLD BUILDINGS OF THE CITY ARE OF SPANISH\nORIGIN\"--_Perpignan_                                                 265\n\n\"THE UNFINISHED FACADE\"--_Perpignan_                                 267\n\n\"THE STONY STREET OF THE HILLSIDE\"--_Carcassonne_                    269\n\n\"THE ANCIENT CROSS\"--_Carcassonne_                                   272\n\n\"OFTEN TOO LITTLE TIME IS SPENT UPON THE NAVE\"--_Carcassonne_        275\n\n\"THE CHOIR IS OF THE XIV CENTURY\"--_Carcassonne_                     279\n\n\"THE FACADE, STRAIGHT AND MASSIVE\"--_Carcassonne_                    281\n\n\"PERSPECTIVE OF THE ROMANESQUE\"--_Carcassonne_                       283\n\n\"THE NAVE OF THE XIII CENTURY IS AN AISLE-LESS CHAMBER,\nLOW AND BROADLY ARCHED\"--_Toulouse_                                  291\n\n\"THE PRESENT CATHEDRAL IS A COMBINATION OF STYLES\"--_Toulouse_       294\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF WORKS CONSULTED.\n\n\nBAYET. _Precis de l'Histoire de l'Art._\n\nBODLEY. _France._\n\nBOURG. _Viviers, ses Monuments et son Histoire._\n\nCHOISY. _Histoire de l'Architecture._\n\nCOUGNY. _L'Art au Moyen Age._\n\nCOOK. _Old Provence._\n\nCORROYER. _L'Architecture romane._\n\n  \"          _L'Architecture gothique._\n\nCOX. _The Crusades._\n\nDARCEL. _Le Mouvement archeologique relatif au Moyen Age._\n\nDE LAHONDES. _L'Eglise Saint-Etienne, Cathedrale de Toulouse._\n\nDEMPSTER. _Maritime Alps._\n\nDUCERE. _Bayonne historique et pittoresque._\n\nDURUY. _Histoire de France._\n\nFERREE. _Articles on French Cathedrals appearing in the \"Architectural\nRecord._\"\n\nGARDERE. _Saint-Pierre de Condom et ses Constructeurs._\n\nGOULD. _In Troubadour Land._\n\nGUIZOT. _Histoire de France._\n\n  \"          _Histoire de la Civilisation en France._\n\nHALLAM. _The Middle Ages._\n\nHARE. _South-eastern France._\n\n  \"          _South-western France._\n\n_History of Joanna of Naples, Queen of Sicily_ (_published_ 1824).\n\nHUNNEWELL. _Historical Monuments of France._\n\nJAMES. _A Little Tour through France._\n\n_Le Moyen Age_ (_avec notice par Roger-Miles_).\n\nLARNED. _Churches and Castles of Mediaeval France._\n\nLASSERRE, L'ABBE. _Recherches historiques sur la Ville d'Alet et son\nancien Diocese._\n\nLECHEVALLIER CHEVIGNARD. _Les Styles francais._\n\nMACGIBBON. _The Architecture of Provence and the Riviera._\n\nMARLAVAGNE. _Histoire de la Cathedrale de Rodez._\n\nMARTIN. _Histoire de France._\n\nMASSON. _Louis IX and the XIII Century._\n\n  \"          _Francis I and the XVI Century._\n\nMERIMEE. _Etudes sur les Arts au Moyen Age._\n\nMICHELET. _Histoire de France._\n\nMICHELET AND MASSON. _Mediaevalism in France._\n\n_Monographie de la Cathedrale d'Albi._\n\nMONTALEMBERT. _Les Moines d'Occident._\n\nMILMAN. _History of Latin Christianity._\n\nPALUSTRE. _L'Architecture de la Renaissance._\n\nPASTOR. _Lives of the Popes._\n\nPENNELL. _Play in Provence._\n\nQUICHERAT. _Melanges d'Archeologie au Moyen Age._\n\nRENAN. _Etudes sur la Politique religieuse du Regne de Philippe le Bel._\n\nREVOIL. _Architecture romane du Midi de la France._\n\nROSIERES. _Histoire de l'Architecture._\n\nSCHNASSE. _Geschichte der bildenden Kuenste._ (_Volume III, etc._)\n\nSENTETZ. _Sainte-Marie d'Auch._\n\nSORBETS. _Histoire d'Aire-sur-l'Adour._\n\nSOULIE. _Interesting old novels whose scenes are laid in the South of\nFrance_:--\n\n  \"          \"_Le Comte de Toulouse._\"\n\n  \"          \"_Le Vicomte de Beziers._\"\n\n  \"          \"_Le Chateau des Pyrenees_,\" _etc._\n\nSTEVENSON. _Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes._\n\nTAINE. _The Ancient Regime._\n\n  \"          _Journeys through France._\n\n  \"          _Origins of Contemporary France._\n\n  \"          _Tour through the Pyrenees._\n\n_'Twixt France and Spain._\n\nVIOLLET-LE-DUC. _Histoire d'une Cathedrale et d'un Hotel-de-Ville._\n\n_Entretiens sur l'Architecture._\n\n_Dictionnaire raisonne de l'Architecture francaise du XI^e au XVI^e\nsiecle._\n\n\n\n\nThe South of France.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nTHE SOUTH OF FRANCE.\n\n\nIf it is only by an effort that we appreciate the valour of Columbus in\nthe XV century, his secret doubts, his temerity, how much fainter is our\nconception of the heroism of the early Mediterranean navigators. Steam\nhas destroyed for us the awful majesty of distance, and we can never\nrealise the immensity of this \"great Sea\" to the ancients. To Virgil the\nadventures of the \"pious AEneas\" were truly heroic. The western shores of\nthe Mediterranean were then the \"end of the earth,\" and even during the\nfirst centuries of our own era, he who ventured outside the Straits of\nGibraltar tempted either Providence or the Devil and was very properly\npunished by falling over the edge of the earth into everlasting\ndestruction. \"Why,\" asks a mediaeval text-book of science, \"is the sun so\nred in the evening?\" And this convincing answer follows, \"Because he\nlooks down upon Hell.\"\n\nFor centuries before the Christian era the South of France, with Spain,\nlay in the unknown west end of the Sea. Along its eastern shores lay\ncivilisations hoary with age; Carthage, to the South, was moribund;\nGreece was living on the prestige of her glorious past; while Rome was\nbecoming all-powerful. Legend tells that adventurous Phoenicians and\nGreeks discovered the French coasts, that Nimes was founded by a Tyrian\nHercules, and Marseilles, about 600 B.C., by a Phoenician trader who\nmarried a chief's daughter and settled at the mouth of the Rhone. But\nthese early settlements were merely isolated towns, which were not\ninterdependent;--scarcely more than trading posts. It was Rome who took\nsouthern Gaul unto herself, and after Roman fashion, built cities and\ntowns and co-ordinated them into well-regulated provinces; and it is\nwith Roman rule that the connected history of Gaul begins.\n\nFrom the outset we meet one basic fact, so difficult to realise when\nFrance is considered as one country, the essential difference between\nthe North and the South. Caesar found in the South a partial Roman\ncivilisation ready for his organisation; and old, flourishing cities,\nlike Narbonne, Aix, and Marseilles. In the North he found the people\nadvanced no further than the tribal stage, and Paris--not even Paris in\nname--was a collection of mud huts, which, from its strategic position,\nhe elevated into a camp. The two following centuries, the height of\nRoman dominion in France, accentuated these differences. The North was\ngoverned by the Romans, never assimilated nor civilised by them. The\nSouth eagerly absorbed all the culture of the Imperial City; her\nreligions and her pleasures, her beautiful Temples and great\nAmphitheatres, finally her morals and effeminacy, till in the II century\nof our era, anyone living a life of luxurious gaiety was popularly said\nto have \"set sail for Marseilles.\" To this day the South boasts that it\nwas a very part of Rome, and Rome was not slow to recognise the claim.\nGallic poets celebrated the glory of Augustus, a Gaul was the master\nof Quintilian, and Antoninus Pius, although born in the Imperial City,\nwas by parentage a native of Nimes.\n\n[Illustration: \"CARCASSONNE, THE INVULNERABLE.\"]\n\nNot to the rude North, but to this society, so pagan, so\npleasure-loving, came the first missionaries of the new Christian faith,\nto meet in the arenas of Gaul the fate of their fellow-believers in\nRome, to hide in subterranean caves and crypts, to endure, to persist,\nand finally to conquer. In the III and IV centuries many of the great\nBishoprics were founded, Avignon, Narbonne, Lyons, Arles, and\nSaint-Paul-trois Chateaux among others; but these same years brought\npolitical changes which seemed to threaten both Church and State.\n\nRoman power was waning. Tribes from across the Rhine were gathering,\nmassing in northern Gaul, and its spirit was antagonistic to the\ncontentment of the rich Mediterranean provinces. The tribes were\nbrave, ruthless, and barbarous. Peace was galling to their\nuncontrollable restlessness. The Gallo-Romans were artistic, literary,\nidle, and luxurious. They fell, first to milder but heretical foes;\nthen to the fierce but orthodox Frank; and the story of succeeding\nyears was a chronicle of wars. Like a great swarm of locusts, the\nSaracens--conquerors from India to Spain--came upon the South. They\ntook Narbonne, Nimes, and even Carcassonne, the Invulnerable. They\nbesieged Toulouse, and almost destroyed Bordeaux. Other cities,\nperhaps as great as these, were razed to the very earth and even their\nnames are now forgotten. Europe was menaced; the South of France was\nall but destroyed.\n\nAgain the Frank descended; and like a great wind blowing clouds from a\nstormy sky, Charles Martel swept back the Arabs and saved Christianity.\nBefore 740, he had returned a third time to the South, not as a\ndeliverer, but for pure love of conquest; and by dismantling Nimes,\ndestroying the maritime cities of Maguelonne and Agde, and taking the\npowerful strongholds of Arles and Marseilles, he paved the way for his\ngreat descendant who nominally united \"all France.\"\n\nBut Charlemagne's empire fell in pieces; and as Carlovingian had\nsucceeded Merovingian, so in 987 Capetian displaced the weak descendants\nof the mighty head of the \"Holy Roman Empire.\" The map changed with\nbewildering frequency; and in these changes, the nobles--more stable\nthan their kings--grew to be the real lords of their several domains.\nHistory speaks of France from Clovis to the Revolution as a kingdom; but\neven later than the First Crusade the kingdom lay somewhere between\nParis and Lyons; the Royal Domain, not France as we know it now. The\nDuchy of Aquitaine, the Duchy of Brittany, Burgundy, the Counties of\nToulouse, Provence, Champagne, Normandy, and many smaller possessions,\nwere as proudly separate in spirit as Norway and Sweden, and often as\npolitically distinct as they from Denmark.\n\nIn the midst of these times of turmoil the Church had steadily grown.\nEvery change, however fatal to North or South, brought to her new\nstrength. Confronted with cultured paganism in the first centuries, the\nblood of her martyrs made truly fruitful seed for her victories; and\nlater, facing paganism of another, wilder race, she triumphed more\npeacefully in the one supreme conversion of Clovis; and the devotion and\ninterest which from that day grew between Church and King, gradually\nmade her the greatest power of the country. After the decline of Roman\nculture the Church was the one intellectual, almost peaceful, and\ntotally irresistible force. The great lords scorned learning. An Abbot,\nquaintly voicing the Church's belief, said that \"every letter writ on\npaper is a sword thrust in the devil's side.\" When there was cessation\nof war, the occupation of men, from Clovis' time throughout Mediaevalism,\nwas gone. They could not read; they could not write; the joy of hunting\nwas, in time, exhausted. They were restless, lost. The justice meted out\nby the great lords was, too often, the right of might. But at the\nCouncil of Orleans, in 511, a church was declared an inviolable refuge,\nwhere the weak should be safe until their case could be calmly and\nrighteously judged. The beneficent care of the Church cannot be\noverestimated. Between 500 and 700 she had eighty-three councils in\nGaul, and scarcely one but brought a reform,--a real amelioration of\nhardships.\n\nSomething of the general organisation of her great power in those rude\ntimes deserves more than the usual investigation. Even in its small\nplace in the \"Cathedrals and Cloisters of the South of France,\" it is an\ninteresting bit of Church politics and psychology.\n\nThe ecclesiastical tradition of France goes back to the very first years\nof the Christian era. Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, Martha, and Mary the\nMother of James, are only a few of those intimately connected with\nChrist Himself, who are believed to have come into Gaul; and in their\nefforts to systematically and surely establish Christianity, to have\nfounded the first French Bishoprics. This is tradition. But even the\nhistory of the II century tells of a venerable, martyred Bishop of\nLyons, a disciple of that Polycarp who knew Saint John; and in the III\ncentury Gaul added no less than fourteen to the Sees she already had.\nEnthusiastic tradition aside, it is evident that the missionary ardour\nof the Gallic priests was intense; and the glory of their early\nvictories belongs entirely to a branch of the Church known as \"the\nSecular Clergy.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE TOWER OF AN EARLY MARITIME CATHEDRAL.--AGDE.]\n\nThe other great branch, \"the Religious Orders,\" were of later\ninstitution. From the oriental deserts of the Thebaid, where Saint\nAnthony had early practised the austerities of monkish life, Saint\nMartin drew his inspiration for the monasticism of the West. But it was\nnot until the last of the IV century that he founded, near Poitiers, the\nfirst great monastery in France. The success of this form of pious life,\nif not altogether edifying, was immediate. Devotional excesses were less\ncommon in the temperate climate of France than under the exciting\noriental sun, yet that most bizarre of Eastern fanatics, the \"Pillar\nSaint,\" had at least one disciple in Gaul. He--the good Brother\nWulfailich--began the life of sanctity by climbing a column near Treves,\nand prepared himself to stand on it, barefooted, through winter and\nsummer, till, presumably, angels should bear him triumphantly to heaven.\nBut the West is not the East. And the good Bishops of the neighbourhood\ndrew off, instead of waiting at the pillar, as an exalted emperor had\nhumbly stood beneath that of Saint Simeon Stylites. Far from being\nawe-struck, they were scandalised; and they forced Wulfailich to descend\nfrom his eminence, and destroyed it. This is one of the first Gallic\ninstances of the antagonisms between the \"secular\" and the \"regular\"\nbranches of the reverend clergy.\n\nWithin the French Church from early times, these two great forces were\narrayed, marching toward the same great end,--but never marching\ntogether. It is claimed they were, and are, inimical. In theory, in\nideal, nothing could be further from truth. They were in fact sometimes\nunfriendly; and more often than not mutually suspicious. For the great\nAbbot inevitably lived in a Bishop's See; and with human tempers beneath\ntheir churchly garb, Abbot and Bishop could not always agree. Now the\nBishop was lord of the clergy, supreme in his diocese; but should he\ncall to account the lowest friar of any monastery, my Lord Abbot replied\nthat he was \"answerable only to the Pope,\" and retired to his vexatious\n\"imperium in imperio.\"\n\nThe beginning of the VI century saw much that was irregular in monastic\nlife. The whole country was either in a state of war or of unrestful\nexpectation of war. Many Abbeys were yet to be established; many merely\nin process of foundation. Wandering brothers were naturally beset by the\ndangers and temptations of an unsettled life; and if history may be\nbelieved, fell into many irregularities and even shamed their cloth by\nlicentiousness. Into this disorder came the great and holy Benedict, the\n\"learnedly ignorant, the wisely unlearned,\" the true organiser of\nWestern Monachism. Under his wise \"Rules\" the Abbey of the VI century\nwas transformed. It became \"not only a place of prayer and meditation,\nbut a refuge against barbarism in all its forms. And this home of books\nand knowledge had departments of all kinds, and its dependencies formed\nwhat we would call to-day a 'model farm.' There were to be found\nexamples of activity and industry for the workman, the common tiller of\nthe soil, or the land-owner himself. It was a school,\" continues\nThierry, \"not of religion, but of practical knowledge; and when it is\nconsidered that there were two hundred and thirty-eight of such schools\nin Clovis' day, the power of the Orders, though late in coming, will be\nseen to have grown as great as that of the Bishops.\"\n\nFrom these two branches sprang all that is greatest in the\necclesiastical architecture of France. As their strength grew, their\nrespective churches were built, and to-day, as a sign of their dual\npower, we have the Abbey and the Cathedral.\n\nThe Bishop's church had its prototype in the first Christian meeting\nplaces in Rome and was planned from two basic ideas,--the part of the\nRoman house which was devoted to early Christian service, and the\ngrowing exigencies of the ritual itself. At the very first of the\nChristian era, converts met in any room, but these little groups so soon\ngrew to communities that a larger place was needed and the \"basilica\" of\nthe house became the general and accepted place of worship. The\n\"basilica\" was composed of a long hall, sometimes galleried, and a\nhemicycle; and its general outline was that of a letter T. Into this\npurely secular building, Christian ceremonials were introduced. The\nhemicycle became the apse; the gallery, a clerestory; the hall, a\ncentral nave. Here the paraphernalia of the new Church were installed.\nThe altar stood in the apse; and between it and the nave, on either\nside, a pulpit or reading-desk was placed. Bishop and priests sat around\nthe altar, the people in the nave. This disposition of clergy, people,\nand the furniture of the sacred office is essentially that of the\nCathedral of to-day. There were however many amplifications of the first\ntype. The basilica form, T, was enlarged to that of a cross; and\nincreasingly beautiful architectural forms were evolved. Among the first\nwas the tower of the early Italian churches. This single tower was\ndoubled in the French Romanesque, often multiplied again by Gothic\nbuilders, and in Byzantine churches, increased to seven and even nine\ndomes. Transepts were added, and as, one by one, the arts came to the\nknowledge of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, each was pressed into\nthe service of the Cathedral builders. The interior became so beautiful\nwith carvings, windows of marvellously painted glass, rich tapestries\nand frescoes, that the ritual seemed yearly more impressive and\nawe-inspiring. The old, squat exterior of early days was forgotten in\nnew height and majesty, and the Cathedral became the dominant building\nof the city.\n\nAlthough the country was early christianised, and on the map of\nMerovingian France nearly all the present Cathedral cities of the\nMediterranean were seats of Bishoprics, we cannot now see all the\nsuccessive steps of the church architecture of the South. The main era\nof the buildings which have come down to us, is the XI-XIV centuries. Of\nearlier types and stages little is known, little remains.\n\n[Illustration: A NAVE OF THE EARLIER STYLE.--ARLES.]\n\nIn general, Gallic churches are supposed to have been basilican, with\nall the poverty of the older style. Charlemagne's architects, with San\nVitale in mind, gave a slight impetus in the far-away chapel at\nAix-la-Chapelle, and Gregory of Tours tells us that Bishop Perpetuus\nbuilt a \"glorious\" church at Tours. But his description is meagre. After\na few mathematical details, he returns to things closer to his\nheart,--the Church's atmosphere of holiness, the emblematic radiance of\nthe candle's light, the ecstasy of worshippers who seemed \"to breathe\nthe air of Paradise.\" And Saint Gregory's is the religious, uncritical\nspirit of his day, whose interest was in ecclesiastical establishment\nrather than ecclesiastical architecture. Churches there were in numbers;\nbut they were not architectural achievements. Their building was like\nthe planting of the flag; they were new outposts, signs of an advance of\nthe Faith. With this missionary spirit in the Church, with priests still\nengaged in christianising and monks in establishing themselves on their\ndomains, with a very general ignorance of art, with the absorbing\ninterest of the powerful and great in warfare, and the very great\nstruggle among the poor for existence, architecture before the X century\nhad few students or protectors. France had neither sufficient political\npeace nor ecclesiastical wealth for elaborate church structures. No\nhead, either of Church or State, had taste and time enough to inaugurate\nsuch works.\n\nMany causes have combined to destroy such churches as then existed. If\nthey escaped the rasings and fires of a siege, they were often destroyed\nby lightning, or decayed by years; and some of the fragments which\nendured to the XIII century were torn down to make room for more\nbeautiful buildings.\n\nIt was the XI and XII centuries which saw the important beginnings of\nthe great Cathedrals of both North and South. These were the years when\nreligion was the dominant idea of the western world,--when everything,\neven warfare, was pressed into its service. Instead of devastating their\nown and their neighbour's country, Christian armies were devastating the\nHoly Land; doing to the Infidel in the name of their religion what he,\nin the name of his, had formerly done to them. The capture of Jerusalem\nhad triumphantly ended the First Crusade; the Church was everywhere\nvictorious, and the Pope in actual fact the mightiest monarch of the\nearth. These were the days when Peter the Hermit's cry, \"God wills it,\"\naroused the world, and aroused it to the most diverse accomplishments.\n\nOne form of this activity was church building; but there were other\ncauses than religion for the general magnificence of the effort. Among\nthese was communal pride, the interesting, half-forgotten motive of much\nthat is great in mediaeval building.\n\nThe Mediaevalism of the old writers seems an endless pageant, in which\nindefinitely gorgeous armies \"march up the hill and then march down\nagain;\" in newer histories this has disappeared in the long struggle of\none class with another; and in neither do we reach the individual, nor\nsee the daily life of the people who are the backbone of a nation. Yet\nthese are the people we must know if we are to have a right conception\nof the Cathedral's place in the living interest of the Middle Ages. For\nthe Bishop's church was in every sense a popular church. The Abbey was\nbuilt primarily for its monks, and the Abbey-church for their meditation\nand worship. The French Cathedral was the people's, it was built by\ntheir money, not money from an Abbey-coffer. It did not stand, as the\nCathedral of England, majestic and apart, in a scholarly close; it was\nin the open square of the city; markets and fairs were held about it;\nthe doors to its calm and rest opened directly on the busiest, every-day\nbustle. It is not a mere architectural relic, as its building was never\na mere architectural feat. It is the symbol of a past stage of life, a\nmajestic part of the picture we conjure before our mind's eye, when we\nconsider Mediaevalism.\n\n[Illustration: A NAVE OF THE LATER STYLE.--RODEZ.]\n\nSuch a picture of a city of another country and of the late Middle Ages\nexists in the drama of Richard Wagner's Meistersinger; and his Nuremberg\nof the XVI century, with changes of local colour, is the type of all\nmediaeval towns. General travel was unknown. The activity of the great\nroads was the march of armies, the roving of marauders, the journeys of\nventuresome merchants or well-armed knights. Not only roads, but even\nstreets were unsafe at night; and after the sun had set he who had gone\nabout freely and carelessly during the day, remained at home or ventured\nout with much caution. When armies camped about her walls, the city was\ndoubtless much occupied with outside happenings. But when the camp broke\nup and war was far away, her shoemaker made his shoes, her goldsmith,\nfine chains and trinkets, her merchants traded in the market-place.\nTheir interests were in street brawls, romancings, new \"privileges,\" the\nwork or the feast of the day--in a word town-topics. Yet being as other\nmen, the burghers also were awakened by the energy of the age, and\ninstead of wasting it in adventures and wars, their interest took the\nform of an intense local pride, narrow, but with elements of grandeur,\nseldom selfish, but civic.\n\nThis absence of the personal element is nowhere better illustrated than\nin Cathedral building. Of all the really great men who planned the\nCathedrals of France, almost nothing is known; and by searching, little\ncan be found out. Who can give a dead date, much less a living fact,\nconcerning the life of that Gervais who conceived the great Gothic\nheight of Narbonne? Who can tell even the name of him who planned the\nsombre, battlemented walls of Agde, or of that great man who first saw\nin poetic vision the delicate choir of Saint-Nazaire in Carcassonne?\nArtists have a well-preserved personality,--cathedral-builders, none.\nRobert of Luzarches who conceived the \"Parthenon of all Gothic\narchitecture,\" and the man who planned stately Sens and the richness of\nCanterbury, are as unknown to us as the quarries from which the stones\nof their Cathedrals were cut. It is not the Cathedral built by Robert of\nLuzarches belonging to Amiens, as it is the Assumption by Rubens\nbelonging to Antwerp. It is scarcely the Cathedral of its patron, Saint\nFirmin. It is the Cathedral of Amiens.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE DELICATE CHOIR OF SAINT-NAZAIRE.\"--CARCASSONNE.]\n\nWe hear many learned disquisitions on the decay of the art of church\nbuilding. Lack of time in our rushing age, lack of patience, decline of\nreligious zeal, or change in belief, these are some of the popular\nreasons for this architectural degeneracy. Strange as it may seem none\nof these have had so powerful an influence as the invention of printing.\nThe first printing-press was made in the middle of the XV\ncentury,--after the conception of the great Cathedrals. In an earlier\nage, when the greatest could neither read nor write and manuscripts even\nin monasteries were rare, sculpture and carving were the layman's books,\nand Cathedrals were not only places of worship, they were the\npeople's religious libraries where literature was cut in stone.\n\nIn the North, the most unique form of this literature was the drama of\nthe Breton Calvaries, which portrayed one subject and one only,--the\n\"Life and Passion of Christ,\" taken from Prophecy, Tradition, and the\nGospels. Cathedrals, both North and South, used the narrative form. They\ntold story after story; and their makers showed an intimate knowledge of\nBiblical lore that would do credit to the most ardent theological\nstudent. At Nimes, by no means the richest church in carvings, there are\nbesides the Last Judgment and the reward of the Evil and the\nRighteous,--which even a superficial Christian should know,--many of the\nstories of the Book of Genesis. At Arles, there is the Dream of Jacob,\nthe Dream of Joseph, the Annunciation, the Nativity, Purification,\nMassacre of the Innocents, the Flight into Egypt; almost a Bible in\nstone. In these days of books and haste few would take the trouble to\nstudy such sculptured tales. But their importance to the unlettered\npeople of the Middle Ages cannot be overestimated; and the incentive to\nmagnificence of artistic conception was correspondingly great.\n\nThe main era of Cathedral building is the same all over France. But with\nthe general date, all arbitrary parallel between North and South\nabruptly ends. The North began the evolution of the Gothic, a new form\nindigenous to its soil; the South continued the Romanesque, her\nevolution of a transplanted style, and long knew no other. She had grown\naccustomed to give northward,--not to receive; and it was the reign of\nSaint Louis before she began to assimilate the architectural ideas of\nthe Isle de France and to build in the Gothic style, it was admiration\nfor the newer ideals which led the builders of the South to change such\nof their plans as were not already carried out, and to try with these\nforeign and beautiful additions, to give to their churches the most\nperfect form they could conceive.\n\nAnd thus, from a web of Fate, in which, as in all destinies, is the\nspinning of many threads, came the Cathedrals and Cloisters of the\nSouth. Are they greater than those of the North? Are they inferior to\nthem? It is best said, \"Comparison is idle.\" Who shall decide between\nthe fir-trees and the olives--between the beautiful order of a northern\nforest and the strange, astounding luxuriance of the southern tangle?\nWhich is the better choice--the well-told tale of the Cathedrals of the\nNorth, with their procession of kingly visitors, or the almost untold\nstory of the Cathedrals of the South, where history is still legend,\ntradition, romance--the story of fanatic fervour and still more fanatic\nhate?\n\n[Illustration: A CLOISTER OF THE SOUTH.--ELNE.]\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nARCHITECTURE IN PROVENCE, LANGUEDOC, AND GASCONY.\n\n\nNo better place can be found than the Mediterranean provinces to\nconsider the origins of the earliest southern style. Here Romanesque\nCathedrals arose in the midst of the vast ruins of Imperial antiquity,\nhere they developed strange similarities to foreign styles, domes\nsuggesting the East, Greek motives recalling Byzantium, and details\nreminiscent of Syria. And here is the battle-field for that great army\nwho decry or who defend Roman influences. Some would have us believe\nthat the Romanesque dome is expatriated from the East; others, that it\nis naturalised; others, that it is native. The plan of the Romanesque\ndome differs very much from that of the Byzantine, yet the general\nconception seems Eastern. If conceivable in the Oriental mind, why not\nin that of the West? And yet, in spite of some native peculiarities of\nstructure, why should not the general idea have been imported? Who shall\ndecide? In a book such as this, mooted questions which involve such\nmultitudinous detail and such unprovable argument cannot be discussed.\n\nIt is unreasonable to doubt, however, that Roman influences dominated\nthe South, herself a product of Roman civilisation; and as in the\ncurious ineradicable tendency of the South toward heresy we more than\nsuspect a subtle infiltration of Greek and Oriental perversions, so in\narchitecture it is logical to infer that Mediterranean traders,\nCrusaders, and perhaps adventurous architects who may have travelled in\ntheir wake, brought rumours of the buildings of the East, which were\nadopted with original or necessary modifications. Viollet-le-Duc, in\nsumming up this much discussed question, has written that \"in the\nRomanesque art of the West, side by side with persistent Latin\ntraditions, a Byzantine influence is almost always found, evidenced by\nthe introduction of the cupola.\" In the lamentable absence of records of\nthe majority of Cathedrals, reasonings of origin must be inductive, and\nmore or less imaginative, and have no legitimate place in the scope of a\nbook which aims to describe the existing conditions and proven history\nof southern Cathedrals.\n\n[Illustration: A ROMANESQUE AISLE.--ARLES.]\n\nQuicherat, who has had much to say upon architectural subjects, defines\nthe Romanesque as an art \"which has ceased to be Roman, although it has\nmuch that is Roman, and that is not yet Gothic, although it already\npresages the Gothic.\" This is not a very helpful interpretation.\nRomanesque, as it exists in France to-day, is generally of earlier\nbuilding than the Gothic; it is an older and far simpler style. It was\nnot a quick, brilliant outburst, like the Gothic, but a long and slow\nevolution; and it has therefore deliberation and dignity, not the\nspontaneity of northern creations; strength, and at times great vigour,\nbut not munificence, not the lavishness of art and wealth and adornment,\nof which the younger style was prodigal. Few generalisations are\nflawless, but it may be truly said that Romanesque Cathedrals are\nlacking in splendour; and it will be found in a large majority of cases\nthat they are also without the impressiveness of great size; that they\nare almost devoid of shapely windows or stained glass, of notable\ncarvings or richness of decorative detail. Their art is a simple art, a\nsober art, and in its nearest approach to opulence--the sculptured\nportals of Saint-Trophime of Arles or Saint-Gilles-de-Languedoc--there\nis still a reserved rather than an exuberant and uncontrolled display of\nwealth.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE SCULPTURED PORTALS OF SAINT-TROPHIME.\"--ARLES.]\n\nBy what simple, superficial sign can this architecture be recognised by\nthose who are to see it for the first time? It exists \"everywhere and\nalways\" in southern France; but, side by side with the encroachments\nand additions of other styles, how can it be easily distinguished?\nQuicherat writes that the principal characteristic of the Romanesque is\n\"la voute,\" and the great, rounded tunnel of the roofing is a\ndistinction which will be found in no other form. But the easiest of\nsuperficial distinctions is the arch-shape, which in portal, window,\nvaulting or tympanum is round; wherever the arcaded form is\nused,--always round. With this suggestion of outline, and the universal\nprinciples of the style, simplicity and dignity and absence of great\nornamentation, the untechnical traveller may distinguish the Romanesque\nof the South, and if he be akin to the traveller who tells these\nCathedral tales, the interest and fascination which the old architecture\nawakes, will lead him to discover for himself the many differences which\nare evident between the ascetic strength of the one, and the splendour\nand brilliance of the other.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Provence.]\n\n[Illustration: A GOTHIC AISLE.--MENDE.]\n\nThe three provinces which compose the South of France are Provence,\nLanguedoc, and Gascony, and of these Provence is, architecturally and\nhistorically, the first to claim our interest. During the era of\ncolonisation it was the most thoroughly romanised, and in the early\ncenturies of Christianity the first to fall completely under the\nsystematic organisation of the Church. It has a large group of very old\nCathedrals, and is the best study-ground for a general scrutiny and\nappreciation of that style which the builders of the South assimilated\nand developed until, as it were, they naturalised it and made it one\nof the two greatest forms of architectural expression. Provence does not\ncontain the most impressive examples of Romanesque. Two Abbeys of the\nfar Norman North are more finished and harmonious representations of the\nart, and Languedoc, in the basilica of Saint-Sernin of Toulouse, has a\nnobler interior than any in the Midi, and many other churches of\nLanguedoc and Gascony are most interesting examples of a style which\nbelonged to them as truly as to Provence.\n\nYet it is in this province that the Romanesque is best studied. For here\nthe great internecine struggles--both political and religious--of the\nMiddle Ages were not as devastating as in Languedoc and Gascony;\nProvence was a sunny land, where Sonnets flourished more luxuriantly\nthan did Holy Inquisition. Her churches have therefore been preserved in\ntheir original form in greater numbers than those of the two other\nprovinces. They are of all types of Romanesque, all stages of its\ngrowth, from the small and simple Cathedrals which were built when\necclesiastical exchequers were not overflowing, to the greater ones\nwhich illustrate very advanced and dignified phases of architectural\ndevelopment; and as a whole they exhibit the normal proportion of\nfailure and success in an effort toward an ideal.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Languedoc.]\n\nLeon Renier, the learned lecturer of the College de France, says: \"It is\nremarkable that the changes, the elaborations, the modifications of the\narchitecture given by Rome to all countries under her domination were\nconceived in the provinces long before they were reproduced in Italy.\nRome gave no longer; she received ... a transfusion of a new blood, more\nvital and more rich.\" In Languedoc, the greater number of monuments of\nthis ancient architecture have been destroyed; and those of their\noutgrowth, the later Romanesque, were so repeatedly mutilated that the\nCathedrals of this province present even a greater confusion of\noriginalities, restorations, and additions than those of Provence. To a\nmultitude of dates must be added corresponding differences in style.\nEach school of architecture naturally considered that it had somewhat of\na monopoly of good taste and beauty, or at least that it was an\nimprovement on the manner which preceded it; and it would have been too\nmuch to expect, in ages when anachronisms were unrecognised, that\nchurches should have been restored in their consonant, original style.\nArchitects of the Gothic period were unable to resist the temptation of\ncontinuing a Romanesque nave with a choir of their own school, and\nbuilders of the XVIII century went still further and added a showy Louis\nXV facade to a modest Romanesque Cathedral. Some churches, built in\ntimes of religious storm and stress, show the preoccupation of their\npatrons or the lack of talent of their constructors; others belong to\nBishoprics that were much more lately constituted than the Sees of\nProvence, and in these cases the new prelate chose a church already\nbegun or completed, and compromised with the demands of episcopal pomp\nby an addition, usually of different style. The numerous changes,\npolitical and religious, of the Mediaevalism of Languedoc, had such\nconsiderable and diverse influence on the architecture of the\nprovince that it is not possible, as in Provence, to trace an\nuninterrupted evolution of one style. The Languedocian is generally a\nlater builder than the Provencal; he is bolder. Having the Romanesque\nand the Gothic as choice, he chose at will and seemingly at random. He\nhad spontaneity, enthusiasm, verve; and when no accepted model pleased\nhis taste, he re-created after his own liking. Languedoc has therefore a\ndelightful quality that is wanting in Provence; and in her greater\nCathedrals there is often an originality that is due to genius rather\nthan to eccentricity. There is delicate Gothic at Carcassonne, lofty\nGothic at Narbonne, Sainte-Cecile of Albi is fortified Gothic built in\nbrick. The interior of Saint-Sernin of Toulouse is an apotheosis of the\naustere Romanesque, and Saint-Etienne of Agde is a gratifying type of\nthe Maritime Church of the Midi.\n\n[Illustration: \"CORRESPONDING DIFFERENCES IN STYLE.\"--CARCASSONNE.]\n\nThis Cathedral of the Sea is a fitting example of a peculiar type of\narchitecture which exists also in Provence,--a succession of\nfortress-churches that extend along the Mediterranean from Spain to\nItaly like the peaks of a mountain chain. Nothing can better illustrate\nthe continuous warrings and raidings in the South of France than these\nstrange churches, and their many fortified counterparts inland, in both\nLanguedoc and Gascony. Castles and walled towns were not sufficient to\nprotect the Southerner from invasions and incursions; his churches and\nCathedrals, even to the XIV century, were strongholds, more suitable for\nmen-at-arms than for priests, and seemingly dedicated to some war-god\nrather than to the gentle Virgin Mother and the Martyr-Saints under\nwhose protection they nominally dwelt.\n\nAlthough most interesting, the military church of the interior is seldom\nthe Bishop's church. The maritime church on the contrary is nearly\nalways a Cathedral, with strangely curious legends and episodes. The\nFrench coast of the Mediterranean was the scene of continuous pillage.\nHuns, Normans, Moors, Saracens, unknown pirates and free-booters of all\nnationalities found it very lucrative and convenient to descend on a\nsea-board town, and escape as they had come, easily, their boats loaded\nwith booty. \"As late as the XII century,\" writes Barr Ferree,\n\"buccaneers gained a livelihood by preying on the peaceful and\nunoffending inhabitants of the villages and cities. The Cathedrals, as\nthe most important buildings and the most conspicuous, were strongly\nfortified, both to protect their contents and to serve as strongholds\nfor the citizens in case of need. In these churches, therefore,\narchitecture assumed its most utilitarian form and buildings are real\nfortifications, with battlemented walls, strong and heavy towers, and\nsmall windows, and are provided with the other devices of Romanesque\narchitecture of a purely military type.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"FORTIFIED GOTHIC BUILT IN BRICK.\"--ALBI.]\n\n\"Time has dealt hardly with them. The kingly power, being entrenched in\nParis, developed from the Isle de France. The wealth that once enriched\nthe fertile lands of the South moved northwards, and the great\ncommercial cities of the North became the most important centres of\nactivity. Then the southern towns began to decline,\" and the\nbuildings which remain to represent most perfectly the \"Church-Fortress\"\nare not those of Provence, which are \"patched\" and \"restored,\" but those\nof Languedoc, Agde, and Maguelonne, and Elne of the near-by country of\nRousillon.\n\n[Illustration: \"A CHURCH FORTRESS.\"--MAGUELONNE.]\n\n\n[Sidenote: Gascony.]\n\nGascony, the last of the southern provinces and the farthest from Rome,\nhad great prosperity under Imperial dominion. Many patricians emigrated\nthere, roads were built, commerce flourished, and as in Provence and\nLanguedoc, towns grew into large and well-established cities.\nChristianity made a comparatively early conquest of the province; and\nat the beginning of the IV century, eleven suffragan Bishoprics had been\nestablished under the Archbishopric of Eauze. Gascony has many old\nCathedral cities, and has had many ancient Cathedrals; but after the\nfall of the Roman Empire in the V century, a series of wars began which\ndestroyed not only the Christian architecture, but almost every trace of\nRoman wealth and culture. Little towers remain, supposed shrines of\nMercury, protector of commerce and travel; pieces of statues are found;\nbut the Temples, the Amphitheatres, the Forums, have disappeared, and\neven more completely, the rude Christian churches of that early period.\n\nAlthough the province has no Mediterranean coast and could not be\nmolested by the marauders of that busy sea, it lay directly upon the\nroute of armies between France and Spain; and it is no \"gasconading\" to\nsay that it was for centuries one of the greatest battle-fields of the\nSouth. Vandals, Visigoths, Franks, Saracens, Normans,--Gascons against\nCarlovingians, North against South, all had burned, raided, and\ndestroyed Gascony before the XI century. It is not surprising, then,\nthat there are found fewer traces of antiquity here than in Provence and\nLanguedoc. Even the few names of decimated cities which survived,\ndesignated towns on new sites. Eauze, formerly on the Gelise, lay long\nin ruins, and was finally re-built a kilometre inland. Lectoure and Auch\nhad long since retired from the river Gers and taken refuge on the hills\nof their present situations, while other cities fell into complete ruin\nand forgetfulness.\n\n[Illustration: STATELY GOTHIC SPLENDOUR.--CONDOM.]\n\nThe year 1000, which followed these events, was that of the predicted\nand expected end of the world. The extravagances of Christians at that\ntime are well known, the gifts of all property that were made to the\nChurch, the abandonment of worldly pursuits, the terrors of many, the\nanxiety of the calmest, the emotional excesses which led people to live\nin trees that they might be near to heaven when the \"great trump\" should\nsound,--\"Mundi fine appropinquante.\" But the trumpet did not sound, and\nRaoul Glaber, a monk of the XI century, writes that all over Italy and\nthe Gaul of his day there was great haste to restore and re-build\nchurches, a general rivalry between towns and between countries, as to\nwhich could build most remarkably. \"This activity,\" says Quicherat, \"may\nshow a desire to renew alliance with the Creator.\" It certainly proves\nthat the generation of the year 1000 had fresh and new architectural\nideas.\n\nThis was the period of recuperation and re-building for Gascony. The\nmonks of the VIII, IX, and X centuries had devoted themselves with zeal\nand success to the cultivation of the soil. They had acquired fertile\nfields, and desiring peace, they had placed themselves in positions\nwhere their strength would defend them when their holy calling was not\nrespected. These monasteries were places of refuge and soon gave their\nname and their protection to the towns and villages which began to\ncluster about them. Except the declining settlements of Roman days,\nGascony had few towns in the X century; and many of her most important\ncities of to-day owe their foundation, their existence, and their\nprosperity to these Benedictine monasteries. Eauze regained its life\nafter the establishment of a convent, and in the XI, XII, and XIII\ncenturies, the Abbots of Citeaux, Bishops, and even lords of the laity,\noccupied themselves in the creation of new cities. Many of the towns of\nmediaeval creation possessed broad municipal and commercial privileges,\nthey grew to the importance of \"communes\" and Bishoprics, and some even\nstyled themselves \"Republics.\"\n\nAlthough these were times of much re-building, restoring, and carrying\nout of older plans of ecclesiastical architecture, the XI and XII\ncenturies were none the less filled with innumerable private wars, and\nin 1167 began the bloody and persistent struggle with England. The city\nof Aire was at one time reduced to twelve inhabitants, and the horrors\nof the mediaeval siege were more than once repeated. In these wars,\nCathedrals, as well as towns and their inhabitants, were scarred and\nwounded. Hardly had these dissensions ended in 1494, when the Wars of\nReligion commenced under Charles IX, and Gascony was again one of the\nmost terrible fields of battle. Here the demoniac enthusiasm of both\nsides exceeded even the terrible exhibitions of Languedoc. The royal\nfamily of Navarre was openly Protestant and contributed more than any\nothers to the military organisations of their Faith. Jeanne d'Albret, in\n1566, wishing to repay intolerance with intolerance, forbade religious\nprocessions and church funerals in Navarre. The people rose, and the\nnext year the Queen was forced to grant toleration to both religions.\nLater the King of France entered the field and sent an army against the\nBearnaise Huguenots, Jeanne, in reprisal, called to her aid Montmorency;\nand with a thoroughness born of pious zeal and hatred, each army began\nto burn and kill. All monasteries, all churches, were looted by the\nProtestants; all cities taken by Montluc, head of the Catholics, were\nsacked. Tarbes was devastated by the one, Rabestans by the other, and\nthe Cathedral of Pamiers was ruined. With the Massacre of Saint\nBartholomew, in 1572, the struggle began again, and the League\nflourished in all its malign enthusiasm. \"Such disorder as was\nintroduced,\" says a writer of the period, \"such pillage, has never been\nseen since war began. Officers, soldiers, followers, and volunteers were\nso overburdened with booty as to be incommoded thereby. And after this\nbrigandage, the peasants hereabouts [Bigorre] abandoned their very farms\nfrom lack of cattle, and the greater number went into Spain.\"\n\nDuring long centuries of such religious and political devastation the\narchitectural energy of Gascony was expended in replacing churches which\nhad been destroyed, and were again to be destroyed or injured. It would\nbe unfair to expect of this province the great magnificence which its\nbrave, cheerful, and extravagant little people believe it \"once\npossessed,\" or to look, amid such unrest, for the calm growth of any\narchitectural style. It is a country of few Cathedrals, of curious\nchurches built for war and prayer, and of such occasional outbursts of\nmagnificence as is seen in the Romanesque portal of Saint-Pierre of\nMoissac and in the stately Gothic splendour of the Cathedrals at Condom\nand at Bayonne. It is a country where Cathedrals are surrounded by the\nmost beautiful of landscapes, and where each has some legend or story of\nthe English, the League, of the Black Prince, or the Lion-hearted, of\nHenry IV, still adored, or of Simon de Montfort, still execrated, where\nthe towns are truly historic and the mountains truly grand.\n\n\n\n\nProvence.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nTHE CATHEDRALS OF THE SEA.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Marseilles.]\n\nPerhaps a Phoenician settlement, certainly a Carthaginian mart, later a\nGrecian city, and in the final years of the pagan era possessed by the\nRomans, no city of France has had more diverse influences of antique\ncivilisation than Marseilles, none responded more proudly to its ancient\nopportunities; and not only was it commercially wealthy and renowned,\nbut so rich in schools that it was called \"another, a new Athens.\" It\nwas also the port of an adventurous people, who founded Nice, Antibes,\nla Ciotat, and Agde, and explored a part of Africa and Northern Europe;\nand at the fall of the Roman Empire it became, by very virtue of its\nriches and safe harbour, the envy and the prey of a succession of\nbarbaric and \"infidel\" invaders. In the Middle Ages it had all the\nvicissitudes of wars and sieges to which a great city could be\nsubjected. It had a Viscount, and from very early days, a Bishop; it was\nat one time part of the Kingdom of Arles; and later it recognised the\nsuzerainty of the Counts of Provence. When these lords were warring or\ncrusading, it took advantage of their absence or their troubles and\ngoverned itself through its Consuls; became a Provencal Republic after\nthe type of the Italian cities and other towns of the Mediterranean\ncountry; treated with the Italian Republics on terms of perfect\nequality; and although finally annexed to France by the wily Louis of\nthe Madonnas, its people were continually haunted by memories of their\nformer independence, and not only struggled for municipal rights and\nliberties, but took sides for or against the most powerful monarchs of\ncontinental history as if they had been a resourceful country rather\nthan a city. It succored the League, defied Henry IV and Richelieu; and\ntreating Kings in trouble as cavalierly as declining Counts, Marseilles\ntried at the death of Henry III to secede from France and recover its\nautonomy under a Consul, Charles de Cazaulx. Promptly defeated, it still\ncontinued to think independently, and struggle, as best it might, for\nfreedom of administration; and although from the time of Pompey to that\nof Louis XIV it has had an ineradicable tendency to stand against the\ngovernment, it has survived the results of all its contumacies, its\nplagues, wars, and sieges, and the destructiveness of its phase of the\nRevolution, when it had a Terror of its own. Notwithstanding modern\nrivals in the Mediterranean, Marseilles is to-day one of the largest and\nmost prosperous of French cities. Built in amphitheatre around the bay,\nit is beautiful in general view, its streets bustle with commercial\nactivity, and its vast docks swarm with workmen. The storms of the past\nhave gone over Marseilles as the storms of nature over its sea, have\nbeen as passionate, and have left as little trace. Instead of Temples,\nForum, and Arena, there are the Palais de Longchamps, the Palais de\nJustice, and the Christian Arch of Triumph. Instead of the muddy and\nunhealthy alley-ways of Mediaevalism, there are broad streets and wide\nboulevards, and in spite of its antiquity Marseilles is a city of\nto-day, in monuments, aspect, spirit, and even in class distinction.\n\"Here,\" writes Edmond About, \"are only two categories of people, those\nwho have made a fortune and those who are trying to make one, and the\nprincipal inhabitants are parvenus in the most honourable sense of the\nword.\"\n\n[Illustration: _Entrevaux._\n\nPeople gather around the mail-coach as it makes its daily halt before\nthe drawbridge.]\n\n[Illustration: THE NEW CATHEDRAL.--MARSEILLES.]\n\n\"In the most honourable sense of the word,\" the Cathedral of Marseilles\nis also typical of the city, \"parvenue.\" Its first stone was placed by\nPrince Louis Napoleon in 1852, and as the modern has overgrown the\nclassic and mediaeval greatness of Marseilles, so the new \"Majeure\" has\neclipsed, if it has not yet entirely replaced, the old Cathedral; and\nexcept the stern Abbey-church of Saint-Victor, an almost solitary relic\nof true mediaeval greatness, it is the finest church of the city.\n\nThe new Cathedral and the old stand side by side; the one strong and\nwhole, the other partly torn down, scarred and maimed as a veteran who\nhas survived many wars. Even in its ruin, it is an interesting type of\nthe maritime Provencal church, but so pitiably overshadowed by its\nsuccessor that the charm of its situation is quite lost, and few will\nlinger to study its three small naves, the defaced fresco of the dome,\nor even the little chapel of Saint-Lazare, all white marble and carving\nand small statues, scarcely more than a shallow niche in the wall, but\ndaintily proportioned, and a charming creation of the Renaissance. Fewer\nstill of those who pause to study what remains of the old \"Majeure,\"\nwill stay to reconstruct it as it used to be, and realise that it had\nits day of glory no less real than that of the new church which replaces\nit. In its stead, Saint-Martin's, and Saint-Cannat's sometimes called\n\"the Preachers,\" have been temporarily used for the Bishop's services.\nBut now that the greater church, the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin\nMary, has been practically completed, it has assumed, once and for all,\nthe greater rank, and a Cathedral of Marseilles still stands on its\nterrace in full view of the sea. Tradition has it that a Temple of Baal\nonce stood on this site and later, a Temple to Diana; that Lazarus came\nin the I century, converted the pagan Marseillais and built a Christian\nCathedral here. A more critical tradition says that Saint Victor first\ncame as missionary, Bishop, and builder. All these vague memories of\nconversion, more or less accurate, all the legends of an humble and\nstruggling Christianity, seem buried by this huge modern mass. It is not\na church struggling and militant, but the Church Established and\nTriumphant. It is a vast building over four hundred and fifty feet long,\npreceded by two domed towers. Its transepts are surmounted at the\ncrossing by a huge dome whose circumference is nearly two hundred feet,\na smaller one over each transept arm, and others above the apsidal\nchapels. The exterior is built with alternate layers of green Florentine\nstone and the white stone of Fontvieille; and the style of the church,\nvariously called French Romanesque, Byzantine, and Neo-Byzantine, is\nvery oriental in its general effect.\n\nAn arcade between the two towers forms a porch, the entrance to the\ninterior whose central nave stretches out in great spaciousness. The\nlateral naves, in contrast, are exceedingly narrow and have high\ngalleries supported by large monolithic columns. These naves are\nprolonged into an ambulatory, each of whose chapels, in consonance with\nthe Cathedral's colossal proportions, is as large as many a church. The\nbuilding stone of the interior is grey and pink, with white marble used\ndecoratively for capitals and bases; and these combinations of tints\nwhich would seem almost too delicate, too effeminate, for so large a\nbuilding, are made rich and effective by their very mass, the gigantic\nsizes which the plan exacts. All that artistic conception could produce\nhas been added to complete an interior that is entirely oriental in its\nluxury of ornamentation, half-oriental in style, and without that sober\nmajesty which is an inherent characteristic of the most elaborate styles\nnative to Western Christianity. Under the gilded dome is a rich\nbaldaquined High Altar, and through the whole church there is a\nmagnificence of mosaics, of mural paintings, and of stained glass that\nis sumptuous. Mosaics line the arches of the nave and the pendentives,\nand form the flooring; and in the midst of this richness of colour the\ngrey pillars rise, one after the other in long, shadowy perspective,\nlike the trees of a stately grove.\n\nIn planning this new Provencal Cathedral its architects did not attempt\nto reproduce, either exactly or in greater perfection, any maritime type\nwhich its situation on the Mediterranean might have suggested, nor were\nthey inspired by any of the models of the native style; and perhaps, to\nthe captious mind, its most serious defect is that its building has\ndestroyed not only an actual portion of the old Majeure, but an historic\ninterest which might well have been preserved by a wise restoration or\nan harmonious re-building. And yet, with the large Palace of the\nArchbishop on the Port de la Joliette near-by, the statue of a devoted\nand loving Bishop in the open square, and the majestic Cathedral of\nSainte-Marie-Majeure itself, the episcopacy of Marseilles has all the\noutward and visible signs of strength and glory and power.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Toulon.]\n\nToulon, although a foundation of the Romans, owes its rank to-day to\nHenry IV, to Richelieu, and to Louis XIV's busy architect, Vauban. It is\nthe \"Gibraltar of France,\" a bright, bustling, modern city.\nSainte-Marie-Majeure, one of its oldest ecclesiastical names, is a title\nwhich belonged to churches of both the XI and XII centuries; but in the\nfeats of architectural gymnastics to which their remains have been\nsubjected, and in the wars and vicissitudes of Provence, these buildings\nhave long since disappeared.\n\nA few stones still exist of the XI century structure, void of form or\narchitectural significance, and the ancient name of Sainte-Marie-Majeure\nnow protects a Cathedral built in the most depressing style of the\nindustrious Philistines of the XVII and XVIII centuries. It is not a\nProvencal nor a truly \"maritime\" church, it is not a fortress nor a\ndefence, nor a work of any architectural beauty. It has blatancy, size,\npretension,--a profusion of rich incongruities; and although religiously\ninteresting from its chapels and shrines, it is architecturally\nobtrusive and monstrous.\n\nThe vagaries of the architects who began in 1634 to construct the\npresent edifice, are well illustrated in the changes of plan to which\nthey subjected this unfortunate church. The length became the breadth,\nthe isolated chapel of the Virgin, part of the main building; the choir,\nanother chapel; and the High Altar was removed from the eastern to the\nnorthern end, where a new choir had been built for its reception. This\nconfusion of plan was carried out with logical confusion of style and\ndetail. The facade has Corinthian columns of the XVII century; the nave\nis said to be \"transition Gothic,\" the choir is decorated with mural\npaintings, and the High Altar, a work of Revoil, adds to the banalities\nof the XVII and XVIII centuries a rich incongruity of which the XIX has\nno reason to be proud. The whole interior is so full of naves of unequal\nlength, and radiating chapels, of arches of differing forms, tastes, and\nstyles, that it defies concise description and is unworthy of serious\nconsideration. Provence has modest Cathedrals of small architectural\nsignificance, but except Sainte-Reparate of Nice, it has none so chaotic\nand commonplace as Sainte-Marie-Majeure of Toulon.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Frejus.]\n\nFrejus, which claims to be \"the oldest city in France,\" was one of the\nnumerous trading ports of the Phoenician, and later, during the period\nof her civic grandeur, an arsenal of the Roman navy. Her most\ninteresting ruins are the Coliseum, the Theatre, the old Citadel, and\nthe Aqueduct, suggestions of a really great city of the long-gone past.\nFrejus lost prestige with the decadence of the Empire, and after a\ndestruction by the Saracens in the X century, Nature gave the blow which\nfinally crushed her when the sea retreated a mile, and her old Roman\nlight-house was left to overlook merely a long stretch of barren, sandy\nland. Owing to this stranded, inland position, she has escaped both the\ndignity of a modern sea-port and the prostitution of a Rivieran resort,\nand is a little dead city, the seat of an ancient Provencal \"Cathedral\nof the Sea.\" This Cathedral is largely free from XVII and XVIII century\ndisfigurements; and the pity is that having escaped this, a French\nchurch's imminent peril, it should have become so built around that the\ncharacter of the exterior is almost lost. The facade is severely plain,\nan uninteresting re-building of 1823, but the carved wood of its portals\nis beautiful. The towers, as in other maritime Cathedrals of Provence,\nrecall the perils and dangers of their days; and these towers of Frejus,\nalthough none the less practically defensive, have a more churchly\nappearance than those of Antibes, Grasse, and Vence. Over the vestibuled\nentrance rises the western tower. Its heavy, rectangular base is the\nsupport of a super-structure which was replaced in the XVI century by\none more in keeping with conventional ecclesiastical models. Then the\nwindows of the base, whose rounded arches are still traceable, were\nwalled in; and the new octagonal stage with high windows of its own was\ncompleted by a tile-covered spire. The more interesting tower is that\nwhich surmounts the apse. This was the lookout, facing the sea, the\nreally vital defence of the church. Its upper room was a storage place\nfor arms and ammunition, and on the side which faces the city was open,\nwith a broad, pointed arch. Above, the tower ends in machiolated\nbattlements and presents a very strong and stern front seaward, perhaps\nno stronger, but more artistic and grim than towers of other Provencal\nCathedrals.\n\nThe entrance of the church is curiously complicated. To the left is the\nlittle baptistery; directly before one, a narrow stairway which leads to\nthe Cloister; and on the right, a low-arched vestibule which opens into\nthe nave of the Cathedral. The interior of Saint-Etienne is dark and\nsomewhat gloomy, but that is an inherent trait of a fortress-church, for\nevery added inch of window-opening brought an ell of danger. The nave is\nunusually low and broad, and its buttressed piers are of immense weight,\nending severely in a plain, moulded band. On these great piers rest the\ncross-vaults of the roof and the broad arches of the wall. The north\naisle, disproportionately narrow, is a later addition. Behind the altar\nis a true Provencal apse, shallow and rectangular, and beyond its\nrounded roof opens the smaller half-dome. Architecturally, this is an\ninteresting interior; but the traveller who has not time to spend in\nmusings will fail to see it in its original intention;--cold, severely\nplain, heavy, with perhaps too many arch-lines, but sober and simple. A\nfutile wooden wainscot now surrounds the church and breaks its wall\nspace, liberal coats of whitewash conceal the building material, and\ntaking from the church the severity of its stone, give it an appearance\nof poor deprecatory bareness.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE DESECRATION OF THE LITTLE CLOISTER.\"--FREJUS.]\n\nNear the entrance of the Cathedral is its most ancient portion, the\nbaptistery, formerly a building apart, but now an integral part of the\nchurch itself. It is perhaps the most interesting Christian monument in\nFrejus, a reminder of those early centuries when, in France as in Italy,\nthe little baptistery was the popular form of Christian architectural\nexpression. Here it has the very usual octagonal shape; the arches are\nupheld by grayish columns of granite with capitals of white marble, and\nin the centre stands the font. Between the columns are small\nrecesses, alternately rectangular and semi-domed, and above all, is a\nmodern dome and lantern. Structurally interesting, and reminiscent of\nthe stately baptistery of Aix, the effect of this little chamber, like\nthe church's interior, is marred by the whitewashes from whose\nindustrious brushes nothing but the grayish columns have escaped. And\nhere again, the traveller who would see the builders' work, free from\nthe disfigurements of time, must pause and imagine.\n\nYet even imagination seems powerless before the desecration of the\nlittle Cloister. Charming it must have been to have entered its quiet\nwalks, with their slender columns of white marble, to have seen the\nquaint old well in the little, sun-lit close. Now, between the slender\ncolumns, boards have been placed which shut out light and sun. The\ntraveller sat down on an old wheel-barrow, waiting till he could see in\nthe dim and misty light. All around him was forgetfulness of the\nCloister's holy uses; signs of desecration and neglect. One end of the\ncloister-walk was a thoroughfare, where the wheel-barrow had worn its\nweary way; and even in the deserted corners there was the dust and dirt\nof a work-a-day world. The beautiful little capitals of the slender\ncolumns rose from among the boards, clipped and worn; above, he dimly\nsaw the curious wooden ceiling which would seem to have taken the place\nof the usual stone vaulting; through chinks of the plank-wall he caught\nglimpses of a little close; and at length, having seen the most\nmelancholy of \"Cathedrals of the Sea,\" in its disguise of whitewash,\ndecay, and misuse, he went his way.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Antibes.]\n\nThat part of the southern coast of France called the Riviera seems now\nonly to evoke visions of the most beautiful banality; of a life more\nartificial than the stage--which at least aims to present\nreality--transplanted to a scene of such incomparable loveliness that\nNature herself adds a new and exquisite sumptuousness to the luxury of\ncivilisation. The Riviera means a land of many follies and every\nvice;--each folly so delicious, each vice so regal, they seem to be\nsought and desired of all men. Where else can be seen in such careless\nmagnificence Dukes of Russia with their polish of manner and their\nveiled insolence; Englishmen correct and blase; Americans a bit\nvociferous and truly amused; great ladies of all ages and manners;\nadventurers high and low; and the beautiful, sparkling women of no name,\nbravely dressed and barbarously jewelled? Such is the Riviera of to-day;\nthe life imposed upon it by hordes of foreign idlers in a land whose\nwarmth and luxuriance may have lent itself but too easily to the vicious\nand frivolous pleasures for which they have made it notorious, but a\nland which has no native history that is effeminate, nor any so unworthy\nas its exotic present. \"The Riviera\" may be Nice, Beaulieu, and their\nlike, but the Provencal Mediterranean and its neighbouring territory\nhave been the fatherland of warriors in real mail and of princes of real\npower, of the Emperor Pertinax of pagan times, of those who fought\nsuccessfully against Mahmoud and Tergament, and of many Knights of\nMalta, long the \"Forlorn Hope\" of Christendom.\n\nDiscreetly hidden from vulgar eyes that delight in the architecture of the\nmodern caravanserai, are the ruins of these older days--Amphitheatres,\nFountains, Temples, and Aqueducts of the Romans; the Castles, Abbeys,\nand Cathedrals of mediaeval times. Here are the larger number, if not the\nmost interesting, of those curious churches of the sea, which protected\nthe French townsman of the Mediterranean coast from the rapacity of\nsea-rovers and pirates, and many more orthodox enemies of the Middle Ages.\n\nFrom the great beauty of its situation, the small city of Antibes is\nat once a type of the old regime and of the new. Lying on the sea,\nwith a background of snow-capped mountains, it has not entirely\nescaped the fate of Nice; neither has it yet lost all its old\nProvencal characteristics. It is a pathetic compromise between the\nquaint reality of the old and the blatancy of the new. The little\nparish church is of the very far past, having lost its Cathedral rank\nover six hundred years ago to Sainte-Marie in Grasse, a town scarcely\nyounger than its own. It is the type of the church of this coast, with\nits unpretentious smallness, its strength, and its disfiguring\nrestorations; and it is, especially in comparison with Vence and\nGrasse, of small architectural interest. The facade, and the double\narchway which connects the church and the tower, are of the\nunfortunate XVIII century, the older exterior is monotonous, and the\ninterior, an unpleasing confusion of forms.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE MILITARY OMEN--THE TOWER.\" ANTIBES.]\n\nThe real interest of the little Cathedral is its ancient military\nstrength, neither very grand nor very imposing, but very real to the\nenemy who hundreds of years ago hurled himself against the hard, plain\nstones. From this view-point, the mannered facade and the inharmonious\ninterior matter but little. Toward the foe, whose sail might have arisen\non the horizon at any moment, the protecting church presented the heavy\nrounded walls and safely narrowed windows of its three apses, and behind\nthem the military omen of the severe, rectangular tower. High in every\none of its four sides, seaward and landward, was a window, from which\nmany a watcher must have looked and strained anxious eyes. This is the\nsignificance of the little sea-side Cathedral, this the story its tower\nsuggests. And now when the sea is sailed by peaceful ships, and the\nCathedral only a place of pious worship, the tower with its gaping\nwindows is the only salient reminder of the ancient dignity of the\nchurch; the reminder to an indifferent generation of the days when\nAntibes fulfilled to Christians the promise of her old, pagan name,\nAntipolis, \"sentinel\" of the perilous sea.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Nice.]\n\nThe situation of its Cathedral reveals a Nice of which but little is\nwritten, the city of a people who live in the service of those whose\nshowy, new villas and hotels stretch along the promenades and lie dotted\non the hills in the Nice of \"all the world.\" Besides this exotic city,\nthere is \"the Nice of the Nicois,\" a small district of dark, crowded\nstreets that are too full of the sordid struggles of competing\nwork-people to be truly picturesque. Here, in the XVI century,\nwhen the Citadel of Nice was enlarged and the Cathedral of\nSainte-Marie-de-l'Assomption destroyed, the Church of Sainte-Reparate\nwas re-built, and succeeded to the episcopal rank. Standing on a little\nopen square, surrounded by small shops and the poor homes of\ntrades-folk, it seems in every sense a church of the people. Here the\nnative Nicois, gay, industrious, mercurial, and dispossessed of his\ntown, may feel truly at home. Finished in the most exuberant rococo\nstyle, it is an edifice from which all architectural or religious\ninspiration is conspicuously absent. It is a revel of luxurious bad\ntaste; a Cathedral in Provence, a Cathedral by the Sea, but neither\nProvencal nor Maritime,--rather a product of that Italian taste which\nhas so profoundly vitiated both the morals and the architecture of all\nthe Riviera.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nCATHEDRALS OF THE HILL-TOWNS.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Carpentras.]\n\nCarpentras is a busy provincial town, the terminus of three diminutive\nrailroads and of many little, lumbering, dust-covered stages. It stands\nhigh on a hill, and from the boulevards, dusty promenades under\nluxuriant shade-trees, which circle the town as its walls formerly did,\nthere is an extended view over the pretty hills and valleys of the\nneighbouring country. At one end of the town the Hospital rises, an\nimmense, bare, and imposing edifice of the XVIII century, built by a\nTrappist Bishop; and at the other is the Orange Gate, the last tower of\nthe old fortifications. Between these historic buildings and the\nencircling boulevards are the narrow streets and irregular,\nuninteresting buildings of the city itself. It is strange indeed that so\nisolated a place, which seems only a big, bustling country-town, should\nhave been of importance in the Middle Ages, and that bits of its\nstirring history must have caused all orthodox Europe to thrill with\nhorror. Stranger still would be the forgetfulness of modern writers, by\nwhom Carpentras is seldom mentioned, were it not that the city's real\nhistory is that of the Church political, a story of strange manners and\nhappenings, rather than a step in the vital evolution towards our own\ntime.\n\nIn the Middle Ages Carpentras was an episcopal city, the capital of the\nCounty Venaissin, governed by wealthy, powerful, and ambitious Bishops,\nwho took no small interest in worldly aggrandisement. Passing by gift to\nthe Papacy, after the sudden death of Clement V it was selected as the\nplace of the Conclave which was to elect his successor. The members were\nassembled in the great episcopal Palace, when Bertrand de Goth, a nephew\nof the dead Pope, claiming to be an ally of the French prelates against\nthe Italians in the Conclave, arrived from a successful looting of the\npapal treasury at Montreux to pillage in Carpentras. He and his\nmercenaries massacred the citizens and burned the Cathedral. The\nepiscopal Palace caught fire, and their Eminences--in danger of their\nlives--were forced to squeeze their sacred persons through a hole which\ntheir followers made in the Palace wall and fly northward.\n\nThis unfortunate raid left Carpentras with many ruins and a demolished\nCathedral, deserted by those in whose cause she had unwittingly\nsuffered. The new Pontiff was safely elected in Lyons, and upon his\nreturn to the papal seat of Avignon he administered Carpentras by a\n\"rector,\" and it continued as it had been before, the political capital\nof the County. During the reigns of succeeding Popes it was apparently\nundisturbed by dangerous honours, until the accession of the Anti-Pope,\nBenedict XIII. So great was this prelate's delight in the city that he\nreserved to himself the minor title of her Bishop, re-built her walls,\nand was the first patron of the present and very orthodox Cathedral,\nSaint-Siffrein. By a curious destiny, the church had this false prelate\nnot only as its first patron, but as its first active supporter; and in\n1404 he sent Artaud, Archbishop of Arles, in his name, to lay its first\nstone.\n\nWars and rumours of wars soon possessed the province. Benedict fled, and\nthrough unrest and lack of money the work of Cathedral building was\ngreatly hindered. In the meantime the ruins of the former Cathedral seem\nto have been gradually disintegrating, and in 1829 the last of its\nCloister was destroyed, to be replaced by prison cells; and now only the\nchoir dome and a suggestion of the nave exist, partly forming the\npresent sacristy. From these meagre remains and from writings of the\ntime, it may be fairly inferred that Saint-Pierre was a Cathedral of the\ntype of Avignon and Cavaillon and the old Marseillaise Church of La\nMajeure, and that, architecturally considered, it was a far more\nimportant structure than Saint-Siffrein. With this depressing knowledge\nin mind the traveller was confronted with a sight as depressing--the\npresent Cathedral itself.\n\nFortunately, churches of a period antedating the XVII century are seldom\nso uninteresting. Nothing more meagre nor dreary can be conceived than\nthe facade with its three, poor, characterless portals. They open on a\nlarge vaulted hall, with chapels in its six bays and a small and narrow\nchoir. The principal charm of the interior is negative; its dim misty\nlight, by concealing a mass of tasteless decorations and the poverty and\nbareness of the whole architectural scheme, gives to the generous height\nand size of the room an atmosphere of subdued and mysterious\nspaciousness. The south door is the one bit of this Gothic which passes\nthe commonplace. Set in a poor, plain wall, the portal has a graceful\nsymmetry of design; and its few carved details, probably limited by the\nartistic power of its builder, are so simple and chaste that they do not\ninevitably suggest poverty of conception. The tympanum holds an exotic\ndetail, a defaced and insignificant fresco of the Coronation of the\nVirgin; and on the pier which divides the door-way stands a very\ncharming statue of Our Lady of Snows, blessing those who enter beneath\nher outstretched hands.\n\nThis simple portal, and indeed the whole church, is a significant\nexample of Provencal Gothic, a style so foreign to the genius of the\nprovince that it could produce only feeble and attenuated examples of\nthe art. Compared with its northern prototypes, it is surprisingly\ntentative; and awkward, unaccustomed hands seem to have built it after\nmost primitive conceptions.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Digne.]\n\nWell outside the Alpine city of Digne, and almost surrounded by graves,\nstands a small and ancient church which is seldom opened except for the\ncelebration of Masses for the Dead. Coffin-rests stand always before the\naltar, and enough chairs for the few that mourn. There are old\ncandlesticks for the tapers of the church's poor, and hidden in the\nshadows of the doors, a few broken crosses that once marked graves,\nplaced, tenderly perhaps, above those who were alive some years ago and\nwho now rest forgotten; on battered wood, one can still read a baby's\nage, an old man's record, and the letters R. I. P.\n\nIn this strange, melancholy destiny of Notre-Dame-du-Bourg there seems\nto be a peculiar fitness. The mutability of time, forgetfulness, and at\nlength neglect, which death suggests, are brought to mind by this old\nchurch. Once the Cathedral of Digne, but no longer Cathedral, it stands\nalmost alone in spite of its honours and its venerable age. After the\ndesecration by the Huguenots, its episcopal birthright was given to a\nyounger and a larger church; the city has moved away and clusters about\nits new Cathedral, Saint-Jerome; and Notre-Dame-du-Bourg is no longer on\na busy street, but near the dusty high-road, amid the quiet of the\ncountry and the hills.\n\nParts of its crypt and tower may antedate 900, but the church itself was\nre-built in the XII and XIII centuries. The course of time has brought\nnone of the incongruities which have ruined many churches by the\nso-called restorations of the last three hundred years, and although its\nsimple Romanesque is sadly unrepaired, it is a delight to come into the\nsolitude and find an unspoiled example of this stanch old style.\n\n[Illustration: THE INTERIOR OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-BOURG.--DIGNE.]\n\nThe Romanesque shows forth its great solidity in the exterior of its\nchurches, and nowhere more than in Digne's deserted Cathedral. Flat\nbuttresses line the walls, the transepts are square and plain, and on\neither side the facade wall is upheld by a formidable support. This\nseverity of line is not greatly modified by the deep recesses of a few\nwindows; nor is the tower--which lost its spire three hundred years\nago--of less sober construction, less solidly built. Below the\noverhanging eaves of a miserable roof and the curious line of the nave\nvault which projects through the wall, is a round window with a frame of\nmassive rolls and hollows; and below this again, under a narrow sloping\ncovering, is the deep arch of the Cathedral's porch. This, in its prime,\nmust have been the church's ornamental glory. Beneath the outer arch,\nwhich is continued to the buttresses by half-arches, are the great\nroll-mouldings that twist backward to a plain tympanum. Capitals still\nsupport these massive curves of stone, but the niches in which the\ncolumns formerly stood are empty, and grinning lions, lying on the\nground, no longer support the larger columns of the plain arch. All\nstands in solemn decay.\n\nThe traveller entered a battered, brass-nailed door and saw before him\nthe stretch of a single, empty nave, a choir beneath whose lower vault\nare three small windows, and on either side the archways which he knew\nmust lead to narrow transepts. In the south side, plain, rounded windows\ngive a glimmering light, and over each projects an arch, the modest\ndecoration of the walls. Far above rises the tunnel-vault, whose sheer\nheight is grandly dignified; the arches rest on roughly carved capitals,\nand the outer rectangle of the piers is displaced for half a column. The\nrehearsal of these most simple details seems but the writing of \"the\nletter which killeth,\" and not the portrayal of the spirit that seems to\nlive within these walls. Details which seem so poorly few when read, are\nnobly so when seen. This small old church has a true religious\nstateliness, and it seemed as if a priest should bring the\nSanctuary-light which says, \"The Lord is in His holy temple.\"\n\nSaint-Jerome was built between 1490 and 1500, a hundred years before its\nepiscopal elevation, and forms a most complete antithesis to\nNotre-Dame-du-Bourg which it supplanted in 1591. Where Notre-Dame is\nsmall, Saint-Jerome is large, where the old church is simple, the newer\none is either pretentious or sumptuous, and where the one is Romanesque,\nthe other is Gothic.\n\nThe present Cathedral stands on the heights of the city; and from one\nside or another its clean, straight walls can be seen in all their large\nangularity and absence of architectural significance. Towers rise\nconventionally above the facade; and a big broad flight of white stone\nsteps leads to three modern portals that have been built in an\neconomical imitation of the sculptured richness of the XIII century.\n\nThe interior, also Gothic, has neither clerestory nor triforium, and its\nnaves are covered by a vaulting which springs broadly from the round,\nsupporting piers. The conception is not noble, it has no simplicity, and\nno more of spiritual suggestion than a Madonna of Titian; but the space\nof the nave is so largely generous and the new polychrome so richly\ntoned that the church has majesty of space and harmony, deep lights and\nsubdued colourings; it is large and sumptuous with the munificence of a\nVeronese canvas, a singular and most curious contrast to the cold\nseverity of its outer walls.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE INTERIOR HAS NEITHER CLERESTORY NOR\nTRIFORIUM.\"--DIGNE.]\n\nBefore the High Altar of this Church lies buried one whose spirit\nsuggests the Christ, a Bishop, yet a simple priest, whose life deserves\nmore words than does the whole of Saint-Jerome, once his\nCathedral-church. He was a Cure of Brignoles, one of those keen, yet\nsimple-hearted and hard-working priests who often bless Provencal towns.\nHe had no great ambitions, no patronage, no ties except a far-off\nbrother who was an upstart general of that most upstart Emperor,\nNapoleon. One day while the priest was pottering in his little\ngarden,--as Provencal Cures love to dig and work,--a letter was handed\nhim, marked \"thirty sous of postage due.\" He was outraged. His shining\nold soutane fell from the folds in which he had prudently tucked it, he\nshrugged his shoulders and protested,--\"A great expense indeed for a\ntrivial purpose. Where should he find another thirty sous for his poor?\nHe never wrote letters. Therefore by no argument of any school of logic\ncould he be compelled to receive them. Obviously this was not for him.\"\nThe unexpected letter was one for which his brother had asked and which\nNapoleon had signed, a decree which made him Bishop.\n\nLong afterwards this simple, saintly prelate saved a man from crime, and\nhistory relates that this same man died at Waterloo as a good and\nfaithful soldier fighting for the fatherland. His benefactor, that loyal\nservant of Christ and His Church, soon followed him in death, and unlike\nmany a Saint whom this earth forgets his memory lives on, not only in\nthe little city of the snow-clad Alps, but in the hearts of those who\nread of his good deeds. For Monseigneur Miollis of Digne is truly\nMonseigneur Bienvenu of \"Les Miserables,\" and only the soldier of\nWaterloo was glorified in Jean Valjean.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Forcalquier.]\n\nIf it is difficult to picture sleepy, stately Aix as one of the most\nbrilliant centres of mediaeval Europe, and the garrisoned castle of\nTarascon filled with the gay courtiers and fair ladies of King Rene's\nCourt, it will be almost impossible to walk in the smaller Provencal\n\"cities,\" and see in imagination the cavalcades of mailed soldiers who\nclattered through the streets on their way to the castle of some\nnear-by hill-top, my lord proudly distinguishable by his mount or the\nlength of his plume, a delicate Countess languishing between the\ncurtains of her litter, or a more sprightly one who rode her palfrey and\nsmiled on the staring townsfolk. It is almost impossible to conceive\nthat the four daughters of Raymond Berenger, a Queen of the Romans, of\nFrance, of Naples, and of England, were brought up in the castle of the\nlittle hillside hamlet of Saint-Maime Dauphin. Provence is quiet, rural,\nprovincial; a land of markets, busy country inns, and farms; not of\nmodern greatness nor of modern renown. Its children are a fine and busy\nrace, no less strong and fine than in the land's more stirring times,\nbut they live their years of greatness in other, \"more progressive\"\nparts of France, and the Provencal genius, which remains very native to\nthe soil, is broadly known to fame as \"French.\" Like some rich old wine\nhidden in the cellars of the few, Provence lies safely ensconced behind\nAvignon and Arles, and only the epicures of history penetrate her hills.\n\nHer mediaeval ruins seem to belong to a past almost as dead and ghostly\nas her Roman days, and to realise her Middle Ages, one must leave the\nbusy people in the town below, climb one of the hills, and sitting\nbeside the crumbling walls of some great tower or castle, watch the hot\nsun setting behind the low mountains and lighting in a glow the bare\nwalls of some other ruined stronghold on a neighbouring height. The\nshadows creep into the valleys, the rocks grow grey and cold, and the\nclusters of trees beside them become darkly mysterious. Then far beneath\na white thread seems to appear, beginning at the valley's entrance and\ntwisting along its length until it disappears behind another hill. This\nis the road; and by the time the eye has followed its long course,\ndaylight has grown fainter. Then Provence takes on a long-lost\nsplendour. To those who care to see, cavalcades of soldiers or of\nhunters come home along the road, castles become whole and frowning, the\ndying sun casts its light through their gaping window-holes, as light of\nnightly revels used to shine, and a phantom Mediaevalism appears.\n\nOne of the powerful families of the country, the Counts of Forcalquier,\nsprang from the House of Berenger in the XI century, and a hundred and\nfifty years later, grown too great, were crushed by the haughty parent\nhouse. More than one hill of Eastern Provence has borne their tall\nwatchtowers, more than one village owed them allegiance, and a large\ntown in the hills was their capital and bore their name. And yet not a\nruined tower that overlooks the Provencal mountains, not a village,\ngate, or castle--Manosque or old Saint-Maime,--but speaks more vividly\nof the old Counts than does Forcalquier, formerly their city, now a mere\ncountry town which has lost prestige with its increasing isolation, many\nof its inhabitants by plagues and wars, and almost all of its\npicturesque Mediaevalism through the destructiveness of sieges.\n\nLong before this day of contented stagnancy, in 1061, when Forcalquier,\nfortified, growing, and important, claimed many honours, Bishop Gerard\nCaprerius of Sisteron had given the city a Provost and a Chapter, and\ncreated the Church of Saint-Mary, co-cathedral with that of Notre-Dame\nof Sisteron. Not contented with this honour, Forcalquier demanded and\nreceived a Bishopric of her own. Her hill was then crowned by a Citadel,\nher Cathedral stood near-by, her walls were intact. Now the Citadel is\nreplaced by a peaceful pilgrims' chapel, the walls are gone, Saint-Mary,\nruined in the siege of 1486, is recalled only by a few weed-covered\nstumps and bits of wall, and its title was given to Notre-Dame in the\nlower part of the town.\n\nNo Cathedral is a sadder example of architectural failure than\nNotre-Dame of Forcalquier because it has so many of the beginnings of\nreal beauty and dignity, so many parts of real worthiness that have been\nunfortunately combined in a confused and discordant whole. If, of all\nlittle cities of Provence, Forcalquier is one of the least unique and\nleast holding, its Cathedral is also one of the least satisfying. It is\nnot beautiful in situation nor in its own essential harmony, and the\nfine but tantalising perspectives of its interior may be found again in\nhappier churches.\n\nThe exterior shows to a superlative degree that general tendency of\nProvencal exteriors to be without definite or logical proportions. A\nlarge, square tower, heavier than that of Grasse, served as a lookout, a\ntall, thin little turret served as a belfry. In the facade there is a\nGothic portal which notwithstanding its entire mediocrity is the chief\nadornment of the outer walls. They are irregular and uncouth to a degree\nand their only interesting features are at the eastern end. Here the\nsmaller, older apses on either side betray the church's early origin.\nThe central apse, evidently of the same dimensions as the Romanesque one\noriginally designed, was re-built in severe, rudimentary Gothic. Looking\nat this shallow apse alone, and following its plain lines until they\nmeet those of the big tower, there is a straight simplicity that is\nalmost fine,--but this is one mere detail in a large and barren whole,\nand the Cathedral-seeker turns to the nearest entrance.\n\n[Illustration: \"A LARGE, SQUARE TOWER SERVED AS A\nLOOKOUT.\"--FORCALQUIER.]\n\n[Illustration: \"A SUGGESTIVE VIEW FROM THE SIDE AISLE.\"--FORCALQUIER.]\n\nThe first glimpse of the interior is so relieving that one is not quick\nto notice its lack of architectural unity. The few windows give a soft\nlight, and the brown of the stone has a mellowness that is both rich and\nreposeful. If the Cathedral could have been finished in the style of the\nfirst bays of the nave, it would have been a nobly dignified example of\nthe Romanesque. Could it have been re-built in the slender Gothic of the\nlast bay, it would have been an exquisite example of Provencal Gothic.\nRather largely planned, its old form of tunnel vaulting and the fine\ncurve of its nave arches and heavy piers are in violent contrast to the\nGothic bay, with its pointed arch, its clustered columns and carved\ncapitals, which, even with the shallow choir and its long, slim windows,\nis too slight a portion of the Cathedral to have independence or real\nbeauty. From its ritualistic position, it is the culminating point of\nthe church, and its discord with the Romanesque is unpleasantly\ninsistent. The side aisles, which were built in the XVII century, are\nlow, agreeable walks ending in the chapels of the smaller apses. They\nare neither very regular nor very significant; but they give the church\npleasant size and perspectives, and by avoiding the unduly large and\nshining modern chandeliers which hang between the nave arches, one gets\nfrom these side aisles the suggestive views which show only too well\nwhat true and good architectural ideas were brought to confusion in the\nre-building, the additions, and the restorations of the centuries. In\npainting, anachronisms may be quaint or even amusing; but in\narchitecture, they are either grotesque or tragic, and in a church of\nsuch fine suggestiveness as Notre-Dame at Forcalquier, one is haunted by\nlingering regrets for what might and should have been.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Vence.]\n\nA founder of the French Academy and one of its first immortal forty was\nAntoine Godeau, \"the idol of the Hotel Rambouillet.\" His mind was\nformed, as it were, by one of the most clever women of that brilliantly\nfoolish coterie, he sang frivolous sonnets to a beautiful red-haired\nmistress whom he sincerely admired, and when he entered Holy Church,\nnone of his charming friends believed that he would do more than modify\nthe proper and agreeable conventionalities of his former life. They\nthought that he would add to the grace of his worldly manner the suavity\nof the ecclesiastic, that he would choose a pulpit of Paris, and that,\nsitting at his feet, they could enjoy the elegant phrases with which he\nwould embellish a refined and delicately attenuated religion. But an\naged prelate of the far South judged the new priest differently, he had\nsounded the heart of the man who, at the age of thirty, had quietly\nrenounced a flattering, admiring world; and his dying prayer to\nRichelieu was that Godeau should succeed him in the See of Vence. The\nkeen worldly wisdom of the Cardinal confirmed the old Bishop's more\nspiritual insight, and Godeau was named Bishop of the neighbouring\nGrasse.\n\nFar away in his mountain-city of flower gardens and sweet odours, the\nnew Bishop wrote to his Parisian friends that, for his part, he \"found\nmore thorns than orange-blossoms.\" The Calvinists, from the rock of\nAntibes, openly defied him; in spite of the vehement opposition of their\nChapters and against his will, the Bishoprics of Grasse and Vence were\nunited, and he was made the Bishop of the two warring, discontented\nSees. He was stoned at Vence; and even his colleague in temporal power,\nthe Marquis of Villeneuve, showed himself as insolent as he dared. At\nlength the King came to his aid, and being given his choice of the Sees,\nGodeau immediately left \"the perfumed wench,\" as he called Grasse, and\nchose to live and work among his one-time enemies of Vence. This gentle\nand courageous prelate is typical of the long line of wise men who ruled\nthe Church in the tight little city of the Provencal hills. From Saint\nVeran the wonder-worker, and Saint Lambert the tender nurse of lepers,\nto the end, they were men noted for bravery, goodness, and learning, and\nit was not till the Revolution that one was found--and fittingly the\nlast--who, hating the \"Oath\" and fearing the guillotine, fled his See.\n\nThis city of good Bishops was founded in the dim, pagan past of Gaul.\nFrom a rocky hill-top, its inhabitants had watched the burning of their\nfirst valley-town and they founded the second Vence on that height of\nsafety to which they had escaped with their lives. Here, far above the\nAurelian road, the Gallic tribes had a strong and isolated camp. Then\nthe prying Romans found them out, and priests of Mars and Cybele\nreplaced those of the cruder native gods, and they, in turn, gave way to\nthe apostle of the Christians. Where a temple stood, a church was built;\nand unlike many early saints who looked upon old pagan images as homes\nof devils and broke them into a thousand pieces with holy wrath and\nwords of exorcism, the prelate of Vence buried an image of a vanquished\ngod under each and every pillar of his church, in sign of Christian\ntriumph.\n\nThese early days of the Faith were days of growth for the little city,\nand she prospered in her Mediaevalism. High on her hill, she was too\ndifficult of access to suffer greatly from marauding foes, and hidden\nfrom the sea, she did not excite the cupidity of the Mediterranean\nrovers. When Antibes and Nice were sacked, her little ledge of rock was\nsafe; and people crowded thick and fast behind her walls, until no\nbee-hive swarmed so thick with bees as her few streets with citizens.\nHere were arts and occupations, burghers and charters, riches and\nliberties. Here came the Renaissance, and Vence had eager, if not famous\nsculptors, painters, and organ-builders, and a family of artists whom\neven the dilettante Francis I deigned to patronise.\n\nSuch memories of a busy, energetic past seem fairy-tales to those who\nwalk to-day about the dark and narrow streets of Vence. She scarcely has\noutgrown her ancient walls, her civic life is dead, and in her virtual\nisolation from the modern world she lives a dreary, quiet old age.\n\nThe old Cathedral, Notre-Dame, lies in the heart of the town; and takes\none back along the years, far past the Renaissance, to those grim\nmediaeval days when even churches were places of defence. It is a low,\nunimpressive building, said to have been built on the site of the Roman\nTemple in the IV century. Enlarged or re-built in the X century, it was\nthen long and narrow, a Latin cross. But in the XII century, deep, dark\nbays were added; in the XV, tribunes were built, the form of the apse\nwas changed to an oval and it was decorated in an inharmonious style;\nand a hundred years ago the nave vault was re-built in an ellipse.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE OLD ROUND ARCH OF THE BISHOP'S PALACE.\"--VENCE.]\n\nIn the side wall there is a low portal of a late, decadent style, which\nopens on the little square, but there is no real facade; and to see the\nchurch, the traveller passed under the old round arch of the Bishop's\nPalace, through a small, damp street to another tinier square where the\napse and tower stand. The little Cathedral-churches of Provence are\nalways simply built, but here a rectangle, a low gabled roof, a small,\nround-headed window in the wall, would have been architectural bareness\nif a high, straight tower had not crowned it all. This crenellated tower\nis a true type of its time, square, yet slim and strong, and crudely\ngraceful as some tall young poplar of the plains beneath. In the XI and\nXII centuries, its early days, it was the city's lookout. Families lived\nhigh up in its walls, and the traveller could imagine, in this little\nold, deserted square, the crowds who gathered round the tower's base,\nand called for news of enemies and battle as moderns gather about the\nmore prosaic bulletin of printed news. He could see them surging,\npeering up; and from above he almost heard the watcher's cry, \"They're\ncoming on,\"--with the great answering howl beneath, and the rush to\narms. Or, \"They pass us by,\" and then what breaking into little laughing\ngroups, what joy, what dancing, and what praying, that lasted far into\nthe evening hours.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE LOW, BROAD ARCHES AND THE GREAT, SUPPORTING\nPILLARS.\"--VENCE.]\n\nThe traveller came back in thought to modern times and went into the\nchurch, that church of five low naves and many restorations, that\nproduct of most diverse fancies. It is painted in lugubrious white, and\nits pillars have false bases in a palpable imitation of veined red\nmarble. Its pure and early form, the Latin cross, is gone, its fine old\nstalls are hidden in a gallery, and at the altar Corinthian columns\ndesecrate its ancient Romanesque. Yet in spite of the incongruities the\natmosphere of the church is truly that of its dim past. There are the\nlow broad arches, the great, supporting pillars that are massive\nbuttresses; there is the simple practicality of a style that aimed at a\nprotecting strength rather than at any art of beauty; there is the\nsemi-darkness of the small, safe windows, and the little, guarded space\nwhere the praying few increased a thousand-fold in times of danger. This\nis, in spite of all defects, the small Provencal church where in days of\npeace cloudy incense slowly circled round the shadowy forms of chanting\npriests, and where in times of war a crowd of frightened women and their\nchildren prayed in safety for the men who sallied forth to fight in\ntheir defence.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Grasse.]\n\nHe who is unloving of the past may well rush by its treasures in a\npuffing automobile, he who is bored by olden thoughts can hurry on by\nrail, but the man who wishes to know the old hill-towns of France, to\nsee them as they seemed to their makers, and realise their one-time\nmagnificence and strength, must walk from one town to the next, and\nclimb their steep heights; must see great towers rise before him, great\nwalls loom above him, and realise how grandly strong these places were\nwhen it was man to man and sword to sword, strength against strength. He\nmust arrive, dust-covered, at the cities' gates or drive into their\nnarrow streets on the small coach which still passes through,--for they\nare of the times when great men rode and peasants walked and steam was\nall unknown. Then he will realise how very large the world once was, how\nfar from town to town; and once within those high, protecting walls, he\nwill understand why the citizen of mediaeval days found in his town a\nworld sufficient to itself, and why he was so often well content to\nspend his life at home.\n\nThe power and the force of an isolated, self-concentrated interest is\nwell illustrated in the history of the free cities of the Middle Ages,\nand Grasse may be counted one of these. Counts she had in name; but the\nBerengers and Queen Jeanne had granted her charters which she had the\npower to keep; she was once wealthy enough to declare war with Pisa, and\nin the XII century the leaders of her self-government were \"Consuls by\nthe grace of God alone.\" Therefore when Antibes continued to be greatly\nmenaced by blasphemous pirates, the Bishopric was removed to Grasse,\nrich, strong, and safe behind the hills, where it endured from 1244,\nthrough all the perils of the centuries, until by a pen-stroke Napoleon\nwiped it out in 1801.\n\n[Illustration: \"HIGHER THAN THEM ALL STANDS THE CATHEDRAL.\"--GRASSE.]\n\nTo come to Grasse on foot or in the stage, will well repay the traveller\nof old-fashioned moods and fancies. Afar, her houses seem to crowd\ntogether, as they used to crowd within the walls, her red roofs rise\nfantastically one above the other, and higher than them all stands the\nCathedral with its firm, square tower. Such must have been old Grasse,\nperched on the summit of her hill. But once inside the town, these\nillusions cease. Here are the hotels and the Casino of a thermal\nstation, and the factories of a new world. The traveller finds that the\nbroad upper boulevards are filled with tourists and smart English\nvisitors; and in the narrow streets pert factory-hands come noisily from\nwork. Still he climbs on toward the Cathedral, through tortuous streets\nand little alley-ways. And in the gloomiest of them all there is no\nodour of a stale antiquity, but the perfume of a garden-full of roses,\nof a thousand orange-blossoms, and of locusts, honey-sweet, and he\nbegins to think himself enchanted. He feels the dark, old houses are\nunreal, as if, instead of cobble-stones beneath his feet, there must be\nthe soft and tender grass of Araby the Blest. Such is the magic of a\ntrade, the perfume industry of Grasse that for so many hundreds of years\nhas made her meanest streets full of refreshing fragrance.\n\nBreathless from the climb, the traveller stepped at length into the\nlittle square, before a most ungainly Cathedral. \"Chiefly built in the\nXII century,\" it may have been, but so bedizened by the Renaissance that\nits heavy old Provencal walls and massive pillars seem to exist merely\nas supports for additions or unreasonable decorations of a poor Italian\nstyle. A certain Monseigneur of the XVII century re-built the choir in a\ndeep, rectangular form; another prelate enlarged the church proper and\nruined it by constructing a tribune over the aisles, and desiring the\nrevenues of a new burial-place, he ordered Vauban to accomplish the\ndaring construction of a crypt. Still another Bishop with like\narchitectural tastes built a large new chapel which opens from the south\naisle; and with these additions and XVIII century changes in the facade,\nthe original style of the church was obscured. In spite of the pitiful\nremains of dignity which its three aisles, its firm old pillars, and its\nheight still give to the interior, it is as a whole so mean a building\nthat it has fittingly lost the title of Cathedral.\n\n[Illustration: THE \"PONT D'AVIGNON.\"]\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nRIVER-SIDE CATHEDRALS.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Avignon.]\n\nEverything which surrounds the Cathedral of Avignon, its situation, its\ncity, its history, is so full of romance and glamour that it is only\nafter very sober second thought one realises that the church itself is\nthe least of the papal buildings which majestically overtower the Rhone,\nor of those royal ruins which face them as proudly on the opposite bank\nof the river. Yet no church in Provence is richer in tradition, and in\nhistory more romantic than tradition.\n\nThe foundation of this church goes back to the first Avignon, a small\ncolony of river-fishermen which gave way before the Romans, who\nestablished a city, Avernio, on the great rocky hill two hundred feet\nabove the Rhone. Some hundreds of years later the first Christian\nmissionaries to Gaul landed near the mouth of this river,--Mary the\nmother of James, Saint Sara the patron of gypsies, Lazarus, his sister\nMartha, and Saint Maximin. Before these storm-tossed Saints lay the fair\nand pagan country of Provence, the scene of their future mission; and if\ntradition is to be further believed, each went his way, to work mightily\nfor the sacred cause. Maximin lived in the town that bears his name,\nLazarus became the first Bishop of Marseilles, and Saint Martha ascended\nthe Rhone as far as Avignon and built near the site of the present\nCathedral an oratory in honour of the Virgin \"then living on the earth.\"\nTwo early churches, of which this chapel was perhaps a part, were\ndestroyed in the Saracenic sieges of the VIII century; an inscription in\nthe porch of the present Cathedral records the very interesting mediaeval\naccount of its re-building and re-consecration nearly a hundred years\nlater. It was, so runs the tale, the habit of a devout woman to pray in\nthe church every night; and after the Cathedral had been finished by the\ngenerous aid of Charlemagne, she happened there at midnight, and\nwitnessed the descent of Christ in wondrous, shining light. There at the\nHigh Altar, surrounded by ministering angels, he dedicated the Cathedral\nto His Mother, Our Lady of Cathedrals; and so it has been called to the\npresent day. If it is an impossible and ungrateful task to disprove that\nthe re-construction, or at least the re-founding of this Cathedral was\nthe work of Charlemagne, so munificent a patron and dutiful a son of the\nChurch, to prove it is equally impossible. A martyrology of the XI\ncentury speaks of a dedication in 1069, but as this ceremony had been\npreceded by another extensive re-building, and was followed by many\nother changes, the oldest portions of the present church are to be most\naccurately ascribed to the XI, XII, and XIV centuries. The additions of\nthe centuries following the papal return to Rome have greatly changed\nthe appearance of the church. A large chapel, built in 1506, gives\nalmost a northern nave. In 1671, Archbishop Ariosto thought the interior\nwould be gracefully improved by a Renaissance gallery which should\nencircle the entire nave from one end of the choir to the other. To\naccomplish this new work, the old main piers below the gallery were cut\naway, the wall arches were changed, and columns and piers, almost\nentirely new, arose to support a shallow, gracefully balustraded balcony\nand its bases of massive carving. Nine years later a new Archbishop\nadded to the north side a square XVII century chapel, richly ornamental\nin itself, but entirely out of harmony with the fundamental style of the\nchurch. Other chapels, less distinguished, which have been added from\ntime to time, line the nave both north and south, and all are excrescent\nto the original plan. Of the exterior, only the facade retains its\nprimitive character. The side-walls, \"entirely featureless,\" as has been\nwell said, \"reflect only the various periods of the chapels which have\nbeen added to the Cathedral,\" and the apse was re-built in 1671, in a\nheavy, uninteresting form.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE INTERIOR HAS A SHALLOW, GRACEFULLY BALUSTRADED\nBALCONY.\"--AVIGNON.]\n\nThese additions, superimposed ornamentations, and rebuildings, together\nwith the very substantial substructure of the primitive Cathedral, form\nto-day a small church of unimpressive, conglomerate style, and except\nfor its history, unnoteworthy. It is therefore a church whose interest\nis almost wholly of the past; and the traveller goes back in\nimagination, century after century, to the era of Papal residency, when\nthe Cathedral was not only ecclesiastically important, but\narchitecturally in its best and purest form. This church, which Clement\nV found on his removal to Avignon, and which may still be easily traced,\nwas of the simple, primitive Provencal style. No dates of that period\nare sufficiently accurate to rely upon; but its interest lies not so\nmuch in chronology as in its portrayal of the general type. The interior\nis the usual little hall church of the XI century, with its aisle-less\nnave of five bays, and plain piers supporting a tunnelled roof, with\ndouble vault arches. Beyond the last bay, over the choir, is the\nCathedral's octagonal dome, and from the rounded windows of its lantern\ncomes much of the light of the interior, which is sombre and without\nother windows of importance.\n\nThe facade is architecturally one of the most significant parts of the\nchurch. Above the portal the wall is supported on either side by plain\nheavy buttresses, and directly continued by the solid bulk of the tower.\nIn 1431 this tower replaced the original one which fell in the\nearthquake of 1405. It is conjecturally similar, a heavy rectangle which\nquite overweighs the church; plain, with its stiff pilasters and two\nstories of rounded windows; without grace or proper proportion, but\npleasing by the unblemished severity of its lines. Above the balustrade\nwith which the tower may be properly said to terminate, the religious\nart of the XIX century has erected as its contribution to the Cathedral\na series of steps, an octagon, and a colossal, mal-proportioned statue\nof the Virgin. These additions are inharmonious; and the finest part of\nthe facade is the porch, so classic in detail that it was formerly\nsupposed to be Roman, a work of the Emperor Constantine. Like the rest\nof the church, its general structure is plain and somewhat severe, with\nsmall, richly carved details, in this instance closely Corinthian. The\nrounded portal of entrance is an entablature, enclosed as it were by\ntwo supporting columns; and above, in the pointed pediment, is a\ncircular opening curiously foreshadowing that magnificent development of\nthe North--the rose-window. Passing through the vestibule, whose\ntunnel-vault supports the tower, the minor portal appears, almost a\nreplica of the outer door, and the whole forms an unusual mode of\nentrance, graceful in detail, ponderous in general effect. Far behind\nthe tower of the facade rises the last significant feature of the\nexterior, the little lantern. It is an octagon with Doric and Corinthian\nmotifs, continuing the essential characteristics of the interior, and\nexceedingly typical of Provence.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE PORCH SO CLASSIC IN DETAIL.\"--AVIGNON. _From an old\nprint._]\n\nInto this church, with its few, unusually classic details, its\nProvencal simplicity, its very modest size and plainness, the\nmunificence of papal pomp was introduced. This was in 1308, an era of\npapal storm and stress. Not ten years before, Boniface VIII, with the\ntradition of Canossa spurring his haughty ambitions, had launched a bull\nagainst Philip III, whom he knew to be a bad king and whom he was to\nfind an equally bad, rebellious Christian. \"God,\" said the Prelate, from\nRome, \"has constituted us, though unworthy, above kings and kingdoms, to\nseize, destroy, disperse, build, and plant in His name and by His\ndoctrine. Therefore, do not persuade thyself that thou hast no superior,\nand that thou art not subject to the head of the ecclesiastical\nhierarchy; he who thinks thus is insensate, he who maintains it is\ninfidel.\"\n\nPast indeed was the time of Henry of Germany, long past the proud day\nwhen a Pope received an Emperor who knelt and waited in the snow. Philip\nburned the Bull; and to prevent other like fulminations, sent an agent\ninto Italy. Gathering a band, he found the aged Pontiff at Anagni, his\nbirthplace, seated on a throne, crowned with the triple crown, the Cross\nin one hand and in the other Saint Peter's Keys, the terrible Keys of\nHeaven and Hell. They called on him to abdicate, but Boniface thought of\nChrist his Lord, and cried out in defiant answer, \"Here is my neck, here\nis my head. Betrayed like Jesus Christ, if I must die like him, I will\nat least die Pope.\" For reply, Sciarra Colonna, one of his own Roman\nCounts, struck him in the face. Buffeted by a noble, and openly defied\nby a king, Boniface died \"of shame and anger.\" A month later, this same\nking rejoiced, if nothing more, at the death of the Pope's successor;\nand in the dark forests of Saint-Jean-d'Angely, Philip bargained and\nsold the great Tiara to a Gascon Archbishop who, if Villani speaks\ntruly, \"threw himself at the royal feet, saying, 'It is for thee to\ncommand and for me to obey; such will ever be my disposition!'\" As was\nnot unnatural, the will of the French king was that the Pope should\nremain within the zone of royal influence. So Clement lived at Bordeaux\nand at Poitiers, and finally retired to the County of Venaissin which\nthe Holy See possessed by right, and established the pontifical court at\nAvignon.\n\nThis transfer of the papal residence to Avignon has left many and deep\ntraces on the history of French Catholicism. The Holy See was no longer\nfar remote; the French ecclesiastic desirous of promotion had no\ndangerous mountains to traverse, no strange city to enter, no foreign\nPontiff to besiege, ignorant or indifferent to his claims. The next\nsuccessor of Saint Peter would logically be a Frenchman, and there was\nnot only a possibility, but a probability for every man of note, that he\nmight be either the occupant of the Sacred Chair or its favoured\nsupporter. So Avignon became a city of priests as Rome had been before\nher; and as France was the richest country in Europe and the Church\nregally wealthy, splendour, luxury, and constant religious spectacles\nrejoiced the city, and Bishop, Archbishop, and Abbot, brazenly\nneglecting the duties of their Sees, lived here and were seldom \"in\nresidence.\" Every one had a secret ambition. Of such a situation, the\nPopes were not slow to reap the benefits. Difference of wealth, which\nbrought difference of position, counted much and was keenly felt. Abbots\nof smaller monasteries found themselves inferior to Bishops, especially\nin freedom from papal interference; while from the inherent wealth and\npower of their foundations, the heads of the great monasteries ranked\nsometimes with Archbishops, sometimes even with Cardinals. The Pope had\nthe right to elevate an Abbey or a Priory into a Bishopric, and those\nwho could offer the \"gratification\" or the \"provocative,\" might\nreasonably hope for the desired elevation which at once increased their\nlocal importance, belittled a neighbouring diocese, and freed them to\nsome extent from the direct intermeddling of the Pope. The applications\nfor such an increase of power became numerous, and by 1320 a number of\nBenedictine Abbeys had been made Bishoprics. Their creation greatly\ndecreased the direct and intimate power of the Papacy, but temporarily\nincreased the papal treasury; and John XXII, who left ten million pieces\nof silver and fifteen million in gold with his Florentine bankers, seems\nto have thought philosophically, \"After us, the deluge.\"\n\n[Illustration: NOTRE-DAME-DES-DOMS.--AVIGNON]\n\nAnother favourite diplomatic and financial device, which was invented by\nthese famous Popes of Avignon, was the system of the \"Commende,\" which\nenabled relatives of nobles and all those whom it was desirable to\nplacate, not alone ecclesiastics, but mere laymen and bloody barons, to\nbecome \"Commendatory Abbots\" or \"Commendatory Priors,\" and to receive at\nleast one-third of the monastery's revenues, without being in any way\nresponsible for the monastery's welfare. This care was left to a\nPrior or a Sub-prior, a sort of clerical administrator who, crippled in\nmeans and in influence, was sometimes unable, sometimes unwilling, to\ncarry out the duties and beneficences of past ages, and who was always\nthe victim of a great injustice. The depths of uselessness to which this\ninfamous practice reduced monastic establishments may be inferred, when\nit is remembered that before the XVIII century the famous Abbey of La\nBaume had had thirteen Commendatory Abbots, and that the bastards of\nLouis XIV were Commendatory Priors in their infancy.\n\nThe Popes found the Commende useful, not only as a means of income, but\nas a method--at once secure and lucrative--of gaining to their cause the\ngreat feudal lords of France, and making the power of these lords an\nadded buffer, as it were, between Avignon and the grasping might of the\nFrench Kings. For although the Popes were under \"the special protection\"\nof the Kings, it was as sheep under the special protection of a shearer,\nand they found that they must protect themselves against a too \"special\"\nand royal fleecing. For they did not always agree that--\n\n    \"'Tis as goodly a match as match can be\n    To marry the Church and the fleur-de-lis\n    Should either mate a-straying go,\n    Then each--too late--will own 'twas so.'\"\n\n[Illustration: \"THE TOWER OF PHILIP THE FAIR.\"--VILLENEUVE-LES-AVIGNON.]\n\nHaunted by the humiliation of their heaven-sent power, caged in\n\"Babylonish captivity,\" it is conceivable that the Popes were too\noccupied or, perhaps too distracted, to object to the unsuitable\nmodesty of Notre-Dame-des-Doms. When a Pope swept forth from his\nCathedral, new-crowned, to give \"urbis et orbi\" his first pontifical\nbenediction, his eye glanced, it is true, on the crowds prostrate before\nhim, before the church, awed and breathless; but it fell lingeringly--it\nwas irresistibly drawn--across the swift Rhone to the town of the kings\nwho had defied his power, to the royal city of Villeneuve, and to the\nstrong tower of Philip the Fair, standing proudly in the sunlight. Would\nit be thought strange if their thoughts wandered, or if the portraits of\nthe \"French Popes\" which hang about the Cathedral walls at Avignon,\nshow more worldly preoccupation than is becoming to the successors of\nSaint Peter and Vicars of Christ?\n\nLittle indeed in the days of their residency did the Popes add to\nNotre-Dame-des-Doms. A fragile, slender marvel of Gothic architecture,\nthe tomb of John XXII, was placed in the nave before the altar; and a\nmonument to Benedict XII was raised in the church. But their Holinesses\nincited others in Avignon to good works so successfully that Rabelais\nlaughingly called it the \"Ringing city\" of churches, convents, and\nmonasteries. The bells of Saint-Pierre, Saint-Symphorien, Saint-Agricol,\nSainte-Claire, and Saint-Didier chimed with those of chapels and\nreligious foundations; the Grey Penitents, Black Penitents, and White\nPenitents, priests, and nuns walked the streets, and Avignon grew truly\npapal. Clement V and his successors proceeded to the safeguarding of\ntheir temporal welfare in truly noble fashion; and scarcely fifty years\nlater they had become so well pleased with their new residence that the\nmagnificent Clement VI refused to leave in spite of the supplications of\nPetrarch and Rienzi and a whole deputation of Romans.\n\nDuring the reign of this Pontiff, the Papal Court became one of the\ngayest in Christendom. Clement was frankly, joyously voluptuous; and his\nlife seems one moving pageant in which luxurious banquets, beautiful\nwomen, and ecclesiastical pomps succeeded each other. The lovely\nCountess of Turenne sold his preferments and benefices, the immense\ntreasure of John XXII was his, and he showered such benefits on a\ngrateful family that of the five Cardinals who accompanied his corpse\nfrom Avignon, one was his brother, one his cousin, and three his\nnephews; and that the Huguenots who violated his tomb at La-Chaise-Dieu,\nshould have used his skull as a wine-cup, seems an horrible, but not an\nunfitting mockery. It was in vain that Petrarch hotly wrote, \"the Pope\nkeeps the Church of Jesus Christ in shameful exile.\" The desire for\nreturn to Rome had passed.\n\nAvignon was not an original nor a plenary possession of the Holy\nFathers, but \"the fairest inheritance of the Berengers,\" and it was from\nthat family that half of the city had to be wrested--or obtained. Now\nthe lords of Provence were Kings of Naples and Sicily, and therefore\nvassals of the Holy See. For when the Normans took these Southern states\nfrom the Greeks and thereby incurred the jealousy of all Italy, they had\nwarily placed themselves under the protection of the Pope and agreed to\nhold their new possessions as a papal investiture. It happened at this\ntime that the vassal of the Pope in Naples and in Sicily was the\nbeauteous \"Reino Joanno,\" the heiress of Provence. What she was no\nwriter could describe in better words than these, \"with extreme beauty,\nwith youth that does not fade, red hair that holds the sunlight in its\ntangles, a sweet voice, poetic gifts, regal peremptoriness, a Gallic\nwit, genuine magnanimity, and rhapsodical piety, with strange indecorum\nand bluntness of feeling under the extremes of splendour and misery,\njust such a lovely, perverse, bewildering woman was she, great\ngranddaughter of Raymond-Berenger, fourth Count of Provence,--the pupil\nof Boccaccio, the friend of Petrarch, the enemy of Saint Catherine of\nSiena, the most dangerous and most dazzling woman of the XIV century. So\ntypically Provencal was this Queen's nature, that had she lived some\ncenturies later, she might have been Mirabeau's sister. The same\n'terrible gift of familiarity,' the same talent of finding favour and\nswaying popular assemblages, the same sensuousness, bold courage, and\ngreat generosity were found in this early orphaned, thrice widowed\nheiress of Provence. To this day, the memory of the Reino Joanno lives\nin her native land, associated with numbers of towers and fortresses,\nthe style of whose architecture attests their origin under her reign. It\nsays much for her personal fascinations that far from being either\ncursed or blamed she is still remembered and praised. The ruins of\nGremaud, Tour Drainmont, of Guillaumes, and a castle near Roccaspervera,\nall bear her name: at Draguignan and Flagose, they tell you her canal\nhas supplied the town with water for generations: in the Esterels, the\npeasants who got free grants of land, still invoke their benefactress.\nAt Saint-Vallier, she is blessed because she protected the hamlet near\nthe Siagne from the oppression of the Chapters of Grasse and Lerins. At\nAix and Avignon her fame is undying because she dispelled some\nrobber-bands; at Marseilles she is popular because she modified and\nsettled the jurisdiction of Viscounts and Bishops. Go up to Grasse and\nin the big square where the trees throw a flickering shadow over the\nstreet-traders, you will see built in a vaulted passage a flight of\nstone steps, steps which every barefoot child will tell you belong to\nthe palace of 'La Reino Joanno.' Walls have been altered, gates have\ndisappeared, but down those time-worn steps once paced the liege lady of\nProvence, the incomparable 'fair mischief' whose guilt ... must ever\nremain one of the enigmas of history.\" This \"enigma\" has strange\nanalogies to one which has puzzled and impassioned the writers of many\ngenerations, the mystery of that other \"fair mischief\" of a later\ncentury, Mary Queen of Scots. Like Mary, Jeanne was accused of the\nmurder of her young husband, and being pressed by the vengeance of his\nbrother--no less a person than the King of Hungary,--she decided to\nretreat to her native Provence and appeal to the Pope, her gallant and\nnot over-scrupulous suzerain. \"Jeanne landed at Ponchettes,\" continues\nthe writer who has so happily described her, \"and the consuls came to\nassure her of their devotion. 'I come,' replied the heiress, whose wit\nalways suggested a happy phrase, 'to ask for your hearts and nothing but\nyour hearts.' As she did not allude to her debts, the populace threw up\ntheir caps; the Prince de Monaco, just cured of his wound at Crecy,\nplaced his sword at her service; and the Baron de Benil, red-handed from\na cruel murder, besought her patronage which, perhaps from a\nfellow-feeling, she promised with great alacrity. At Grasse she won all\nhearts and made many more promises, and finally, arriving at Avignon,\nshe found Clement covetous of the city and well-disposed to her. Yet\nmorality obliged him to ask an explanation of her recent change of\nhusbands, and before three Cardinals, whom he appointed to be her\njudges, the Queen pleaded her own cause. Not a blush tinged her cheek,\nno tremor altered her melodious voice as she stood before the red-robed\nPrinces of the Church and narrated, in fluent Latin, the story of the\nassassination of Andrew, the death of her child, and her marriage with\nthe murderer, Louis of Tarento, who stood by her side. The wily Pope\nnoted behind her the proud Provencal nobles, the Villeneuves and\nd'Agoults, the de Baux and the Lescaris, who brought the fealty of the\nhill-country, and who did not know that, having already sold her jewels\nto the Jews, their fair Queen was covenanting with the Pope for Avignon.\nThe formal trial ended, the Pontiff solemnly declared the Queen to be\nguiltless,--and she granted him the city for eighty thousand pieces of\ngold.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"THE GREAT PALACE.\"--AVIGNON.]\n\nClement enjoyed ownership in the same agreeable manner as his\npredecessors, \"without the untying of purse-strings.\" Perhaps he used\nthe purse's contents for the more pressing claim of the great Palace of\nwhich he built so large a part; perhaps he handed it, still filled, to\nInnocent VI who built the famous fortifications of Avignon and protected\nhimself against the marauding \"White Companies,\" perhaps it was still\nuntouched when Bertrand du Guesclin and his Grand Company stood before\nthe gate and demanded \"benediction, absolution, and two hundred thousand\npounds.\" \"What!\" the Pope is said to have cried, \"must we give\nabsolution, which here in Avignon is paid for, and then give money\ntoo--it is contrary to reason!\" Du Guesclin replied to the bearer of\nthese words, \"Here are many who care little for absolution, and much for\nmoney,\"--and Urban yielded.\n\nGregory XI, the last of the \"French Popes,\" returned to Rome, and at his\ndeath the \"Great Schism\" followed;--Clement VII, in Avignon, was\nrecognised by France, Spain, Scotland, Sicily, and Cyprus; Urban VI, in\nRome, by Italy, Austria, and England. The County Venaissin was ravaged\nby wars and the pests that come in their train. At length the\nAvignonnais, who had not enjoyed greater peace under their anointed\nrulers than under worldling Counts, rose against Pierre de Luna, the\n\"Anti-pope\" Benedict XIII, who fled. From that time no Pontiff entered\nthe gates, and the city was administered by papal legates. In later\ndays, in spite of the sacred character of its rulers and his own\nundoubted orthodoxy, Louis XIV seized Avignon several times; and Louis\nXV, in unfilial vengeance for the excommunication of the Duke of Parma,\ntook possession of the city. But it was not until after the beginning\nof the French Revolution, in 1791, that the Avignonnais themselves\narose, chased the Vice-Legate of the Pope from the city, and appealed\nfor union with France; and it was at this period that the Chapel of\nSainte-Marthe, the Cloister, and the Chapter House were swept away. Thus\nended the temporal power of the Papacy in France, planned for worldly\nprofit and carried out with many sordid compromises;--a residency\nunnoted for great deeds or noble intentions and whose close marked the\n\"Great Schism.\"\n\nTo-day papal Avignon is become French Avignon, a pleasant city where the\nProvencal sun is hot and where the Mistral whistles merrily. Above the\nbanks of the Rhone the simple Cathedral stands, with its priests still\ngarbed in papal red, its Host still carried under the white papal\npanoply. Here also is the great Palace of the Popes, \"which is indeed,\"\nsays Froissart, \"the strongest and most magnificent house in the world.\"\nAnd yet its grim walls suggest neither peace nor rest; and to him who\nrecalls, this great, impressive pile tells neither of glories nor of\ntriumphs. Bands of unbelieving Pastoureaux marched toward it; soldiers\nof the \"White Companies\" and soldiers of du Guesclin gazed mockingly at\nit; it was the prison of Rienzi, and the home of the harassed Popes who\nhad ever before them, just across the river, the menacing tower of that\n\"fair king\" who had led them into \"Babylonish captivity.\"\n\n\n[Sidenote: Vaison.]\n\nOn the banks of a pleasant little river among the Provencal hills is\nVaison, one of the ancient Gallic towns which became entirely romanised;\nand many illustrious families of the Empire had summer villas there as\nat Arles and Orange. Barbarians of one epoch or another have devastated\nVaison of all her antique treasures, except the remains of an\nAmphitheatre on the Puymin Hill. Germanic tribes who swooped down in\nearly centuries destroyed her villas and her greater buildings; and\nvandals of a later day have scattered her sculptures and her tablets\nhere and there. Some are in the galleries of Avignon; a Belus, the only\none found in France, was sent to the Museum of Saint-Germain; and in the\nmultitude of treasures in the British Museum, the most beautiful of all\nher statues, a Diadumenus, is artistically lost. In the days when it\nstill adorned the city, during the reign of the Emperor Gallienus,\nVaison was christianised by Saint Ruf, her Bishopric was founded, and in\n337 the first General Council of the Church held in Gaul assembled here.\nAnother Council in the V century, and still another in the VI, are proof\nof her continued importance.\n\n[Illustration: \"ON THE BANKS OF A PLEASANT LITTLE RIVER IS VAISON.\"]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE RUINED CASTLE OF THE COUNTS OF TOULOUSE.\"--VAISON.]\n\nAmong the first of Gallo-Roman cities, she was also among the first to\nsuffer. Chrocus and his horde who sacked Orange, seized her Bishop and\nmurdered him; and Alains, Vandals, and Burgundians, following in their\nwake, brought disaster after disaster to the cities lying near the\nRhone. Vaison, by miracle, did not lose her prestige. In the X and XI\ncenturies she built her fine Cathedral with its Cloisters, and in 1179\nshe was still great enough to excite the covetousness of Raymond VI,\nCount of Toulouse. This magnificent and ambitious prince built a castle\non a height above the city, and as he had before terrorised my Lord\nBishop of Carpentras, so now he seized the anointed person of Berenger\nde Reilhane, who was not only Vaison's Bishop, but her temporal prince\nas well. Berenger was a sufficiently powerful personage to make an\noutcry which re-echoed throughout Christendom; the Pope and the Emperor\ncame to his aid; and in the Abbey Church of Saint-Gilles-du-Gard,\nRaymond VI did solemn penance, and, before receiving absolution, was\npublicly struck by the Papal Legate with a bundle of birch rods. Above\nthe Bishop's Palace the great castle still loomed in menace, but on that\nday Berenger de Reilhane triumphed and Vaison was at peace.\n\nIt was a peace which presaged her quiet, uneventful downfall. For other\ninterests were growing stronger in the country, other cities grew where\nshe stood still, and in the XIV century, when Avignon became the seat of\npapal power, Vaison had passed from the world's history. Her Bishopric\nendured till 1801, but her doings are worthy only of provincial\nchronicles and to-day she is but a little country town, served by the\nstage-coach. She still lies on both banks of the river; the \"high city,\"\nwith long rows of deserted houses, climbs the side of the steep hill and\nis dominated by the ruins of the great castle, which Richelieu\ndestroyed. The \"lower city,\" which is the busier of the two, lies on the\nopposite bank; and on its outskirts, in a little garden-close, almost\nsurrounded by the fields, is the Cathedral,--solitary, lonely, and old.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE WHOLE APSE-END.\"--VAISON.]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE SOUTH WALL WHICH IS CLEARLY SEEN FROM THE\nROAD.\"--VAISON.]\n\nThe decoration of the exterior is slight, a dentiled cornice and a\ngraceful foliated frieze extend along the top of the side-walls, which\nalthough most plainly built, are far from being severely angular or\ngaunt and have a quaint and pleasing harmony of line. The west front is\nso featureless that it scarcely deserves the title of facade. The south\nwall, which is clearly seen from the road, has a small portal and plain\nbuttresses that slope at the top. The central apse is rectangular and\nheavy, the little southern apse is short and round, and that of the\nnorth is tall and thin as a pepper-box. Behind them rise the pointed\nroof of the nave and the heavy tower. The whole apse-end is constructed\nin most picturesque irregularity, and the new red of the roof-tiles and\nsombre grey of the old stone add greatly to its charm.\n\nUnlike many churches of its period Notre-Dame of Vaison is three-aisled.\nSlender, narrow naves, whose tunnel vaults are not extremely lofty, end\nin small circular apses. The nave is a short one of three irregular\nbays, and over the last, which precedes the choir, is the little\neight-sided dome, which instead of projecting above the roof is\ncuriously placed a little lower than the tunnel vaulting of the other\nbays. The High Altar, which originally belonged to an older church, is\nwell placed in the simple choir; for it belongs in style, if not in\nactual fact, to the first centuries of the Faith; and in the\nsemi-darkness behind the altar, the old episcopal throne still stands\nagainst the apse's wall, in memory of the custom of the Church's early\ndays. The low arches of the aisles, the dim lighting of the church, its\nsimple ornaments of classic bands and little capitals, its slight\nirregularities of form and carvings, make an interior of fine and strong\nantique simplicity.\n\nA little door in the north wall leads to the Cloisters, which are\nhappily in a state of complete restoration, and not as a modern writer\nhas described them, \"practically a ruin.\" The wall which overlooks them\nhas an inscription that adjures the Canons to \"bear with patience the\nnorth aspect of their cells.\" The short walks have tunnel vaults with\ncross-vaults in the corners and in parts of the north aisle. Great piers\nand small, firm columns support the outer arches; and on the exterior of\nthe Cloister the little arches of the columns are enclosed in a large\nround arch. Many of the capitals are uncarved, some of the piers have\napplied columns, but many are ornamented in straight cut lines. On one\nside, two bays open to the ground, forming an entrance-way into the\npretty close, where the bushy tops of a few tall trees cast flickering\nshadows on the surrounding walls and the little grassy square.\n\n[Illustration: \"TWO BAYS OPEN TO THE GROUND.\"--VAISON.]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE GREAT PIERS AND SMALL FIRM COLUMNS.\"--VAISON.]\n\nThe Cloister is small and simple in its rather heavy grace. Noise and\nunrest seem far from it, and underneath its solid rounded vault is peace\nand shelter from the world. And in its firm solidity of architecture\nthere is the spirit of a perfect quiet, a tranquil charm which must\ninsensibly have calmed many a restless spirit that chafed beneath the\nchurchly frock, and fled within its walls for refuge and for helpful\nmeditation.\n\nFew Provencal Cathedrals have the interest of Vaison and its Cloister.\nLying in the forgotten valley of the Ouveze, in an old-fashioned town,\nall its surroundings speak of the past and its atmosphere is quite\nunspoiled. The church itself has been spared degenerating restorations;\nand although it has no sumptuousness as at Marseilles, no grandeur as at\nArles, no stirring history as the churches that lay near the sea,\nalthough it is one of the smallest and most venerable of them all, no\nCathedral of the Southland has so great an architectural dignity and\nmerit with so ancient and so quaint a charm.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Arles.]\n\nIn the midst of the wealth of antique ruins, near the Theatre, the\nColiseum, and the Forum of this \"little Rome of the Gauls,\" stands a\nnoble monument of the ruder ages of Christianity, the Cathedral,\nSaint-Trophime. Here Saint Augustine, apostle to England, was\nconsecrated; here three General Councils of the Church were held, here\nthe Donatists were doomed to everlasting fire, and here the Emperor\nConstantine, from his summer palace on the Rhone, must have come to\n\"assist\" at Mass. The building in which these solemn scenes of the early\nChurch were enacted soon disappeared and was replaced by the present one\nwhose older walls Revoil attributes to the IX century. The present\nCathedral's first documentary date is 1152, in the era of the Republic\nof Arles. The name of Saint-Etienne was changed, and the body of\nSaint-Trophime, carried in state from the ruined Church of the\nAliscamps, was buried under a new altar and he was solemnly proclaimed\nthe Patron of the richest and most majestic church in all Provence.\n\n[Illustration: \"IN THE MIDST OF THE WEALTH OF ANTIQUE RUINS.\"--ARLES.]\n\n[Illustration: THE FACADE OF SAINT-TROPHIME.--ARLES.]\n\nNearly eight hundred years later a traveller stood before the portal of\nthis church. In the midst of his delighted study he suddenly felt the\nattraction of a pair of watchful eyes, and turned to find a peasant\nwoman gazing fixedly at him. In her strange fascination she had placed\nbeside her, on the ground, two huge melons and a mammoth cabbage, and\nher wizened hands were folded before her, Sunday-fashion. She was a\nlittle witch of a woman, old and bent and brown.\n\n\"Yes, my good gentleman,\" she said, \"I have been looking at you,--five\nwhole minutes of the clock, and much good it has done me. In these days\nof books and such fine learning there is not enough time spent before\nour door; and I who pass by it every day, year in, year out, I have\nwatched well, and only two except yourself have ever studied it. The\nforeigners come with red books and look at them more than at the door\nitself,--they stay perhaps three minutes, and go off, shaking their wise\nheads. Our people, passing every day, see but a door, a place for going\nin and coming out.\" She paused for breath.\n\n\"And what do you see?\" asked the traveller.\n\n\"You ask me?\" She smiled wisely. \"But you know, since you are standing\nhere and looking too. Listen!\" And her old eyes began to gleam. \"I'll\ntell you of a time before you were born. I was a child then; and we\nmarched here every Sunday, other little girls and myself, and we stood\nbefore this door. And the nuns--it was often Sister Mary Dolorosa--told\nus the stories of these stones. See! Here is Our Lord Who loves all\nmankind, but has to judge us too;--and there is Saint-Trophime. But I\ncannot read, Monsieur. An old peasant woman has no time for such fine\nthings, and you will laugh at me for telling you what you have in your\nbooks,--but I have them all here, here in my heart, and many a time I\ntoo come to refresh my old memory, and to pray. Those pictures tell\ngreat lessons to those that have eyes to see them. Well, well-a-day, I\nmust pick up my melons and begone, for I have taken up your time and\nsaid too much. But you will excuse it in an old woman who is good for\nlittle else than talking now.\"\n\nThey parted in true French fashion, with \"expressions of mutual esteem,\"\nand the traveller turned to the portal which was still fulfilling its\nancient mission of teaching and of making beautiful the House of God.\nApplied to a severe facade typical of the plainness of Provencal outer\nwalls, this is one of the noblest works of Mediaevalism, the richest and\nmost beautiful portal of the South of France; and no others in the Midi,\nexcept those of Saint-Gilles-du-Gard and Moissac, are worthy of\ncomparison with it. In boldness and intellectuality of conception it\nexcels many of the northern works and equals the finest of them. For the\nbuilder of the northern portal seems to have held closely to one\narchitectural form, the beautiful convention of the Gothic style; and\nwithin that door he placed, in a more or less usual way, the subjects\nwhich the Church had sanctioned. In nearly every case the treatment of\nthe subject is subordinated to the general architectural plan and\nsymmetry. At Saint-Trophime there was the limit of space, the axiom that\na door must be a door, and doubtless many allowable subjects. But within\nthese necessary bounds the unknown sculptor recognised few\nconventionalities. The usual place for the portrayal of the Last\nJudgment, the tympanum, was too small for his conception of the scene;\nthe pier that divides his door-way was not built to support the statue\nof the church's patron saint; he had a multitude of fancies, and instead\nof curbing them in some beautiful conventionality of form, as one feels\ngreat northern builders often did, this artist made a frame within which\nhis ideas found free play, and, forcing conventionality to its will, his\ngenius justified itself. For not only is the portal as a whole, full of\ndignity and true symmetry, but its details are thoughtfully worked out.\nThey show, with the old scholastic form of his Faith, the grasp of the\nunknown master's mind, the intellectuality of his symbolism, and few\nportals grow in fascination as this one, few have so interesting an\noriginality.\n\n[Illustration: RIGHT DETAIL, PORTAL.--ARLES.]\n\nIn design it is simple, in execution incomparably rich. The principal\ntheme of the Last Judgment has Christ seated on a throne as the central\nfigure, and about him are the symbols of the four Evangelists. This is\nthe treatment of the tympanum. Underneath, Patriarchs, Saints, Just, and\nCondemned form the beautiful frieze. The Apostles are seated; and to\ntheir left is an angel guarding the gates of Paradise against two\nBishops and a crowd of laymen who have yet to fully expiate their sins\nin Purgatory. Behind them, naked, with their feet in the flames, are\nthose condemned to everlasting Hell; and still beyond is a lower depth\nwhere souls are already half-consumed in hideous fires. On the Apostles'\nextreme right is the beginning of our human history, the Temptation of\nAdam and Eve; and marching toward the holy men, on this same side, is\nthe long procession of those Redeemed from Adam's fall, clothed in\nrighteousness. An angel goes before them, and hands a small child--a\nransomed soul--to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The end panels treat the\nlast phases of the dominant theme;--a mammoth angel in the one weighs\nthe souls of the dead; and an equally awe-inspiring devil in the other\nis preparing to cast two of the Lost into a sea of fire.\n\nThe remainder of the portal tells of many subjects, and represents much\nof the theological symbolism of its time. Light, graceful columns, with\ndelicately foliated capitals and bases rich with meaning sculptures,\ndivide the lower spaces into niches, and in these niches stand statues\nof Apostles and of Saints, each having his story, each his peculiar\nattributes; and about these chief figures are carved rich designs,\nstrange animals, and numberless short stories of the Bible. Above there\nis a small, subsidiary frieze; below, the pedestals which tell the tale\nof those who stand upon them. The figures have life and meaning, if not\na true plasticity; and in this portal there is instruction, variety, and\nmajesty, wealth of allegory and subtle symbols for those who love\nreligious mysteries, and splendour of sculpture for those who come in\nsearch of Art.\n\nThere are those to whom a simple beauty does not appeal. After the\nrichness of the portal's carving, the interior of Saint-Trophime is to\nthem \"far too plain;\" in futile comparison with the Cloister's grace, it\nis found \"too severe;\" and one author has written that only \"when the\nrefulgence of a Mediterranean sun glances through a series of long\nlances, ... then and then only does the Cathedral of Saint-Trophime\noffer any inducement to linger within its non-impressive walls.\"\n\nIt may not be denied that, together with nearly all the Cathedrals of\nProvence, this interior has suffered from the addition of inharmonious\nstyles. The most serious of these is its Gothic choir of the XV century,\nwhich a certain Cardinal Louis Allemand applied to the narrower\nRomanesque naves. With irregular ambulatory, chapels of various sizes,\nand a general incongruity of plan, this construction has no\narchitectural importance except that of a prominent place in the\nchurch's worship. The remaining excrescences, Gothic chapels, Ionic\npilasters, elliptical tribune, and the like, are happily hidden along\nthe side aisles or in the transepts; and during the restoration of\nRevoil the naves were relieved of the disfiguring \"improvements\" of the\nXVII century, and stand to-day in much of their fine old simplicity.\nBeyond the fifth bay, and rising in the tower, is the dome of dignified\nProvencal form that rests on the lower arches of the crossing. Small\nclerestory windows cast sheets of pale light on the plain piers,\nrectangular and heavy, that rise to support a tunnel vault and divide\nthe church into three naves of great and slender height.\n\nThe stern, ascetic style of the XI and XII centuries has given the nave\npiers mere small, plain bands as capitals, and for churchly decoration\nhas allowed only a moulding of acanthus leaves placed high and unnoticed\nat the vaulting's base. There is no pleasing detail and no charming\nfancy; but a fine, exquisite loftiness, a faultless balance of\nproportion, are in this severe interior, and its solemn and majestic\nbeauty is not surpassed in the Southern Romanesque.\n\n[Illustration: LEFT DETAIL, PORTAL.--ARLES.]\n\nBeyond the south transept, a short passage and a few steps lead to the\nCloisters, the most famous of Provence, perhaps of France. Large,\ngraceful, and magnificent in wealth of carving, they have yet none of\nthe poetic charms that linger around many a smaller Cloister. The\nvaultings are not more beautiful than other vaults less known; although\nthey have the help of the great piers, the little, slender columns seem\ntoo light to support so much expanse of roof, and even the church's\ntower, square and high, looks dwarfed when seen across the close. The\nvery spaciousness is solitary, and the long vista of the walks conduces\nto vague wonderings rather than to peaceful hours of thought. It has not\nthe dreamy solitude of Vaison, nor the bright beauty of Elne's little\nclose, nor any of the sunny cheerfulness that brightens the decaying\nwalls of Cahors.\n\n[Illustration: THROUGH THE CLOISTER-ARCHES.--ARLES.]\n\nThe marvel of these Cloisters is the sculptured decorations of their\npiers and columns. Those of the XII century are the richest, but each of\nthe later builders seems to have vied as best he might, in wealth of\nconception and in lavishness of detail, with those who went before, and,\neven in enforced re-building, the addition of the Gothic to the\nRomanesque has not destroyed the harmony of the effect. In all the\nsculptors' schemes, the outer of the double columns were given foliated\npatterns or a few, simple symbols, and the outer of the piers were\nchannelled and conventionally cut; and although the fancy of the\nsculptor is marvellously subtle and full of grace, his greatest art was\nreserved for the capitals of the inner columns and the inner faces of\nthe piers, which meditating priests would see and study. The symbolism\nauthorised by Holy Church, the history of precursors of Our Lord, the\nincidents of His life and the more dramatic doings of the Saints, all\nthese are carved with greatest love of detail and of art; and in them\nthe least arduous priest could find themes for a whole year of\nmeditation, the least enthusiastic of travellers, a thousand quaint and\ninteresting fancies and imaginations. It is not so much the beauty of\nthe whole effect that is entrancing in these Cloisters, nor that most\nsubtle influence, the good or evil spirit of a past which lingers round\nso many ancient spots, as that mediaeval thought and mediaeval genius that\nfound expression in these myriad fine examples of the sculptor's art.\n\n[Illustration: \"A NAVE OF GREAT AND SLENDER HEIGHT.\"--ARLES.]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE BEAUTY OF THE WHOLE.\"--ARLES.]\n\nAlexandre Dumas has written of Arles: \"Roman monuments form the soil;\nand about them, at their feet, in their shadow, in their crevasses, a\nsecond Gothic city has sprung--one knows not how--by the vegetative\nforce of the religious civilisation of Saint Louis. Arles is the\nMecca of archaeologists.\" It is also the Mecca of those who love to\nstudy people and customs, for, in spite of the railroad, and the\nconsequent influx of \"foreign French,\" it has preserved the old\ngraeco-roman-saracenic type which has made its beautiful women so\njustly famous, and, underneath its Provencal gaieties, their classic\norigins may easily be traced. One should see the Roman Theatre, the\nsolitary Aliscamps, by moonlight, the busy market in the early day,\nthe Cathedral at a Mass, and a fete at any time,--for\n\n    \"When the fete-days come, farewell the swath and labour,\n      And welcome revels underneath the trees,\n      And orgies in the vaulted hostelries,\n    Bull-baitings, never-ending dances, and sweet pleasures.\"\n\n\n[Sidenote: Entrevaux.]\n\nThe most celebrated fortified town in France is the Cite of Carcassonne,\nyet, even in the days of its practical strength, it was scarcely a type.\nIt was rather a marvel, a wonder,--the \"fairest Maid of Languedoc,\" \"the\nInvincible.\" And now the citadel is almost deserted. The inhabitants are\nso few that weeds grow in their streets, and one who walks there in the\nstill mid-day feels that all this completion of architecture, these\nwalls, perfect in every stone, may be an enchanted vision, a mirage; he\nmore than half believes that the cool of the sunset will dispel the\nillusion, and he will find himself on a pleasant little hill of\nLanguedoc, looking down upon the commonplace \"Lower City\" of\nCarcassonne.\n\nAt Entrevaux there is no suggestion of illusion. This is not a\nshow-place that once was real; it is one of a hundred little\nagglomerations of the French Middle Ages. They had no great name to\nuphold; no riches to expend in impregnable walls and towers. They clung\nfearfully together for self-preservation, built ramparts that were as\nstrong as might be, and dared not laugh at the \"fortunes of war.\" Except\nthat there is safety outside the walls, and a tiny post and telegraph\noffice within, they are now as they were in those dangerous days. The\nfortress of Carcassonne is dead; but in the back country of Provence,\nEntrevaux is living, and scarcely a jot or tittle of its Mediaevalism is\nlost. Among high rocks that close around it on every side, where,\naccording to the season, the Chalvagne trickles or plunges into the\nriver Var, and dominated by a fort that perches on a sharp peak, is the\nstrangest of old Provencal towns.\n\n[Illustration: THE GOTHIC WALK, CLOISTER.--ARLES.]\n\nThe founding of the tiny episcopal city was after this wise. Toward the\nclose of the XIV century, in a time of plagues, Jewish persecutions, the\ngrowth of heresies, and the uncurbed ravages of free-booters, the city\nof Glandeves, seat of an ancient Bishopric, was destroyed. The living\nremnant abandoned its desolate ruins. Searching for a stronger, safer\nhome, they chose a site on the left bank of the Var, and commenced the\nbuilding of Entrevaux. The Bishop accompanied his flock, and although he\nretained the old title of Glandeves, in memory of the antiquity of the\nSee and its lost city, the Cathedral-church was established at\nEntrevaux.\n\nThe first edifice, Saint-Martin's, built shortly after the founding of\nthe town, has long been destroyed; and the second, begun in 1610, to the\nhonour of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, held episcopal rank\nuntil the See was disestablished by the great Concordat. Although this\nCathedral was built in the XVII century, a date perilously near that of\ndecadence in French ecclesiastical architecture, it was situated in so\nobscure a corner of Provence that its plan was unaffected by innovating\nideas; it is of the old native type, a building of stout walls and heavy\nbuttresses, a single tower, square and straight, and a tunnel-vaulted\nroom, the place of congregation. This interior, with no beautiful\ndetails that may not be found in other churches, has as many of the\ndefects of the Italian school as the treasury could afford,--marble\ncolumns, frescoes, gilding, and other rococo decorations which show that\nthe people of Entrevaux had no higher and no better tastes than those of\nNice; and that the old, simple purity of the church's form was rather a\nmatter of ignorance or necessity than of choice. The attraction of the\nepiscopal church pales before the quaint delight of the episcopal city,\nand it is as part of the general civic defence that it shares in the\ninterest of Entrevaux.\n\n[Illustration: \"THIS INTERIOR.\"--ENTREVAUX.]\n\n[Illustration: THE ROMANESQUE WALK, CLOISTER.--ARLES.]\n\n[Illustration: \"ONE OF THREE SMALL DRAWBRIDGES.\"--ENTREVAUX.]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE PORTCULLIS.\"--ENTREVAUX.]\n\nLeaving the train at the nearest railroad station, the traveller\nfollowed the winding Var, and he had scarcely walked four miles when he\nsaw, across the river, the sharp peak with its fort, and the long lines\nof walls that zigzag down the hillside till they reach the crowded roofs\nthat are clustered closely, in charming irregularity, near the bank.\nAlong the water's edge, the only part of the town that is not protected\nby rocks and hills, there is another line of stout walls and two heavy,\njutting bastions. From a mediaeval point of view Entrevaux looks strong\nindeed. The only means of entrance, now as in those olden days, is by\none of three small drawbridges, and so narrow is every street of the\ntown that no wagon is allowed to cross, for if it made the passage of\nthe bridge it would be caught hard and fast between the houses. As the\ntraveller put foot on the drawbridge he felt as though he were a petty\ntrader or wandering minstrel, or some other figure of the Middle Ages,\nentering for a few hours' traffic or a noon-day's rest, and when he\npaused under the low arch of the portcullis-gate, people stared at him\nas they do at a stranger in little far-off towns. Once inside, he turned\ninto a street, and was immediately obliged to step into a door-way, for\na man leading a horse was approaching, and they needed all its breadth.\nHouses, several stories high, bordered these incredibly dark, narrow\nways, and some of the upper windows had the diminutive balconies so dear\nto the South. It was a bright, hot day, but the sun seldom peeped into\nthese streets; and in the shops the light was dull at mid-day. As he\nthought of the men and women of Mediaevalism, who did not dare to wander\nin the fields beyond the town, because their safety lay within its\nramparts, suddenly, the little public squares of walled towns appeared\nin all the real significance of their light and breadth and sunshine.\nSpace is precious in Entrevaux, and open places are few. There is one\nwhere the hotels and cafes are found, another across the drawbridge\nbehind the Cathedral-tower, and a tiny one before the church itself.\nThis is the most curious of them all; for, far from being a \"Place de la\nCathedrale,\" it is a true \"Place d'Armes.\" Near the portals, on whose\nwooden doors the mitre and insignia of papal favour are carved, a few\nsteps lead to a narrow ledge where archers could stand and shoot from\nthe loop-holes in the walls. As the traveller sat on this ledge and\nwondered what scenes had been enacted here, how many deadly shots had\nsped from out the holes, what crowds of excited townsfolk had gathered\nin the church, what grave words of exhortation and of blessing had been\nspoken from the altar or the threshold by anxious prelate, robed and\nmitred for the Mass of Supplication to a God of Battles, an humble\nfuneral appeared,--a priest, a peasant bearing a black wooden Cross with\nthe name of the deceased painted on it, a rope-bound coffin carried by\nhot and sorrowing women, and a little procession of friends. The pomps\nand vanities of the past disappeared as a mist from the traveller's\nmind, and he saw Entrevaux as it really is, without the comforts of this\nworld's goods, without the greatness of a Bishopric, a small Provencal\nvillage whose perfection of quaintness--so charming to him who passes\non--means hardship and discomfort to those who have been born and must\nlive and die there.\n\n[Illustration: \"A FORT THAT PERCHES ON A SHARP PEAK.\"--ENTREVAUX.]\n\n[Illustration: \"A TRUE PLACE D'ARMES.\"--ENTREVAUX.]\n\nAnd yet so potent is that charm, when the traveller re-crossed the\ndrawbridge and looked up at the sharp teeth of the portcullis that may\nstill fall and bite, when he had passed out on the high-road and turned\nagain and again to watch the fading sunlight on the tangled mass of\nroofs, the illusion had returned. The bastions stood out in bold relief,\nthe church tower with its crenellated top stood out against the rocky\npeaks, the sun fell suddenly behind the hill, and the traveller felt\nhimself again a minstrel wandering in a mediaeval night.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE LONG LINES OF WALLS THAT ZIGZAG DOWN THE\nHILLSIDE.\"--ENTREVAUX.]\n\n\n[Sidenote: Sisteron.]\n\nThe traveller is curious,--frankly curious. Almost every time that he\nenters a Cathedral, his memory recalls the words of Renan, \"these\nsplendid marvels are almost always the blossoming of some little\ndeceit,\" and after he has feasted his eye, he thinks of history and of\ndetails, and of Renan, prejudiced but well-informed, and wonders what\nwas here the \"little deceit.\" At Grasse, he had longed for the papers a\ncertain lawyer has, which tell much of the city's life a hundred and\nfifty years ago, and at Sisteron, he sat by the Durance, wondering how\nhe could induce a kind and good old lady of a remote corner of Provence\nto lend him an ancient manuscript, which even the gentle Cure said she\n\"obstinately\" refused to \"impart.\" Blessed are they who can be satisfied\nwith guide-books, as his friends who had visited Avignon and Arles,\nTarascon and the Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, and had seen Provence to\ntheir entire edification while he was merely peering about\nNotre-Dame-des-Doms and the Fort Saint-Andre. Of a more indolent and\nleisurely turn of mind, he suffers--and perhaps justly--the penalty of\nhis joyous idleness, for even lawyers and good ladies with hidden papers\nare rare. Revolutionary sieges, fires, and a wise discretion have led to\nthe destroying of many a fine old page, and it is often in vain one goes\nto these decaying cities of Provence. \"We see,\" he said, gesticulating\ndejectedly, \"we see their towers and their walls, but if we say we know\nthat place, how many times do we deceive ourselves. It is too often as\nthough we claimed to know the life and thought and passions of a man\nfrom looking on his grave.\"\n\nBut--to consider what we may know. Sisteron is an old Roman city, most\nstrongly and picturesquely built in a narrow defile of the Durance. On\none side the river is the high, bare rock of La Baume; on the other, a\nhigher rock where houses, supporting each other by outstretched\nbuttresses, seem to cling to the sheer hillside as shrubs in mountain\ncrevasses, and are dominated and protected by a large and formidable\nfortress-castle that crowns the very top of the peak. The town walls are\nalmost gone; the fortress is abandoned; since the Revolution there are\nno longer Bishops in Sisteron; but the old town has lost little of its\nwar-like and romantic atmosphere of days when it commanded an important\npass, and when the way across the Durance was guarded by a drawbridge,\nand a big portcullis that now stands in rusty idleness.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE CHURCH TOWER STOOD OUT AGAINST THE ROCKY\nPEAKS.\"--ENTREVAUX.]\n\nIt is claimed that the Bishopric of this stronghold was founded in the\nIV century, and grew and flourished mightily, until the Bishop dwelt\nsecurely on his rock, his Brother of Gap had a \"box\" on the opposite\nbank, the Convent of the little Dominican Sisters was further up the\nriver, and, besides this busy ecclesiastical life, there was the world\nof burghers in the town and its Convent of Ursulines. Here came once\nupon a time a sprightly lady who added a thousand lively interests. This\nwas Louise de Cabris, sister of the great Mirabeau, \"who, when a mere\ngirl, had been married to the Marquis de Cabris. Part knave, part fool,\nthe vices of de Cabris sometimes ended in attacks of insanity. His\nmarriage with one who united the violence of the Mirabeaus to the\nlicense of the Vassans was unfortunate; ... and after Louise began to\nreign in the big dark house of the Cours of Grasse, life never lacked\nfor incidents.\" Matters were not mended by the arrival of her brother,\ntwenty-four and wild, and supposed to be living under a \"lettre de\ncachet\" in the sleepy little town of Manosque. The two were soon\nembroiled in so outrageous a scandal that their father, who loved a\nquarrel for its own sake, sided with the prosecution; and declaring that\n\"no children like his had ever been seen under the sun,\" took out a\n\"lettre de cachet\" for Louise, who was sent up to Sisteron, where he\nrequested her to \"repent of her sins at leisure in the Convent of the\nUrsulines.\" Inheriting a brilliant, restless wit and unbridled morals,\nher life with the stupid, vicious Marquis had not improved her natural\ndisposition, and she soon set Sisteron agog. On pretence of business all\nthe lawyers flocked to see her; and with no pretence at all the garrison\nflocked in their train. When the Ursulines ventured to remonstrate, she\ndiverted them with such anecdotes of gay adventure as were never found\nbetween the pages of their prayer-books. Finally the whole town was\ndivided into two camps; her foes called her \"a viper,\" and many an eye\npeered into the dark streets, many a head was judiciously hidden behind\nbowed shutters, to see who went toward the Convent; till by wit and\nscheming and after some months of most surprising incident, Louise\ncarried her point, left the good Ursulines to a well-merited repose,\nand returned to the Castle of Mirabeau,--to laugh at the townsfolk of\nSisteron.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE CATHEDRAL IS NEAR THE HEAVY, ROUND TOWERS OF THE\nOUTER RAMPARTS.\"--SISTERON.]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE BRIDGE ACROSS THE DURANCE.\"--SISTERON.]\n\nWhen in the city, the prelates occupied their Castle of the Citadel with\nthe high lookouts and defences, far from their Cathedral, which is in\nthe lower town near the heavy, round towers of the ramparts. This\nchurch, which has been very slightly and very judiciously restored, is\nof unknown date, probably of the XII century, it is faithful to the\nnative architectural tradition, and in some details more interesting\nthan many of the Provencal Cathedrals. Its exterior is small and low.\nThere are the familiar, friendly little apses of the Romanesque; near\nthem, above the east end of the north aisle, the squat tower with a\nmodest, modern spire; and at its side, above the roof-line, is the\noctagon that stands over the dome. All this structure is unaffectedly\nsimple. The walls and buttresses which enclose the aisles are plain, and\nit is only by comparison with this architectural Puritanism that the\nfacade may be considered ornate. Near the top of its wall, which is\nsupported by sturdy piers, are three round windows, with deep, splayed\nframes. The largest of them is directly above the high, slender portal\nthat is somewhat reminiscent of the Italian influence, so elaborately\nmarked further up the valley, at Embrun. The rounded arch of the\ndoor-way and its pointed gable are repeated, on either side, in a\nhalf-arch and half-gable. An allegorical animal, in relief, stands above\nthe central arch, and a few columns with delicate capitals complete the\nadornment of the entrance-way, which, in spite of being the most\ndecorative part of the church, is most discreet.\n\nNine steps lead down into an interior that is small, very usually\nplanned, and much defaced by XVII century gilt--yet is essentially\ndignified and impressive. Eliminate the tawdry altars, take away the\nstucco Saints and painted Virgins, let the chapels be mere shadowy\ncorners in the dark perspective, and the little church appears like the\nmeeting-place of the Faithful of an early Christianity. Its nave and\neach of the narrow side aisles rise to round tunnel-vaults; there are\nbut five bays, and the last is covered by a small, octagonal dome. The\nwhole church is built of a dark stone that is almost black, its lighting\nis very dim, and centres in the little apses where the holiest statues\nstand and the most sacred rites are celebrated; and the worshippers,\nshrouded in twilight, have more of the atmosphere of mystery than is\nusual in the Cathedrals of Provence, the subtle influence of quiet\nshadowy darkness that is so potent in the churches of the Spanish\nborderland.\n\n[Illustration: \"ENTRANCES TO TWO NARROW STREETS.\"--SISTERON.]\n\nMany will pass through Sisteron and enjoy its rugged strength, its\nsun-lit days, its narrow streets, and the peaks that stand out in solemn\nsternness against the dark blue sky at night. Notre-Dame-de-Pomeriis has\nnone of the salient beauty of any of these, and to appreciate its\nancient charm, it must not be forgotten that the Provencal Cathedral has\nnot the distinction of size or the elaboration of the greater Cathedrals\nof Gascony, that it is far removed from the fine originalities of\nLanguedoc, that it is conventional, and, as it were, clannish, and that\nits highest dignity is in a simple quiet that is never awe-full. There\nis, in truth, more than one church of this country that needs the\nembellishment of its history to make it truly interesting. But\nNotre-Dame of Sisteron is not of these. It is not the big, empty shell\nof Carpentras, nor the little rough Cathedral of Orange. It is the\nsmaller, more perfect one, of finer inspiration, which the many will\npass by, the few enjoy.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nCATHEDRALS OF THE VALLEYS.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Orange.]\n\nLying on the Rhone, and almost surrounded by the papal Venaissin, is a\ntiny principality of less than forty thousand acres. This small state\nhas given title to more than one distinguished European who never\nentered its borders, and who was alien to it not only in birth, but in\nlanguage and family. So great was the fame of its rulers that this\nsmall, isolated strip of land suffered for their principles, and\nprobably owes to them much of its devastation in the terrible Wars of\nReligion. From the well-known convictions of the Princes of Orange, the\ncountry was always counted a refuge for heretics of all shades, and in\n1338 they were in sufficient force to demolish the tower of the\nCathedral. Later in history, Charles IX declared William of Nassau \"an\noutlaw\" and his principality \"confiscate\"; and in 1571, there was a\nthree days' massacre of Protestants. In spite of this horrid orgy the\nReformers rose again in might and soon prevented all celebration of\nCatholic rites. Refugees fleeing from the Dragonnades of Dauphine and of\nthe Cevennes poured into the principality; and when the Princes of\nOrange were strong enough to protect their state, its Catholics lived\nrestricted lives; but when the Protestant power waned, Kings and\nCaptains of France raided the land in the name of the Church. And at\nthe death of William of Orange, King of England, Louis XIV seized the\ncapital of the state, razed its great palace and its walls, and after\nthe Treaty of Utrecht had awarded the principality to the French crown,\ntreated the defenceless Huguenots with the same impartial cruelty he had\nmeted to their fellow-believers in other parts of the kingdom. Orange's\nchanges in religious fate are not unlike those of Nimes, with this\nessential difference, that here Catholicism has conquered triumphantly.\nWhere ten worship in the little Protestant temple, a thousand throng to\nthe Mass.\n\nBoth in history and its monumental Roman ruins, the capital of this\nprovince, Orange, is one of the richest cities of the Southland, but its\nCathedral is very poor and mean. The plan is one of the simplest of the\nProvencal conceptions, a \"hall basilica,\" archaeologically interesting,\nbut in its present state of patch and repair, architecturally\ncommonplace and unbeautiful. In spite of Protestant attacks and Catholic\nrestorations, the XI century type has been maintained, a rectangle whose\nplain double arches support a tunnel vault and divide the interior into\nfour bays. The piers are heavy and severe; and between them are alcoves,\nused as chapels. The choir, narrower than the nave, is preceded by the\nusual dome, and beyond it is a little unused apse, concealed from the\nrest of the interior by a wall. Unimportant windows built with\ndistinctly utilitarian purpose successfully light this small, simple\nroom, and no kindly shadow hides its bareness or diminishes the unhappy\neffect of the paintings which disfigure the walls. The Cathedral's\nexterior is so surrounded by irregular old houses that the traveller had\ndiscovered it with some difficulty. It has little that is worthy of\ndescription, and after having entered by a conspicuously poor\nRenaissance portal only to go out under an uninteresting modern one, he\nfound himself lost in wonder that the Cathedral-builders of\nNotre-Dame-de-Nazareth should have utterly failed in a town which\noffered them such inspiring suggestions as the great Arch of Triumph and\nthe still greater Imperial Theatre, besides all the other remains of\nRoman antiquity which, long after the building of Notre-Dame, the\npractical Maurice of Orange demolished for the making of his mediaeval\ncastle.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Cavaillon.]\n\nIt was growing dusk, of a spring evening, when the traveller arrived at\nCavaillon and wandered about the narrow streets and came upon the\nCathedral. Glimpses of an interesting dome and a turret-tower had\nappeared once or twice above the house-tops, leading him on with\nfreshened interest, and there was still light enough for many first\nimpressions when he arrived before the low cloister-door. But here was\nno place for peaceful meditation. An old woman, coiffed and bent,\nbrushed past him as she entered, a chair in each hand; and as he effaced\nhimself against the church wall, a younger woman went by, also\nchair-laden. Two or three others came, talking eagerly, little girls in\nall stages of excitement ran in and out, and little boys came and went,\ndivided between assumed carelessness and a feeling of unusual\nresponsibility. Then a priest appeared on the threshold, not in\nmeditation, but on business. Another, old and heavy, and panting,\nhurried in; and through the cloister-door, Monsieur le Cure, breviary in\nhand, prayed watchfully. A little fellow, running, fell down, and the\npriest sprang to lift him; the child was too small not to wish to cry,\nbut too much in haste to stop for tears. The priest watched him with a\nkindly shrug and a smile as he ran on;--there was no time for laughing\nor crying, there was time for nothing but the mysterious matter in hand.\n\n\"What is it?\" the traveller finally asked.\n\n\"Ah, Monsieur, to-morrow is the day of the First Communion. We all have\njust prayed, just confessed, in the church; and our parents are\narranging their places. For to-morrow there will be crowds--everybody.\nYou too, Monsieur, are coming perhaps? The Mass is at half-past six.\"\n\nSuch was the living interest of the place that the traveller moved away\nwithout any very clear architectural impression of the Cathedral, except\nof the curiously narrow bell-turret and of the height of the dome.\n\nHe did not see the early Mass, but toward ten wandered again to the\nCathedral and entered the cloister-door. It was a low-vaulted, sombre\nlittle Cloister which all the chattering, animated crowds could not\nbrighten. Formerly two sides were gated off, and priests alone walked\nthere. The other sides were public passage-ways to the church. Now only\nthe iron grooves of the gates of separation remain, and the four walks\nwere thronged with people. Little girls in the white dresses of their\nFirst Communion, veiled and crowned with roses, were hurrying to their\nplaces; an old grandmother, with her arm around one of the little\ncommunicants, knelt by a column, gazing up to the Virgin of the\ncloister-close; proud and anxious parents led their children into\nchurch, and friends met and kissed on both cheeks. In one corner, an old\nwoman was driving a busy trade in penny-worths of barley candy.\nDiminutive altar-boys in white lace cassocks and red, fur-trimmed\ncapes, offered religious papers for sale. It was a harvest day for\nbeggars, and \"for the love of the good God\" many a sou was given into\nfeeble dirty hands.\n\n[Illustration: \"IT WAS A LOW-VAULTED, SOMBRE LITTLE CLOISTER.\"\nCAVAILLON.]\n\nFor a time the traveller walked about the Cloister, so tiny and worn a\nCloister that on any other day it must have seemed melancholy indeed. So\nlow a vaulting is not often found, massive and rounded and seeming to\npress, lowering, above the head. The columns, which help to support its\nweight, are short and heavy and thick, so worn that their capitals are\nsometimes only suggestive and sometimes meaningless. On one side the\ncarving is distinctly Corinthian; on another altogether lacking. Between\nthe columns, one could glance into a close so small that ten paces would\nmeasure its length. It was a charming little spot, all filled with\nflowers and plants that told of some one's constant, tender care. From\nabove the nodding flowers and leaves rose the statue of the Madonna and\nthe Child.\n\nThe tolling bell called laggards to Mass. With them, the traveller\nentered the church, and found it so crowded that it was only after\nreceiving many knocks from incoming children, and sundry blows on the\nhead and shoulders from ladies who carried their chairs too carelessly,\nafter minutes of time and a store of patience, that he finally reached a\nhaven, a corner of the Chapel of Saint-Veran. There, under the care of\nthe Cathedral's Patron, he escaped further injuries and assisted at a\nlong, interesting ceremony.\n\nMass had already begun, but the voice of the priest and the answering\norgan were lost in the movement of excited friends, the murmur of\nquestions, and the clatter of nailed shoes on the stone floor. A Suisse,\nhalberd in hand, and gorgeous in tri-cornered hat and the red and gold\nof office, kept the aisle-ways open with firm but kind insistence; and\nthe priests who were directing the children in the body of the church,\nwere wise enough to overlook the disorder, which was not irreverence,\nbut interest. For days, everybody had been thinking of this ceremony;\neverybody wanted \"good places.\" But few found them. For the little nave\nof the church was chiefly given up to the communicants. They sat on long\nbenches, facing each other. The boys, sixty or seventy of them, were\nnearest the Altar; the girls, even more numerous, nearest the door. A\nyoung priest walked between the rows of boys and the old, panting Father\ndirected the girls.\n\nThe whole interior of the church, at whose consecration no less a\nprelate than Pope Innocent IV had presided, is small and its plan is\nessentially of the Provencal type. The high tunnel vault rests, like\nthat of Orange, on double arches; and as the nave is very narrow and its\nlight very dim, the church seems lofty, sombre, and impressive, with a\nvery serious dignity which its detail fails to carry out. The chapels,\nwhich lie between the heavy buttresses, are dim recesses which increase\nthe darkened effect of the interior. Of the ten, only three differ\nessentially from the general plan; and although of the XVII century,\ntheir style is so severe and they are so ill-lighted that they do not\ngreatly debase the church. The choir is entered from under a rounded\narchway, and its dome is loftier than the nave and much more beautiful\nthan the semi-dome of the apse, whose roof, in these practical modern\ntimes, has been windowed.\n\nThat which almost destroys the effect of the church's fine lines and\nwould be intolerable in a stronger light, is the mass of gilt and\npolychrome with which the interior is covered. The altars are\nmonstrously showy, the walls and buttresses are coloured, and even the\ninteresting, sculptured figures beneath the corbels have been carefully\ntinted. The dead arise with appropriate mortuary pallor, the halo of\nChrist is pure gold, and all the draperies of God and His saints are in\ntrue, primary shadings.\n\nFrom the contemplation of this misuse of paint, and of a sadly misplaced\ninner porch of the XVII century, the traveller's attention was recalled\nto the old priest. His hand was raised, the eye of every little girl was\nfixed on him and instantly, in their soft, shrill voices, they began the\nverse of a hymn. The traveller glanced down the nave. Every boy was on\nhis feet, white ribbons hanging bravely from the right arm, the Crown of\nThorns correctly held in one white-gloved hand, a Crucifix fastened with\na bow of ribbon to the coat lapel. Every eye was on the young priest,\nwho also raised his hand. Then they sang, as the girls had sung, and\nwith a right lusty will. And then, under the guiding hands, both boys\nand girls sang together. There was a silence when their voices died\naway, and from the altar a deep voice slowly chanted \"Ite; missa est,\"\nand the High Mass of the First Communion Day was over.\n\nOutside, little country carts stood near the church, and fathers and\nbrothers in blue blouses were waiting for the little communicants who\nhad had so long and so exciting a morning. Walking about with the\ncrowds, the traveller saw an exterior whose facade was plainly\ncommonplace and whose bare lateral walls were patched, and crowded by\nother walls. Finally he came upon the apse, the most interesting part of\nthe church's exterior; and he leaned against a cafe wall and looked\nacross the little square.\n\nExternally, the apse of Saint-Veran has five sides, and each side seems\nsupported by a channelled column. The capitals of these columns are\ncarved with leaves or with leaves and grotesques; on them round arches\nrest; and above is a narrow foliated cornice. In relieving contrast to\nthe artificial classicism of the Renaissance of the interior, the\nfeeling of this apse is quite truly ancient and pagan, and it is not\nless unique nor less charming because it is placed against a plain,\nuninteresting wall. The eye travelling upward, above the choir-dome,\nmeets the lantern with its rounded windows and pointed roof, and by its\nside the high little bell-turret which completes a curious exterior; an\nexterior which is interesting and even beautiful in detail, but\nirregular and heterogeneous as a whole.\n\nThe Cathedral of Cavaillon is one of many possibilities. Although small\nlike those of its Provencal kindred, it has more dignity than Orange,\nmore simplicity of interior line than the present Avignon, and it is to\nbe regretted that it should have suffered no less from restoration than\nfrom old age.\n\n[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL'S TOWER AND TURRET.--CAVAILLON.]\n\n\n[Sidenote: Apt.]\n\nFew of the Cathedral-churches of the Midi are without holy relics, but\nnone is more famous, more revered, and more authentic a place of\npilgrimage than the Basilica of Apt. It came about in this way, says\nlocal history. When Martha, Lazarus, and the Holy Marys of the Gospels\nlanded in France, they brought with them the venerated body of Saint\nAnne, the Virgin's Mother; and Lazarus, being a Bishop, kept the holy\nrelic at his episcopal seat of Marseilles. Persecutions arose, and\ndangers innumerable; and for safety's sake the Bishop removed Saint\nAnne's body to Apt and sealed it secretly in the wall. For centuries,\nChristians met and prayed in the little church, unconscious of the\nwonder-working relic hidden so near them; and it was only through a\nmiracle, in Charlemagne's time and some say in his presence, that the\nholy body was discovered. This is the history which a sacristan recites\nto curious pilgrims as he leads them to the sub-crypt.\n\nThe sub-crypt of Sainte-Anne, one of the earliest of Gallo-Roman\n\"churches,\" is not more than a narrow aisle; its low vault seems to\npress over the head; the air is damp and chill; and the one little\ncandle which the patient sacristan moves to this side and to that, shows\nthe plain, un-ornamented stone-work and the undoubted masonry of Roman\ntimes. It was part of the Aqueduct which carried water to the Theatre in\nImperial days, and had become a chapel in the primitive Christian era.\nAt the end which is curved as a choir is a heavy stone, used as an\naltar; and high in the wall is the niche where the body of the church's\npatron lay buried for those hundreds of years. It is a gloomy, cell-like\nplace, most curious and most interesting; and as the traveller saw faith\nin the earnest gaze of some of his fellow-visitors, and doubt in the\nsmiles of others, he wondered what ancient ceremonials, secret Masses,\nor secret prayers had been said in this tiny chamber, and what rows of\nphantom-like worshippers had filed in and out the dark corridor.\n\nDirectly above is the higher upper crypt of the church, a diminutive but\ntrue choir, with its tiny altar and ambulatory,--a jewel of the\nRomanesque, heavy and plain and beautifully proportioned, with columns\nand vaulting in perfect miniature. This, from its absolute purity of\nstyle, is the most interesting part of the church; and being a crypt, it\nis also the most difficult to see. In vain the sacristan ran from side\nto side with his little candle, in vain the traveller gazed and\npeered,--the little church was full of shadows and mysteries, dark and\nlost under the weight of the great choir above.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE MAIN BODY OF THE CHURCH.\"--APT.]\n\nEven the main body of the church, above ground, is dimly lighted by\nsmall, rounded windows above the arches of the nave, and from the dome\nof Saint Anne's Chapel. Doubtless, on Sundays after High Mass, when the\ngreat doors are opened, the merry sun of Provence casts its cheerful\nrays far up the nave. But this is a church which is the better for its\nshadows. A Romanesque aisle of the IX or X century, built by that same\nBishop Alphant who had seen the construction of the little crypt church,\na central nave of the XI century, Romanesque in conception, and a north\naisle of poor Provencal Gothic make a large but inharmonious\ninterior. Restoration following restoration, chapels of the XVIII\ncentury, new vaultings, debased and conglomerate Gothic, and spectacular\ndecorations of gilded wood have destroyed the architectural value and\nreal beauty of the Cathedral's interior. Yet in the dim light, which is\nthe light of its every-day life, the great height of the church and its\nsombre massiveness are not without impressiveness.\n\nThe exterior dominates the city, but it is so hopelessly confused and\ncommonplace that its natural dignity is lost. The heavy arch which\nsupports the clock tower forms an arcade across a narrow street and\nmakes it picturesque without adding dignity to the church itself. The\nwalls are unmeaning, often hidden by buildings, and there is not a\nportal worthy of description. There is the dome of Saint Anne's Chapel\nwith a huge statue of the Patron, and the lantern of the central dome\nending in a pointed roof; but each addition to the exterior seems only\nan ignorant or a spiteful accentuation of the general architectural\nconfusion.\n\nTo the faithful Catholic, the interest of Sainte-Anne of Apt lies in its\nwonderful and glorious relics. Here are the bodies of Saint Eleazer and\nSainte Delphine his wife, a couple so pious that every morning they\ndressed a Statue of the Infant Jesus, and every night they undressed it\nand laid it to rest in a cradle. There is also the rosary of Sainte\nDelphine whose every bead contained a relic; and before the Revolution\nthere were other treasures innumerable. During many years Apt has been\nthe pilgrim-shrine of the Faithful, and great and small offerings of\nmany centuries have been laid before the miracle-working body of the\nVirgin's sainted Mother.\n\n[Illustration: THE VIRGIN AND SAINT ANNE. _By Benzoni._]\n\nThe most famous of those who came praying and bearing gifts was Anne of\nAustria, whose petition for the gift of a son, an heir for France, was\ngranted in the birth of Louis XIV. In gratitude, the Queen enriched the\nchurch by vestments wrought in thread of gold and many sacred ornaments;\nand at length she commanded Mansart to replace the little chapel in\nwhich she had prayed, by a larger and more sumptuous one, a somewhat\nuninteresting structure in the showy style of the XVII century, which is\nnow the resting-place of Saint Anne. In this chapel is the most\nbeautiful of the church's treasures which, strange to say, is a piece of\nmodern sculpture given by the present \"Monseigneur of Avignon.\" It is\nsmall, and badly placed on a marble altar of discordant toning, with a\ndraped curtain of red gilt-fringed velvet for its background. Yet in\nspite of these inartistic surroundings it has lost none of its tender\ncharm. Seated, with a scroll on her knees, the aged mother is earnestly\nteaching the young Virgin who stands close by her side. The slender old\nhand with its raised forefinger emphasises the lesson, and the loving\nexpression of the wrinkled, ascetic face, the attentiveness of the\nVirgin and her slim young figure, make a touching picture, and a\nbeautiful example of the power of the modern chisel. Yet faith in\nshrines and miraculous power is not, in this XX century, as pure nor as\nuniversal as in the days of the past; and Faith, in Provencal Apt which\npossesses so large a part of the Saint's body, is not as simple, and\ntherefore not as strong as in Breton Auray which has but a part of her\nfinger. Republicanism in the south country is not too friendly to the\nChurch, kings and queens no longer come with prodigal gifts, and\nSainte-Anne of Apt has not the peasant strength of Sainte-Anne of Auray.\nAnd in spite of the great feast-day of July, in spite of Aptoisian\npride, in spite of the devotion and prayers of faithful worshippers, the\nCathedral of Apt is a church of past rather than of present glories.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Riez.]\n\nJust as the church-bells were chiming the morning Angelus, and the warm\nsun was rising on a day of the early fall, a traveller drove out of old\nManosque. He had no gun,--therefore he had not come for the hunting; he\nhad no brass-bound, black boxes, and therefore could not be a \"Commis.\"\nWhat he might be, he well knew, was troubling the brain of the\nbroad-backed man sitting before him, who, with many a long-drawn\n\"Ou-ou-u-u-\" was driving a fat little horse. But native courtesy\nconquered natural curiosity and they drove in silence to the long, fine\nbridge that spans the river of evil repute:\n\n    \"Parliament, Mistral, and Durance\n    Are the three scourges of Provence.\"\n\nAt that time of year, however, the Durance usually looks peaceable and\nharmless enough; half its great bed is dry and pebbly, and the water\nthat rushes under the big arches of the bridge is not great in volume.\nBut the size and strength of the bridge itself and certain huge rocks,\nplaced for a long distance on either side of the road, are significant\nof floods and of the spring awakening of the monstrous river that, like\nDoctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, has two lives.\n\n[Illustration: \"SAINT-MARTIN-DE-BROMES WITH ITS HIGH, SLIM TOWER.\"]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE FORTIFIED MONASTERY OF THE TEMPLARS.\"--(NEAR\nGREOUX).]\n\nThe road wound about the low hills of the Alps, past a massive,\nfortified monastery of the Templars whose windows gape in ruin; past\nSaint-Martin-de-Bromes with its high, slim, crenellated watch-tower;\npast many quiet little villages where in the old times, Taine says,\n\"Good people lived as in an eagle's nest, happy as long as they were not\nslain--that was the luxury of the feudal times.\" Between these villages\nlay vast groves of the grey-green olive-trees, large flourishing farms,\nand, further still, the bleak mountains of the Lower Alps. It was toward\nthem the driver was turning, for rising above a smiling little valley,\nsurrounded by fields of ripened grain, lay Riez. A donjon stands above a\nbroken wall, on the hillside houses cluster around a church's spire, and\nalone, on the top of the hill, stands the little Chapel of Saint-Maxime,\nthe only relic of the Great Seminary that was destroyed by the\nRevolutionists of '89. Here, after the destruction of one of the several\nCathedrals of Riez, the Bishop celebrated Masses, but the little chapel\nwas never consecrated a Cathedral. It has been recently restored and\nre-built in an uninteresting style,--the exterior is bare to ugliness,\nthe interior so painted that the six old Roman columns which support the\nchoir are overwhelmed by the banality of their surroundings. The plateau\non which the chapel is built is now almost bare; olive-trees grow to its\nedges and there is no trace of the Seminary that was once so full of\nactive life. The traveller, sitting in the shade of the few pine-trees,\nlooked over the broad view toward the peaks whose bare rocks rise with\nawful sternness, and the little hills that stand between them and the\nvalley, till finally his eyes wandered to the town beneath, and the\nfirm, broad roads which approach it from every direction. For Riez,\nalthough in the lost depths of Provence, far from railways and tourists,\nis a bee-hive of industry, largely supplying the necessities of these\nsecluded little towns. Its hat-making, rope factories, and tanneries are\nquite important; the shops of its main streets are not without a\ntempting attractiveness, and there is all the provincial stateliness of\nSaint-Remy with much less stagnancy.\n\nRiez was the Albece Reiorum Apollinarium in the Colonia Julia Reiorum of\nthe Romans, but there are very few traces of the city with this\nhigh-sounding name. The whole atmosphere of the little town is XII\ncentury. Two of its old gates, part of the wall, and the crenellated\ntower still stand, with ruined convents and monasteries of Capuchins,\nCordeliers, and Ursulines; and it may be inferred from the remains of\nthe Bishop's Palace and the broad promenade which was one of its\navenues, and from the episcopal chateau at Montagnac, that\necclesiastical state was not less worthily upheld at Riez than in the\nother Sees of the South of France.\n\nMany difficulties, however, had beset the Cathedral-building prelates.\nTheir first church, Notre-Dame-du-Siege, dating partly from the\nfoundation of the See in the IV century, partly from the X and XII\ncenturies, was destroyed by storm and flood, and its site near the\ntreacherous little river being considered too perilous, a new Cathedral\nof Notre-Dame-du-Siege and Saint-Maxime was begun; and it was then that\nthe Bishops celebrated temporarily at Saint-Maxime's on the hill.\n\nDuring the Revolution the See was suppressed; the church has been much\nre-built and changed; so that only a tower which is part of the present\nNotre-Dame-du-Siege, and the traces of the earliest foundation near the\nlittle Colostre, remain to tell of the different Cathedrals of Riez.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE TOWER OF NOTRE-DAME-DU-SIEGE.\"--RIEZ.]\n\nNear the site of the oldest church is one of the few monuments of a very\nearly Christianity which have escaped the perils of time. It is of\nunknown date, and although it is said to have been part of the Cathedral\nwhich stood between it and the river, it appears to have been always an\nindependent and separate building. The peasants say that in the memory\nof their forefathers it was used as a chapel, they call it indefinitely\n\"the Pantheon,\" \"the Temple,\" or \"the Chapel of Saint-Clair,\" but it was\nalmost certainly a baptistery of that curious and beautiful type which\nwas abandoned so early in the evolution of Christian architecture.\n\n[Illustration: \"NOTHING COULD BE MORE QUAINTLY OLD AND MODEST THAN THE\nBAPTISTERY.\"--RIEZ.]\n\nFollowing the road which his innkeeper pointed out, the traveller became\nso absorbed in the busy movement of the communal threshing-ground, the\narrival of the yellow grain, the women who were wielding pitchforks, and\nthe horses moving in circles, with solemn rhythm, that he nearly passed\na low building, the object of his search. Nothing could be more quaintly\nold and modest than the baptistery of Riez. It is a small square\nbuilding of rough cemented stone whose stucco has worn away. The roof is\ntiled, and from out a flattened dome, blades of grass sprout sparsely. A\ntiny bell-turret and an arch in the front wall complete the\nornamentation of this humble, diminutive bit of architecture, and except\nthat it is different from the usual Provencal manner of construction,\none would pass many times without noticing it.\n\n[Illustration: \"BETWEEN THE COLUMNS AN ALTAR HAS BEEN\nPLACED.\"--BAPTISTERY, RIEZ.]\n\nWalking down the steps which mark the differences that time has made in\nthe levels of the ground and entering a small octagonal hall, one of the\nmost interesting interiors of Provence meets the eye. \"Each of its four\nsides,\" writes Jules de Lauriere, \"which correspond to the angles of the\nouter square, has a semicircular apse built in the walls themselves. The\neight columns, placed in a circle about the centre of the edifice,\ndivide it into a circular nave and a central rotunda, and support eight\narches which, in turn, support an octagonal drum, and above this is the\ndome.\" This room is of simple and charming architectural conception, and\neven in melancholy ruin, it has much beauty. It gains in comparison with\nthe re-constructed baptisteries of Provence, for something of a\nprimitive character has been preserved to which such modern altars and\nXVII century trappings as those of Aix and Frejus are fatal. Under the\nheavy dust there is visible an unhappy coating of whitewash, traces of a\nfire still blacken the walls, fragments of Roman sculpture are scattered\nabout, and between the columns a pagan altar has been placed for\nsafe-keeping. The columns themselves are of pagan construction, and as\nthey differ somewhat in size and capitals, it is not improbable that\nthey came from the ruins of several of the great public buildings of\nRiez. At the time of the baptistery's construction, the barbaric\ninvasion had begun, and these Roman monuments may have been in ruins;\nbut in any case, it was a pious and justifiable custom of Christians to\ntake from pagan structures, standing or fallen, stones and pillars that\nwould serve for building churches to the \"one, true God.\" The pillars\nprocured for this laudable purpose at Riez, with their beautiful, carved\ncapitals, gave the little baptistery its one decoration, and far from\ndisturbing the simplicity of its style, they add a slenderness and\nheight and harmony to a room which, without them, would be too stiffly\nbare. In the rotunda which they form, excavations have brought to light\na baptismal pool, and conduits which brought to it sufficient quantities\nof water for the immersion--whole or partial--that was part of the\nbaptismal service of the early Church. But the archaeological work has\nabruptly ceased, and it is to be deeply regretted that here, in this\ndeserted place, where the Church desires no present restorations in\naccordance with particular rites or modern styles of architecture, there\nshould not be a complete rehabilitation, a baptistery restored to the\nactual state of its own era.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE BEAUTIFUL GRANITE COLUMNS.\"--RIEZ.]\n\nWandering across the fields, with the re-constructive mania strong upon\nhim, the traveller came across the beautiful granite columns which with\ntheir capitals, bases, and architraves of marble, are the last standing\nmonument of Riez's Roman greatness. Fragments of sculpture, bits of\nstone set in her walls, exist in numbers; but they are too isolated, too\nvague, to suggest the lost beauty and grandeur which these lonely\ncolumns express. He gazed at them in wonder. Was he stepping where once\nhad been a grand and busy Forum, was he looking at the Temple of some\ngreat Roman god? The voices of the threshers sounded cheerily, the\nProvencal sun shone bright and warm, but one of the greatest of\nmysteries was before him,--the silent mystery of a dead past that had\nonce been a living present. He sat by the river, and tossed pebbles into\nits shallow waters; the slanting rays of the sun gave the columns\ndelicate tints, old yellows and greys and violets, and at length, as\nevening fell, they seemed to grow higher and whiter in the paler light,\nuntil they looked like lonely funereal shafts, recalling to the memory\nof forgetful man, Riez's long-dead greatness.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Senez.]\n\nIn the comfortable civilisation of France, the stage-coach usually\nbegins where the railroad ends; and however remote a destination or\ntedious a journey, an ultimate and safe arrival is reasonably certain.\nThis was the reflection which cheered the traveller when he began to\nsearch for Senez, an ancient city of the Romans which was christianised\nin the early centuries and enjoyed the rank of Bishopric until the\nRevolution of '89. In spite of this dignified rank and the tenacity of\nan ancient foundation, it lies so far from modern ken that even worthies\nwho live fifty miles away could only say that \"Senez is not much of a\nplace, but it doubtless may be found ten--perhaps fifteen--or even\ntwenty kilometres behind the railroad.\"\n\n\"If Monsieur alighted at Barreme, probably the mail for Senez would be\nleft there too. And where letters go, some man or beast must carry\nthem, and one could always follow.\"\n\nWith these vague directions, the traveller set gaily out for Barreme,\nwhere a greater than he had spent one bleak March night on the anxious\njourney from Elba to Paris. The town shows no trace of Napoleon's\nhurried visit. It looks a mere sleepy hamlet, and when the traveller\nleft the train he had already decided to push his journey onward.\n\n\"To Senez?\" A man stepped up in answer to his inquiry. \"Certainly there\nwas a way to get there, the mail-coach started in an hour. And a hotel?\nA very good hotel--not Parisian perhaps, but hot food, a bottle of good\nwine, and a clean bed. Could one desire more on this earth?\"\n\nThe traveller thought not, and left the station--to stand transfixed\nbefore the most melancholy conveyance that ever bore the high-sounding\nname of \"mail-coach.\" A little wagon in whose interior six thin persons\nmight have crowded, old windows shaking in their frames, the remains of\na coat of yellow paint, and in front a seat which a projecting bit of\nroof protected from the sun,--this was the mail-coach of Senez, drawn by\na dejected, small brown mule, ragged with age, and a gaunt white horse\nwho towered above him. To complete the equipage, this melancholy pair\nwere hitched with ropes.\n\nIn due course of time the driver came, hooked an ancient tin box marked\n\"Lettres\" to the dash-board, threw in a sacking-bag, and cap in hand,\ninvited the traveller to mount with him \"where there was air.\" The long\nwhip cracked authoritatively, the postilion, a beautiful black dog,\njumped to the roof, and the mail-coach of Senez, with rattle and creak,\nstarted on its scheduled run.\n\n\"Houp-la, thou bag of lazy bones done up in a brown skin! Ho-la, thou\nwhited sepulchre, thinkest thou I will get out and carry thee? Take this\nand that.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"THE MAIL-COACH OF SENEZ.\"]\n\nOn either side the whip hit the road ferociously, but the old beasts of\nburden shook their philosophic heads and slowly jogged on, knowing well\nthey would not be touched.\n\nThe hot sun of Provence, which \"drinks a river as man drinks a glass of\nwine,\" shone on the long, white \"route nationale\" that stretched out in\nwell-kept monotony through a valley which might well have been named\n\"Desolation.\" On either hand rose mountains that were great masses of\nbare, seared rocks, showing the ravages of forgotten glaciers; the soil\nthat once covered them lay at their feet. Scarcely a shrub pushed out\nfrom the crevices, and even along the road, the few thin poplars found\nthe poorest of nourishment.\n\nCrossing a small bridge, there came into view an ancient village, a mere\nhandful of clustered wooden roofs, irregular, broken, and decayed.\n\n\"It was a city in the days when we were Romans,\" said the Courier, \"and\nthey say that there are treasures underneath our soil. But who can tell\nwhen people talk so much? And certainly two sous earned above ground buy\nhotter soup than one can gain in many a search for twenty francs below.\"\n\nHe whipped up for a suitable and striking entry into town, turned into a\nlane, and with much show of difficulty in reining up, stood before the\n\"hotel.\"\n\nThe traveller, having descended, entered a room that might have been the\nsubject of a quaint Dutch canvas. He saw a low ceiling, smoky walls,\nlong rows of benches, a sanded floor, and pine-board tables that\nstretched back to an open door; and through the open door, the pot\nswinging above the embers of the kitchen fire. The mistress of the inn,\na strong white-haired woman of seventy, came hurrying in to greet her\nguest. \"It was late,\" she said, and quickly put a basin full of water, a\nnew piece of soap, and a fresh towel on a chair near the kitchen door;\nand as the traveller prepared himself for dinner he heard the crackling\nof fresh boughs upon the fire and the cheerful singing of the pot.\nLittle lamps were lighted, and when he came to his table's end, he found\ngood country wine and a steaming cabbage-soup. Others came in to dine\nand smoke and talk, and later from his bed-room window, he saw their\nghostly figures moving up and down the unlighted streets and heard them\nsay good-night. The inn-door was noisily and safely barred, and when the\nretreating footsteps and the voices had died away, the quiet of the dark\nremained unbroken until a watchman, with flickering lantern, passed, and\ncried aloud \"All's well.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"THE OPEN SQUARE.\"--SENEZ.]\n\nNext morning the sun shone brightly on Senez, and the traveller hurried\nto the open square. A horse, carrying a farmer's boy, meandered slowly\nby, a chicken picked here and there, and water trickled slowly from the\ntiny faucet of the village fountain.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE PALACE OF ITS PRELATES.\"--SENEZ.]\n\nIn this quiet spot, near the lonely desolation of the hills, is the\nCathedral. The Palace of its prelates, which is opposite, is now a\nfarm-house where hay-ricks stand in the front yard, and windows have\nbeen walled up because Provencal winds are cold and glass is dear.\n\n[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL.--SENEZ.]\n\nLooking at this residence, one would think that the last Bishops of\nSenez were insignificant priests, steeped in country wine and country\nstagnancy. But such a supposition is very far from true. For we know\nthat in the XVIII century, Jean Soannen, Bishop of the city, was called\nbefore a Council at Embrun to answer a charge of resistance to the\nfar-famed Bull \"Unigenitus,\" and so strong were his convictions and so\ngreat his loyalty to his conscience, that he resisted the Council as\nwell as the Bull, and was deprived of his See as a Jansenist and\nrecalcitrant, and exiled to the Abbey of La-Chaise-Dieu. In quiet Senez\nthere must always have been time for reflection, and one can imagine the\nbitter struggle of this brave man as he walked the rooms of the Palace,\nas he crossed and re-crossed the small square to the Cathedral. One can\nimagine his wrestling with God and his conscience every time that he\ncelebrated a Mass for the people before the Cathedral's altar. One can\nunderstand the bitter fight between two high ideals, irreconcilable in\nhis life,--that of work in God's vineyard or of doctrinal purity as he\nsaw it. He had to choose between them, this Bishop of Senez, and when he\nleft the town to answer the summons of the Council at Embrun, his heart\nmust have been sore within him, he must have said farewell to many\nthings. Few decisions can be more serious than the renunciation of\nfamily and home for the service of God, few more solemn than the\nstruggles between the flesh and the spirit; but no more pathetic picture\ncan exist than that sad figure of Jean Soannen; for he had renounced\nfamily and the world, and for the sake of \"accepted truth\" which was\nfalse to him, endured helpless, solitary insignificance under the\nespionage of suspicious and unfriendly monks. The traveller remembered\nhis tomb, that tomb in a small chapel near the foot of the stair-case in\nthe famous Abbey far-away, and sighing, hoped that in his mournful\nexile, the Bishop may have realised that \"they also serve who only stand\nand wait.\"\n\nThe Bull Unigenitus, which caused his downfall, is believed to have\ncaused, during the last years of Louis XIV's bigotry, the persecution of\nthirty thousand respectable, intelligent, and orderly Frenchmen. De\nNoailles, several Bishops, and the Parliament of Paris refused to accept\nit, though they stopped short of open rebellion, and even Fenelon\n\"submitted\" rather than acceded to it. This famous and vexatious\ndocument was an unhappy emanation of Pope Clement XIII. Hard pressed by\nhis faithful supporters, the Jesuits, he promulgated it in 1713, and it\ncondemns with great explicitness one hundred and one propositions which\nare taken from Quesnel's Jansenistic \"Reflexions morales sur le Nouveau\nTestament.\" The Jesuits held the Jansenists in a horror which the\nJansenists reciprocated; the Pope owed almost too heavy a debt of\ngratitude to the order of Saint Ignatius and was constrained to repay.\nBut the Bull, instead of procuring peace, brought the greatest\naffliction and desolation of mind to His Holiness, and when later, the\nFrench envoy asked him why he had condemned such an odd number of\npropositions, the Pope seizing his arm burst into tears.\n\n\"Ah Monsieur Amelot! Monsieur Amelot! What would you have me do? I\nstrove hard to curtail the list, but Pere Le Tellier\"--Louis XIV's last\nconfessor and a devoted Jesuit--\"had pledged his word to the King that\nthe book contained more than one hundred errors, and with his foot on my\nneck, he compelled me to prove him right. I condemned only one more!\"\n\nThe Cathedral of Senez is an humble village church where frank and\nsimple poverty exists with the remains of ancient splendour. It is\nsmall, as are all churches of its style, and although it does not lack a\nhomely dignity, it is a modest work of XII century Romanesque, and the\nsonorous title of its consecration in 1242, \"the Assumption of the\nBlessed Virgin Mary,\" suggests an impressiveness which the Cathedral\nnever had.\n\nTwo heavy buttresses that support the facade wall are reminiscent of the\nmore majestic Notre-Dame-du-Bourg of Digne, and on them rest the ends of\na pointed gable-roof. Between these buttresses, the wall is pierced by a\nlong and graceful round-arched window, and below the window is the\nsingle, pointed portal whose columns are gone and whose delicate\nfoliated carvings and mouldings are sadly worn away. A sun-dial painted\non the wall tells the time of day, and at the gable's sharpest point a\nsaucy little angel with a trumpet in his mouth blows with the wind.\n\n[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL.--SENEZ.]\n\nEntering the little portal, the traveller saw the poor wooden benches of\nthe congregation massed together, and beyond them, the stalls of\nlong-departed Canons. In front of these old stalls, stood the church's\nlatest luxury, a melodeon, and above them hung the tapestries of its\nricher past. Tapestries also beautify the choir-walls, and on either\nside, are the narrow transepts and the apses of a good old style. There\nare also poor and tawdry altars which stand in strange, pitiable\ncontrast with the old walls and the fine tunnel vaulting, the dignified\narchitecture of the past.\n\n[Illustration: \"TAPESTRIES BEAUTIFY THE CHOIR WALLS.\"--SENEZ.]\n\nLeaving the interior, where a solitary peasant knelt in prayer, the\ntraveller saw side-walls bare as the mountains round about, the squat\ntower that rises just above the roof, and coming to the apse-end he\nfound the presbytery garden. From the garden, beyond the fallen gate, he\nsaw the church as the Cure saw it, the three round apses with their\nlittle columns, the smaller decorative arches of the cornices, the\npointed roof, and between branches full of apple blossoms, the softened\nlines of the low square tower. Here, trespassing, the Cure found him.\nAnd after they had walked about the town, and talked the whole day long\nof the great world which lay so far beyond, they went into the little\ngarden as the sun was going down, and fell to musing over coffee cups.\nThe priest was first to speak.\n\n\"Perhaps, buried under those old church walls, lie proofs of our early\nhistory, the stones of some old Temple, or statues of its gods; for we\nwere once Sanitium, a Roman city in a country of six Roman roads.\nPerhaps all around us were great monuments of pagan wealth, a Mausoleum\nnear these bare old rocks like that which stands in loneliness near\nSaint-Remy, Villas, Baths, or Triumphal Arches.\"\n\nThe keen eyes softened, as he continued in gentle irony, \"Down in this\nlittle valley of the Asse de Blieux, our town seems far away from any\nscene in which the great ones of earth took part. Although I know that\nit is true, it often seems to me a legend that the gay and gallant\nFrancis I, rushing to a mad war, stopped on his way to injure us; and\nthat four hundred years ago a band of Huguenots raved around our old\nCathedral, and tried to pull it to the ground.\"\n\n\"And do you think it can be true,\" the traveller asked, \"that Bishops\nheld mysterious prisoners in that tower for most dreary lengths of\ntime?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"BETWEEN BRANCHES FULL OF APPLE-BLOSSOMS, THE CHURCH AS\nTHE CURE SAW IT.\"--SENEZ.]\n\nThe Cure smiled, and shook his white head. \"That is a story which the\npeasants tell,--an old tradition of the land. It may be true, since\npriests are mortal men and doubtless dealt with sinners.\" He smiled\nindulgently. \"Through the many years I have been here, I have often\nwondered about all these things, but it is seldom I can speak my\nthoughts. Sometimes when I am here alone, I lose the sense of present\nthings and seem to see the phantoms of the past. Then the dusk comes on,\nas it is coming now; the night blots Senez from my sight as fate has\nblotted out its record from history,--and I realise that our human\nmemory is in vain.\"\n\n\n[Sidenote: Aix.]\n\nThe old Cathedral of Saint-Sauveur at Aix is not one of those rarely\nbeautiful churches where a complete and restful homogeneity delights the\neye, nor is it a church of crude and shocking transitions. It is rather\na well-arranged museum of ecclesiastical architecture, where, in\nsufficient historical continuity and harmony, many Provencal conceptions\nare found, and the evolution of Provencal architecture may be very\ncompletely followed. As in all collections, the beauty of Saint-Sauveur\nis not in a general view or in any glance into a long perspective, but\nin a close and loving study of the details it encloses; and so charming,\nso really beautiful are many of the diverse little treasures of Aix,\nthat such study is better repaid here than in any other Provencal\nCathedral. For this is one of the largest Cathedrals of the province,\nand the buildings which form the ecclesiastical group are most\ncomplete. With its baptistery, Cloister, church, and arch-episcopal\nPalace, it is not only of many epochs and styles, but of many historical\nuncertainties, and the hypotheses of its construction are enough to daze\nthe most hardened archaeologist.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE SOUTH AISLE.\"--AIX.]\n\nThe oldest part of the Cathedral is the baptistery, and the date of its\norigin is unknown. Much of its character was lost in a restoration of\nthe XVII century, but its old round form, the magnificent Roman columns\nof granite and green marble said to have been part of the Temple to\nApollo, give it an atmosphere of dignity and an ancient charm that even\nthe XVII century--so potent in architectural evil--was unable to\ndestroy.\n\n[Illustration: THE ROMANESQUE PORTAL.]\n\nIn 1060, after the destructive vicissitudes of the early centuries,\nArchbishop Rostaing d'Hyeres issued a pastoral letter appealing to\nthe Faithful to aid him in the re-building of a new Cathedral; and it\nmay be reasonably supposed that the nave which is at present the south\naisle, the baptistery, and the Cloisters were the buildings that were\ndedicated less than fifty years later. They are the only portions of the\nchurch which can be ascribed to so early a period, and with the low door\nof entrance, the single nave and the adjoining cloister-walk, they\nconstitute the usual plan of XI century Romanesque. Considering this as\nthe early church, in almost original form, it will be seen that the\nportal is a very interesting example of the Provencal use not only of\nRoman suggestion, but of the actual fragments of Roman art which had\nescaped the invader; that the south aisle, in itself a completed\ninterior, bears a close resemblance to Avignon; and that the Cloister,\nalthough now very worn and even defaced, must have been one of the\nquaintest and most delicate, as it is one of the tiniest, in Provence.\nThree sides of its arcades support plain buildings of a later date; the\nfourth stands free, as if in ruin. Little coupled columns, some\nslenderly circular, some twisted, and some polygonal, rest on a low\nwall; piers, very finely and differently carved, are at each of the\narcade angles; the little capitals of the columns were once beautifully\ncut, and even the surfaces of the arches have small foliated disks and\nrosettes and are finished in roll and hollow. Unfortunately, a very\nlarge part of this detail-work is so defaced that its subjects are\nbarely suggested, some are so eaten away that they are as desolate of\nbeauty as the barren little quadrangle; and the whole Cloister seems to\nhave reached the brink of that pathetic old age which Shakespeare has\ndescribed, and that another step in the march of time would leave it\n\"sans everything.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE CLOISTER.--AIX.]\n\nAbout two hundred years later, in 1285, the Archbishop of Aix found the\nCathedral too unpretending for the rank and dignity of the See, and he\nbegan the Gothic additions. Like many another prelate his ambitions were\nlarger than his means; and the history of Saint-Sauveur from the XIII to\nthe XIX century, is that oft-told tale of new indulgences offered for\nnew contributions, halts and delays in construction, emptied treasuries,\nand again, appeals and fresh efforts. The beginnings of the enlarged\nCathedral were architecturally abrupt. The old nave, becoming the south\naisle, was connected with the new by two small openings; it retained\nmuch of its separateness and in spite of added chapels much actual\nisolation. The Gothic nave, the north aisle and its many chapels, the\napse, and the transepts, whose building and re-construction stretched\nover the long period between the XIII and XVII centuries, are\ncomparatively regular, uniform, and uninteresting. The most ambitious\nview is that of the central nave, whose whole length is so little broken\nby entrances to the side aisles, that it seems almost solidly enclosed\nby its massive walls. Here in Gothic bays, are found those rounded,\nlongitudinal arches which belong to the Romanesque and to some structure\nwhose identity is buried in the mysterious past. The choir, with its\nlong, narrow windows, and clusters of columnettes, is very pleasing, and\nits seven sides, foreign to Provence, remind one of Italian and Spanish\nconstructive forms and take one's memory on strange jaunts, to the\nfar-away Frari in Venice and the colder Abbey of London. From the choir\nof Saint-Sauveur two chapels open; and one of them is a charming bit of\narchitecture, a replica in miniature of the mother-apse itself. The\npaintings of this mother-apse are neutral, its glass has no claim to\nsumptuousness, and the stalls are very unpretending; but above them hang\ntapestries ascribed to Matsys, splendid hangings of the Flemish school\nthat were once in old Saint Paul's.\n\nWith these beautiful details the rich treasure-trove of the interior is\nexhausted, and one passes out to study the details of the exterior. The\nCathedral's single tower, which rises behind the facade line, was one of\nthe parts that was longest neglected,--perhaps because a tower is less\nessential to the ritual than any other portion of an ecclesiastical\nbuilding. Begun in 1323, the work dragged along with many periods of\nabsolute idleness, until 1880, when a balustrade with pinnacles at each\nangle was added to the upper octagonal stage, and the building of the\ntower was thus ended. The octagon with its narrow windows rests on a\nplain, square base that is massively buttressed. It is a pleasant,\nrather than a remarkable tower, and one's eye wanders to the more\nbeautiful facade. Here, encased by severely plain supports, is one of\nthe most charming portals of Provencal Gothic. Decorated buttresses\nstand on either side of a large, shallow recess which has a high and\npointed arch, and in the centre, a slim pier divides the entrance-way\ninto two parts, pre-figuring the final division of the Just and the\nUnjust. A multitude of finely sculptured statues were formerly hidden in\nniches, under graceful canopies, and in the hundred little nooks and\ncorners which lurk about true Gothic portals. Standing Apostles and\nseated Patriarchs, baby cherubs peering out, and the more dramatic\ncomposition of the tympanum--the Transfiguration,--all lent a dignity\nand wealth to Saint-Sauveur. Unfortunately many of these sculptures were\ntorn from their crannies in the great Revolution; and it is only a few\nof the heavenly hosts,--the gracious Madonna, Saint Michael, and the\nProphets,--that remain as types of those that were so wantonly\ndestroyed. The low, empty gables that sheltered lost statues, their\nslender, tapering turrets, and the delicate outer curve of the arch, are\nof admirable, if not imposing, composition. The portal's wooden doors,\nprotected by plain casings, abound in carvings partly Renaissance,\npartly Gothic. The Sibyls and Prophets stand under canopies, surrounded\nby foliage, fruits, and flowers, or isolated from each other by little\nbuttresses or pilasters. This Gothic portal quite outshines, in its\ngraceful elaboration, the smaller door which stands near it, in the\nsimpler and not less potent charm of the Romanesque. And side by side,\nthese portals offer a curiously interesting comparison of the essential\ndifferences and qualities of their two great styles. If the Romanesque\nof Saint-Sauveur is far surpassed at Arles and Digne and Sisteron,\nnowhere in Provence has Gothic richer details; and if the noblest of\nProvencal creations must be sought in other little cities, the lover of\narchitectural comparisons, of details, of the many lesser things rather\nthan of the harmony of a single whole, will linger long in Aix.\n\n[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL.--AIX.]\n\nThe old city itself shows scarcely a trace of the many historic dramas\nof which it has been the scene,--the lowering tragedy of the Vaudois\ntime,--the bright, gay comedy of good king Rene's Court,--the shorter\nscenes of Charles V's occupation,--the Parliament's struggle with\nRichelieu and Mazarin,--the day of the fiery Mirabeau,--the grim\nmelodrama of the Revolution,--all have passed, and time has destroyed\ntheir monuments almost as completely as the Saracens destroyed those of\nthe earlier Roman days. Only a few, unformed fragments of the great\nTemple of Apollo remain in the walls of Saint-Sauveur. The earliest\nCathedral, Sainte-Marie-de-la-Seds, has entirely disappeared, the old\nthermal springs are enclosed by modern buildings, and only the statue of\n\"the good King Rene\" and the Church of the Knights of Malta give to Aix\na faint atmosphere of its past distinction. Who would dream that here\nwere the homes of the elegant and lettered courtiers of King Rene's\nbrilliant capital, who would think that this town was the earliest Roman\nsettlement in Gaul, the Aquae Sextiae of Baths, Temples, Theatres, and\ngreat wealth? Aix is a stately town, a provincial capital which Balzac\nmight well have described--with old, quiet streets that are a little\ndreary, with a fine avenue shaded by great trees in whose shadows a few\nfountains trickle, with lines of little stages that come each day from\nthe country,--a city whose life is as far in spirit from the near-by\nmodernity of Marseilles as it is from that of Paris, as quaintly and\ndelightfully provincial as that other little Provencal city, the\nTarascon of King Rene and of Tartarin.\n\n\n\n\nLanguedoc.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nCATHEDRALS OF THE CITIES.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Nimes.]\n\nEntering Languedoc from the valley of the Rhone, the Cathedral-lover is\ndoomed to disappointment in the city of Nimes. All that intense,\nintra-mural life of the Middle Ages seems to have passed this city by,\nand its traces, which he is so eager to find, prove to be neither\nnotable nor beautiful.\n\n[Illustration: \"AN AMPHITHEATRE WHICH RIVALS THE ART OF THE\nCOLISEUM.\"--NIMES.]\n\nThe great past of Nimes is of a more remote antiquity than the Cathedral\nBuilding Ages. A small but exquisite Temple, a Nymphaeum, Baths, parts of\na fine Portal, Roman walls, and an Amphitheatre which rivals the art of\nthe Coliseum,--these are the ruins of Nimean greatness. She was\nessentially a city of the Romans, and that, even to-day, she has not\nlost the memory of her glorious antiquity was well illustrated in 1874,\nwhen the Nimois, with much pomp and civic pride, unveiled a statue to\n\"their fellow-countryman,\" the Emperor Antoninus Pius. These are the\nmemories in which Nimes delights. Yet her history of later times, if not\nglorious, is full of strange and curious interest. Like all the ancient\ncities of the South, she fell into the hands of many a wild and alien\nfoe, and at length in 737, Charles Martel arrived at her gates. Grossly\nignorant of art, no thing of beauty that stood in his path escaped fire\nand axe; and smoke-marks along the arena walls show to-day how narrowly\nthey escaped the irreparable destruction which had wiped out the Forum,\nthe Capitol, the Temple, the Baths, and all the magnificence of Roman\nNarbonne. To both the early and the later Middle Ages, Roman remains had\nscarcely more meaning than they had for the Franks. The delicate Temple\nof Trajan's wife, scorned for its pagan associations, was used as a\nstable, a store-house, and, purified by proper ceremonials, it even\nbecame a Christian church. The Amphitheatre has had a still stranger\ndestiny. To a mediaeval Viscount, it was naturally inconceivable as a\nplace of amusement, and as naturally, he saw in its walls a stronghold\nwhere he could live as securely as ever lord in castle. As a fortress\nwhich successfully defied Charles Martel, it was a place of no mean\nstrength, and in 1100 it had become \"a veritable hornets' nest, buzzing\nwith warriors.\"\n\nA few years before, Pope Urban II had landed at Maguelonne and ridden to\nClermont to preach the First Crusade. On his return he stopped at Nimes\nand held a Council for the same holy purpose. Raymond de Saint-Gilles,\nCount of Toulouse and overlord of Nimes, travelled there to meet the\nSovereign Pontiff, and amid the wonderful ferment of enthusiasm which\nthe \"Holy War\" had aroused, the South was pledged anew to this romantic\nand war-like phase of the cause of Christ. Trencavel, Viscount of Nimes,\nloyal to God and his Suzerain, followed Raymond to Palestine. Its\nnatural protectors gone, the city formed a defensive association called\nthe \"Chevaliers of the Arena.\" As its name implies, this curious\nfraternity was composed of the soldiers of the ancient amphitheatre.\nLike many others of the time it was semi-military, semi-religious, its\nmembers bound by many solemn oaths and ceremonies, and thus, by the\neccentricity of fate, this old pagan playground became a fortress\nconsecrated to Christian defence, the scene of many a solemn Mass.\n\nThe divisions in the Christian faith, which followed so closely the\nfervours of the Crusades, were most disastrous to Nimes. From the XIII\nuntil the XVII centuries, wars of religion were interrupted by\nsuspicious and unheeded truces, and these in turn were broken by fresh\noutbursts of embittered contest. An ally of the new \"Crusaders\" in Simon\nde Montfort's day, Nimes became largely Protestant in the XVI century;\nand in 1567, as if to avenge the injuries their ancestors had formerly\ninflicted on the Albigenses, the Nimois sacked their Bishop's Palace and\nthrew all the Catholics they could find down the wells of the town. This\ncelebration of Saint Michael's Day was repaid at the Massacre of Saint\nBartholomew. The wise Edict of Nantes brought a truce to these\nhostilities,--its revocation, new persecutions and flights. A hundred\nyears later the Huguenots were again in force, and, aided by the unrest\nof the Revolution, successfully massacred the Catholics of the city; and\nduring the \"White Terror\" of 1815 the Catholics arose and avenged\nthemselves with equal vigour. When it is remembered that this savage and\nvindictive spirit has characterised the Nimois of the last six hundred\nyears, it is scarcely surprising that they should prefer to dwell on the\nremote antiquity of their city rather than on the unedifying episodes of\nher Christian history.\n\nBetween the glories of her paganism and the disputes of Christians, the\nFaith has struggled and survived; but in the Cathedral-building era,\nreligious enthusiasm was so often expended in mutual fury and reprisals\nthat neither time nor thought was left for that common and gentle\nexpression of mediaeval fervour, ecclesiastical architecture. And the\nChurch of Notre-Dame-et-Saint-Castor, which would seem to have suffered\nfrom the neglect and ignorance of both patrons and builders, is one of\nthe least interesting Cathedrals in Languedoc.\n\nA graceful gallery of the nave, which also surrounds the choir, is the\nnotable part of the interior, and the insignificance of the exterior is\nrelieved only by a frieze of the XI and XII centuries. On this frieze is\nsculptured, in much interesting detail, the Biblical stories of the\nearly years of mankind; but it is unfortunately placed so high on the\nfront wall that it seems badly proportioned to the facade, and as a\ncarved detail it is almost indistinguishable. As has been finely said\nthe whole church is \"gaunt\" and unbeautiful; it is a depressing mixture\nof styles, Roman, Romano-Byzantine, and Gothic; and in studying its one\nfine detail, a photograph or a drawing is much more satisfactory than an\nhour's tantalising effort to see the original.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Montpellier.]\n\nMontpellier is \"an agreeable city, clean, well-built, intersected by\nopen squares with wide-spread horizons, and fine, broad boulevards, a\ncity whose distinctive characteristics would appear to be wealth, and a\ntaste for art, leisure, and study.\" The \"taste\" and the \"art\" are\nprincipally those of the pseudo-classic style, an imitation of \"ancient\nGreece and imperial Rome,\" which the French of the XVIII century carried\nto such unpleasant excess. The general characteristics of the imitation,\nsize and bombast, are well epitomised in the principal statue of\nMontpellier's fine Champ de Mars, which represents the high-heeled and\nluxurious Louis XIV in the unfitting armour of a Roman Imperator,\nmounted on a huge and restive charger. Such affectation in architectural\nsubjects is the death-blow to all real beauty and originality, and\nMontpellier has gained little from its Bourbon patrons except a series\nof fine broad vistas. No city could offer greater contrast to the\nancient and dignified classicism of Nimes.\n\nIf the mediaeval origin of Montpellier were not well known, one would\nbelieve it the creation of the Renaissance, and the few narrow, tortuous\nstreets of the older days recall little of its intense past, when the\ncity grew as never before nor since, when scholars of the genius of\nPetrarch and the wit of Rabelais sought her out, when she belonged to\nAragon or Navarre and not to the King of France. This is the interesting\nMontpellier.\n\nIn the XIII century, she had a University which the Pope formally\nsanctioned, and a school of medicine founded by Arabian physicians which\nrivalled that of Paris. More significant still to Languedoc, her\nprosperity had begun to overshadow that of the neighbouring Bishopric of\nMaguelonne, and a bitter rivalry sprang up between the two cities. From\nthe first Maguelonne was doomed. She had no schools that could rival\nthose of Montpellier; she ceased to grow as the younger city increased\nin fame and size, till even history passed her by, and the stirring\nevents of the times took place in the streets of her larger and more\nprosperous neighbour. Finally she was deserted by her Bishops, and no\nlonger upheld by their episcopal dignity, her fall was so overwhelming\nthat to-day her mediaeval walls have crumbled to the last stone and only\na lonely old Cathedral remains to mark her greatness. In 1536 my Lord\nBishop, with much appropriate pomp and ceremony, rode out of her gates\nand entered those of Montpellier as titular Bishop for the first time.\n\nHe did not find the townsmen so elated by the new dignity of the city as\nto have broken ground for a new Cathedral, nor did he himself seem\nambitious, as his predecessors of Maguelonne had been, to build a church\nworthy of his rank. However, as a Bishop must have a Cathedral-church,\nthe chapel of the Benedictine monastery was chosen for this honour and\nsolemnly consecrated the Cathedral of Saint-Pierre of Montpellier. This\nchapel had been built in the XIV century, and at the time of these\nepiscopal changes, only the nave was finished. It was, however, Gothic;\nand as this style had become much favoured by the South at this late\nperiod, the Bishop must have believed that he had the beginning of a\nvery fine and admirable Cathedral. In the religious wars which followed\n1536, succeeding prelates found much to distract them from any further\nbuilding; the Cathedral itself was so injured that such attention as\ncould be spared from heretics to mere architectural details was devoted\nto necessary restorations and reconstructions, and the finished\nSaint-Pierre of to-day is an edifice of surprising modernity.\n\nIn the interior, the nave and aisles are partially of old construction,\nbut the beautiful choir is the XIX century building of Revoil. Of the\nexterior, the entire apse is his also, and as the portal of the south\nwall was built in 1884 and the northern side of the Cathedral is\nincorporated in that of the Bishop's Palace, only the tower and the\nfacade are mediaeval.\n\n[Illustration: \"ITS GENERAL EFFECT IS SOMEWHAT THAT OF A\nPORTE-COCHERE.\"--MONTPELLIER.]\n\nNone of the towers have much architectural significance, either of\nbeauty or originality. In comparison with the decoration of the facade\nthey make but little impression. This decoration has more original\nincongruity than any detail ever applied to facade, Gothic or\nRomanesque, and is an extreme example of the license which southern\nbuilders allowed themselves in their adaptation of the northern style.\nIt is a vagary, and has appealed to some Anglo-Saxon travellers, but\nFrench authorities, almost without dissent, allude to it apologetically\nas \"unpardonable.\" Its general effect is somewhat that of a\nporte-cochere, whose roofing, directly attached to the front wall, is\ngothically pointed, and supported by two immense pillars. The pillars\nend in cones that resemble nothing in the world so much as sugar-loaves,\nand the whole structure is marvellously unique. Yet strange to say, the\neffect of the facade, with the smoothness and roundness of its pillars\nand the uncompromising squareness of its towers, while altogether bad,\nis not altogether unpleasing. Standing before it the traveller was both\nbewildered and fascinated as he saw that even in the extravagance of\ntheir combinations, the builders, with true southern finesse, had\navoided both the grotesque and the monstrous.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE FINEST VIEW IS THAT OF THE APSE.\"--MONTPELLIER.]\n\nAs a whole, Saint-Pierre is a fine Cathedral; through many stages of\nbuilding, enlarging, and re-constructing, its style has remained\nconsonant; but the general impression is not altogether harmonious. The\nperspective of the western front, which should be imposing, is destroyed\nby a hill which slopes sharply up before the very portal. The facade is\nattached to the immense, unbroken wall of the old episcopal Palace, and\nthe majesty, which is a Cathedral's by very virtue of its height alone,\nis entirely destroyed by a seemingly interminable breadth of wall.\nReversing the natural order of things, the finest view is that of the\napse. And this modern part is, in reality, the chief architectural glory\nof this comparatively new Cathedral and its comparatively modern town.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Beziers.]\n\n\"You have only to look from a distance at any old-fashioned\nCathedral-city and you will see in a moment the mediaeval relations\nbetween Church and State. The Cathedral is the city. The first object\nyou catch sight of as you approach is the spire tapering into the sky,\nor the huge towers holding possession of the centre of the\nlandscape--majestically beautiful--imposing by mere size. As you go\nnearer, the pinnacles are glittering in the tints of the sunset, when\ndown below among the streets and lanes twilight is darkening. And even\nnow, when the towns are thrice their ancient size, ... the Cathedral is\nstill the governing force in the picture, the one object which possesses\nthe imagination, and refuses to be eclipsed.\" These words are the\ndescription of Beziers as it is best and most impressively seen. From\nthe distance, the Cathedral and its ramparts rise in imposing mass, a\nfine example of the strength, pride, and supremacy of the Church.\n\nAs we approach, the Cathedral grows much less imposing, and its facade\ngives the impression of an unpleasant conglomeration of styles. It is\nnot a fortress church, yet it was evidently built for defence; it is\nGothic, yet the lightness and grace of that art are sacrificed to the\nmassiveness and resistive strength, imperatively required by southern\nCathedrals in times of wars and bellicose heretics. The whole building\nseems a compromise between necessity and art.\n\nIt is, however, a notable example of the Gothic of the South, and of the\nmodifications which that style invariably underwent, through the\nartistic caprice of its builders, or the political fore-sight of their\npatrons, the Bishops.\n\nThe facade of Saint-Nazaire of Beziers has a Gothic portal of good but\nnot notable proportions, and a large and beautiful rose-window. As if to\nprotect these weaker and decorative attempts, the builder flanked them\nwith two square towers, whose crenellated tops and solid, heavy walls\ncould serve as strongholds. Perhaps to reconcile the irreconcilable,\ncrenellations joining the towers were placed over the rose-window, and\nat either end of the portal, a few inches of Gothic carving were cut in\nthe tower-wall. The result is frank incongruity. And the traveller left\nwithout regret, to look at the apse. It cannot be denied that the\nclock-tower which comes into view is very square and thick; but in spite\nof that it has a simple dignity, and as the apse itself is not florid,\nthis proved to be the really pleasing detailed view of the Cathedral.\nThe open square behind the church is tiny, and there one can best see\nthe curious grilled iron-work, which in the times of mediaeval outbreaks\nprotected the fine windows of the choir and preserved them for future\ngenerations of worshippers and admirers. It was after noon when the\ntraveller finished his investigations of Saint-Nazaire; and as the\nsouthern churches close between twelve and two, he took dejeuner at a\nlittle cafe near-by and patiently waited for the hour of re-opening. Had\nthere been nothing but the interior to explore, he could not have spent\ntwo hours in such contented waiting. But there was a Cloister,--and on\nthe stroke of two he and the sacristan met before the portal.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE CLOCK-TOWER IS VERY SQUARE AND THICK.\"--BEZIERS.]\n\nIn describing their \"monuments,\" French guide-books confine themselves\nto facts, and the adjectives \"fine\" and \"remarkable\"; they are almost\nalways strictly impersonal, and the traveller who uses them as a\ncicerone, has a sense of unexpected discovery, a peculiar elation, in\nfinding a monument of rare beauty; but he is never subjected to that\ndisappointed irritation which comes when one stands before the\n\"monument\" and feels that one's expectations have been unduly\nstimulated. The Cloister of Beziers is a \"fine monument,\" but as he\nwalked about it, the traveller felt no sense of elation. He found a\nsmall Cloister, Gothic like the Cathedral, with clustered columns and\nlittle ornamentation. It was not very completely restored, and had a\nsad, melancholy charm, like a solitary sprig of lavender in an old\npress, or a rose-leaf between the pages of a worn and forgotten Missal.\nIn the Cloister-close, stands a Gothic fountain; but the days when its\nwaters dropped and tinkled in the stillness, when their sound mingled\nwith the murmured prayers and slow steps of the priests,--those days are\nlong forgotten. The quaint and pretty fountain is now dry and\ndust-covered; while about it trees and plants and weeds grow as they\nmay, and bits of the Cloister columns have fallen off, and niches are\nwithout their guarding Saints.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE QUAINT AND PRETTY FOUNTAIN.\"--BEZIERS.]\n\nBy contrast, the Cathedral itself seems full of life. Its interior is an\naisle-less Gothic room, whose fine height and emptiness of column or\ndetail give it an appearance of vast and well-conceived proportions.\nExcept the really beautiful windows of the choir, which are a study in\nthemselves, there is very little in this interior to hold the mind; one\nis lost in a pleasant sense of general symmetry. As the traveller was\nsitting in the nave, a few priests filed into the choir, and began, in\nquavering voices, to intone their prayers, and in the peacefulness of\nthe church, in the trembling monotony of the weak, old voices, his\nthoughts wandered to the stirring history which had been lived about the\nCathedral, and within its very walls. For Beziers was and had always\nbeen a hot-bed of heretics. Here in the IV century, long before the\nbuilding of the Cathedral, the Emperor Constantius II forced the\nunwilling Catholic Bishops of Gaul to join their heretical Aryan\nbrethren in Council; here the equally heretical Visigoths gave new\nstrength to the dissenters; and here, again, after centuries of\northodoxy which Clovis had imposed, a new centre of religious storm was\nformed. It was about this period, the XII and XIV centuries, that the\nCathedral was built; and it is perhaps because of the strength of those\nFrench protestants against the Church of Rome, the Albigenses, that its\nessentially Gothic style was so confused by military additions. At the\nbeginning of the troublous times of which these towers are reminders,\nRaymond-Roger of Trencavel, the gallant and romantic Lord of\nCarcassonne, was also Viscount of Beziers; and contrary to the fanatical\nenthusiasm of his day, was much disposed toward religious toleration;\ntherefore in the early wars of Catholics and Protestants the city of\nBeziers became the refuge not only for the terrified Faithful of the\nsurrounding country, but for many hunted Protestants. In the XIII\ncentury, the zeal of the Catholic party, reinforced by the political\ninterests of its members, grew most hot and dangerous. Saint Dominic had\ncome into the South; and in his fearful, fiery sermons, he not only\nprophesied that the Albigenses would swell the number of the damned at\nthe Day of Judgment, but also advocated that, living, they should know\nthe hell of Inquisition. Partisans of the Catholic Faith were solemnly\nconsecrated \"Crusaders\" by Pope Innocent III, and wore the cross in\nthese Wars of Extermination as they had worn it in the Holy Wars of\nPalestine. In 1209 their army advanced against Beziers, and from out\ntheir Councils the leaders sent the Bishop of the city to admonish his\nflock.\n\nAll the inhabitants were summoned to meet him, and they gathered in the\nchoir and transepts of the Cathedral,--the only parts which were\nfinished at that time. One can imagine the anxious citizens crowding\ninto the church, the coming of the angered prelate, whose state and\nfrown were well calculated to intimidate the wavering, and the tense\nsilence as he passed, with grave blessing, to the altar. In a few words,\nhe advised them of their peril, spiritual and material; he told them he\nknew well who was true and who false to the Church, that he had, in\nwritten list, the very names of the heretics they seemed to harbour.\nThen he begged them to deliver those traitors into his hands, and their\ncity to the Legate of the Holy Father. In fewer words came their answer;\n\"Venerable Father, all that are here are Christians, and we see amongst\nus only our brethren.\" Such words were a refusal, a heinous sin, and\ndread must have been written on every face, as without a word or sign of\nblessing, the outraged Bishop swept from the church and returned to the\ncamp of their enemy.\n\nThe Crusaders' Councils were stormy; for some of the nobles wished to\nsave the Catholics, others cried out for the extermination of the whole\nrebellious place, and finally the choleric Legate, Armand-Amaury, Abbot\nof Citeaux, could stand it no longer, and cried out fiercely, \"Kill them\nall! God will know His own.\" The words of their Legate were final, the\narmy attacked the city, and--as Henri Martin finely writes,--\"neither\nfuneral tollings nor bell-ringings, nor Canons in all their priestly\nrobes could avail, all were put to the sword; not one was saved, and it\nwas the saddest pity ever seen or heard.\" The city was pillaged, was\nfired, was devastated and burned \"till no living thing remained.\"\n\n\"No living thing remained\" to tell the awful tale, and yet with time and\nindustry, a new and forgetful Beziers has risen to all its old prestige\nand many times its former size; the Cathedral alone was left, and its\nmost memorable tale to our day is not that of the abiding peace of the\nFaith, but that of the terrible travesty of religion of the\ntwenty-second of July, hundreds of years ago.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Narbonne.]\n\n\"Narbonne is still mighty and healthful, if one is to judge from the\nactivities of the present day; is picturesque and pleasing, and far more\ncomfortably disposed than many cities with a more magnificently imposing\nsituation.\" These words, which were running in the traveller's mind,\ngrew more and more derisive, more and more ironical, as he walked about\nNarbonne. Not in all the South of France had he seen a city so\ndepressing. Her decline has been continuous for the long five hundred\nyears since the Roman dykes gave way and she was cut off from the sea.\nAgde, almost as old, displays the decline of a dignified, retired old\nage; Saint-Gilles-du-Gard was as dirty, but not a whit as pretentious;\nNimes was majestically antique; Narbonne, simply sordid.\n\nIt is sad to think that over two thousand years ago she was a second\nMarseilles, that she was the first of Rome's transalpine colonies, and\nthat under Tiberius her schools rivalled those of the Capital of the\nworld. It is sadder to think that all the magnificence of Roman luxury,\nof sculptured marble--a Forum, Capitol, Temples, Baths, Triumphal\nArches,--stood where dreary rows of semi-modern houses now stand. It is\nalmost impossible to believe in the lost grandeur of this city, and that\nit was veritably under the tutelage of so great and superb a god as\nMars.\n\nThe eventful Christian period of Narbonne was very noted but not very\nlong. Her melancholy decay began as early as the XIV century. Of her\ngreat antiquity nothing is left but a few hacked and mutilated carvings;\nof her ambitious Mediaevalism, nothing but an unfinished group of\necclesiastical buildings. Long gone is the lordly \"Narbo\" dedicated to\nMars, gone the city of the Latin poet, whose words repeated to-day in\nher streets are a bitter mockery, and gone the stronghold of mediaeval\ntimes. There remains a rare phenomenon for cleanly France,--a dirty\ncity, whose older sections are reminiscent of unbeautiful old age,\ndecrepit and unwashed; and whose newly projected boulevards are\ndistinguished by tawdry and pretentious youth.\n\nIn the midst of this city, stands a group of mediaeval churchly\nbuildings, the Palace of the prelate, his Cathedral, and an adjoining\nCloister. They are all either neglected, unfinished, or re-built; but\nare of so noble a plan that the traveller feels a \"divine wrath\" that\nthey should never have reached their full grandeur of completion, that\nthis great architectural work should have been begun so near the close\nof the city's prosperity, and that in spite of several efforts it has\nnever been half completed. It is as if a fatality hung over the whole\nplace, and as if all the greatness Narbonne had conceived was\npredestined to destruction or incompletion.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE DOOR OF THE CLOISTER.\"--NARBONNE.]\n\nOf the three structures, the least interesting is the former Palace of\nthe Archbishops. This is now the Hotel-de-Ville, and as all the body of\nthe structure between the towers of the XII century was built in our day\nby Viollet-le-Duc, very little of the old Palace can properly be said to\nexist. Besides its two principal towers, a smaller one, a gate, and a\nchapel remain. Viollet-le-Duc has constructed the Hotel-de-Ville after\nthe perfectly appropriate style of the XIII century, but its stone is so\nnew and its atmosphere so modern and republican that the traveller left\nit without regret and made his way up the dark, steep, badly-paved\nalley-way which leads to the door of the Cloister.\n\nThis Cloister, which separated the Palace from the Cathedral, is now\ndreary and desolate and neglected. Like the Cathedral, it is Gothic,\nwith sadly decaying traces of graceful ornament. The little plot of\nenclosed ground, which should be planted in grass or with a few flowers,\nis a mere dirt court, tramped over by the few worshippers who enter the\nCathedral this way. Two or three trees grow as they will, gnarled or\nstraight. The sense of peaceful melancholy which the traveller had felt\nin the Cloister of Beziers is wanting here. This is a place of deserted\nsolitude; and with a sigh for the beauty that might have been, the\ntraveller crossed the enclosure and entered the church by the\ncloister-door.\n\n[Illustration: \"THIS IS A PLACE OF DESERTED SOLITUDE.\"--NARBONNE.]\n\nArchitecturally dissimilar, the fate of this Cathedral is not unlike\nthat of Beauvais. Each was destined to have a completed choir, and each\nto remain without a nave. At Beauvais the addition of transepts adds\nvery materially to the beauty of the Cathedral. At Narbonne no transepts\nexist. There is simply a choir, which makes a very singular disposition\nof the church both religious and architectural. Entering the gates which\nlead from the ambulatory to the choir, the traveller found that\nBenediction had just begun. On his immediate right, before the altar all\naglow with lights, were the officiating priests and the altar-boys; on\nhis left, in the choir, was the congregation in the Canons' stalls;\nand at the back, as at the end of a nave, rose the organ.\n\nThe traveller walked about the ambulatory, and leaning against the\nfarthest wall, tried to view the church, only to be baffled. There was\nno perspective. The ambulatory is very narrow and the choir-screen very\nhigh. The impressions he formed were partly imaginative, partly\ninductive; and the clearest one was that of sheer height, straight,\nsuperhuman height that is one of the unmatchable glories of French\nGothic. Here the traveller thought again of Beauvais, and wished as he\nhad so often wished in the northern Cathedral and with something of the\nsame intensity, that this freedom and majesty of height might have been\ngloriously continued and completed in the nave. Such a church as his\nimagination pictured would have been worthy of a place with the best of\nnorthern Gothic. Now it is a suggestion, a beginning of greatness; and\nits chief glory lies in the simplicity and directness of its height.\nClustered columns rise plainly to the pointed Gothic roof. There is so\nmarked an absence of carving that it seems as if ornamentation would\nhave been weakening and trammelling. It is not bareness, but beautiful\nfirmness, which refreshes and uplifts the heart of man as the sight of\nsome island mountain rising sheer from the sea.\n\nThe exterior of the Cathedral, imposing from a distance, is rather\ncomplicated in its unfinished compromise of detail. In the XV century,\ntwo towers were built which flank the western end as towers usually\nflank a facade; and this gives the church a foreshortened effect. Of\nreal facade there is none, and the front wall which protects the choir\nis plainly temporary. In front of this wall there are portions of the\nunfinished nave, stones and other building materials, a scaffolding, and\na board fence; and the only pleasure the traveller could find in this\nconfusion was the fancy that he had discovered the old-time appearance\nof a Cathedral in the making.\n\nThe apse is practically completed, and one has the curious sensation\nthat it is a building without portals. Having no facade, it has none of\nthe great front entrances common to the Gothic style; neither has it the\nusual lateral door. The choir is entered by the temporary doors of the\npseudo-facade; the ambulatory is entered through the Cloister, or a\npretty little Gothic door-way which if it were not the chief entrance of\nthe church, would properly seem to have been built for the clergy rather\nthan for the people who now use it. If these portals are strangely\nunimportant, their insignificance does not detract materially from the\nstateliness of the apse, which is created by its great height--one\nhundred and thirty feet in the interior measurement--and the magnificent\nflying-buttresses.\n\nThese flying-buttresses give to the exterior its most curious and\nbeautiful effect. They are a form of Gothic seldom attempted in the\nSouth, and exist here in a rather exceptional construction. Over the\nchapels which surround the apse rise a series of double-arched supports,\nthe outer ones ending in little turrets with surmounting crenellations.\nOn these supports, after a splendid outward sweep, rest the abutments of\nthe flying arches. These have a fine sure grace and withal a lightness\nthat relieves the heaviness imposed on the church by the towers and the\nimmense strength of the body of the apse. They are the chief as well as\nthe most salient glory of the exterior, and give to the Cathedral its\npeculiar individuality.\n\n[Illustration: \"THESE FLYING-BUTTRESSES GIVE TO THE EXTERIOR ITS MOST\nCURIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL EFFECT.\"--NARBONNE.]\n\nApart from its buttresses, Saint-Just has little decorative style. Its\ncrenellations and turrets are military and forceful, not ornate. For the\nchurch had its defensive as truly as its religious purpose, and formerly\nwas united on the North with the fortifications of the Palace, and\ncontributed to the protection of its prelates as well as to their\narch-episcopal prestige.\n\nIn spite of the fostering care of the French government, the Palace, the\nCloister, and the Cathedral seem in the hands of strangers. The\ntraveller who had longed to see them in their finished magnificence\nrealised the futility of this wish, but he turned away with another as\nvain, that he might have known them even in incompletion, when they were\nin the hands of the Church, when the Archbishop still ruled in his\nPalace, when the Canons prayed in the Cloister, and the Cathedral was\nstill a-building.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Perpignan.]\n\nPerpignan, like Elne, is in Rousillon. The period of her most brilliant\nprosperity was that of the Majorcan dominion in the XII century. Later\nshe reverted to Aragon, and was still so fine a city that for two\nhundred years France coveted and sought her, until she finally yielded\nto the greedy astuteness of Richelieu and became formally annexed to\nthe kingdom of Louis XIII. Perpignan is a gay little town, much affected\nby the genius and indolence of the Spanish race. Morning is work-time,\nnoon-tide is siesta, but afternoon and evening were made for pleasure;\nand every bright day, when the sun begins to cast shadows, people fill\nthe narrow, shady streets and walk along the promenade by the shallow\nriver, under the beautiful plane-trees. The pavements in front of the\ncafes are filled with little round tables, and here and there small\ngroups of men idle cheerfully over tiny glasses of liqueur and cups of\ncool, black coffee; perhaps they talk a little business, certainly they\ngossip a great deal. Noisy little teams filled with merry people run\ndown from the Promenade to the sea-shore; and after an hour's dip,\nalmost in the shadow of the tall Pyrenees, the same merry people return,\nlaughing, to a cooler Perpignan. In the evening, they seek the bright\ncafes and the waiters run busily to and fro among the crowded little\ntables; the narrow streets, imperfectly lighted, are full of moving\nshadows, and through the open church-doors, candles waver in the fitful\ndraught, and quiet worshippers pass from altar to altar in penance or in\nsupplication.\n\nAll the old buildings of the city are of Spanish origin. The prison is\nthe brick, battlemented castle of a Majorcan Sancho, the Citadel is as\nold, and the Aragonese Bourse is divided between the town-hall and the\ncity's most popular cafe.\n\nThe Cathedral of Saint-Jean, which faces a desolate, little square, was\nalso begun in Majorcan days and under that Sancho who ruled in 1324. At\nfirst it was merely a church; for Elne had always been the seat of the\nBishopric of Rousillon, and although the town had suffered from many\nwars and had long been declining, it was not shorn of its episcopal\nglory until there was sufficient political reason for the act. This\narose in 1692, and was based on the old-time French and Spanish claims\nto the same county to which these two cities belonged.\n\n[Illustration: \"ALL OF THE OLD BUILDINGS OF THE CITY ARE OF SPANISH\nORIGIN.\"--PERPIGNAN.]\n\nOver a hundred years before Charles VIII had plenarily ceded to\nFerdinand and Isabella all power in Rousillon, even that shadowy feudal\nSuzerainty with which, in default of actual possession, many a former\nFrench king had consoled himself and irritated a royal Spanish brother.\nFerdinand and Isabella promptly visited their new possessions, and made\nsolemn entry into Perpignan. Unfortunately the Inquisition came in their\ntrain, and the unbounded zeal of the Holy Office brought the Spanish\nrule which protected it into ever-increasing disfavour. In vain Philip\nIII again bestowed on Perpignan the title of \"faithful city,\" which she\nhad first received from John of Aragon for her loyal resistance to Louis\nXI; in vain he ennobled several of her inhabitants and transferred to\nher, from Elne, the episcopal power. The city was ready for new and\nkinder masters than the Most Catholic Kings, and in 1642 the French were\nreceived as liberators.\n\nDuring all these years the Cathedral had grown very slowly. Commenced in\n1324, over a century elapsed before the choir was finished and the\nbuilding of the nave was not begun until a hundred years later. The High\nAltar, a Porch, and the iron cage of the tower were added with equal\ndeliberation, and even to-day it is still unfinished. The most beautiful\npart is the strongly buttressed apse; the poorest, the unfinished\nfacade, which has been very fitly described as \"plain and mean.\" Looking\ndisconsolately at it from the deserted square, scarcely tempted to go\nnearer, the traveller was astounded at the thought that for several\ncenturies this unsightly wall had stared on generations of worshippers\nwithout goading them into any frenzy of action,--either destructive or\nconstructive. His only comfort lay in the scaffolding which was building\naround it, and which seemed to promise better things.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE UNFINISHED FACADE.\"--PERPIGNAN.]\n\nThe interior of the Cathedral is very large and lofty. It is without\naisles and the chapels are discreetly hidden between the piers. Far\nabove one's head curves the ribbed Gothic vaulting, and all around is\nunbroken space that ends in darkness or the vague outline of an altar,\ndimly lighted by a flickering candle. The walls are painted in rich,\nsombre colours, and the light comes very gently through the good old\nstained-glass windows. It is a southern church, dark, cool, and somewhat\nmysterious; quite foreign to the glare and heat of reality. People are\nlost in its solemn vastness, and even with many worshippers it is a\nsolitude where most holy vigils could be kept, a mystic place where the\nsouthern imagination might well lose itself in such sacred ardours as\nSaint Theresa felt. The traveller liked to linger here; in the day-time\nwhen he peered vainly at the re-redos of Soler de Barcelona, at\nMass-time, when the lighted altar-candles glimmered over its fine old\nmarble, but best of all he liked to come at night. Those summer nights\nin Rousillon were hot and full of the murmur of voices. The Cathedral\nwas the only silent place; more full than ever of the mysterious--the\nfelt and the unseen. As one entered, the sanctuary light shone as a star\nout of a night of darkness; in a near-by chapel, a candle sputtered\nitself away, and a woman--whether old or young one could not\nsee--lighted a fresh taper. Sometimes a man knelt and told his beads,\nsometimes two women entered and separated for their differing needs and\nprayers. Sometimes one sat in meditation, or knelt, unmoving, for a\nspace of time; once a child brought a new candle to Saint Antony; always\nsome one came or some one went, until the hour of closing. Then, the\nbell was rung, the door shut by a hand but dimly seen, and the last few\nwatchers went out--across the little square, down this street or that,\nuntil they were lost in the darkness of the summer's night.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE STONY STREET OF THE HILLSIDE.\"--CARCASSONNE.]\n\n\n[Sidenote: Carcassonne.]\n\nThe train puffed into the station at Carcassonne, and the impatient\ntraveller, throwing his bags into an hotel omnibus, asked for the\nCathedral and walked eagerly on that he might the more quickly \"see in\nline the city on the hill,\" \"the castle walls as grand as those of\nBabylon,\" and \"gaze at last on Carcassonne.\" His mind was full of the\npoem, and faithfully following directions, he hurried through clean,\nnarrow streets until he came at length, not upon a poetic vision of\nbattlemented walls and towers, but on the most prosaic of boulevards and\nthe Church of Saint-Michel which has been the Cathedral since 1803, a\nlarge, uncouth building with a big, unfinished tower. There is no facade\nportal, and a small door-way in the north side leads into the great\nvaulted hall, one of the most usual and commonplace forms of the Gothic\ninterior of the South. This room, which is painted, receives light from\na beautiful rose-window at the West, and a series of small roses, like\nminiatures of the greater one, are cut in the upper walls of the nave;\nand little chapels, characterised by the same heavy monotony which hangs\nlike a pall over the whole Cathedral, are lost in the church's capacious\nflanks.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE ANCIENT CROSS.\"--CARCASSONNE.]\n\nHaving lost much of his enthusiasm, the traveller asked for the old--he\nhad almost said the \"real\"--Cathedral, and with new directions, he\nstarted afresh. Leaving the well-built, agreeable, commonplace \"Lower\ncity\" of the plain, he came to the bridge, and there, sitting on its\nparapet, near the ancient Cross, he feasted his longing eyes on that\nperfect vision of Mediaevalism. The high, arid, and almost isolated hill\nof the Cite stood before him, and at the top rose battlements and\nflanking towers in double range, bristling, war-like, and strong; yet\nbeautiful in their mass of uneven, peaked tower-roofs and crenellations.\nHe climbed wearily up the stony street of the hillside, and as he passed\nthrough the open gate, he realised that Hunnewell had written truly when\nhe said \"Carcassonne is a romance of travel.\" For he went into a town\nso quiet, into streets so still, so weed-grown, and lonely, and yet so\nwell built, that he felt as a \"fairy prince\" who has penetrated into\nsome enchanted castle, and it seemed as if the inhabitants were asleep\nin the upper rooms, behind those bowed windows, and as if, when the\nmysterious word of disenchantment should be uttered, all would come\ntrooping forth, men-at-arms hurrying to clean their rusty swords, old\nwomen trudging along to fill their dusty pitchers at the well, and\nyounger women staring from doors and windows to see the stranger within\ntheir streets.\n\nThe Cadets de Gascogne knew the city before the evil spell of modern\ntimes was cast about it. They know and miss it now. And although they\nmay no longer wear the plumed hat and clanking sword of their ancestors,\nthe spirit beneath their more conventional garb is as gay and daring as\nthat of Cadets more picturesque. They have conceived a plan as exciting\nas any old adventure, an idea which they present to the world, not as\nCyrano, their most famous member, was wont to convey his thoughts at the\nend of a sword, but none the less dexterously and delightfully. This\nplan, like the magic word of the traveller's fancy, is to make the old\nCarcassonne live again, not as the traveller had timidly imagined, in\ntime of peace, but in the stirring times of war and battle, and its\nmagic word is \"the siege of Carcassonne.\" Truly it is but a matter of\nbengal lights, blank cartridges, and fire-crackers, though for the\nmatter of that, Cinderella's coach was but a pumpkin, yet the effect was\nnone the less real.\n\n[Illustration: \"OFTEN, TOO LITTLE TIME IS SPENT UPON THE\nNAVE.\"--CARCASSONNE.]\n\nOn the evening of \"the siege,\" a rare, great fete, the forces of the\nCadets with their lights and ammunition are in the \"upper town\", and\nlong before dark, their friends and every inhabitant of the country for\nmiles around have gathered in the houses which face the Cite, on the\nbridges, and along the banks of the little Aude. As the sunlight fades\nand the shadows creep along, a strange feeling of expectancy comes over\neverybody, a hush, almost a dread of danger. The towers on the hill-top\nloom dark against the sky and the battlements bristle in the moonlight,\nno sound comes from the Cite, and it seems to lay in unconcerned\nsecurity. Memories of besieging armies which have vainly encamped in\nthis valley return to the traveller's mind, memories of the treacheries\nof Simon de Montfort, and he wonders if any \"crusading\" sentinel ever\npaced where he now stands watching along the Aude, if any spy or even\nthe terrible Simon himself had ever crept so near the walls to\nreconnoitre. Suddenly every one is startled by the sound of distant\nshots, which are repeated nearer the walls. Every one peers into the\ndarkness. There is no sign of life on wall or tower, the attacking force\nmust still be climbing the hill, out of range of the stones and burning\noil of the defenders. More shots are fired, and now there are answering\nshots from the besieged; and so naturally does the din increase, that\none can follow, by listening, the progress of the attack and the slow,\nsure gain of the invader. Some of the illusion of the anxiety and mental\ntension which war brings, steals over the watching crowd, and they\nbreathlessly await the outcome of the struggle. The attacking party is\nnow seen under the walls--now on them--they throw wads of burning\ncotton, which are at first extinguished. They still gain--they fire the\nwalls in several places; and the defenders, who can be seen in the\nflashes of light, run frantically to the danger spots; but they are\ngradually overcome, beaten back by the intensity of the heat. Flames now\nburst forth from a tower; there is an explosion, and the fire curls and\ncreeps along the walls unchecked. Another explosion follows, another\nburst of flames which soar higher and higher. The men of the Cite seem\nstill more frantic and powerless. All the towers now stand out in bold\nrelief,--as if they were just about to crumble into the seething mass\nbelow. Roofs within the walls are on fire, and finally a red tongue\nlicks the turret of the Cathedral. In a few seconds its walls are\nhideously aglow, and the people in the valley--although they know the\ntruth--groan aloud, so real is the illusion. The nave lines of the\nCathedral are silhouetted as it burns, the fires along the walls growing\nbrighter, spread gradually at first,--then rapidly, and the whole Cite\nis the prey of great, waving clouds of flame and smoke. Men and women,\nas if fascinated by this lurid and magnificent destruction, press\nforward to get the last view of the Cathedral's lovely rose, or the\npeaked roof of some tower which is dear to them. But slowly the deep red\nflames are growing paler, less strong, and less high. Then the glare,\ntoo, begins to die away; the fire turns to smoke and the light becomes\ngrey and misty. \"It is all over,\" some one whispers, and with backward\nglances at the charred, smoldering hill-top, they turn silently towards\nhome.\n\nA few, sitting on the stone parapet of the bridge, remain to talk of the\nevening's magic, of the inspiration of the Cadets de Gascogne, and other\nscenes which their memory suggests, of wars and rumours of other wars.\nAnd when at length they turn to go, they see the moonlight on the\nglimmering Aude, the peaceful lower city, and above, Carcassonne--the\nInvincible--rising from her ashes.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE CHOIR IS OF THE XIV CENTURY.\"--CARCASSONNE.]\n\n[Illustration: \"THE FACADE--STRAIGHT AND MASSIVE.\"--CARCASSONNE.]\n\nThe Cathedral of the Cite is worthy of great protecting walls and there\nare few churches whose destruction would have been so sad a blow to the\narchitecture of the Midi. Saint-Nazaire is typical at once of the\noriginality of the southern builders, of their idealism, and their\njoyous freedom from conventional thrall. The facade, straight, and\nmassive, has the frowning severity of an old donjon wall. Its towers are\nsolid masses of heavy stone; instead of spires, there are crenellations;\ninstead of graceful flying-buttresses at the sides, there are solid,\nupright supports on the firm, plain side-walls. This is the true old\nRomanesque. A few steps further, and the apse appears, as great a\ncontrast to the body of the church as a bit of Mechlin lace to a\ncoat-of-mail. A little tower with gargoyles, another with a fine-carved\nturret, windows whose delicate traceries could be broken by a blow, and\nan upper balustrade which would have been as easily crushed as an\negg-shell in the hands of the lusty Huguenots,--these are the ornaments\nof its wall, as true XIV century Gothic as the nave is XII century\nRomanesque. It is sadly disappointing to find the Cloisters in\nuninteresting ruin, but the church within is so full of great beauty\nthat all other things are unimportant. The windows glow in the glory\nof their glass, and the tombs, especially those of the lower Chapel\nof the Bishop, are wonderfully carved. The first burial place of de\nMontfort, terrible persecutor of his Church's foes, lies near the High\nAltar, and in the wall, there is a rude bas-relief representing his\nsiege of Toulouse. All these admirable details are puny in comparison\nwith the interior which contains them. It is to be feared that often,\ntoo little time is spent upon the nave. Even in mid-day, lighted by the\nsouthern sun, its beautiful, severe lines are mellowed but little, and\none turns too instinctively to the Gothic, the greater lightness beyond.\nYet it is a nave of exceedingly fine, rugged strength, and to pass on\nlightly, to belittle it in comparison with its brighter choir, is to\nwantonly miss in the great round columns, the heavy piers, and the dark\ntunnel vaulting, the conception of generations of men who had ever\nbefore their mind--and literally believed--\"A mighty fortress is our\nGod.\" The choir is of the XIV century, a day when the \"beauty of\nholiness\" seems to have been the Cathedral architect's ideal. Delicate,\nclustered columns from which Saints look down, long windows beautifully\nveined, a glorious rose at each transept's end, and high vault arches\nspringing with a slender pointed grace, all these are of exquisite\nproportions; and the brilliant stained-glass adds a softening warmth of\ncolour, but not too great a glow, to the cold fragility of the shafts of\nstone. Nothing in the Gothic art of the South, little of Gothic\nelsewhere, is more thoughtfully and lovingly wrought than this choir of\nSaint-Nazaire, and few churches in the Romanesque form are more finely\nconstructed than its nave. On the exterior, the Gothic choir and the\nRomanesque nave are so different in style it seems they must be,\nperforce, antagonistic, that the grace of the Gothic must make\nRomanesque plainness appear dull, or that the noble simplicity of the\nrounded arch must cause the Gothic arches, here so particularly tall and\nslender, to seem almost fragile and undignified. In reality, this\njuxtaposition of the styles has justified itself; and passing from one\nto the other, the traveller is more impressed by the subtle analogies\nthey suggest than by the differences of their architectural forms. On\nweek-days, when the church is empty, they seem to prefigure the two\nideals of the religion which they serve--the stern, self-conquering\nasceticism of a Saint Dominic, and the exquisite, radiant visions which\nSaint Cecelia saw when heavenly music was vouchsafed her. Or, if one has\ntime to fancy further, the nave is the epic of its great religion; the\nchoir, a song which is the expression of most delicate aspiration, most\ntender worship. On Sunday, when to this beauty of the godly habitation\nis added all the beauty of worship, the music of the oldest organs in\nFrance, slow-moving priests in gorgeous vestments, sweet smelling\nincense, chants, and prayers of a most majestic ritual, one is tempted\nto read into these stones symbolical meanings,--as if the heavy nave,\nwhere the dim praying figures kneel, were typical of their life of\nstruggle--and their glances altarward, where all is light and beauty,\npresaged their final coming into the presence and glory of God.\n\n[Illustration: PERSPECTIVE OF THE ROMANESQUE.--CARCASSONNE.]\n\nHunnewell has finely written, that \"while the passions and the terrors\nof a fierce, rude age made unendurable the pleasant land where we may\ntravel now so peacefully, ... and while Religion, grown political,\nforgot the mercy of its Lord and ruled supreme, ... an earnest faith and\nconsecrated genius were creating some of the noblest tributes man has\noffered to his Creator,\" and it may be truly said that of these one of\nthe noblest is the church begun in that most cruel age of Saint Dominic\nand de Montfort, in the very heart of the country they laid waste, in\nthe city which one conquered by ruse and the other tortured by\ninquisition, the old Cathedral of Saint-Nazaire in Carcassonne.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Castres.]\n\nIn the VII century Castres, which had been the site of a Roman camp,\nbecame that of a Benedictine Abbey; and around this foundation, as about\nso many others, a town grew through the Middle Ages, and came safely to\nprosperity and importance. Untrue to its early protectors and in\nopposition to the fervent orthodoxy of the neighbouring city of Albi,\nCastres became a Protestant stronghold, and its fortunes rose and fell\nwith the chances of religious wars. It was, perhaps, one of the most\nintrepid and obstinate of all the centres of heresy, and the centuries\nof struggle seem only to have strengthened the fierceness of its faith.\nIn 1525, when the Duke de Rohan was absent and a royal army again\nsummoned it to submission and conversion, the Duchess had herself\ncarried from a sick bed to the gate of the city which was threatened,\nand it is related that the inhabitants of all classes, men, women, and\nchildren, without distinction of sex or age, armed themselves and rushed\nvictoriously to her aid. Thirty-five years later, their children sacked\nchurches, destroyed altars and images, and drove out monks and nuns.\n\nBellicose incidents make history a thrilling story, but they are\naccompanied by such material destruction that they too often rob a city\nof its greatest treasures, and leave it, as far as architectural\ninterest is concerned, an arid waste. Such a place is Castres,\nprosperous, industrial, historically dramatic, but actually commonplace.\nOld houses, picturesque and mouldy, with irregular, overhanging eaves,\nlean along the banks of the little river as they are wont to line the\nbanks of every old stream of the Midi, and they are nearly all the\nremains of Castres' Mediaevalism. For her streets are well-paved,\ntrolleys pass to and fro, department stores are frequent, and that most\nmodern of vehicles, the automobile, does not seem anachronistic. No\nbuilding could be more in harmony with the city's atmosphere of\nuninteresting prosperity than its Cathedral, and he who enters in search\nof beauty and repose, is doomed to miserable disappointment.\n\nConfronted in the XIV century by a growing heresy, John XXII devised,\namong other less Christian methods of combat, that of the creations of\nSees, whose power and dignity of rank should check the progress of the\nenemies of the Church; and in 1317, that year which saw the beginning of\nso many of these new Sees, the old Benedictine Abbey of Castres, lying\nin the very centre of Protestantism, was created a Bishopric. The\ncentury, if unpropitious to Catholicism, was favourable to architecture,\nthe Abbey was of ancient foundation, and from either of these facts, a\nfine Cathedral might reasonably be hoped for,--a dim Abbey-church whose\nrounded arches are lost in the gloom of its vaulting, or a bit of\nsouthern Gothic which the newly consecrated prelate might have\nambitiously planned. But the Cathedral of Saint-Benoit is neither of\nthese, for it was re-constructed in the XVII century, the XVII century\nin all its confusion of ideas, all its lack of taste, all its travesty\nof styles. There is the usual multitude of detail, the usual\nunworthiness. Portals which have no beauty, an expanse of unfinished\nfacade, dark, ugly walls whose bareness is not sufficiently hidden by\nthe surrounding houses, heavy buttresses, ridiculously topped off by\nglobes of stone,--such are the salient features of the exterior of\nSaint-Benoit.\n\nThe \"spaciousness\" of the interior has given room, if not for an\nimpartial representation, at least for a reminder of all the styles of\narchitecture to which the XVII century was heir. There is the\nRenaissance conception of the antique in the ornamental columns; in the\nrose-window, there is a tribute to the Gothic; the tradition of the\nSouth is maintained by a coat of colours--many, if subdued; and the\nground plan of nave and side-chapels might be called Romanesque.\nAlthough the vaulting is high and the room large, there is no\nsimplicity, no beauty, no artistic virtue in this interior.\n\nOpposite the church is the episcopal Palace which Mansart built, a large\nconstruction that serves admirably as a City Hall. Behind it, along the\nriver, are the charming gardens designed by Le Notre, where Bishops\nwalked and meditated, looking upon their not too faithful city of\nCastres. Upon this very ground was the ancient Abbey and close of the\nBenedictines; and as if in memory of these monkish predecessors, Bishop\nand builder of the XVII century left in an angle of the Palace the old\nAbbey-tower. This is the treasure of Castres' past, a Romanesque belfry\nwith the pointed roofing of the campanile of Italy, heavy in comparison\nwith their grace, and stout and strong.\n\n\n[Sidenote: Toulouse.]\n\nToulouse is one of the most charming cities of the South of France. It\nis also one of the largest; but in spite of its size, it is neither\nnoisy nor stupidly conventional; it is, on the contrary, an ideal\nprovincial \"capital,\" where everything, even the climate, corresponds to\nour preconceived and somewhat romantic ideal of the southern type. When\nthe wind blows from the desert it comes with fierce and sudden passion,\nthe sun shines hot, and under the awnings of the open square, men fan\nthemselves lazily during a long lunch hour. Under this appearance of\nsemi-tropical languor, there is the persistent energy of the great\nsouthern peoples, an energy none the less real because it is broken by\nthe long siestas, the leisurely meal-times, and the day-time idling,\nwhich seem so shiftless and so strange to northern minds. This is the\nenergy, however, which has made Toulouse a rich, opulent city,--a city\nwith broad boulevards, open squares, and fine buildings, and a city of\nthe gay Renaissance rather than of the stern Middle Ages. Yet for\nToulouse the Middle Ages were a dark time. What could be gotten by the\nsword was taken by the sword, and even the mind of man, in that gross\nage, was forced and controlled by the agony of his body. It is a time\nwhose most peaceful outward signs, the churches, have been preserved to\nToulouse, and the war-signs, towers, walls, and fortifications,\ndungeons, and the torture-irons of inquisition, are now--and\nwisely--hidden or destroyed. Of the fierce tragedies which were played\nin Toulouse, even to the days of the great Revolution, few traces\nremain,--the stern, orthodox figure of Simon de Montfort, and of Count\nRaymond, his too politic foe, and the anguish of the Crusaders' siege,\nthe bent form of Jean Calas and the shrewd, keen face of Voltaire, who\nvindicated him from afar, these memories seem dimmed; and those which\nlive are of light-hearted troubadours and gaily dressed ladies of the\ncity of the gay, insouciant Renaissance to whom an auto-da-fe was a gala\nbetween the blithesome robing of the morning and the serenade in the\nmoonlight. Fierce and steadfast, sentimentally languishing, dying for a\ndifference of faith, or dying as violently to avenge the insult of a\nfrown or a lifted eye-brow, such are the Languedocians whom Toulouse\nevokes, near to the Gascons and akin to them. Here is the Academie des\nJeux-Floreaux, the \"College of Gay Wit\" which was founded in the XIV\ncentury, and still distributes on the third of every May prizes of gold\nand silver flowers to poets, and writers of fine prose; and here are\nmany \"hotels\" of the Renaissance, rich and beautiful homes of the old\nToulousan nobility whose courts are all too silent. Here is the Hotel du\nVieux-Raisin, the Maison de Pierre, and the Hotel d'Assezat where Jeanne\nd'Albret lived; and near-by is a statue of her son, the strongest,\nsanest, and most debonnaire of all the great South-men, Henry of\nNavarre. Here in Toulouse is indeed material for a thousand fancies.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE NAVE OF THE XIII CENTURY IS AN AISLE-LESS CHAMBER,\nLOW AND BROADLY ARCHED.\"--TOULOUSE.]\n\nAnd here the Cathedral-seeker, who had usually had the proud task of\nfinding the finest building in every city he visited, was doomed to\ndisappointment. In vain he tried to console himself with the fact that\nToulouse had had two Cathedrals. Of one there was no trace; in the\nother, confusion; and he was met with the axiom, true in architecture\nas in other things, that two indifferent objects do not make one good\none. The \"Dalbade,\" formerly the place of worship of the Knights of\nMalta, has a more elegant tower; the Church of the Jacobins a more\ninteresting one; the portal of the old Chartreuse is more beautiful; the\nChurch of the Bull, more curious; and the Basilica of Saint-Sernin so\ninteresting and truly glorious that the Cathedral pales in colourless\ninsignificance.\n\nSome cities of mediaeval France possessed, at the same time, two\nCathedrals, two bodies of Canons, and two Chapters under one and the\nsame Bishop. Such a city was Toulouse; and until the XII century,\nSaint-Jacques and Saint-Etienne were rival Cathedrals. Then, for some\nreason obscure to us, Saint-Jacques was degraded from its episcopal rank\nand remained a simple church until 1812 when it was destroyed. The\npresent Cathedral of Saint-Etienne is a combination of styles and a\nviolation of every sort of architectural unity, and realises a confusion\nwhich the most perverse imagination could scarcely have conceived.\nAccording to every convention of building, the Cathedral is not only\nartistically poor, but mathematically insupportable. The proportions are\nexecrable; and the interior, the finest part of the church, reminds one\nirresistibly of a good puzzle badly put together. The weak tower is a\nsufficient excuse for the absence of the other; from the tower the roof\nslopes sharply and unreasonably, and the rose-window is perched, with\ninappropriate jauntiness, to the left of the main portal. The whole\nstructure is not so much the vagary of an architect as the sport of\nFate, the self-evident survival of two unfitting facades. Walking\nthrough narrow streets, one comes upon the apse as upon another church,\nso different is its style. It is disproportionately higher than the\nfacade; instead of being conglomerate, it is homogeneous; instead of a\nsquat appearance, uninterestingly grotesque, it has the dignity of\nheight and unity. And although it is too closely surrounded by houses\nand narrow streets, and although a view of the whole apse is entirely\nprevented by the high wall of some churchly structure, it is the only\nworthy part of the exterior and, by comparison, even its rather timid\nflying-buttresses and insignificant stone traceries are impressive.\n\n[Illustration: \"THE PRESENT CATHEDRAL IS A COMBINATION OF\nSTYLES.\"--TOULOUSE.]\n\nThe nave of the early XIII century is an aisle-less chamber, low and\nbroadly arched. As the eye continues down its length, it is met by the\nsouth aisle of the choir,--opening directly into the centre of the nave.\nExcept for this curiously bad juxtaposition, both are normally\nconstructed, and each is of so differing a phase of Gothic that they\ngive the effect of two adjoining churches. The choir was begun in the\nlate XII century, on a new axis, and was evidently the commencement of\nan entire and improved re-construction. In spite of the poorly planned\nrestoration in the XVII century, the worthy conception of this choir is\nstill realised. It is severe, lofty Gothic, majestic by its own\nintrinsic virtue, and doubly so in comparison with the uncouth\npuzzle-box effect of the whole. Its unity came upon the traveller with a\nshock of surprise, relieving and beautiful, and after he had walked\nabout its high, narrow aisles and refreshed his disappointed vision, he\nleft the Cathedral quickly--looking neither to the right nor to the\nleft, without a trace of the temptation of Lot's wife, to \"glance\nbackward.\"\n\n\n[Sidenote: Montauban.]\n\nAlthough Montauban was founded on the site of a Roman station, the Mons\nAlbanus, it is really a city of the late Middle Ages, re-created, as it\nwere, by Alphonse I., Count of Toulouse in 1144. And it was even a\ngreater hot-bed of heretics than Beziers. Incited first by hatred of\nthe neighbouring monks of Le Moustier, and then by the bitter agonies of\nthe Inquisition, it became fervently Albigensian, and as fervently\nHuguenot; and even now it has many Protestant inhabitants and a\nProtestant Faculty teaching Theology.\n\nThe Montauban of the present day is busy and prosperous, very prettily\nsituated on the turbid little Tarn. In spite of her constant loyalty to\nthe Huguenot cause, perhaps partly because of it, she has had three\nsuccessive Cathedrals; Saint-Martin, burned in 1562; the Pro-cathedral\nof Saint-Jacques; and, finally, Notre-Dame, the present episcopal\nchurch, a heavy structure in the Italian style of the XVIII century.\nLarge and light and bare, the nudeness of the interior is uncouth, and\nthe stiff exterior, decorated with statues, impresses one as pleasantly\nas clothes upon crossed bean-poles. It is artificial and mannered; the\nlast of the City Cathedrals of Languedoc and the least. If the notorious\nvices of the XVIII century were as bad as its style of ecclesiastical\narchitecture, they must have been indeed monstrous.\n\n\n\n\nEND OF VOLUME I.","title":"Cathedrals and Cloisters of the South of France, Volume 1","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":48346}